MAIZE

It was well after midnight by the time Maize pulled up to the March Springs—a two-story rustic apartment complex that, in all honesty from the outside, looked as though it had seen better days. Though that wasn't much of a concern for the bounty hunter. At least the interior wasn't too bad. The apartments themselves were rather small and a little on the dainty side, but then again, Maize had never cared too much about having 'nice' things.

Besides, the place was affordable. And—most importantly—no one bothered her. What wouldn't seem like a lot to someone else, was just enough for her.

She parked her ride along the side of the building, making sure to avoid the dry cracks in the pavement, before she headed inside, through the small front, and directly towards her apartment.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she turned and assessed every square inch of the room, checking for anything out of place—an old force of habit. Only a few rays of moonlight entered the room from the shuttered window across from where she stood. The single desk that rested against the wall was cluttered with stacks of copied case files—also 'borrowed' from the 88th precinct. Maize paid no mind to the mess as she crossed the room and threw her helmet on the chair, next proceeding to remove her jacket, letting it fall heavily over the chair's arm with an unusual amount of weight—which was mainly due to the number of gimmicks hidden inside. Once she finished stripping out of the rest of her clothes, she made her way over to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, turning the nob and sighing as hot water began to wash over her stiff muscles. She lifted her head to meet the spray, closing her eyes against the falling droplets.

Then, for a brief moment, Maize was no longer in her apartment. But instead, standing in a familiar room, a familiar presence by her side. Unconsciously, her hand felt for the scar on her left shoulder, an aged wound from long ago. She stiffened. And then it was gone. Just like that, the image faded. Leaving Maize feeling cold despite the heat of the shower.

Stupid reminders, she mentally cursed.

Once she washed she switched off the water valve and quickly stepped out of the shower, drying off and throwing on an easy pair of pants and shirt before she turned to gaze in the mirror, bracing her hands against the sink counter. Her reflection stared back. Eyes cold and hard.

Stupid reminders.

When will they go away?

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING

Maize rolled up to the 88th precinct on her bike. She hung her helmet off the seat carelessly before striding confidently into the department. Many—random civilians and officers alike—stopped to glance at the bounty hunter, decked in rough black, as she walked through the entrance. They were ignored.

Besides, it wasn't like the amber-eyed woman was a stranger to the people inside the precinct. Most—if not all—knew of the ember bounty hunter, truth of the fact being Maize had brought in more of the wanted criminals that most of the top detectives, combined. Though there was an emphasis on the 'most'.

The honour of highest arrest record—much to her distaste—belonged to the department's prodigy, Alec fucking West.

Maize didn't exactly like him all that much.

And as if unintentionally summoned by just the mere thought of his name alone, Mister Satan Spawn himself appeared before her.

He was on his way out from the Captain's office. Dark jeans, black shades hanging from the neck collar of his shirt, which pulled tight across broad shoulders and exposed his perfectly toned arms for the world to see. How annoying. The way he walked, his presence alone drew your attention, whether you wanted it to or not. By definition, he was fairly intelligent, confident, and good at what he did—with a reputation for being a little more on the reckless side.

Nevertheless, he was known as the precinct's best detective.

More like the precinct's best jackass.

She had no choice but to head in his direction, needing to get to the Captain's office to discuss something, otherwise she would have avoided an encounter with West altogether and spare herself the certain headache so early in the morning. Though, as today would have it, luck that he would just ignore her and walk by—was not on her side.

"Maizey," West greeted, signature smirk written across his face as always when he used that nickname. His head tilted when she shot him a glare, his hair shining golden brown in the light as the teasing look in his cognac eyes reflected a slight gleam of amusement. There was no one in the department who got on her nerves as much as he did. Neither two had ever really gotten along, and that sometimes caused problems within the precinct.

"Nice morning?"

"It was until you showed up," Maize said honestly. He gave her a look.

"Ever the civil one aren't you?" West replied sarcastically, tilting his head to the side.

Stupid Alec fucking West.

"If you're done bothering me, I've got things to do," she answered crossly, glaring at him.

"Running away? That's disappointing."

"Go to hell, West."

Maize—done with the detective—pushed past him and continued on her way towards the Captain's office. But she heard West call back after her.

"Been there already. Found it quite nice actually!"

Yeah right. Stupid fucking West.

* * *

"What do you mean by 'more interesting'?" The Captain offered her to elaborate as he raised an eyebrow. His hands were clasped together in an official manner over the top of his desk as he sat in the chair behind it, looking up at the bounty hunter.

Maize had her arms folded over her chest as she stood across from him, meeting his gaze with her own. The Captain's office was not well lit, as the windows had been shielded by the blinds, but she could still see him clearly in the dim light.

"Yeah, more interesting," Maize carried on. "Harder cases, better criminal—"

"Better criminals?" Riggis repeated questioningly. She nodded and continued without a thought—seeming to miss the note of derision in the Captain's tone.

"Yes, better criminals. The morons I've hunted over these past few months have all been dull and boring. They're too easy to track and take down. And most of them don't even put up a good fight. I want—and need—a challenge," she stated.

"So what do you propose I do?" he asked her. "Somehow demand that all of New York's felons make themselves harder to catch?"

"That would be great, yeah!"

It seemed she had once again—purposefully or not—missed his note of sarcasm. He regarded the bounty hunter with a flat expression. This wasn't the first time Maize had come to him seeking a higher level of work. He thought that the Antonio Marcus case would have kept her busy for at least a few months, but she had managed to wrap it up within a trio of short weeks—something even his best group of detectives hadn't been able to do.

On more than one occasion, the Captain suggested she partner with one of his detectives, to put her set of keen skills into working on open cases. But she had turned each and every offer down cold. She preferred to work alone.

Since then, the only thing the Captain could do to satisfy her was to continue sending all the high priority bounty cases straight to her—though evidently, even those had proved not enough.

Riggis sighed tiredly, giving a small shake of his head. "What am I going to do with you, Maize?" he murmured half to himself. The bounty hunter merely shrugged and flashed him a slight regal smile of amusement.

"Honestly Captain, I have no idea."

* * *

ALEC

Detective West was already having quite the day as it was. He walked quietly along the brightly lit sidewalk, rather calm and satisfied air about him. That morning, he had just finished turning in the files for his latest solved drug case—which had been the result of over a month's work, finally done. Spoiler alert; his tactical team had broken into the warehouse and managed to round up all the dealers, as well as over 1000 kilograms of the newly developed drug they had been tracking, called 'Venomite'.

However his morning had taken a turn when he unexpectedly ran into the department's infamous bounty hunter herself. He heard that she had succeeded in bringing in some wanted murderer the night prior, though he himself had been busy wrapping up his own open case and luckily hadn't been around when that happened. The last thing he needed was to hear the bounty hunter rubbing her success in his face.

The two had always been closely matched when it came to catching criminals—which was slightly insulting seeing how he was an actual detective and she was nothing but a bounty hunter.

In the two years since Maize Ember had made an appearance and began her work with the 88th precinct, he had never really gotten along with her well. Not that Maizey really gets along with anyone, Alec thought. Neither of them ever saw eye to eye. And it didn't help that they were always more or less in competition.

In this city, bounty hunters were typically known to be fierce, brutal, and relentless—all which suitably described Maize, but Alec often thought how unusual it was, having a bounty hunter working for their police department rather than against them.

From what he knew, bounty hunters diverted their tracking skills to hunting down targets for whoever was willing to match their price, selling themselves out to the highest bidder and taking only the highest paying jobs. Usually that meant without a care for what happened to the bounties the hunters were commissioned to capture. Which is why Maize—with her talent and unmatched set of skills—voluntarily working for the NYPD was particular. The department couldn't hope to match the prices that illegally active bounty hunters received for their work, not with their already limited funds. Maize was the only hunter in the city known for working on their side of the law.

She was quiet, introverted most of the time, and there was no background information on her whatsoever—as far as the detective could tell. She had no records. Which to him, made her an entirely new kind of mystery.

His morning off, it seems, didn't last very long. By noon he was already being called back in to work. New suspect. New case. Just another day in the city.