Chapter Text
It was no secret that OJ… wasn't the biggest fan of his job as a police officer.
You'd think getting to run around solving and busting crimes would make for a pretty thrilling high-stakes job. But the truth was that he usually spent most of his time sitting at his desk, sorting through different files and stacks of paperwork, and handling legal documents while trying to connect the dots between crime scenes - almost as if he were a child trying to solve the daily crossword newspaper puzzle.
It wasn't… the worst position in the world, sure, though there were certainly better ones out there. But he'd been working at the Inanicity Police Department for quite a few years now, and he'd gotten used to his job and lifestyle. Plus, it paid relatively well, and he always prided himself on being good under pressure; so the danger wasn't much of an issue to him.
Today was shaping up to be just another day at the office. He'd been following the same string of robbery cases for quite a while, all centred around a hooded bandit who they'd only ever caught on camera once.
It was… honestly quite surprising that they kept getting away with these robberies. No matter how many times they searched every crime scene they'd supposedly appeared at, not a single trace of them had ever been left behind. No fingerprints, no identifiable DNA markings left behind… just a broken window and many, many missing items. Whoever they were had to have been as swift as the wind and as stealthy as the shadows to get away with pulling that off so many times.
In fact, they didn't even have any definitive proof that it was all the same object each time. Nothing but the victims describing the hood and boots they wore that only a few ever caught glimpses of…
OJ was currently scribbling down notes as he talked with a wealthy jewellery store owner on the phone.
"And I'm telling you officer! Just like that, my entire prized sapphire collection, all gone! Can you believe it? The audacity!"
He sighed to himself as he re-read the note he'd made of that about half an hour ago.
"Right, right… and just to confirm, you said this happened… last night, but you're not sure of the exact time, correct?"
"Yes. I was asleep with my wife at the time, because of course the owner of such a grand and marvellous jewellery store would need-"
"With all due respect, sir, I don't need to hear the details of what happened… again."
It was about the fourth time this 'Silver' guy had gone on a dramatic monologue about how tragic it was that his line of sapphire jewellery had completely vanished without a trace… and he was getting pretty sick of it. This guy spent far too much time blabbering on about unnecessary information for OJ's taste.
"…Right. Well you'll get to the bottom of this case, won't you? I need my precious sapphires back soon, dearie. Those gems are worth more than your entire salary!"
OJ rolled his eyes, but bit back a rude remark. He was used to dealing with snobs like these, and he shouldn't let this guy be the one that gets to him.
"Of course, sir. We'll be right on it. Thank you for your help with keeping Inanicity a safer place."
He hung up, not even giving the store owner a chance to reply or retaliate.
If this really was connected to the hooded bandit (and OJ had already assumed it was; because who else could bypass a jewellery store's security so flawlessly?) then it meant that he was really starting to ramp up the intensity and severity of his robberies. Stealing an entire collection of sapphires, no matter how big or small, really was no easy feat…
He started drafting up a report for the case, taking a glance at the corner of his computer screen.
…9:54pm… was it seriously already that late…?
He'd completely lost track of the time, between all the file management he'd been assigned to take care of that day.
Oh well. It just meant that he could shove the responsibility of this case onto Paintbrush's shoulders, since he felt absolutely exhausted.
Usually he powered through the nights despite this fact with a good few shots of expresso by his side - claiming that 'the law doesn't rest for anyone' and that he could be helping more people this way - but for whatever reason, he felt especially drained today. Maybe he was finally getting tired of making absolutely no progress on this string of cases since he started.
So he concluded his email to Paintbrush, checking the time again…
9:59pm.
The front door to the police station opened as Paintbrush adjusted their badge and made their way to their desk. They were about to sit down in their usual seat before OJ approached them, eyebags deep and visible under his eyes as he cleared his throat.
"Hey, PB. I know I don't… usually ask this sort of thing, but-"
"Yes, I'll handle that report for you. Yes, you can go home."
They pointed to the stacks upon stacks of paperwork on his desk.
OJ blinked at them in astonishment, studying their proud smirk as a hint of irritation flared up in his gut.
"Wha- you can't just assume that I was going to-!"
"I've been trying to get you to start taking the night shifts off and let me help out since I got here, OJ. You're barely even getting paid for the extra hours, anyway! And you clearly need the rest. So please, just go home."
Before he could protest any further, Paintbrush had already walked up to his desk and started looking over his files, double checking what he'd written in his half-assessed email… and he knew there wasn't going to be much more room for discussion beyond that.
"…Right. Thanks."
They looked back at him for a moment, only giving him a brief nod and letting their smirk shift into a genuine smile.
OJ returned the nod, spun around on his heel and got ready to leave, already out the front door in a matter of seconds.
He then hopped in his car, started up the engine and began the drive back home.
The road wasn't too busy at this hour, but OJ made sure to stay focused in order to avoid any unnecessary incidents from occurring. Though he had to admit… driving back home after a long day of work was always a bit of a highlight for him. The streetlights dotted everywhere gave the bridge he drove across a welcome, soft glow, the light perfectly reflecting off the rim of his glass each time he sped past one. That paired with the harsh whirr of his engine, and the cool, nighttime air filtering through his window made the experience… quite pleasant.
When he found himself stuck in a traffic jam, he started flicking through the stations on the radio. Just to provide him with a bit of background noise and drown out the newfound silence.
"-so Magnet, what's it really like being a famous-"
"-in an impressive finish, Bell scores-"
"-and I don't know what it all means, but since I-"
"-museum, Inanima-Insight, was proud to unveil its newest addition, the Omgarian Diamond, earlier today-"
"-all you have to do is-"
Wait.
…What was that about a diamond…?
He flicked the station back, listening in to what the overly-excited news reporter had to say.
"-just a few years ago. Its worth is yet to be fully determined, but it is estimated to be about 97 million dollars!"
…Huh.
A massive, valuable diamond being unveiled at a museum?
If the hooded bandit was planning to keep going bigger and bigger with their heists… perhaps that diamond might be next on their radar.
OJ shook off the possibility with an amused chuckle. No, there was no way anyone was dumb enough to try and rob a museum, right? The security in those was usually pretty insane, trying something like that would be… stupid.
But then again… wouldn't that be exactly the kind of stunt a robber would go for? One that seems impossible to pull off, and yet…
…Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe all his years in that precinct were getting to him.
Though when he really thought about it… was there really any harm in checking it out? If there ended up being a robbery, he'd be right there and ready to spring into action. He still had his badge, and even if he was technically 'off-duty' it didn't mean he couldn't at least be of assistance in helping catch them.
…And it wasn't like he really needed to go home straight away. Not when there wasn't anyone he'd be going home to.
He'd thought about adopting a kid before… but there was no way he could deal with the guilt of having to leave them alone for so many hours of the day…
…He was getting off-track.
Right. Inanima-Insight. The museum.
It wasn't too far from where he lived, anyway.
He thought he might as well stop by the coffee shop just across the street and order himself an espresso. There was no way he was just going to loiter around the museum past closing hours, after all.
So he parked and left his car, walking right into the little shop and giving the barista there as friendly of a smile as he could manage at this hour.
"Hello, and welcome to Clover Café! What can I get for you today?"
"Just a large espresso, thanks."
"Alright, and that'll be… $4.99."
OJ fished out the cash from his wallet, giving the barista a nod as he sat down at a free table, drumming his fingers against the wood as he glanced at the museum across the street.
He stared at the building with indescribable intensity, scanning every last inch of it for any sort of criminal activity… but everything seemed… relatively normal.
Until he saw the windows start to flash a bright red.
He heard the faintest buzzing noise hit his ears.
And caught sight of a shadowy figure rushing across the building through the window…
In an instant he'd sprung out of his seat, completely abandoning his idea of getting a coffee as he dashed across the street to the scene, already pulling out his phone to contact 4S and let his boss know what was going on.
"OJ? What's-"
"There's a robbery happening right now at Inanima-Insight. Think it's the Hooded Bandit. I'm handling it, but requesting backup immediately."
"Alright, alright. Don't be a dumbass out there."
And he hung up, just like that. OJ was thankful that his boss preferred to keep conversations brief.
He kept his eyes on the figure's movements, knowing each and every door and window on sight could be a potential exit, tapping his belt just to make sure he still had his gun and flashlight on him.
This might be his one chance at actually catching the damn guy, there was no way he was about to let it slip through his fingers.
He was almost certain that the figure was heading for the alleyway right beside the museum. An alleyway that OJ knew led to a dead end… and now that he was approaching the building, he noticed a back door right out to said alleyway.
There was no way he could mess this up. He'd cut the criminal off, he was sure of it.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
He made it just in the nick of time, watching the figure burst out the door as he reached for his gun. OJ wasted no time in pointing it right at his head, clicking his flashlight on and pointing it right at his hood.
"Freeze! You're arrested, in the name of the law!"
And the bandit… actually froze for a moment. Now they'd have to face the reality that their criminal activity was actually coming to an end, and that they'd probably spend most of whatever life they had left behind bars.
Or at least… that's what OJ thought was going to happen.
Because instead, the notorious 'hooded bandit' just… unmasked himself. Threw back his hood, and left his face entirely exposed.
OJ expected the object behind the soulless robberies he'd been chasing for weeks to be nothing out of the ordinary. Something he wouldn't even think twice about before approaching and cuffing, without too much of a fuss.
And he was very unprepared for the truth hiding behind the hood… the stunning, beautiful, angelic truth…
A thin, breathless sheet of paper, whiter than the clouds on a hot summer's day. Vertical baby blue lines that cut right through his punch holes, like they'd been painted by the sky itself… and a salmon margin that ran right down the left side of his face, tying it all together, making him appear all the more adorable…
And suddenly OJ'd been rendered completely spechless, dumbfounded by what he was laying his eyes on. He felt his cheeks start to heat up as his grip on his gun loosened ever so slightly.
The bandit noticed. Of course he did.
He twirled the diamond he'd just stolen around in his fingers. OJ saw the gears turning in his head; saw the way his widened, once startled eyes relaxed into half-lidded ones, a sly smirk gracing his face.
"Huh… you sure I'm the one 'freezing' here?~"
His voice sounded so… so cute… flirtatious, even… and OJ could hear the subtle clink of his boots against the concrete as the object approached him. He'd stepped out from the shadows, and the combination of the pale moonlight and OJ's flashlight did wonders to highlight how gorgeous this man was…
OJ tried to force the words from his mouth. Tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a jumbled mess of flustered noises.
"W-Wha- n- uhhh, I-"
It was like the bandit's gleeful grin had completely shut his brain down. He could barely remember what he was even doing out here, let alone the fact that this guy was a criminal.
The bandit rested a single finger on the top of OJ's gun, lowering it to so it was pointed at the ground, with absolutely no resistance from OJ whatsoever. He bridged the gap between them, putting his free hand on the side of OJ's glass with a giggle. His gloved hand stroked it so gently, so tenderly, and the officer could make no move to back away…
"My my my… I didn't know they hired such cuties in the police force. Might have to let myself get caught in the act more often, hm?~"
It felt like time slowed down for the two, their eyes completely locked onto one another. For the first time in a while, OJ actually felt… completely helpless. Like there was nothing he could do to stop the fluttery feeling that was blooming in his chest, or the now rapid bubbling in his glass.
What was this… feeling? Because… because surely it couldn't be-
A distant siren sounding off snapped him out of his trance.
Right. Backup. Of course.
The bandit's eyes drifted to the road, noticing the police car approaching the two in the distance, but his smirk only widened as he let go of OJ's face.
"Until next time, handsome."
He started backing away from him into the darkness of the alley, sprinting right past OJ. He used an old, rusted pipe lodged into the side of a building to swing onto a nearby motorcycle, a manoeuvre only possible because of his nimble nature.
And in just a matter of seconds… he was off.
OJ spun around just in time to see the trail of smoke that motorcycle left behind, the engine still humming in his eardrums…
…Until that hum was replaced by the steadily approaching police sirens as Paintbrush stepped out of their car, looking around for the criminal at large.
But instead all they found was OJ, seemingly staring at a random point in the distance, both arms hanging limply at his sides, holding his classic gun and flashlight.
While the other officers that'd come along started investigating the crime scene, Paintbrush decided to approach him, furrowing their eyebrows in slight confusion.
"OJ? Is everything okay? What happened?!"
OJ blinked his eyes a few times, shaking his head as he shifted his focus to his co-worker, trying to spin… whatever had just happened into a believable story, and hoping that his face wasn't still as red as a tomato…
"I- the bandit, he… he got away. I was just- just right there, and then-"
Paintbrush shook their head, sighing as they shrugged.
"Eh… it's okay. Don't beat yourself up about it; there's a reason we haven't been able to catch them up until now, y'know. Plus, there's always next time."
OJ looked down at the gun he was holding, barely registering the feeling of Paintbrush's hand on his shoulder.
…He'd completely failed the mission today… it was such an easy catch, and he knew that in any other circumstance, he would've been beating himself up about messing up something so simple…
But all that OJ could think about were those last words the bandit had said to him. Because he was absolutely right; there probably would be a next time.
And while OJ felt an absolute storm of emotions coming to terms with that statement… one of the ones he could identify in an instant was a small sense of… excitement. Excitement at the thought of seeing him again… of getting to know more about him, chasing him and tracking him down…
And he hated himself for that.
Because he knew he'd have to try to move on past whatever had just happened, and treat this guy just like he'd treated any other criminal he'd dealt with countless times before.
It was in that moment that everything really sunk in for him. That the mysterious menace he'd been trying to track down for weeks… now had him absolutely wrapped around his finger.
His once boring, stale job… had just gotten a lot more complicated.