2-Lincoln-19 to any unit, I need bodies on 9th and River. Three in custody, possibly more inside, and this duffel smells awful dopey. Roll it.

Swoop, Tony, copy priority. King’s in it thick.

(flooring it) Copy. Two minutes out. Tony, seatbelt, and try not to spill any coffee this time.

Man, I got this. (straightens tie) I’m a professional.

King, perimeter’s set. I got the left flank. Suspects, eyes on the ground, hands where I can see ‘em. Move any closer to that duffel and I'ma light you up hotter than a roman candle. Find out.

(waving the coffee) Yeah, what he said.

Tony, put the cup down before you fuck up all the evidence. And quit eye fucking the duffel bag. It's potentially holding contraband.

(waving the coffee) That's what I'm afraid of.

(wriggles) Ow! You fuckin' porker!

Not even gonna say sorry? You're a real piece of work.

Says the guy in cuffs.

Tony. Do me a favor and search the car for evidence. We need to look for any casings possibly ejected from this 9 millimeter right here that I found on one of the suspects. And put the damn coffee down!

(sips) Got it.

Cris. Way to handle setting the perimeter right away. These knuckleheads made it impossible for me to move… you showed up and showed out.

Well… I appreciate the patronage, sir. But, I regret to inform you that I usually charge double for this tier.

(side eye. slight grin) Get the fuck out of here, Swoop. This ain't your Only Fans.

(soft but direct) …that's what you think.

Tony, what in the fuck are you doing holding that coffee like it’s a hostage? How many scenes you gonna ruin before Cap just gives you a desk, crayons and a juice box?

(gestures with the coffee) Greg… if you don't like how I'm handling the scene… then why don't you just take it up with Kali? He's clearly the one in charge here.

Tony, the coffee.

(looks at coffee) Right. (walks away waving the coffee) But, just goes to show that I'm right. (points coffee hand finger up) King's in charge around here.

Correction… Niner’s in charge. (pops backdoor) Isn't that right, Niner?

I wanna talk to my lawyer!

See what you did? Now he's not gonna tell us a fucking thing.

Damn right I'm not.

Hey! I’m a detective! I solve things! I got instincts!

(deadpan) Your instincts told you to bring a latte onto an active crime scene… I think you need a refund.

(leans in) You can just sit this one out in the car, partner. I'll cover for you… We’ll radio you if we need someone to come blow the whistle.

Yeah, you can be the whistleblower.

I gotta whistle you can blow on.

(lips pursed) Fuck you… And, fuck you too. Kali?

(loud, cutting through the noise) Alright, enough! Saddle the fuck up and quit dickin’ around! We got three in cuffs, a duffel bag, a car, and a warehouse that no one can get to til someone else arrives. Move!

King. That body you called in—what’s the status? I need something that doesn’t make Internal start sniffing around like a beady eyed proctologist slapping on nitrile examination gloves and demanding an examination just because he knows that I have insurance.

Speaking of the proctologist, forensics just rolled up. They’re already looking at us like we tracked mud through the living room. Wow. Look at em go.

Nobody touches another thing at all! Especially not the guy with the coffee stain and the, and the crooked tie. This scene’s contaminated enough already.

(to Cris, quiet) He’s a bull in a China shop.

What's that?

I said he’s a bull in a China shop.

(skewers the bullet up) He really is a bull in a China shop.

Did you really have to call me out in front of Forensics?

Say it with your whole chest, man. Don't make this weird.

Wait… are you trying to stick up for Tony? Out loud and everything?

I said say it with your chest. That's all I'm trying to say.

Oh, no… Greg thinks you might have taken up for Tony… (looks at Greg) You know what that means.

No, what does it mean?

That means it's rabbit season.

Rabbit season?

Yeah, rabbit season.

What the fuck do you mean "rabbit season"?

I mean, your hand's in the cookie jar and Tony's your little butt-buddy.

The cookie jar? He ain't my butt-buddy.

Nah. It's duck season.

Rabbit season. Maybe all these “miracle stops” you've been having ain’t so miraculous. Maybe Sergeant King’s been padding the stats with a little bit of side money.

Side money? Now I know you're dreaming…

Duck season… explains why he keeps Tony around. Liability insurance for the real dirt.

Y’all got five seconds to shut the fuck up… and as a matter of fact, if you two don't shut the fuck up, I'll have you both working the beat faster than the Flash running a marathon just for some pussy.

You drive a hard bargain. But…

But?

Rabbit season.

Augh!

I want to talk to my lawyer.

Duck season.

Rabbit season. How do we know you’re not the one getting framed, though? Maybe somebody’s setting up the golden boy so the real dirty ones stay clean.

Duck season.

Rabbit season.

How do I know it ain’t the other way around? How do I know you two ain’t the ones cooking the books and trying to pin the heat on me? Huh? You ever thought about that?

No… Duck season.

Rabbit season, motherfuckers.

(in perfect unison, pointing) Duck season!

…Well, I think it’s both seasons.

I just want to talk to my lawyer.

(rubbing his temples) I need a vacation.