Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Whoo!

Extreme!

Oh, you guys are probably curious about this.

It's no biggie.

My car's in the shop,

so I rode in on Rosa's motorcycle.

I guess you could say I'm a gear head now.

He held on to me so tight, it was like a two-mile Heimlich.

Those things have no walls on them.

Captain, why are you sitting at my desk?

Lieutenant Miller from internal affairs is here.

He's taken over my office.

Apparently, someone has been leaking classified information

to a criminal syndicate.

The entire squad is under investigation.

That's crazy.

No one here's a mole. How can you be so sure?

Because I know these guys.

I know everything about them.

Well, you're a poor police officer

if you don't think people can surprise you.

Not these people. Here, watch this.

I know what everyone's gonna do tonight.

It's thursday, so Gina's gonna leave early

to rehearse with her new dance group,

dancy Reagan.

There the first ladies of movement.

Amy's gonna be going over her weekly budget.

And Charles will be attending a "pizza for one" cooking class.

Pepper-alone-I.

And if I run and leap at Terry,

he will most certainly catch me in his arms.

Coming in! No! I'm holding coffee!

Hey, I'm about to sit down with internal affairs.

I figure that I will charm them

with a couple of quips about my own "internal affairs."

Talking about my tum-tum.

Please don't joke around in there.

I know you're used to riffing with me,

but internal affairs detectives rarely have my sense of humor.

Wow, you are really worried about this investigation.

Okay, fine.

I promise I will be stone-cold serious

in my interview.

I'll even use my serious face.

If you're wondering how I'm pulling this off,

I'm thinking about the time when I was eight

and Don Mattingly called me a little turd.

- Was he right? - Yes.

Hey there.

Jake Peralta.

I'm sorry, handshakes are the greatest avenues

of germ transmission.

I generally prefer simple nods.

Okay.

Would you, uh, pass me that hand sanitizer, please?

Yeah.

No, no, no!

Use your elbows.

And keep your nostrils closed.

Don't breathe on it.

Ah!

Forget it, I'll just use a wipe.

Smart.

Get off, damn germs.

So what information has been leaked and by who?

You don't need to know that.

All you need to know

is that a felony has been committed

by someone on your squad,

and I'm gonna find out who did it.

Now... have you ever taken confidential information

about an ongoing investigation out of this precinct?

No.

I would never do something that stupid.

I did something really stupid. I need your help.

You know how I'm kind of a sexy bad boy

who rides motorcycles into work

and is always breaking the rules

in the name of justice?

I don't like where this is going.

Well, I also maybe sometimes bring home case files

to work on them after hours,

and I might not be that great about returning them.

Oh, God.

Are you aroused because of what a bad boy I am?

No! No!

You could be suspended for that.

He could think you're the mole!

Not so loud.

Yes, Amy, I do drink from the bowl

definitely pulled that off.

Look, I need to get those files.

Can you please give me a ride?

Fine. I'll get my stuff,

but this better not bite me in the ass.

Better not bite me in the ass is the name of your sex tape.

But seriously, thank you so much for your help.

Peralta.

How'd it go with Miller?

Fantastic, he loved me.

I would give you more details,

but someone just came in

to try and find her dalmatian coat.

Hello, Raymond.

Madeline.

I wondered why all the birds had suddenly stopped singing.

What brings you here?

I heard you were under investigation

by internal affairs.

Didn't wanna miss that.

So much time with your ear to the pavement.

It's a pity a truck hasn't run over your head.

Very visual.

When, oh when, will you quit police work

and pursue your dream of poetry?

I'm looking for detective Scully.

You must be from I.A.B.

I'm deputy chief Wuntch. Nice to meet you.

If you have a minute, I'd love a detailed report

of this investigation.

I.A.B. exists outside of department hierarchy.

I don't answer to you.

Detective Scully, you're up.

Oh, uh, okay...

Um...

No. You know what?

We'll do this over the phone.

Oh, Raymond.

An internal affairs investigation?

A drug task force that hasn't found any drugs?

This precinct's a disaster.

Maybe that's why the birds stopped singing.

Out of respect for the death of your career.

Good-bye, Raymond.

Detective Diaz.

Can you give me even a shred of good news

about your drug task force?

The good news is I can be brief about it.

We have nothing.

Sorry. I had to talk my twins into getting their hair done.

There are some promises involving lollipops

I do not intend to keep.

The task force has made some busts.

But we still haven't found any high-level dealers

or major drug stashes.

But we will soon.

Is that a promise?

Or just another lollipop that no one's ever gonna lick?

Wuntch is waiting for this task force to fail.

I need tangible results.

Sarge and I are going undercover

at electric library.

It's a silent disco. Everyone wear headphones.

It's actually very respectful to the neighbors

except for the lewd acts and vomiting.

There's usually some ecstasy at these things.

So hopefully, we'll find some giggle pig.

Great. I hope there's a lot of drug activity there.

Of course, ideally, there will be nobody

taking drugs there or anywhere else

in the district.

But if drugs must be found, let it be there.

Please, God, let it be there.

Trunk!

All right, that's it.

One box of files and one box of powdered donuts

from under my bed.

Oh, cool. Can I see those?

Yeah, sure.

Thanks.

Oh, no, no, no!

This is a new car.

I won't have you Jake it up

with donut powder. Ah...

I hate to say it,

but we still need to make one more stop.

There's still some files at my old place.

A.K.A. Gina's apartment.

Ugh, fine. I'll call her.

Wow, there's so many fancy buttons

on your steering wheel.

It's like a spy car, that's cool.

Here, let me call her. Yeah.

Car, call Gina Linetti.

What is that voice?

It's my spy voice.

Car, initiate ghost mode.

That's a seat warmer.

Oh, that's even better than rockets.

My butt gets very cold.

It's Gina's phone.

Leave me a voice-mail.

I won't check it 'cause it's not 1993.

We should go there anyways.

Her phone's probably off 'cause of dance rehearsal.

God, this I.A.B. guy is ruining my life.

But I do have some good news in three,

two...

Pocket donut!