"Really!?" Instructor Smith glanced sideways at the group, his eyes sharp. The younger ones at least knew to lower their heads and admit fault, but James Brooks and Charles Thompson were the troublemakers of the auxiliary police team—both had connections and backgrounds that he couldn't afford to offend. Still, after being chewed out by the chief today, he was fuming. Curling his lips, he said, "What am I supposed to praise you for? You didn't even see the criminals, but you ran faster than rabbits. Should I commend you for fleeing the scene? You could've at least lined up some rocks to block the car for a bit—how could you just abandon the car and run off without a care? ... Do you know what the city bureau's criminal investigation team calls you? Cowards, useless! Does that sound good to you? You were told to set up a checkpoint—at least hold your ground, at least run a bit slower, at least if you have to run, don't let the higher-ups see you... And now, two suspects have escaped. Tell me, who's going to take responsibility for this!?"

"Sir!" James Brooks was momentarily stunned—this accusation was a heavy one. Straightening his back, he said, "If you want us to be heroes, you have to give us the tools to be heroes, right? Are we really supposed to take on armed criminals with a few cans of pepper spray and some batons? That pepper spray is expired—we don't even know if it works!... What were we supposed to do, stand there and be targets? If we had guns, we'd dare to intercept them too. The city bureau fired several shots and still couldn't stop them, and those are the elite of the police force. How could we possibly stop them? ... Besides, yesterday the city criminal investigation team said they'd set up an inescapable net. We're just auxiliary police, completely dispensable. So many armed officers couldn't catch them—how is that our fault? Others wear police hats on their heads—are we supposed to wear the blame? Even if it's a scapegoat, you can't dump all the crap in it, can you?"

James Brooks argued his case, speaking at length and with such conviction that it almost sounded like he deserved credit instead of blame!

That sharp tongue, honed in the restaurant business, was no joke. In the police station, whether arguing with men or women, James Brooks had never lost a debate. Today, he let loose, talking so fast that Instructor was left speechless for a moment!... As soon as he mentioned dumping crap in the scapegoat, the whole team burst out laughing! The four people behind James Brooks were also snickering, their chests and bellies shaking—if it weren't for the presence of Instructor, they probably would've been rolling on the floor.

The reputation of auxiliary police wasn't much better than street punks. When there were benefits, the police took them; when there was trouble, it was always the unestablished auxiliary police who took the fall. Outsiders called them all sorts of names: "thirteen useless," "scapegoat cops," "toilets," and so on! No matter how big the mistake in the station, firing a couple of auxiliary police was always the easiest solution. James Brooks had just said it all out loud, and every word made sense! He even managed to stump Instructor.

Grace Smith's face flushed red, then turned pale. Just then, a lifesaving phone call came in. Grace Smith pulled out his phone, glanced at the caller ID, and impatiently pointed at James Brooks and the others, shouting, "Off duty! Group one, all off duty! Write self-criticisms and await further instructions! Dismissed!"

With that, he hurriedly ran back to his office...

With a collective "Oh..." the team dispersed. After a night of running around outside, everyone was exhausted. Except for those on duty, the rest scattered to find their cars and head home. The regular officers looked at the five standing there, grinning with a hint of schadenfreude, while the other auxiliary police gathered around James Brooks and his group, chattering away.

"Landmine, aren't you usually pretty tough? How come you were so pathetic today? Did you even get a look at the armed criminals?"

"Black Egg, why do you smell so bad?... Ugh, you reek of crap!"

"Mr. Brooks, you're truly the most handsome guy in our station! Especially handsome today!"

They teased, joked, poked fun, and made wisecracks one after another. The five of them, a bit embarrassed, broke away from the crowd and hurried out of the station. After running through two alleys, James Brooks finally stopped, turning around in surprise to see the four subordinates still following him. Impatiently, he said, "Go home, each of you! Go find your own mothers—why are you following me!?"

"Mr. Brooks, what should we do? Should we write a self-criticism and go admit our mistake to Instructor?" asked Carbon Hammer, his nickname, awkwardly. His face was dark, still just a teenager.

James Brooks thought for a moment, his face troubled, lips pressed together as he said with difficulty, "Hard to say. If they want to pin the blame on us, writing a self-criticism won't help. The criminal police team is still busy up on the mountain—they don't have time for us right now. If they catch the suspects, everything will be fine; no one will bother with us temps. Let's just wait for the outcome."

"What if they don't catch them?" Black Egg asked gloomily, having gotten manure all over his pants—today had been rough.

"Then they'll probably pick a couple of us to take the fall and get punished. It's fine, just put all the blame on me—say I told you all to hide. I don't want to do this job anymore anyway," James Brooks said, pretending to be relaxed.

"Come on, if there's punishment, we all take it together. What's there to be afraid of?" Charles objected, unwilling, determined to stick together through thick and thin.

"Hey, what are you talking about? If I get fired, at least I can still mess around in restaurants. You at least have an uncle who's a section chief in the city public security bureau. The other three have nothing—what are they supposed to do? Listen to me, you four write your self-criticisms and turn them in. You'll be back at work soon. I'll drag my feet and not turn mine in—if they fire me after a couple of days, so be it. That'll be the end of it."