It was late at night.
Adam's apartnt.
"NYPD!"
A sharp, confident female cop burst in, gripping her gun with both hands and shouting as she stepped forward.
"Freeze!"
But then, a shadow slipped behind her silently, pressing a gun to her back.
"Oh no, I've been tricked!" the cop thought, her heart sinking.
Boom! Thunder rumbled outside, lightning flashing as a wild storm raged on—like the perfect dramatic background music signaling her impending doom.
No one yelled "cut."
Because the director wasn't around.
Good thing they were all pros. This tricky long take, one of the toughest shots in filmmaking, flowed effortlessly in a single, unbroken scene—no editing needed later.
The cop was none other than the badass Kate Beckett. She'd rushed over after getting a call from Adam confessing to sothing, only to find herself in this crazy, dangerous ss.
Ti passed—how long, who knows?
"I beg you!" Kate pleaded.
"No rcy!" Adam shot back, cold as ice, just like so ruthless sidekick might be. "That's what you get for talking smack about behind my back!"
"I didn't say anything!" Kate protested, then cracked a grin. "I was just keeping it real. You gonna deny it? Don't tell you called in a fake report for no reason… Did Jesse get it wrong when she called you out?"
"…"
Adam had no coback.
Kate's nose was too sharp—she could sniff out the truth like a bloodhound. Even though she'd never t Adam's other buddies, she'd already ntally cataloged Robin and the crew, no shower could wash that intuition away.
"So, how'd you and this Agent Peggy beco buddies?" Adam asked, eager to change the subject now that the acting bit was over.
"We both enforce the law in New York, and we're both won—getting to know each other isn't exactly weird, right?" Kate replied, stretching lazily with a half-smirk. "Why so curious about Jesse?"
"Just wondering," Adam said with a chuckle. "She's the first FBI agent to show up at my door. As a law-abiding guy, I'm not used to seeing legendary FBI folks—or even you NYPD types. It freaks out! I can't sleep unless I figure it out."
"Pfft! Sounds like you're mocking us," Kate said, rolling her eyes. "You? Scared of us?"
"Of course I'm scared!" Adam said, dead serious. "You guys have all that discretionary power—traffic control too. You can just hide out anywhere, wait for us to drive by, tail us, and then claim we were speeding to pull us over.
And it gets worse.
We've got to do exactly what you say, even if it's humiliating, or else you can just say you 'felt threatened' and shoot us dead. Even if we follow every rule, if you get so vague gut feeling that we're still a threat, you can still shoot us.
That's you NYPD folks.
The FBI? Even scarier. They don't bother waiting for us to drive by—they just knock on our door. How could I not be afraid?"
"…"
Kate's lip twitched. She was seriously offended but couldn't argue back.
Because Adam was right.
Stuff like that happened every year—way too often.
But they couldn't just strip cops of that discretion because of a few bad apples, could they? In a country where anyone could be packing heat, without that leeway, a cop might not see the gun coming until it's too late.
It was a bloody lesson learned from too many good officers going down.
Still, every group's got its jerks. So cops used their power to settle personal scores—targeting whoever rubbed them the wrong way. As an honest cop, Kate despised those types too.
"It's not that extre," she said weakly. "Cops who break the law without cause get held accountable…"
"Yeah, but only if I'm still alive to see it," Adam cut in. "If I'm gone, what's the point of soone chasing justice for ? Plus, knowing my dumb brother Gabe, he'd probably forgive the guy on my behalf.
And even if they prosecute, it's a coin toss—paid leave, a decade-long trial, or a sentence that gets slashed with shady deals. Worst case, they fight for years, finally win, and then the guy gets pardoned before even stepping into jail.
You're NYPD's finest, Kate. Tell —isn't that all true? Shouldn't I be scared?"
"You're famous, you've got nothing to worry about…" Kate said with a bitter laugh. "Okay, I get your point."
"Hmph!" Adam snorted.
"Quit with the 'hmph' already," Kate teased. "Doesn't it all trace back to the ssed-up system you super-rich folks helped create?"
"Fair enough," Adam grinned. "Let's drop the heavy stuff. Tell more about your buddy, Agent Peggy."
"What about her?" Kate asked, sounding bored. "What do you wanna know?"
"She looks young—got into the FBI that fast?" Adam pressed, curious.
"Yup," Kate nodded. "Jesse got scouted by the FBI before she even finished college."
"Recruited in college?" Adam's eyes widened. "What, does she have so superpower? Or is the FBI just that desperate these days?"
Ten years later, Jesse Peggy would be stuck doing background checks—desk jockey stuff. For an agency like the FBI, the real elites worked the field. Her young recruitnt didn't match that vibe at all.
"Classified," Kate said lazily.
"Seriously?" Adam scoffed. "Everything's 'classified' with you. It's just us here—no one else is gonna hear it. What's the harm? You don't actually think I'm a spy using my charm to pry secrets out of you, do you?"
"Ha!" Kate burst out laughing. "Charm? You've got so nerve saying that. Fine, I'll tell you—but you can't blab, and definitely don't ntion it to Jesse."
"I swear!" Adam raised his hand with a grin.
"I don't know all the details," Kate said, smirking. "Word is, Jesse was on a college trip when she ran into so deford cannibal freak. Her group got wiped out, but she kept her cool, took the guy down, and impressed an FBI higher-up who showed up. They recruited her—probably to keep her quiet too."
So things weren't ant for the public—too ssy, too panic-inducing. A little control made sense.
Problem was, "a little" often turned into "total," and people hated that.
Like SHIELD—started with good intentions, but over ti, it went sour.
Then again, when your boss is a guy like Nick Fury, how much morality can you expect?
"No way!" Adam said, shocked.
It sounded like a horror movie heroine's origin story.
But then he thought about Jesse Peggy's looks and nodded to himself. Everyone knows horror movie leads have to be hot—it's the first rule of drawing a crowd. If they're not, who's gonna care enough to root for them?
"Yup," Kate confird. "Jesse's got this line she repeats—sothing one of her friends who died there said: 'Arica's rundown economic zones are breeding grounds for evil.'
Stuff like that happens all over the country. That's why the FBI steps in to handle it."
The U.S. justice system's a ss.
State cops, city cops, county cops—they don't always play nice with the FBI. The feds don't have jurisdiction over them.
But when a big case pops up, the FBI loves swooping in to take charge and grab the glory, while local cops push back. It's a constant tug-of-war.
Cross state lines, though, and it's FBI territory.
Cases with deford cannibals? Locals know the legends and steer clear. It's usually out-of-state thrill-seekers who stir up trouble—and then die.
A few victims from other states, and it's the FBI's ga.
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