Chapter 13: Halloween Heist Chaos - Part 1
POV: Kole Martinez
October 31st dawned with the kind of electric tension that transformed the Nine-Nine bullpen from workplace into battlefield. The Halloween Heist—capital H, capital H, as Jake insisted—represented everything Kole had loved about watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine episodes: competitive chaos, elaborate schemes, and the peculiar way this squad turned ordinary workplace traditions into epic psychological warfare.
Except now I'm actually here. Actually participating.
The precinct hummed with barely contained excitement as detectives prepared for what had become the Nine-Nine's most sacred tradition. Desks were cleared, personal items secured, and everyone eyed their colleagues with the wary assessment of generals preparing for siege.
I know how this goes. I've watched Jake and Amy and Holt compete in these things for years.
But knowing the fictional dynamics and experiencing the real tension were entirely different creatures. The air practically crackled with competitive energy while everyone pretended to conduct normal police business.
Jake approached Kole's desk with the evangelical fervor of someone spreading the gospel of elaborate pranks.
"Martinez," he announced, "prepare to witness the greatest tradition in NYPD history."
"Halloween Heist," Kole replied, careful to sound curious rather than knowledgeable. "I've heard rumors."
"Rumors don't do it justice. At precisely midnight, the most important competition in law enforcement begins. The objective: steal the crown and be declared Amazing Detective/Genius for an entire year."
Amazing Detective/Genius. Even the title matches what I remember.
Jake's eyes gleamed with the particular intensity of someone who'd spent weeks planning elaborate schemes.
"What's the crown?" Kole asked, maintaining the pretense of ignorance.
"This year, it's Captain Holt's grandmother's cameo brooch. Priceless family heirloom, maximum symbolic value, impossible to steal without serious planning."
Or supernatural abilities that let me track everyone's movements with perfect recall.
Around the bullpen, alliances were forming with the fluid dynamics of a political convention. Charles gravitated toward Jake with loyal devotion, while Amy recruited Terry with promises of organizational efficiency. Rosa announced her intention to work alone, which surprised no one and worried everyone.
Gina looked up from her phone long enough to declare herself "above such mortal concerns" while obviously already deep in scheming mode.
Even Gina's participating, despite pretending she's too sophisticated for games.
Most intriguingly, Captain Holt maintained his usual expressionless demeanor while clearly engaging in subtle preparation. Files disappeared from his desk, his office door remained suspiciously closed, and his rare glances toward the bullpen carried the calculating assessment of a master strategist.
Holt's going to be the real competition. Everyone else is playing checkers while he's playing chess.
"So," Jake continued, "what's your strategy? Brute force? Elaborate misdirection? Psychological warfare?"
Perfect memory, lie detection, and combat adaptation that would let me neutralize every trap and predict every move.
"Thought I'd wing it," Kole said instead. "See how things develop."
Jake's expression suggested this approach was either brilliantly unpredictable or catastrophically naive.
"Bold choice for your first Heist. Just remember—no permanent damage to persons or property, no actual crimes, and no involving civilians. Everything else is fair game."
Including supernatural advantages that would make this competition completely unfair.
As the day progressed, Kole found himself in the unique position of watching elaborate preparations while his photographic memory catalogued every detail. Jake's tendency to over-plan, Amy's meticulous documentation of previous Heists, Rosa's casual intimidation techniques, Charles's emotional investment in Jake's success—all of it recorded with perfect clarity.
I could win this easily. Too easily.
The thought carried no satisfaction. Using his abilities to dominate a competition designed for normal human capabilities would be like bringing a machine gun to a knife fight—technically possible but completely missing the point.
But I can't lose too obviously either. That would raise different questions.
At 11:47 PM, Captain Holt emerged from his office wearing his usual expression of professional neutrality while carrying the antique cameo brooch that would serve as this year's crown.
"The Halloween Heist officially commences at midnight," he announced to the assembled squad. "The crown will be secured in evidence locker seven. Standard rules apply."
Evidence locker seven. I know exactly where that is, thanks to Martinez's inherited knowledge.
The countdown began with everyone clustered around the bullpen clock, tension building like pressure in a steam engine. Jake bounced on his toes, Amy consulted color-coded strategy notes, Rosa cracked her knuckles, and Charles whispered what sounded like motivational prayers.
This is insane. This is elaborate. This is exactly what I loved about these people.
"Ten... nine... eight..." the squad counted in unison.
I could memorize everyone's initial positions, track their movements, predict their strategies.
"Seven... six... five..."
I could win this. But should I?
"Four... three... two..."
What would victory mean if I achieved it through impossible advantages?
"ONE!"
Chaos erupted with magnificent precision.
Jake bolted toward the evidence lockers with Charles providing enthusiastic backup. Amy moved toward the computer terminals, clearly planning a technological approach to security systems. Rosa simply vanished, melting into shadows with predatory grace. Terry hesitated, torn between following Amy's plan and his own protective instincts.
Gina remained at her desk, typing furiously while maintaining her facade of disinterest.
And Captain Holt walked calmly toward the break room, apparently unconcerned about the competition bearing down on his family heirloom.
Time to see what these powers can really do.
Kole's photographic memory tracked everyone's initial movements with mechanical precision. Jake's route to evidence storage, Amy's path toward the computer network, Rosa's deliberate misdirection that suggested she was planning something entirely different from what she wanted people to think.
Jake's moving too fast. He's going to trigger Amy's counter-strategy.
His lie detection caught Amy's satisfied expression as Jake walked directly into her technological trap—a computer lockout that would prevent access to evidence locker security systems for exactly ninety minutes.
She's been planning this for weeks.
But Amy's satisfaction masked concern about Rosa's disappearance. The most dangerous competitor had vanished completely, which meant she was either already eliminated or executing something brilliant.
Rosa's in the ceiling. Air ducts, just like last year.
Kole's combat adaptation read body language patterns, predicting movements before people made them. Charles would try to distract Amy by triggering the fire alarm. Terry would attempt to use his administrative access to override security systems. Jake would pivot to physical infiltration once he realized technology had failed him.
I can see the entire game playing out like chess moves.
By the end of hour one, Kole had successfully avoided three elaborate traps, circumvented Amy's filing system lockout, and anticipated Rosa's ambush attempt. His position was perfect—close enough to the crown to make a move, far enough from detection to avoid immediate retaliation.
I could end this right now.
But then he saw their faces.
Jake's desperate competitiveness masked deeper insecurity about his detective abilities. Amy's meticulous planning reflected her need to prove intellectual superiority over Jake's intuitive brilliance. Even Holt's participation carried the weight of someone who rarely allowed himself moments of genuine playfulness.
They need this. They need the competition, the challenge, the chance to test themselves against equals.
I'm not their equal. I'm something else entirely.
The realization hit like physical force. Winning the Halloween Heist through supernatural abilities wouldn't prove anything except that powers trumped talent. It would rob them of genuine competition while demonstrating capabilities he shouldn't possess.
Time for a strategic mistake.
Charles had positioned an elaborate trap near the evidence lockers—a classic misdirection involving psychological manipulation and bureaucratic confusion. Kole could see it clearly, avoid it easily, maintain his path toward victory.
Instead, he walked directly into it.
The trap triggered with magnificent complexity, involving fake paperwork, misdirection protocols, and Charles's surprisingly sophisticated understanding of human psychology. Within minutes, Kole found himself officially eliminated from competition, his access to the evidence area revoked through legitimate administrative channels.
Spectacular failure, perfectly executed.
Jake stared at him with confusion bordering on concern.
"Martinez, you saw that trap. Why did you step in it?"
Because winning would mean nothing, and losing means everything.
"Got distracted," Kole shrugged, his lie detection confirming his own deception. "Thought I saw Rosa moving in the ventilation system."
True, but irrelevant. I saw the trap and chose to trigger it.
From the sidelines, Kole watched the rest of the Heist unfold with genuine appreciation for the elaborate schemes and counter-schemes. Jake's aggressive misdirection, Amy's technological warfare, Holt's patient waiting for the perfect moment to reveal his master plan.
This is what family looks like. Competition without malice, ambition tempered by affection.
Captain Holt ultimately claimed victory through a combination of psychological manipulation and superior planning, revealing that he'd anticipated everyone else's strategies while executing his own with surgical precision. Jake protested vigorously, Amy demanded a recount, and Rosa simply nodded approval at superior tactics.
Exactly how it should have ended.
But as the squad gathered for post-Heist celebration, Kole realized he'd learned something crucial about his place in this group. Being part of the family mattered more than being the best at everything. Connection trumped competition, especially when competition was achieved through impossible advantages.
They deserve better than someone who wins through cheating. Even if the cheating is supernatural.
"Better luck next year, Martinez," Jake said, clapping him on the shoulder with genuine sympathy. "First Heist is always rough. You'll figure out the strategy for next time."
I already know the strategy. That's the problem.
"Looking forward to it," Kole replied, and meant it completely.
Next year, I'll find a way to compete fairly. Or at least more fairly than using powers none of them can match.
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