Officer Emelie Vikander Pt. 01

Author's Note: This story is set in the fictional country of Nordland, a small island nation in the North Sea between the UK, Norway and Denmark.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places described in this narrative are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story contains depictions of post-traumatic stress, please do not continue if this will cause any issues for you.

All comments and feedback is welcome.

HF

------

The indoor firing range echoed with the sound of the gunshots. Thanks to her Peltor earmuffs she was wearing, Emelie was able to tune out from most of the noise and focus on the target.

Eye. Sights. Target. All in a line. Look for the center of seen mass. She could almost hear her father repeating this time and time again.

Breathing in and holding her breath, she pulled back on the trigger, applying pressure. Never snatch at the trigger, always a gentle squeeze. She could hear her father's words again. The gunshot echoed across the range, lost within the noise of her colleagues firing. The Glock 17 bucked in her hands; expect the recoil. Don't fight it, she heard her father's voice in her mind.

Again and again, she went through the same routines, something that had been pounded into her head by her father and then by her instructors at the Academy. Finally, her slide locked back, indicating an empty chamber. She ejected the magazine, cleared the chamber, and released the slide, before waiting for the others to finish.

The voice of the Range Officer came over the PA system and Emelie and her colleagues went through the drills of clearing their weapons and holstering them. She slipped her Peltors off her ears and pressed the button to bring the paper target back to her. Unclipping it from the frame, she surveyed her results.

The Range Officer, a grizzled veteran Sergeant stopped, looking at the neat grouping of holes in the center of her target. He nodded approvingly. "Nice shooting, Vikander. Your Dad would be proud," he said in Nordic.

Emelie grinned, her blue eyes sparkling at the compliment. "Thanks Sarge, he taught me everything."

"And I taught him everything!" he said as moved away. "Give him my regards when you see him next." Emelie's father, now retired, had been one of the best members of the Nordland Police Service Tactical Team. Although she had followed him into the Police and had become a good shot herself, Emelie wanted a different path for her career.

Anna Larsdotter, one of her colleagues in the Nordland Police Service and a good friend, walked around the partition to look at Emelie's results. "Way to go, Em!" said the bubbly brunette as she studied Emelie's target and then held up hers in comparison. Emelie noticed that this time at least most of Anna's bullets had actually hit the target. Anna frowned as she studied her target. "I think my pistol is broken!"

Emelie grinned. "The only part that's broken is the operator!" She and Anna had become fast friends at the Academy several years earlier, soon becoming like sisters when they were both assigned to Lysvik station in downtown Nordhaven as their first posting.

The two Nordlandic women were about as different physically as they could possibly be with Anna being two years older than Emelie at twenty six, shorter with a generous bust, curly brown hair, hazel eyes, and an infectiously outgoing personality, while Emelie was more reserved, with long, straight blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a taller, more athletic stature, thanks to good genes from her parents and a strict regime of running and swimming. About the only thing that both women had in common physically were their pale Nordic complexions.

The pair made their way to the ammunition counter at the rear of the range, swapping out their empty magazines for fresh, loaded ones. Emelie looked at the 17-round magazines in her hand, the power of life or death, it was something she had hoped she'd never need to use. Her father had been forced to take several lives during his time on the force and it was something that had never left him.

A necessary evil, her father had called it. She moved over to the loading bin and inserted a fresh magazine into her pistol, pulling the slide back to chamber a round before holstering it in her belt mounted holster. She waited till Anna had completed the process before they moved to drop off their shooting glasses and ear protectors.

"Larsdotter..." The pair turned towards the Range Officer. "Remember out there, the barrel is pointed at the bad guys..."

Emelie grinned as Anna rolled her eyes and said, "Har har...thanks, Sarge." They collected their gear and made their way out of the range with their colleagues. "So, how's the new role going?" Anna asked as they walked down the corridor.

"So, so..." Emelie replied. She'd just started a new role as an Interrasial Forbindelses Offiser or Interracial Liaison Officer or just, more simply, IFO. The team had been stood up by the Nordland Police Service to better engage with the increasingly diverse migrant groups that now made-up Nordland society. The overwhelmingly white NPS had drawn keen and eager officers from their ranks to be IFOs and Emelie had volunteered for the team, hoping it would look good on her application for the Detective program in the future.

Emelie and Anna made their way towards the police station's break room. Standing at the coffee machine, Emelie listened to it gurgle for a moment while it prepared what it believed was coffee. Sipping the bitter tasting sludge, her face contorted into a grimace; she made a note to buy a proper cup of coffee when she was out on patrol later that day.

Emelie glancing up at the TV on the wall as she made her way back to the table where Anna was sitting, tapping away on her phone, no doubt planning her next party or night out. Emelie noticed the news report displaying the increasing tensions amongst the migrant communities in Nordhaven.

Sitting down opposite her friend, Emelie sighed as she nodded her head towards the TV. "I can't believe what's happening out there...this isn't the Nordhaven we grew up in," she said a touch wistfully.

"Speak for yourself," Anna said with a scoff and a grin as she put her phone down, if only momentarily. "I'm from Haugstad, remember. It's still nice and quiet over there," she said, referring to a small town down the coast from Nordhaven. "Well, it must be now that you've left!" Emelie joked back.

Anna's eyes lit up as she saw another officer enter the break room. Tall, fair skinned and with light brown hair, he saw the two women and made his way towards them. "Here's Sven," she said with a little grin. "So, when is he going to pop the question? Is he going to get down on one knee?" she asked. Emelie sighed and gave her friend a little smile. "We're not rushing into things," she told Anna. "Rushing? You've been living together for two years...dating since the Academy...if you aren't the definition of a married couple, I don't know what is!" Anna laughed.

"What don't you know what is, Anna?" Sven asked with a grin as he approached them. "You two!" she replied. Emelie gave her a surprised smile. "What have I got to do with this?" she said. Anna looked up at Sven. "You two...you're like an old married couple...touring art galleries, walks along the beach, wine nights...just that you're not married!"

Sven laughed. "You're just jealous, aren't you Anna? You should try it sometime...give up all those nightclubs and come over to our place, we can do our knitting together." Emelie laughed and looked up at Sven with a mock serious look. "I can't wait to get home tonight and finish working on that jumper," she told him.

Sven laughed for a moment before his face become serious. "Hey, speaking of tonight, I might be home a bit late. The Watch Commander just informed us that there's a stakeout planned for tonight, some drug gang down near the docks. Looks like they're going to use most of the shift for perimeter duty," he said. Anna's expression changed from happy to sour. "Well, looks like there goes that dance party I had tickets for."

"Well, while you're both standing out on some perimeter tonight with the others, I'll be home with my jumper," she told them both with a little grin. Anna sighed. "So, you've gone and become an IFO, so you don't have to stand on perimeters all night."

"Not when I know that you guys can do it much better than me," she joked back. Her expression softened as she looked up at Sven. "Be careful, ok?" she said.

He smiled at her. "I will...just have that jumper finished for me for when I get home!"

*****

Emelie entered the briefing room of the IFO team, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. She took a seat at the table, greeted by the familiar faces of her colleagues, each wearing the same determined expression. The team was a mixture of men and women, mostly white, but with a smattering of other ethnic backgrounds, representing the increasing diverse nature of Nordland society.

Lieutenant Andersson, the team leader, stood at the front of the room, his gaze sweeping over the assembled officers. "Good morning, everyone," he began, his voice firm but warm. "We have a busy day ahead of us, so let's get started."

Emelie listened attentively as the Lieutenant outlined the tasks for the day. "Today, we'll be conducting foot patrols around the Lysvik district," he explained, gesturing to a map projected onto the screen behind him. "We'll be focusing on areas with high immigrant populations, engaging with residents, and addressing any concerns they may have."

Officer Jensen raised his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Sir, what about the recent increase in vandalism in the immigrant neighborhoods?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Lieutenant Andersson nodded, acknowledging the question. "That's a good point, Jensen," he replied. "We'll be keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity and increasing our presence in those areas to deter further incidents."

Emelie made a mental note of the directive in her notebook, her mind already racing with the possibilities of what they might encounter during their patrol. She gazed at the map on the screen in front of the room. The district of Lysvik was one of the older, more working-class areas of Nordhaven; over the past several years it had seen a distinct change as more and more migrants had entered the country and moved to the lower cost housing available in this part of the city.

As the briefing continued, Lieutenant Andersson outlined the protocols for engaging with community members, emphasizing the importance of active listening, empathy, and cultural sensitivity.

"We're here to serve and protect all members of the community, regardless of background," he reminded them, his words echoing the core values of the IFO team.

With the briefing concluded, the team prepared to head out into the city. Emelie made her way to the locker room to collect her equipment. The locker room buzzed with camaraderie as officers laced up their boots and checked their equipment. Emelie adjusted her duty belt and tactical vest, ensuring she had all her necessary equipment.

She automatically went through her drills as she'd been taught at the Academy, moving around the belt and vest to check the contents of each pouch: radio, handcuffs, flashlight, multi-tool, OC spray, gloves, tourniquet, expandable baton, key holder, pens, notebooks, smartphone, chocolate bars. The last one was the most important, she thought to herself with a little smile.

Finally, she arrived at her holster and spare magazines. Her Glock 17 nestled securely in its holster on her duty belt, a reliable companion for the challenges that she faced on the streets of Nordhaven.

She had already placed a loaded magazine in the pistol and chambered a round earlier in the firing range. She quickly confirmed that her spare magazines were tight in their pouches, she didn't want to lose either of them.

As the team finished gearing up, the topic of conversation among the officers shifted to the recent influx of African migrants to Nordland. The city had become a melting pot of cultures, a testament to its welcoming nature. However, tensions had been rising lately over the spring and now into the early summer as some Nordland youths expressed discontent and frustration, leading to clashes with the newly arrived migrants.

With these disconcerting thoughts at the back of their minds, Emelie and the other IFOs headed out to engage with the members of the community they were charged with protecting.

*****

Emelie walked briskly along the sidewalk of a busy street in downtown Lysvik, her eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. It was a lovely summer's day and it had passed uneventfully so far. She'd managed to find a much better cup of coffee which had brightened her mood. Unfortunately, she'd also finished the two chocolate bars she had stashed in her vest. I'm going to pay for that later, she thought.

She made her way down the street she noticed the change in the demographics. As an IFO, she understood it was part of her role to engage with the increasingly diverse groups of people that now called Nordland home. Nordhaven is changing, but hopefully for the better, she thought to herself.

As she passed by a group of African youths congregated on the corner, their voices rose in a cacophony of laughter and chatter. "Yo, check out the fine ass cop!" one of the youths exclaimed in heavily African-accented Nordic.

Emelie felt a pang of anger and frustration at the remark, but she refused to let it show. That wasn't what she was here for. She had joined the police to do something good, to help her community, her hometown. She knew that building trust with the community would take time, patience, and understanding.

Taking a breath, she turned and approached the group with a friendly smile, her blue eyes meeting theirs with warmth and sincerity. She knew as an IFO, she needed to win the trust and support of the diverse groups in the community.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she greeted them, her voice steady and professional. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

The youths exchanged smirks and snickers amongst themselves, their dismissive attitudes evident in their body language.

"Nah, we good, officer," one of them replied, his tone laced with arrogance. "Just chillin' out here, you know?" Automatically, she followed her training drummed into her at the Academy to generate a visual description of each person she encountered.

Youth: African, 165cm, late teens, slim build, short curly hair, black jacket, and red tracksuit pants.

Emelie nodded, unfazed by their lack of respect. "Well, if you ever need assistance or have any concerns, don't hesitate to reach out to me or any other officer," she said, her voice firm but friendly.

As she turned to leave and start walking away, the youths' comments grew increasingly louder and lewd.

"Why don't you come back here, officer? I'll show you what real trouble looks like."

"You ever had a real man, officer? Bet you'd love to see what you've been missing."

Emelie gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to confront them head-on. She knew that engaging with them further would only escalate the situation and detract from her task to engage with the local community.

Just then, a voice cut through the noise, commanding attention, and respect.

"Hey, yo, cut that shit out!" the voice boomed, its tone firm and authoritative.

Emelie turned to see a tall, lean African man stepping towards the group, his dark eyes flashing with determination. Emelie could see that the youths deferred to him and stopped their catcalling as he approached.

Man: African, 185cm, muscular build, short curly black hair, brown jacket, and jeans.

He made his way towards her with confidence, his posture upright and assertive. He had a weathered expression and dark, expressive eyes.

"I apologize for their behavior, Officer," he said, his voice calm but assertive. His Nordic good but with a definite African accent. "They don't know how to show respect to a lady when they see one."

Emelie felt a surge of relief at the man's intervention, grateful for his support. She extended her hand to him, a gesture of gratitude and camaraderie.

"Thank you," she said, her voice sincere. "I appreciate your help."

The man shook her hand firmly, his grip strong and reassuring. "Name's Kofi, Kofi Osei," he said, his dark brown eyes meeting her blue ones. "And you are?"

"Officer Vikander," she replied, a feeling a sense of connection with the young African man. This is what her role was all about -- forming connections with the local communities. She paused and then added, "Emelie. Emelie Vikander."

Kofi nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, Officer Vikander, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice genuine. "I appreciate what you're trying to do out here, even if not everyone sees it that way. If you ever need anything, you where to find me."

Emelie returned the smile, feeling a sense of gratitude in Kofi's words.

"Thank you, Kofi," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I'll keep that in mind. It was nice meeting you. Look forward to seeing you around here."

As Emelie made her way down the street, she reflected on what Kofi had said. She couldn't shake the feeling that this chance encounter with Kofi was just the beginning of something more. Maybe she needed some help to form local connections and build bridges with the community. She pondered on this idea more as she made her way around her patrol route.

*****

Over the next week, Emelie continued to make her presence known to the local community, meeting people on the street, engaging with local shopkeepers. She found herself encountering Kofi on the streets of Nordhaven more frequently than she had anticipated. Each time their paths crossed, she couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue about the enigmatic young man with the weathered complexion and dark, expressive eyes.

Their conversations were brief but meaningful, touching on topics ranging from the challenges of life as an immigrant to the growing tensions between different communities in the city. She felt like she was learning a great deal about a side of her hometown that had remained hidden to her as well as learning more about her new guide to this world.

She learnt that Kofi was twenty-eight years old, originally from the Republic of the Congo and that he was, in fact, well-educated with a degree in political science from Marien Ngouabi University. Fluent in English and French, his Nordic was good, but with a definite accent. She also learnt that he'd fled the Congo four years earlier to escape political persecution, finally settling in Nordland.

For her part, Emelie found herself opening to Kofi in ways she hadn't expected, sharing her own experiences and frustrations as a young police officer trying to make a difference in an ever-changing Nordland. She spoke of how Nordhaven had changed since she was a little girl, especially over the past few years and how she hoped for the underlying tensions to subside so that everyone could live together peacefully.

As they spoke, Emelie began to sense that there was more to Kofi than met the eye. He possessed a keen intelligence and insight into the workings of the city's underbelly, particularly with the African migrant community.

A week or so later, she encountered Kofi as he was returning home from the supermarkets, two bags of groceries in his hands. He was approaching the Skumringstår, a block of apartments with a large migrant population.

"Kofi!" she called out, a smile on her face. "Hey, Emelie," he replied with a grin.