Chapter 12: The Pontiac Bandit Case - Part 3
POV: Kole Martinez
Sunday morning's debrief felt like court martial, with Captain Holt presiding over the Nine-Nine's conference room like a judge determining whether to commend or condemn. The assembled squad—Jake, Rosa, Amy, Terry, even Charles—sat around the table while Kole prepared to explain how routine surveillance had escalated into rooftop combat.
This is where everything falls apart.
"Detective Martinez," Holt began, his voice carrying the surgical precision of someone dissecting evidence, "please walk us through the events that led to four criminals requiring medical attention in the Javits Center parking structure."
Surgical precision. That's exactly what Holt's questions will be.
Kole had spent the night rehearsing explanations that might sound plausible, but every story felt inadequate when faced with Holt's analytical capabilities.
"Doug Judy led us into an ambush," Kole said simply. "Four men with tasers, positioned to incapacitate rather than kill. Professional coordination, military-style execution."
"And your response to this ambush was to single-handedly neutralize four armed criminals using hand-to-hand combat techniques?"
When he puts it like that, it sounds completely insane.
"I reacted instinctively. Training took over."
Holt's expression revealed nothing, but Kole's lie detection caught intensifying scrutiny beneath the neutral facade.
"What training, specifically?"
Here we go.
"Military family background. Started learning defensive techniques as a child, continued training through adulthood."
"Which branch of military? Which specific martial arts disciplines?"
Holt's not going to accept vague answers.
"My father was Army Rangers. Mother studied Krav Maga for self-defense. I picked up techniques from both, plus some boxing and jujitsu over the years."
The explanation was plausible but incomplete, and everyone in the room knew it. Rosa leaned forward, her expression mixing professional respect with personal suspicion.
"Martinez, I've seen Army Rangers fight. I've seen Krav Maga instructors work. What you did yesterday was something else entirely."
Rosa knows combat when she sees it.
"Multiple disciplines, integrated through years of practice," Kole said, sticking to his story despite its obvious inadequacy.
Amy consulted her notes, approaching the question from her characteristically analytical angle.
"According to witness statements, you neutralized four attackers in approximately ninety seconds. The efficiency rate suggests either extensive professional training or..."
She paused, clearly reluctant to voice whatever conclusion her analysis had reached.
"Or what, Detective Santiago?" Holt prompted.
"Or capabilities that exceed normal human parameters."
Amy's figured out that normal training can't explain what happened.
Terry shifted uncomfortably, his protective instincts clearly wrestling with administrative responsibilities.
"Look," he said, "Terry doesn't care how Martinez learned to fight like that. Terry cares that Jake's alive because of it."
Terry's trying to protect me from further scrutiny.
Jake had remained silent throughout the questioning, but now he spoke with the careful tone of someone who'd spent hours processing complicated emotions.
"Martinez saved my life," he said simply. "Whatever his background, whatever training he has or doesn't have, he could have let those guys tase me and gone after Judy alone. Instead, he chose to protect his partner."
Jake's defending me despite his suspicions.
"The choice to protect a fellow officer is commendable," Holt acknowledged. "However, Detective Martinez's capabilities raise questions about the accuracy of his personnel file."
And there it is. The threat disguised as observation.
"Impressive credentials, Detective Martinez," Holt continued, his tone carrying multiple layers of meaning. "I trust they're all legitimate."
Warning received. Holt suspects something's wrong with my background.
"Yes, sir," Kole replied, though the lie felt heavier than usual.
Charles, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up with his typical enthusiasm for complicated theories.
"Maybe Martinez is just naturally gifted at combat? Like how some people are naturally good at music or mathematics?"
Charles trying to provide innocent explanation for impossible abilities.
"Natural gift for violence," Rosa observed dryly. "That's either really useful or really dangerous, depending on the person."
Rosa's still evaluating whether I'm threat or asset.
Holt closed the case file with decisive finality.
"The investigation into Doug Judy remains open. Detective Martinez's methods, while unorthodox, achieved the primary objective of officer safety. However, I expect full documentation of any future... tactical innovations."
Translation: Do that again and you'll be explaining it to Internal Affairs.
"Understood, Captain."
As the meeting broke up, Jake lingered while the others filed out, clearly wrestling with questions he wasn't sure how to ask.
"Martinez," he said when they were alone, "can I ask you something?"
Here it comes.
"Sure."
"Yesterday, when those guys had me surrounded—you could have handled that situation a dozen different ways. Called for backup, used your weapon, tried negotiation. Instead, you went hand-to-hand with four armed criminals. Why?"
Because calling for backup would have taken too long, using my weapon risked civilian casualties, and negotiation doesn't work with people who've already committed to violence.
"Because it was the best tactical option under the circumstances," Kole said instead.
"That's not what I'm asking." Jake's expression was serious, almost vulnerable. "I'm asking why you risked your life to save mine."
Because you're Jake Peralta, and in every reality where you exist, you're someone worth saving.
"Because you're a good cop and a good person," Kole said honestly. "The case doesn't matter as much as that."
Jake studied his face with the frank assessment of someone who'd learned to read deception through years of interrogating suspects.
"You really mean that."
"I really mean that."
Jake's cynicism wavered, replaced by something that might have been the beginning of genuine trust.
"Okay," he said finally. "But Martinez? Next time you decide to take on four guys by yourself, maybe give me a heads-up first. Partners should communicate about tactical decisions."
Partners. He's calling us partners.
"Will do."
POV: Jake Peralta
Jake left the debrief with his head spinning, trying to reconcile what he'd witnessed with everything he thought he knew about normal human capabilities. He'd seen combat veterans, martial arts experts, even special forces operators in action, but Martinez's performance had been something else entirely.
Four guys. Ninety seconds. Professional efficiency that bordered on supernatural.
The gratitude for being saved was real, but so was the growing certainty that Detective Martinez was not what he seemed. The man's background was full of holes, his skills exceeded his documented training, and now he'd demonstrated combat abilities that defied explanation.
Who are you really, Martinez?
But even as Jake's detective instincts screamed warnings about his partner's mysterious capabilities, he couldn't ignore the fundamental truth that had emerged from yesterday's crisis: when everything went wrong, Martinez had chosen to protect him rather than pursue personal glory.
That has to count for something.
POV: Doug Judy
Miles away in a Brooklyn warehouse, Doug Judy sat in front of multiple computer monitors, reviewing footage his crew had captured before their unfortunate encounter with Detective Martinez's extraordinary combat skills.
Slow motion, frame by frame, every movement analyzed and catalogued.
"Run it again," he instructed his technical specialist, a thin man whose fingers moved across keyboards with the precision of a concert pianist.
The footage replayed Martinez's impossible performance—defensive sequences that flowed like water, striking techniques that combined multiple martial arts disciplines, situational awareness that seemed almost supernatural.
This guy's not normal.
Judy had been investigating Detective Martinez since the Nine-Nine's pattern analysis had identified his car show operation with uncomfortable accuracy. A detective who never forgot faces, who solved cases with impossible speed, who appeared at the Nine-Nine with credentials that were technically perfect but practically suspicious.
Too good to be true. Which usually means too good to be real.
"What do we know about his background?" Judy asked.
"Officially? Transferred from the 74th Precinct with excellent records. Unofficially? There are gaps. Missing details, redacted information, references to cases that seem to have been sanitized."
Someone's been cleaning his file. The question is whether it's law enforcement protecting an asset or something else entirely.
Judy leaned back in his chair, processing the implications of what he'd observed. Detective Martinez represented either an extraordinary opportunity or an extraordinary threat—possibly both.
A detective with impossible abilities working for the NYPD. That's either very good news or very bad news, depending on who's controlling him.
"Keep digging," Judy instructed. "I want to know everything about Detective Kole Martinez. His real background, his training, his capabilities, his weaknesses. Everything."
Because one way or another, I'm going to figure out what makes this guy tick.
POV: Kole Martinez
Monday arrived with the weight of exposed secrets and multiplying suspicions. Kole walked into the Nine-Nine bullpen knowing that everything had changed—the careful facade of normal competence had been shattered by ninety seconds of impossible combat efficiency.
They're all looking at me differently now.
Jake nodded as he passed, but his expression carried new complexity—gratitude mixed with wariness, respect tempered by suspicion. Rosa's glance held professional assessment, as if she were continuously recalculating threat levels and tactical capabilities. Amy studied him with analytical intensity, probably developing theories about enhanced human performance or classified government programs.
Even Charles seems uncertain about whether to be excited or terrified.
But the most troubling change was in Captain Holt's demeanor. The captain's interactions had shifted from neutral professionalism to watchful evaluation, as if he were constantly weighing Kole's value against potential risks.
Holt suspects something's fundamentally wrong with my background. And he's right.
"Martinez," Terry called from his desk, "you got a minute?"
Terry's office felt smaller than usual, the walls closing in as the sergeant settled behind his desk with the expression of someone about to deliver difficult news.
"Terry's been thinking about what happened yesterday," he began. "And Terry's concerned."
Here it comes.
"Not about your performance. You saved Jake's life, and Terry's grateful for that. But Terry's also responsible for this squad's safety, which means Terry needs to understand what kind of resources and risks we're dealing with."
Terry's asking for honesty I can't provide.
"I understand your concern, Sergeant."
"Do you? Because Terry's looked at your file, talked to people at the 74th, tried to understand how someone develops your particular skill set. And Terry's coming up short on answers."
Because there are no answers that make sense.
"Sometimes training and instinct combine in unexpected ways," Kole offered weakly.
Terry's expression suggested he found this explanation roughly as convincing as a unicorn sighting.
"Martinez, Terry's going to be straight with you. This squad is a family, and families protect each other. But families also need trust, and trust requires honesty. Are you being honest with Terry about who you are and what you're capable of?"
No. I'm lying about everything, including my name, my origins, and my impossible abilities.
"I'm being as honest as I can be," Kole said, which was technically true while being completely misleading.
Terry studied his face with the penetrating attention of someone who'd learned to read people through years of managing complex personalities.
"Terry hopes that's enough," he said finally. "Because Terry likes you, Martinez. The squad likes you. But Terry also knows that secrets have a way of exploding when you least expect them, and Terry doesn't want this family getting hurt because someone wasn't straight about important things."
Message received. Truth or consequences, with emphasis on consequences.
"I understand, Sergeant."
"Terry hopes you do."
As Kole left Terry's office, he realized that his time for maintaining careful deceptions was rapidly running out. Doug Judy was investigating his background, Captain Holt was questioning his credentials, and the squad was demanding honesty he couldn't provide without destroying everything he'd built.
The truth would sound insane. Transmigration, supernatural abilities, fictional characters made real—nobody would believe it.
But the lies are becoming impossible to maintain.
Somewhere in Brooklyn, Doug Judy was analyzing footage and making plans. Somewhere in the NYPD hierarchy, questions were being asked about Detective Martinez's remarkable capabilities. And somewhere in the Nine-Nine bullpen, the people Kole had learned to care about were beginning to realize that their newest colleague was harboring secrets that could change everything.
The reckoning is coming. The only question is whether I'll be ready for it.
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