Dave Brewer, mid 30's cop

"Dispatch, show me back in service from the jail. I'm en route to headquarters." Where I now have a shitload of paperwork waiting for me. Just a perfect way to end my shift. That asshole just HAD to make a scene and get the cops called and she just HAD to have a warrant, because of course she did. And she couldn't wait ten minutes for the next shift so she could become THEIR problem instead of mine... Fucking asshole. She WAS kind of hot, in that “maybe I'll stab you while we're having sex” kind of way. Leather, tats galore, a shitload of piercings (including her nipples. Seriously, she's the one wearing a thin tank top with no bra with those things sticking out far enough to poke out your eye amd I'm the pervert. Right.) Officer David (Dave) Brewer sighed as he left the sally port at the jail and headed back to the station. Just one more kick to the balls in an already shitty week. He debated giving his sergeant a heads up that a complaint was probably coming down the pipe, but decided against it. No sense inviting any more scrutiny he thought. Thank God I'm off for the next week at least. Not only was he working on what was supposed to be his off day, but he was also working on an entirely different shift than his regular shift, thanks to being voluntold by the shift sergeant that he was needed to cover a shortage on night shift. I'm too old for this shit. I have seniority. Why did Sgt. Miller fuck me like this? But Dave knew why. I should be wearing those stripes, not him. Thanks for that parting gift, Louise.

The divorce had been finalized earlier in the week, but it had been a long time coming. He and his (now ex-) wife had met in undergrad. He had been impressed by her smarts (and her looks. Holy shit but did he like dating a woman that at 6' tall, was only an inch shorter than him). She had seemed taken with his more adventurous personality and his belief in doing the right thing, no matter what. After 2 years of dating, he had proposed during their senior year and they had gotten married shortly after graduation. Dave had gotten a "real" job with the local PD after graduating, while she had gotten accepted to the dental school at their alma mater. I busted my ass, working God only knows how much overtime to put her through dental school so we could avoid mountains of student loan debt. Yet somehow, during the divorce, he ended up losing half of his retirement while getting zero alimony from her. I thought that I was supposed to get some kind of credit for basically funding her education. Fucking lawyers. If I had just pulled the trigger one week earlier, none of what the judge said were now "marital assets" would have been on the table. But no. I had to listen to her and her bitch friend and try to "work it out". "Working it out" had lasted exactly one week, interestingly enough. The vaunted marriage counselor didn't have any openings for new clients for months, but Louise's best friend Hilary supposedly had a connection and was able to get him and Louise on the counselor's appointments within a week and a half. It was only months later that Dave discovered that not only did Hillary not know this counselor, but also that Louise had NEVER called to schedule an appointment. It was a delaying tactic and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

Dave still didn't realize the depths of Hillary's betrayal and duplicity until he got served with divorce papers listing her as his wife's attorney at the end of his shift. In front of half the department. Thanks for letting me keep my personal life personal, you bitch. In the months that followed, Dave could never prove it, but he knew that Hillary had managed to turn most of the higher-ups at work if not against him, definitely not FOR him. He had always thought that it couldn't be a bad thing that his wife's (nope. EX-wife-s) best friend was also the goddaughter of his chief. She had put that influence to good use, effectively torpedoing Dave's chance at promotion during the latest round of selection. He'd never be able to prove it, as neither Hillary or his chief were dumb enough to ever speak of it aloud, but there was no other explanation for the sudden uptick in writeups and "disciplinary conferences" Dave had experienced during and after the divorce was filed. Individually, the writeups were no big deal. Any cop who's worth a shit and actually WORKS is bound to get written up from time to time. It's the law of averages. The more you do, the more opportunities you have to screw some paperwork up. And, much like with a casino, the House always wins in the end.

Dave had thrown himself into his work in an attempt to distract himself from the pain and heartache of his impending divorce. One of the few bright spots had been his partner, Jane. The two of them had bonded during the time they both worked in Vice. Dave would always be proud of his work to keep predators off the streets. And Jane was perfect in her role as bait. With a little makeup and some pigtails, the 30 year old looked like a 15 year old. Probably has something to do with genetics, Dave thought. Jane was some combination of Hispanic, Native American, and Black. Dave (and the rest of the Vice squad) found it uncanny (and borderline uncomfortable) how much she could alter her apparent age via a few simple cosmetics and hairstyle. Of course, this made her perfect for posing as an underage girl, which in turn allowed Dave and company to snap up many would-be predators. Of course, if they had seen anything other than a headshot, nobody would be believing that a teenager had a body like THAT. Jane sported an athletic build, with a (for her body type) larger than expected bust. Dave had thought on more than one occasion that her height at 5'5" was the only thing keeping her from pursuing a modeling career. Well, that, and the fact that she's the antithesis of a fashionista. I swear she knows more dirty jokes than I do and I'm not sure if I could out-drink her, even though I have about 60 pounds and 6 or 7 inches on her.

These thoughts and others swirled through Dave's head as he drove back to the station. Blinking, he realized that he was pulling in to the parking lot and chided himself for zoning out. Inattention gets people hurt, dumbass. How many wrecks have you worked where a car "came out of nowhere"? Shaking his head, Dave prepared to get out of his patrol car when a wave of tiredness hit him. Damn, I'm getting too old for this shit Dave thought, not for the first time. Collecting himself, he attempted to sit up and get out again when everything went dark.

Meanwhile, in a pocket reality created for the sole purpose of containing the latest season of Harem Hotel...

"Shit!"

"I told you to wait for him to be DONE with work before you grabbed him!"

Indistinct mumbling can be heard

"What do you mean you thought he was done?"

More mumbling

"Are you fucking serious? How long have we been watching this guy?"

"Nope! That was not a question for you to answer. That was a rhetorical question, whereby you are supposed to THINK about the answer without polluting the collective consciousness of whoever might hear what falls out of your mouth before you give due consideration to what passes for thoughts in your stupid head. We hav been watching this asshole for over 7 months. You KNOW that he can’t leave work until he finishes his paperwork. And what happens after making an arrest? Fucking paperwork. I swear that you actually want to find out what the Producers have in store for us"

More mumbling, with what sounds suspiciously like crying

"Are you fucking crying?"

Defiant mumbling

Oh for fuck's sake! Or is it fuck sake? Or is it a possessive plural ‘fucks' ‘ sake?

...

"FUCK!"

"Fuck. Pull your shit together. I'm not going to turn you into a fucking sentient fleshlight or give you dick fingers or whatever... THIS time."

Mumbling

"Terry, I swear to the Producer that I was speaking figuratively, not literally, but I'm really close to changing that. You know we're all on the shit list. You KNOW what's

waiting for us if we fuck this up. And you definitely know that dick fingers or whatever would be a generous blessing compared to what's in store for us if we do, in fact, fail. Again."

Crying sounds intensify

"For the love of Production, someone slap some sense into Terry!"

"Fuck! I didn't mean to ACTUALLY slap him!. Again, that was FIGURATIVE, not LITERAL! Now that we have successfully fucked ALLLLL the way up, can we return to why the fuck our Master was transported here before schedule?"

Multiple voices mumbling

"No, we cannot simply "send him back and do it over", genius. If you will recall, I have already covered the fact that we are on a VERY short leash, with a VERY limited magic budget, because all of us for some reason or another, have managed to fuck SOMETHING up during a previous season of Harem Hotel and this is our literal last chance before the Producers do their thing. Simply put, we’re rolling with this.”

Mumbling

"For the last time, dick fingers was merely to be an illustration of a POSSIBLE punishment, NOT a definitive punishment, so fucking lower your hand, you cannot call dibs on dick fingers, you Philistine."

Indignant mumbling

"Yes, Omega, we are all VERY much aware that you didn't fuck up a season of Harem Hotel. However, you DID get drunk and thought it would be funny to redirect extended warranty phone call scammers to the Producers' staff. I'm honestly surprised none of them are here with us, given that more than one actually BOUGHT a fucking warranty for a product they don't even own..."

Mumbling

"No! I don't fucking know if the rumor that several of the scammers were actually hired by Production is true! Stay on fucking target please!"

...

...

"Nothing? Are y'all sure you're done senselessly vomiting out mindless, witless, and brainless, off-topic ramblings?"

Mumb-

"Terry, so help me if you can't recognize a rhetorical question by now... Think long and hard about what you were about to allow out of that fountain of idiocy you call a mouth. No! Actually think! I'm sure it hurts, but better late than never, right?"

...

...

"OK. So so far we've managed to fuck up the very first thing on the list. Fantastic. Let's try to make it at least an hour before one of you geniuses shits the bed again. And yes, Terry, THAT was a use of figurative speech. Fucking bra-vo. Now, before we proceed with the other collections, does anyone else have a question or something relevant to add to the discussion?"

At this point, Dave decided that if he had well and truly had a psychotic break, he'd have nothing to lose by leaning into it. Eschewing anything as mundane as raising his hand, he simply blurted out, "What the actual fuck is going on?"

…

“We’re so fucked.”