Marriott Hotel.

The hotel is located near the well-known landmarks of Washington D.C., allowing for easy access to monuments, the National Mall, museums, and cultural spots such as the National Theatre, the Conference Center, and the National Portrait Gallery.

Luke and others arrived at the hotel by airport shuttle, and two bellhops proactively helped with the luggage. Luke generously tipped each of them 5 US dollars, after all, he was representing the entire LAPD.

Luke wasn't a stingy person, but he seldom gave hefty tips to service workers; 5 US dollars was quite a lot for him.

The main reason was that deep down, he wasn't accustomed to the tipping culture.

Luke's own hotel room was reserved and funded by the government, but the cost for the rooms of Luke's family members was covered by him personally.

Luke's net worth was close to 2 million US dollars, so these expenses were just a drop in the bucket for him.

Luke himself stayed in room 701, and he had also reserved four other rooms: 710, 711, 712, and 713.

Grandpa stayed in 710, Linda in 711, and the chubby kid and Val in 712.

Luke, dragging his suitcase toward room 701, said to his family, "See you in a bit."

Linda said, "Luke, after you've settled in, I want to come see your room to check out the difference between the one reserved by the White House and ours."

The chubby kid shouted, "Me too."

Although Luke didn't think the room would be any different, what could he say, "The door to my room is always open for you." Seeing his uncle also eager to explore, Luke added, "Grandpa, uncle, you're also welcome to visit."

Val said indifferently, "Since you're inviting so warmly, OK."

"Creak…" There was the sound of a door opening. The door opposite to Luke opened.

A tall, burly black man emerged from room 702, towering over 1.9 meters, making him a whole size larger than Luke.

The black man sized up Luke, "Luke Lee?"

"When did I become so famous in Washington? Who might you be?"

"Fatou Brandi, I'm here to receive an award just like you," the black man extended his right hand.

"You're a police officer too?" Luke reached out to shake his hand as well.

"No, I'm a firefighter, from the Las Vegas Fire Department."

As they spoke, Fatou Brandi's grip tightened, very strong, causing Luke's hand to hurt.

Luke sensed that the other party was trying to intimidate him, but it wasn't good to lose face in front of the crowd, and he couldn't pull his hand back either.

Luke, still smiling, punched the other's chest with his left fist as though he was just greeting a friend, but the punch was not a light one; it shocked the firefighter Fatou Brandi.

The encounter was brief, but it gave Luke enough time to withdraw his hand.

Luke's smile remained, but he was already braced for anything. The other man had the advantage of a more robust physique, but fighting was all about skill and ruthlessness.

In matters of bravery and toughness, firefighters certainly couldn't outdo police officers.

Fatou Brandi brushed his chest with the back of his hand, "Now we know each other."

"I've experienced the warmth from Las Vegas once again, quite nostalgic," Luke replied.

"See you later." Fatou Brandi left with those words and walked away.

Val came over, his eyes tracing Fatou Brandi's retreating figure, "Since when did you provoke this gorilla? He looks really strong. I think he could take on a lion."

"Excellence always breeds envy, you get used to it," Luke didn't make much of it and entered his own room.

Because of the Las Vegas shooting incident, Luke had gained considerable attention, but such things are double-edged; the more exemplary and significant Luke's actions were, the more incompetent the Las Vegas police seemed.

Firefighters are also considered part of the 'greater police' concept, and although they are not from the same department, they often work together on callouts and can be seen as insiders.

There is both cooperation and friction between firefighters and police, but it is an internal love-hate relationship. When faced with an 'enemy', they would unite against outsiders.

Most of the recipients of the Medal of Valor were police officers and firefighters.

Luke showing up the Las Vegas police, Fatou Brandi, as a member of Las Vegas's public safety department, naturally wouldn't be too friendly with Luke; otherwise, he'd have trouble explaining himself back home.

If he were chummy with Luke in Washington, then returned to work with the Las Vegas police, those officers would hardly treat him well.

However, a straightforward display of dislike meant there was no need to worry about underhanded tactics.

…

After tidying up briefly, the chubby kid, Val, Linda, and Robert came to Luke's room to have a look around.

After comparing, they unanimously agreed Luke's room was better, mainly in two aspects. First, Luke's room had a greeting letter from the White House, complete with a block of dark chocolate—which the chubby kid ate.

Besides, Luke's room was a corner one, with an extra balcony providing a perfect view of the White House.

The chubby kid wanted to move in with Luke, but Luke firmly declined; his was a single big bed, and he definitely didn't want to share it with the chubby kid.

The chubby kid and Val were staying in a twin room with two beds, which was more suitable.

After some idle chat, the family went downstairs to the buffet restaurant for a meal.

There was a decent spread—salmon, beef, lamb, prawns, and oysters in abundance.

While eating, the family chatted. Val and the chubby kid inevitably bickered when they got together, but Luke was already used to it.

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