Re:life with Karmic Gacha (Modern Family)

Chapter 213: NYC Morning (1)

Chapter 213: Chapter 213: NYC Morning (1)

[General POV]

Randall swiped the electronic keycard to gain entry into the hotel suite, the clock reading 8:55 in the morning. Pepper snoozed on the couch, his mouth agape but surprisingly devoid of any snores.

Knowing that the girls occupied the neighbouring suite, Randall made his way to the bedroom, where Edward lay peacefully slumbering. Positioning himself at the foot of the bed, Randall glanced at his wristwatch, his anticipation building.

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..." Randall whispered calmly, his eyes fixed on the ticking seconds, awaiting the arrival of 9 o'clock.

As the watch hands struck the exact hour, Edward stirred from his slumber, rising from the bed as if programmed to do so.

"Good morning, Ed. Exactly 4 hours of sleep. Your body operates like a well-oiled German train." Randall remarked, a touch of astonishment and disbelief in his voice.

"Mornin'," Edward groaned, rising from the bed and making his way to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. He turned to Randall and inquired, "Are they waiting for me?"

"Yes, they are. We've secured a private hotel hall for special occasions, and the fans are eagerly anticipating your presence." Randall confirmed.

Curiously, Edward asked, toothbrush in hand, "How many people?"

"About 75 people. There are many more waiting outside, but those 75 were the fortunate ones who attended the award show last night." Randall responded.

Edward nodded thoughtfully and added nonchalantly, "And what about the food?"

Randall's eyes widened in alarm, his voice tinged with fear. "Max was supposed to handle the food."

"She was out partying until 4 in the morning. I'm not sure if she remembered. Hell, even I forgot to remind her," Edward remarked calmly, noticing Randall's concerned expression.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure she'll figure something out. And if not, well... I'll just have to cook for my fans. Just set up an omelette station, get some bread, and... I'll have Robin send you a list," Edward reassured before proceeding to brush his teeth and step into the shower.

"Wait. Before that, you might want to know what happened with the tire slashing case from last night," Randall interjected, stopping Edward just as he was about to turn on the water. Edward peeked out from behind the bathroom wall and inquired, "What happened? Did they discover it was Max?"

"No, they apprehended the man responsible for the tire slashing, and it unexpectedly turned into a significant drug bust... WAIT, THAT WAS MAX!?" Randall exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief.

Edward, too, was taken aback, but for a different reason. "Wait. How on earth...?" he muttered, his astonishment evident.

...

NYPD Forensic Unit, in the heart of Brooklyn. Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago rushed to the forensic lab first thing in the morning after working overtime on their case last night.

"Hi, we are Detective Jake Peralta and Detective Amy Santiago, and we need to get your best cybercrime officer to crack the password on this phone," Jake introduced himself and Amy to Mellisa, a blonde forensic agent with glasses and panda eyes, much like their own.

The forensic agent was fatigued with countless work projects that needed to be done and wasn't in the mood to handle out-of-case requests like this. Melissa looked at them in disbelief. "I thought the case was closed, detectives," she said, subtly reminding the detectives.

Jake nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, we managed to seize 14 kilograms of cocaine off the streets, all thanks to the genius Jake Peralta," he proudly declared while pumping his fist to the side.

"And his dumb luck," Amy chimed in with a slight smirk, her irritation evident.

Jake let out a scoff, then refocused on the matter at hand. "But when I found this phone inside the suspect's jacket, there was a note and a picture of Edward Newgate, the singer and fellow Die Hard lover," he explained as he gave the note to the forensic agent.

The station's police captain hadn't arrived for work yet, but the request to make this a formal case had been submitted to Sergeant Terry Jeffords.

"Stop mentioning that to people," Amy reprimanded Jake. "And let's not go off on a tangent. We're supposed to be clocked out."

"Right, sorry," Jake apologized, regaining his focus. "Back to the topic. The note said 'Encárgate de él,' which means 'Deal With Him' in Spanish. My gut feeling tells me that something inside the phone will reveal what he intends to do with Newgate."

Melissa let out a sigh before responding, "Our cyber agent isn't here at the moment. However, I do have an intern who could help you with this kind of stuff."

"An intern?" Jake and Amy muttered simultaneously, their disbelief evident.

Just then, a brunette girl with twin-coloured hair, a choker around her neck, and a dark gothic dress peeking out from under her lab coat, along with tall dark boots, entered the lab.

She skillfully balanced a couple of coffee cups in her hands as she made her way in. "Morning, Mel!" she cheerfully greeted Melissa, causing the tired agent's face to wince at the onslaught of her excessive energy.

"Abby. You should help them." Melissa said before she teased, "That way, you can help them protect your ex-boyfriend. You know, the one you were so happy for when he won the award last night?"

"Ex-Boyfriend?!" Jake widened his mouth in excitement goofily. "I sense some hot tea!! SPILL GIRL!! Wait, bypass the phone's password first. Then, spill girl!!"

...

Detective Sergeant Terry Jeffords and Detective Rosa Diaz, both dressed casually, parked their car in front of the hotel where Edward, the scandal-ridden celebrity, was staying.

Rosa, with her wavy brunette hair and dark lipstick, glanced at Terry, a large, bald, muscular black man, who returned her gaze with a grimace. Terry expressed his discomfort, "Are you sure Boyle can't handle this instead? I don't feel comfortable being the only black man at the fan meeting."

Rosa replied curtly, "Boyle got mono after kissing his cousins over the weekends, so he's unavailable." Terry sighed in defeat, but before he could step out of the car, Rosa suggested, "Take off your wedding ring."

"Hell no! My wife will kill me if she finds out I took it off!" Terry objected immediately. Terry had just been married to his lovely wife, Sharon, and was still enjoying his honeymoon phase, therefore was reluctant to do so. Rosa shrugged and said, "Calm down. It's just a suggestion for you to fit in better."

"I think it's better for me to act like a parent overseeing his child inside the venue instead of a fan. Terry does like Edward and his music, but it's hard for Terry to act like the obsessive teenage girls."

As Terry and Rosa made their way towards where the fans were waiting, they were stopped by security before they could enter the reserved hall.

"You guys can't get in. Wait in line with the others," the security guard informed them.

Rosa swiftly flashed her NYPD badge to the security guard and confidently stated, "We're from the NYPD. We're dressed casually to avoid causing any more scandals for Mr. Newgate. I'm sure you guys don't want that either. Let us in."

The security guard was taken aback, then nodded and said, "I'll check with my boss first." He used his walkie-talkie to communicate with the other staff members before getting through to Randall, his supervisor.

"Hurry. Terry can feel the little girls staring at him, thinking he's completely out of place!" Sergeant Terry urged anxiously.

...

[Edward POV]

After receiving some unexpected details about the drug bust, which seemed like a colossal cosmic coincidence, I decided to put it aside for now and focus on meeting my fans. I dressed in a white shirt underneath a cozy knit sweater, paired with jeans. I carefully styled my hair, parting it into two naturally.

With a confident swagger, I made my entrance into the venue, causing the atmosphere to explode into cheers and shouts of my name. As I glanced around, I was taken aback to see Terry Jeffords standing out like a sore thumb beside Rosa, enthusiastically cheering for me.

"EDWARD!" my fans shouted in unison. I couldn't help but smile and wave at them, feeling their energy and support. As I prepared to address the crowd, their excitement interrupted my speech. "I'm sorry I'm late–"

"NOT AT ALL!" the fans shouted, interjecting with words of comfort. I chuckled in disbelief before jokingly remarking, "Wow. You guys are so energetic early in the morning– Wait. It's not really early, is it?"

The crowd chuckled and settled down, allowing me to continue. I made a slightly disturbed face and said, "Well, before we proceed, I need to share something with all of you. This fan meeting was planned last minute, and I think you all know why I'm here. Your support means the world to me, and this gathering is my way of expressing my gratitude."

The crowd erupted into cheers once again. After they calmed down, I continued, "But, I must apologise. We weren't able to secure a chef or catering for today."

"Oww," some of the girls exclaimed with a hint of disappointment. Lily, the club president, shouted, "It's okay! We can eat bread if it means eating with you!"

Many in the crowd voiced their agreement and shouted their support. Terry, visibly surprised, turned to Rosa and said, "I think I had the wrong idea of how these things go. Don't celebrities usually speak briefly and then let the host take over?"

Rosa, equally impressed, replied, "Yeah, it's my first time seeing a celebrity handle their fan meet all by themselves. He's better than many other celebrities we've guarded before."

I smiled at the crowd and said, "Oh, that warms my heart. And don't worry, at the last minute, we managed to find a chef who will personally cook for all of you this evening."

I paused for a moment, building anticipation, and then exclaimed, "So, I want all of you to give a big round of applause to our chef. Ready? Clap now!"

The fans applauded enthusiastically, but their applause slowly became staggered as they grew confused. No one had stepped forward, even after they had clapped for a considerable time. They turned to me, with an expression expecting an answer. I smirked, saying, "Oh wait. I forgot."

I turned slightly and exclaimed, "Ta-da. I'll be your chef for today!"

The fans erupted into thunderous cheers, their voices surprising even the other guests lounging around the hotel. The staff members quickly brought out the omelette station, and I took charge, cooking up delicious bacon and egg frittatas for the fans.

They eagerly lined up, patiently waiting as I served them one by one. Lily, holding her plate shyly, approached me. I smiled and initiated the conversation, "How are you, Lily? Also, did you put some blush on today? You look even cuter than usual."

Lily blushed intensely, and the other girls couldn't help but cheer for her. Even Terry joined in on the excitement.

"I-I did," Lily replied shyly. I laughed and asked, "What would you like to eat?"

Taking the time to engage in conversation, I learned the names of the new faces and cooked for each and every one of them. Even after receiving their food, none of them began eating, waiting instead for me to join them. With six stoves at the omelette station, the cooking process didn't take long. It took me about 40 minutes to reach the final two people in line—a couple of older fans who seemed slightly out of place amidst the younger crowd—and the cheerful Latina girl standing beside them.

Rosa put on her fake cheery voice and said, "Oh my god, Edward, I absolutely loved your performance yesterday."

"Oh, thank you... I have to say, I expected to see a non-smiling, serious woman, but I think I can guess why you're acting like a fangirl. Undercover work is tough, right, Detective Rosa Diaz?" I replied, a knowing smile on my face.

Rosa's smile instantly faded, and she turned solemn. I then turned to Terry and said, "You must have played a lot of football, Sergeant Terry Jeffords. Can I call you Sarge?"

"Wait, you already know about us? How?" Terry asked, clearly confused. I shrugged and dismissively said, "That's not important. What matters is why you're here. Ah, of course, if you're here as fans, I would be delighted for you guys to join us for the breakfast event today."

Both of them turned towards each other with a complicated expression. I casually butter my toast as I waited for the answer when I suddenly received a text message from someone unexpected.

...

[General POV]

The impact of the VMA show continued to resonate across the country and the world, like a persistent wave breaking on distant shores, even after the event had ended.

The video clip of K crashing into the stage went viral, and he was under a lot of heat at the moment. People were clamoring for him to apologize for his actions to Taylor, and for almost ruining Edward's moving performance.

K woke up at 10 in the morning inside a luxurious 5 star hotel bedroom and held his hurting head while groaning.

Drunk during the VMA, he was escorted back to his bedroom immediately after getting kicked out of the award show as his staff members wanted him to avoid further trouble.

However, K managed to sneak out and went to a celebrity party even in the midst of his controversy. "What is happenin'?" K muttered as he had no recollection of what had happened at the party.

"You stupid ni**a." His manager stormed into the room, seething with anger, and switched on the news, displaying footage of K joyfully showering the crowd with champagne at the club, his face devoid of remorse.

The public's outrage, both on social media and in real life, intensified. Even the celebrities who initially supported him swiftly deleted their tweets to avoid being implicated by him.

As the realization of his mistake dawned upon him, K nonchalantly shrugged off the backlash, dismissing it by saying, "Haters will hate. Just wait a day or two, and people will forget."

His manager responded sarcastically, "Oh, really? I suppose those people outside will also conveniently forget what you've done." With that, he flung open the curtains, revealing an angry mob of fans holding banners demanding an apology and seeking justice for Taylor.

Caught off guard, K's confusion grew as he stepped closer to the window, observing the sea of disgruntled supporters gathered outside the hotel. The gravity of the situation began to sink in, and he realized that his actions had triggered a significant backlash that wouldn't dissipate easily.

"Now. We need to do some damage control. You! Stop doing stupid things! I know it's impossible, but you gotta try for now."

"You know what? What gives you the right to talk to me that way?" K asked angrily, feeling as if his manager had stepped out of line. "I can fire you!"

"THEN FIRE ME! It'll make my life, A WHOLE LOT EASIER!" His manager replied with agitation. As the manager walked away angrily, K shouted with desperation, "FUCKK!!" He slammed his fist on the glass coffee table, shattering it into pieces.

Back to the forensic labs.

Abby managed to crack the phone password, and showed it to Jake and Amy.

"That...was impressive. You work faster than some veterans here." Amy complimented Abby. Twirling her right twintail, Abby said, "Oh, you know. I learn a lot from the tech genius."

"When did you guys date? Do you want to meet him right now?" Jake interjected mischievously.

Abby grimaced and said, "No. I can't meet him. This is the only thing I can do for him now." She uploaded the phone's data into her laptop and showed the text messages to Jake and Amy.

Amy read the urgent messages on the screen and immediately sprang into action. She said, "We need to go support them. I'll brief Sarge and Rosa on the situation." She swiftly pulled out her phone and dialled their numbers.

Jake, feeling the gravity of the situation, nodded seriously. "I'll call for backup from the 99. These gang members want to shoot him because of what happened last night... It's ridiculous! This isn't hip hop...or is it?" He opened his mouth in realisation as he alone became immersed in his own imagination.

Amy shook her head. "It's too soon to tell who they are. Abby, can you gather more details and text me if you find anything? Even the smallest clues could be helpful."

Abby, though visibly shaken, nodded resolutely. "I will," she replied. Amy acknowledged her response and hurried towards the door, with Jake following closely behind.

As they were about to leave, Abby called out urgently, "WAIT!"

Amy turned back, confusion evident on her face. Abby exclaimed in disbelief, "Your contact?"

Realizing her oversight, Amy felt a hint of embarrassment. She quickly reached into her pocket, retrieved her card, and handed it to Abby. "Right. Here you go. Contact me if you find anything," she said hurriedly before rushing out with Jake.

At the 99th precinct police station, Captain McGinley, the captain before Holt's tenure and prior to Gina's hiring and Terry's children, burst into the bullpen where the detectives were hard at work. His voice filled with urgency, he shouted, "We have a possible active shooter situation at the XX hotel. We need S.W.A.T. and officers to secure the area immediately!"

Just as the captain finished speaking, his phone rang. Confused, he answered the call, only to find a military representative on the other end of the line.

"Edward Newgate is classified as a second-order asset to the country. You must protect him at all costs! The FBI and National Guard will assist you in this matter. Captain, do not fail us, or there will be consequences," the military representative warned, his tone threatening.

Captain McGinley, feeling the weight of the situation, nodded nervously, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He barked out orders, "CALL FOR A HELICOPTER! We need to get over there right now--"

But before he could finish his sentence, the captain clutched his chest in pain, a heart attack seizing him in the midst of the chaos. Gasping for breath, he weakly muttered, "We need to... go..."

With a heavy thud, Captain McGinley collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Hitchcock and Scully, who had just returned from the restroom, witnessed the captain's fall.

Hitchcock responded nonchalantly, "Great. Looks like we'll be sleeping on the floor again. I'll call the receptionist area."

Concerned, Scully quickly intervened. "No, Hitchcock! I know what is happening here. He's having a heart attack. We need to call an ambulance! The captain needs medical help."

"Oh. Right. HELP! CALL THE AMBULANCE!" Hitchcock shouted urgently.