Chapter 8: Missing Evidence & Prank War
"Being a master detective with a state-of-the-art forensics lab is pretty cool. It's like having a superpower, but instead of flying, I can tell you exactly what kind of pizza slice was eaten at a crime scene just by looking at a crumb. And trust me, that's way more useful in real life."
Adam Stiels, now a media mogul and master debater, found himself back at the 99th Precinct, ready for another day of solving crimes and escalating the prank war with Jake Peralta. His "Master Detective Experience" and his newly acquired, fully-funded "Forensics Lab" made him an invaluable asset to the precinct, much to Captain Holt's stoic approval.
He walked into his lab, a pristine, gleaming space filled with cutting-edge equipment. It was a far cry from the slightly dusty, utilitarian lab he'd initially found. This was a place where real science happened, where mysteries were unraveled, and where, occasionally, a very elaborate prank was orchestrated.
Just as he was settling in, Jake Peralta burst into the lab, his face a mask of panic. "Adam! You will not believe this! It's a disaster! A catastrophe! The worst thing that has ever happened in the history of police work!"
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Did someone steal your last slice of pizza from the breakroom fridge again, Jake? Because if so, I've already analyzed the bite marks, and it points to Boyle."
"Worse!" Jake exclaimed, practically vibrating with anxiety. "Much, much worse! The evidence! It's gone! The crucial, absolutely vital evidence from the 'Great Gummy Bear Heist' case! It's vanished!"
Adam's internal system immediately whirred.
[PLOT DETECTED: "The Case of the Missing Evidence" (Brooklyn Nine-Nine, general plot type, often a major case B-plot). PARTICIPATION REWARD: Advanced Surveillance Techniques. HIDDEN REWARD (IF OUTCOME SIGNIFICANTLY IMPROVED): A Seat on the City Council.]
A seat on the City Council? This was getting serious. He could actually influence policy, improve the lives of the citizens of Nebraska, and probably get a few traffic laws changed to make his commute easier. But first, he had to find those gummy bears.
"Missing evidence, huh?" Adam said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Tell me everything, Jake. No detail is too small. Even if it involves the emotional state of a gummy bear."
Jake, relieved to have a competent (and surprisingly calm) partner, launched into a frantic explanation. The evidence, a bag of rare, artisanal gummy bears (the key to identifying a notorious candy thief), had been meticulously cataloged and placed in the secure evidence locker. But now, it was gone. No forced entry, no signs of a struggle. Just… gone.
Adam, drawing on his "Master Detective Experience" and his "Unrivaled Master of Psychological Warfare," began to piece together the puzzle. He interviewed the officers who had access to the locker, meticulously examining their body language and subtle tells. He analyzed the security footage, looking for any anomalies, any fleeting glances, any unusual patterns of movement.
He quickly narrowed down the suspects. It wasn't an outside thief. It was an inside job. And the culprit, he realized, was someone who had access, a motive (however mundane), and a complete lack of awareness regarding the gravity of their actions.
"Jake," Adam said, a slight smirk playing on his lips, "I think I know who took the gummy bears. And it's going to surprise you."
He led Jake to the breakroom, where Charles Boyle was humming happily, meticulously arranging a plate of… gummy bears. Artisanal gummy bears. The exact kind that had gone missing.
Jake stared, then his jaw dropped. "Boyle! You ate the evidence?! Again?!"
Charles looked up, surprised. "Oh! These? I thought Captain Holt left them out for us! They're so delicious! And they're shaped like tiny artisanal squirrels! I mean, who could resist?"
Holt, who had just walked in, took one look at the scene, then sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of exasperation. "Boyle. My office. Now."
[PLOT INFLUENCED: "The Case of the Missing Evidence" (Brooklyn Nine-Nine, general plot type) successfully influenced. HIDDEN REWARD GRANTED: A Seat on the City Council.]
Adam felt a surge of satisfaction. He had solved the case, saved Jake from a disciplinary hearing, and earned himself a seat on the City Council. This was going to be an interesting new page in his life.
"City Council, baby! Now I can finally get that annoying pothole on my street fixed. And maybe enact a law that requires all coffee shops to offer unlimited refills. The people deserve it!"
The prank war between Adam and Jake, meanwhile, was escalating to new, glorious heights. They had moved beyond simple office pranks and were now engaging in elaborate, multi-stage operations that often involved the entire precinct, much to the exasperation of Amy Santiago and the grudging amusement of Captain Holt.
Their latest masterpiece involved subtly replacing all of Captain Holt's office supplies with miniature, brightly colored versions. His pens were tiny, his stapler was a dollhouse accessory, and his meticulously organized files were replaced with miniature folders containing tiny, illegible documents.
Holt, upon discovering the prank, simply stared at his desk, his expression unreadable. Then, he slowly, deliberately, picked up a tiny pen, tried to write with it, and then sighed.
"Peralta," Holt said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Stiels. My office. Now."
Adam and Jake exchanged a triumphant glance. They knew they had succeeded when Holt resorted to using their full names.
In Holt's office, he simply stared at them, his eyes unblinking. "Explain yourselves. This… miniaturization… it is an affront to the dignity of this precinct. And my personal stationery."
"Captain," Jake began, trying to suppress a giggle, "it was just a little… artistic expression. A commentary on the diminishing returns of bureaucracy!"
"And a subtle nod to the quantum realm, Captain," Adam added, his face a picture of innocent sincerity. "We were merely exploring the concept of scale invariance in a practical, office-based application."
Holt continued to stare. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Remarkable," he finally said, his voice still flat. "The sheer audacity. The meticulous planning. The utter pointlessness. I am… impressed. And deeply, deeply annoyed. Now, clean up this… miniature mess. And then, Peralta, you will write a 500-word essay on the importance of proper office equipment. Stiels, you will assist him in his research, ensuring all sources are properly cited."
Adam and Jake exchanged another triumphant glance. They had not only pulled off a legendary prank, but they had also earned Holt's grudging respect. And a 500-word essay on office equipment? That was practically a vacation.
"We've officially broken Holt. He's impressed and annoyed. That's the sweet spot. Now, about that essay… I think I'll use my 'Eidetic Memory' to recall every single office supply catalog I've ever seen. This is going to be a masterpiece of bureaucratic prose."
His relationship with Alex continued to deepen. Their "dates" were now a regular occurrence, a blend of intellectual stimulation and genuine affection. They found themselves spending more and more time together, not just in the lab, but exploring the city, debating the meaning of life over late-night coffee, and occasionally, just occasionally, sharing a quiet, comfortable silence that spoke volumes.
He knew his next step was to continue bridging the gap between the different sitcom worlds, subtly encouraging interactions and creating new, unexpected friendships. The Sitcomverse was becoming more interconnected, and Adam was at the center of it all.