Chapter 66 (The Mortal Multiverse : Liam Raven Harper)

Chapter 66 - NY 99!

Liam Pov

Bratton’s luxury sedan disappeared down the street, leaving only the faint echo of expensive tires and arrogance behind. 

I slipped my phone from my pocket and dialed Beth as I walked towards my bike. She picked up on the second ring.

“Mr. Harper” she said and asked how did the hearing go? 

Keeping it simple and replied that I won and she cheerfully said “Congratulations, Mr. Winner of the jewelry heist trial?”

I chuckled. “Thanks, Beth. The verdict just came in. The defendant folded faster than expected.”

“I’m not surprised,” she replied. “You’ve got that scary calm thing going on in court—like a polite shark. Anyway, I’ll handle the post-trial paperwork and notify Cameron Dennis about the outcome.”

“Appreciate it,” I said, leaning against my bike. “Anything new on the calendar?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Harvey’s office called—today’s case discussion is canceled. He’s stuck in court. The next meeting’s been moved to Monday.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “Seem’s like his other case is running a bit long. Tell him I’ll see him next week.”

Beth laughed. “Got it, boss. Go enjoy the rest of your day—you’ve earned it.”

“Will do. Thanks, Beth.” I hung up and slid my phone back into my pocket.

[So, no more work for today?] Eve asked, stretching her voice like someone ready for a lazy afternoon.

“Looks like it,” I said. “Anything interesting going on out there?”

[Hmm… The US Open’s live right now. There’s a big match this afternoon—Djokovic versus a rising rookie.]

I smirked. “Tempting. How about you grab us some tickets—”

Before I could finish, my phone buzzed again. The name on the screen made me raise an eyebrow.

‘Jake Peralta.’

“Now that’s unexpected,” I said, accepting the call. “Jake”

“Liam! Manhattan’s coolest ADA!” Jake’s voice blasted through the line with its usual mix of excitement and chaos. “How’s it going, my man?”

“Good, Detective. What’s up?”

“So, funny story. We picked up this guy on drug distribution charges and during interrogation, he slipped and dropped something interesting. Something about one of your old cases.”

My posture straightened. “Which case?”

“The Hale case,” Jake said, suddenly serious.

That got my attention. “You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Jake said. “The guy slipped Hale’s name—stuff that doesn’t add up with what the files said as he worked on the other side. I thought you might want to hear it yourself. Can you swing by the precinct around three?”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

“Awesome. Boyle’s already setting up the evidence board. This could be big.”

“See you then.” I ended the call, sliding the phone back into my pocket.

Eve’s tone shifted. [Than Hale’s again? That’s… odd. We locked down every angle. Everyone involved is either behind bars or under surveillance.]

“I know,” I said quietly. “But if Peralta thinks it’s worth calling, we’ll hear him out.”

[Still,] she said [There is still plenty of time so let's go for lunch. Even superheroes need fuel.]

That made me grin. “Good point. Let's go for pizza!”

[There’s a pizza place I looked up—‘Tony’s’ . It's got a 4.9 rating and reviews say the owner’s been tossing dough since before you were born.]

“Perfect,” I said, starting the bike.

Reaching the spot that Eve had marked in my HUD, I parked outside Tony’s Pizza, an old-school New York joint with checkered tiles, red booths, and the smell of melted cheese that could make anyone forget their problems.

Behind the counter stood a broad-shouldered man in his sixties, flour on his forearms and a warm grin on his face.

“Welcome in, pal,” he said. “What’ll it be?”

“Two slices of your best New York classic,” I said. “Extra cheese. And a Coke.”

“Good choice,” he said with pride. “My Pie’s are thin crusted and have real mozzarella—none of that factory junk. Been making these babies for thirty years.”

“That’s impressive,” I said, leaning on the counter as he worked the dough like it was second nature. “Must’ve seen half the city grow up eating here.”

He chuckled. “Kid, I’ve fed lots of people like cops, lawyers, Wall Street suits, even a few guys who should’ve been in jail. But you—you look like one of the good ones.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said with a faint smile.

When the slices came out, they were perfect—thin, crisp, cheese bubbling over the edges. I took the first bite, and it was everything a New York slice should be.

[Okay, that looks amazing,] Eve said. [Can I just say, if I ever get a body, I’m trying that.]

“You’d fight me for the last slice,” I teased.

[Damn right I would.]

Tony laughed as he wiped the counter. “You look like you’re having a conversation with someone invisible.”

“Something like that,” I said with a smirk. “Best slice I’ve had in a long time, Tony. Keep this up, and you’ll be running this city one pie at a time.”

“Kid,” Tony said, smiling proudly, “in this city, a good slice is power.”

I laughed, finishing my second slice and coke, tossing the napkin in the bin. “Can’t argue with that.”

As I stepped out, the afternoon light bounced off my bike’s chrome. 

My rolex watch read 2:30. Time to head to the precinct.

“Let’s see what Peralta’s got,” I said quietly.

[You think it’s something big?] Eve asked.

“If it’s related to Hale’s and didn't come under our radar," I said, putting on my helmet, “it has to be big.”

It didn’t take long to reach the 99th precinct. 

Eve’s voice guided me smoothly through the city traffic even though there was a map in my HUD, 

Her tone is casual yet alert whenever I’m driving.

[Left turn ahead, Liam. The building should be right after the deli with the neon “Best Bagels in NY” sign.]

“Got it,” I said, pulling up beside the familiar brownstone with the precinct’s emblem out front.

I parked the bike neatly in the corner spot, removed my helmet—and immediately saw Detective Charles Boyle standing outside the doors. 

The moment he spotted me, his face lit up.

“Liam! Oh my god, you actually came!” he blurted, rushing over.

I smiled, setting my helmet on the bike. “Hey, Charles.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to be working together so soon!” he said, extending his hand for an enthusiastic shake.

I clasped his hand, amused by his boundless energy. “It’s not confirmed yet, Charles.”

“Don’t worry,” Boyle said confidently. “Jake’s working on the suspect right now. He’ll make him talk. Jake’s the best at this. You’re going to see pure Peralta magic.”

I just nodded, lips curving slightly. “Looking forward to it.”

“C’mon,” Boyle said, motioning me toward the entrance. “Let’s get inside before Jake finishes the interrogation.”

Inside the elevator, Boyle couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“I’ve gotta say, Liam, you and Jake—two of the coolest guys I’ve ever met. You fight crime with logic and integrity, he fights it with style. You’re like two sides of the same heroic coin!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Boyle said, completely serious. “Also, you both have great hair. Important for morale.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal the unmistakable chaos of the 99th precinct. 

Desks stacked with paperwork, detectives on calls, and the faint smell of coffee that’s been sitting out since yesterday.

It was almost surreal seeing it in person—the same space I’d only seen through a TV screen once upon a time.

At the far end, The Captain’s office gleamed with glass walls, the blinds half-open. Nearby sat Gina Linetti scrolling on her phone, Scully and Hitchcock eating something suspiciously greasy, and Sergeant Terry Jeffords reviewing files beside his desk.

All of them looked up as soon as I stepped off the elevator, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

“Detectives,” Boyle announced proudly, “this is Liam Harper! Assistant District Attorney from Manhattan!”

A few murmured greetings, and then Terry walked over with that calm, commanding presence. 

The man was built like a tank in a dress shirt—biceps that looked like they could curl a car.

I extended my hand. “Sergeant Jeffords, right?”

He nodded, shaking firmly. “That’s right. Good to finally meet you, Harper. I read about your work in Hale's case—solid work. You took down some real heavy hitters.”

“Appreciate that,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Though I have to ask—do you work out daily, or do you just bench-press perps for fun?”

Terry’s serious expression cracked into a laugh. “Man, you noticed, huh? Yeah, I hit the gym every morning. Gotta stay sharp—this job doesn’t exactly come with a safety net.”

“Clearly working,” I said, with a small grin. “You look like you could give half the MMA gyms in Manhattan a run for their money.”

“Ha! You train MMA?” Terry asked, suddenly interested.

“Recently picked it up again,” I said casually. “Keeps the body and mind sharp.”

“Respect,” Terry said, nodding approvingly. “Maybe you can drop by my gym sometime and we could workout together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

Boyle looked between us, eyes wide. “Wait—you two bonding over muscles? This is amazing. My worlds are colliding.”

I just laughed, glancing around the precinct as detectives went back to work. The energy here was different—fast, unpredictable, but filled with people who genuinely cared about what they did.

And somehow, I already felt like I fit right in.

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