Brooklyn Nine Nine

Chapter 7: The New Captain

The precinct was unusually quiet for 8:30 in the morning.

Jake sat at his desk, dressed in a neatly pressed black suit, crisp white shirt, and a navy-blue tie. His hair was actually combed. His shoes? Polished. His desk — once a landfill of loose paper, condiment packets, and open snack bags — now looked like it belonged to a professional. Case files were stacked neatly, pens aligned. There was even a coaster under his coffee mug.

He didn't know what drove him to do it exactly — maybe it was the murder case, or maybe the tequila-soaked rooftop existentialism — but today mattered.

Captain Raymond Holt was arriving.

And Jake Peralta was going to meet him head-on.

He adjusted the collar of his shirt and flipped open a folder: a cold case involving missing diamonds from three years ago. Not urgent, but good brain fuel.

"Whoa," Boyle said, wide-eyed, approaching with a cup of coffee. "Are you wearing… a suit?"

Jake didn't look up. "Observant as always, Boyle."

"I like it!" Boyle said, eyes gleaming. "You look like a young Pacino, but with way better skin. It's… it's kind of intimidating, honestly."

Amy walked up beside him, coffee in hand, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, did someone body-swap Jake?"

Jake looked up now and gave a small smirk. "Maybe. But if they did, that guy's got excellent taste in suits."

Amy narrowed her eyes, glancing over his desk. "And you cleaned? And organized? And color-coded your post-its?"

"Yeah," Jake replied casually. "Thought I'd make a good first impression."

Amy blinked. "You… want to make a good impression on a superior officer?"

Jake leaned forward. "Shocking, right?"

Boyle clapped once. "I'm so pumped! Captain Holt is a legend in the department. Medal of Valor, record number of clean busts, led three high-profile investigations—"

Amy cut in, "—And he's a tactical genius. If I can get him to mentor me, it could be a career accelerator. I've already drafted three potential learning tracks. You know. Just casually."

Boyle whispered, "Are those laminated?"

"Yes," Amy said, dead serious.

Rosa walked over then, sipping black coffee and eyeing Jake's desk like it offended her.

"Okay, what the hell is happening here?" she said flatly. "Did you lose a bet? Are you dying?"

"Nope," Jake said cheerfully. "Just decided to be less of a slob."

Gina slid into the conversation wearing her usual "business casual disco queen" ensemble and holding a green smoothie that probably had glitter in it.

"Okay but real talk," she said, pointing at Jake. "You're giving off 'secret FBI agent who's trying to blend in' vibes. It's unsettling."

"Wow," Jake said. "A compliment from Gina. I should buy a lottery ticket."

Gina shrugged. "Just don't get boring. I'm allergic to boring."

Suddenly, the room fell into a hush.

The doors to the bullpen opened.

Captain Raymond Holt walked in — tall, composed, dressed in uniform so precise it looked ironed by a machine. Sergeant Terry Jeffords followed behind him.

Holt stopped in front of the main squad and addressed them with calm authority.

"I'm Captain Raymond Holt. I've just been assigned to the 99th precinct. Effective immediately, I am in command."

The squad stood at attention — except Gina, who didn't move, and Hitchcock, who belched quietly.

Holt continued, his tone even and cool. "I know we come from different backgrounds, different generations, and perhaps different management styles. But I assure you — I believe in fairness, structure, and precision. If we work together, this precinct can become the best in Brooklyn."

Terry nodded proudly beside him. "This is a big step forward for the Nine-Nine. Let's show Captain Holt what we're made of."

As the squad relaxed, Holt began walking around, silently taking mental inventory of his new team. His eyes passed over desks — mostly cluttered and disorganized — until they landed on Jake.

He paused.

Then walked over.

"Detective…" he said, looking at the nameplate, "…Peralta."

Jake stood up, offering a brief but confident nod. "Captain Holt."

Holt looked him up and down. "Sharp suit. And a well-kept desk. That's unexpected."

Jake didn't miss a beat. "Figured I'd try something new. Like professionalism."

There was the faintest twitch — barely noticeable — at the edge of Holt's mouth.

"That's good," Holt said simply. "I like that."

Then he moved on.

Amy stared at Jake like he'd just grown a second head. Boyle mouthed wow. Rosa squinted, confused. Gina said, "Okay. That was hot."

Jake sat back down, flipping open his case file again with a satisfied smile.

Maybe this was going to be fun after all. And I made a fine first impression too.