ALEC

TOLUCA DE LERDO, MEXICO

"So, Romeo, how was the flight?"

Kishan nudged him in the side as they exited the Toluca airport, looking like he was trying not to burst out laughing at the detective's expense—and he doing a good job of hiding it.

Alec groaned. "Don't remind me about that ever again."

"What, not into rich-looking blondes?"

"Not particularly, no. And after seven hours of that, I think I'm done for life."

"So what is your type? You like the dangerous ones? The ones with a sharp bite and a nasty temper?"

"Don't even start—"

"Oops, did I hit a nerve? Sorry," he replied cheekily, silently laughing as he flashed a glance around and finally seemed to notice something. "Uh, West? Where's the bounty hunter?"

"I left miss petty manipulator back at the checkpoint," he shrugged and kept walking.

"But...don't we need her?" Kishan raised an eyebrow. "And more importantly...won't she be super pissed?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "Nah. She'll catch up. Eventual—"

"HEY YOU ASSHOLE!"

"—ly."

Well, that was quicker than I thought.

Maize was storming up to them, bag slung over her shoulder, and she did not look happy as she zeroed her eyes on him. "What the hell, West?" she hissed as she came to an abrupt stop in front of him, her hands on her hips as she leaned in threateningly close to glare in his face. "Did you even notice that you left me behind or are you just that freaking oblivious?"

"Oh I noticed, just didn't care."

She looked about ready to lunge for his throat, but Kishan put a hand on her shoulder with the hesitation as if touching her would burn his skin as he smiled nervously, subtly edging his way between the two—who were having a murderous stare down.

"Revenge is a sweet thing isn't it?" he smirked at her, throwing back her words on the plane.

"It will be once I—"

"Listen!" Kishan cut in. "As much as I hate to break up this little couple's squabble, I really think we should be getting out of this place already, yeah? What do you say? Can you wait to kill each other until we're out of public?" he asked, looking between the two as if hoping they would be reasonable.

The two continued to hold their staredown until Alec gave in a sighed. "Fine, let's get going then," he muttered as he picked up walking ahead of them.

"Yeah, because I'm pretty eager to kill him."

As the two shot each other yet another distasteful glare, Kishan looked between them and let out a groan with a reluctant slump of his shoulders. "Boy, this is going to be a long ride..."

The ride took less than half an hour. Following the GPS coordinates on his phone, the detective made the next right in the driver's seat of their grey rental car and began the drive down the city roads, which were lit and bright in the mid-day. Twenty minutes later, and they reached an older modelled bungalow at the edge of the town. It was barely noticeable at first glance, due to the cover of green trees and bushes in the front—one of the only known safehouses in Toluca.

His instructions before coming had stated that there would be a key to the house stashed away somewhere. South-east bottom loose brick.

He heard a noise that sounded like consideration at his back. "Hm, when I pictured 'safe house' I was imagining something dark and underground," Kishan murmured as he looked over the structure.

"What like the Batcave?" Maize questioned sarcastically.

"Yeah kind of actually," came Kishan's reply.

Alec raised an eyebrow at her. "You watch DC movies?" he asked, knowing he sounded surprised.

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes and smirked. "I don't live under a rock you know."

He found it in him to return the humourous look as he found the key. "Well sorry to disappoint, Kishan, but I doubt that's what it's going to look like in this case."

* * *

MAIZE

It was not the Batcave but still...

This place isn't bad, Maize thought as she entered the house behind the others.

The place appeared, surprisingly, homey—more so than she would have expected for a safe house anyway. There were three separate rooms for each of them to split up into, a good-sized kitchen area, and a comfortably spaced living room. It wasn't bad for three people, considering they had no idea how long they would be there for. Hopefully not more than a few weeks or a month at most.

Safe houses were usually prepped beforehand with fundamental requirements, as those that resided in the safe houses were often there for one reason; to stay hidden—so Maize was not all the surprised to see that the closet in her room had been filled with clothing, blankets, and other things. At least that was somewhat of a relief, seeing how the only things she had brought with her in her bag was a single set of spare clothes, her phone, and a few other sharp items.

She was just unpacking her bag when she heard a voice call into her room from the other side of her door. "Hey, hunter, you want to come check out the basement?"

Maize walked over and opened the door, a little annoyed to see Kishan standing there with a grin on his face. He always seemed to smile like he was up to no good, and at certain times, it was a little unnerving. But perhaps that was how he had made it playing undercover for as long as he did in Zmeya.

"Why, scared to go alone?" she asked.

"I will not answer that," he replied.

Maize sighed. "Alright, fine."

His grin widened as she followed him out and down the hall where a set of stairs awaited them. But unfortunately for her, that was not all that awaited.

"Took you long enough," Alec huffed irksomely from her left, where he leaned up against the wall with her arms folded of his chest as they approached. She knew he was just trying to be condescending, though it was a half-hearted effort since they were all tired.

"What's wrong princess? Can't handle waiting for five seconds?" she returned with a steady glare at him. Why did he always have to get on her nerves? She watched his jaw clench and his dark eyes narrow further, but he refrained himself from retorting and just walked down towards the door to the basement.

Once he opened it they all stepped into the dark, following the stairs that continued to lead down. It was colder than she expected. Much colder than the rest of the house for sure. But that was probably due to the concrete walls leading down to the lower level of the house, each one cold to the touch as Maize grazed her fingers over the sides in the dark.

"Jeez, someone hit the lights," came Alec's voice near her right.

"Found it," Kishan replied after a second of shuffling for the switch. The dimly lit but still functionally illuminating lights flicked on overhead, and Maize was finally able to get a good look around.

The Captain had assured they wouldn't need to bring their own supplies, and now she knew why. The space was, at her guess, about 200 or so square feet, and along the longer side of the wall, containers had been stacked against each other in an organized manner, labelled with things like Emergency Provisions, First Aid, Artillery...Maize only read off a few before she focused back on the room itself. There was an iron desk in the centre of the room, like the kind you might find in an interrogation room. Off to the left wall, on the opposite end of the room, Maize walked forward and caught a glimpse of an impression in the wall, which she found odd since the walls were made of concrete. Only this part wasn't, it was slightly different, and when ran her hand over the surface it felt different. Then she was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of a familiar click that made her tense. But it was only Alec, who had opened up the artillery box and was rummaging around in the case of rounds to load up the Glock in his hand—a new replacement for the one he'd left in New york.

Kishan on the other hand was just standing there, looking around the room with a strange smirk on his face. "Well what do you know, it is a little like the bat cave after all."

"I can't believe that's the first thing you say," Alec mused. "An armoury filled basement and you're first thought is 'it looks like the Batcave'."

"Well, it proves you were wrong so..."

Alec sent him a flat look and rolled his eyes. "Haha, very funny," he muttered sarcastically. Kishan shrugged, unbothered, and went to look around, picking up a random case and taking out a dark canister. When Alec looked back at him he shot the man a look. "You might not want to play around with that..."

"What? This?" Kishan asked as he gazed at the thing in his hand curiously, suddenly holding it up to the light as if trying to see through it—though it was clearly made of metal and not transparent. "Why?"

Alec raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Because it's a gas canister. And if it triggers, even by accident, the stuff in there will knock us all out dead for the next four hours..."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?!" Kishan's eyes immediately widened and he dropped the canister onto the metal desk where it fell with a loud clang, making them all cringe.

"What did I just say?!" Alec exclaimed incredulously.

Maize watched the exchange between the two men, wondering how on earth she was going to survive either of them—one was an idiot and the other was an ass.

"How are you even an FBI agent again?" The question was directed at Kishan from Maize's pointed stare.

"Oh I have my moments..." he winked.

Right, she thought doubtfully. They looked around for a little longer, but everything in there was quite standard—other than the case of knockout gas—nothing else in the mix really came as a surprise.

"See ya," Alec muttered as he headed for the stairs back up to the ground floor. "I'm going to get some sleep."

Maize watched him leave with a curious expression. Kishan must have noticed because he explained. "He didn't sleep last night, too much to do, though I tried to get him too many times. The guy's too much of a stubborn bastard when he's got something on his mind..."

Was that so? Not that Maize didn't know that fact already. She had spent enough time around the detective before to know he was, in fact, extremely stubborn. Most often when it came to solving cases. The reason he was one of the best was because he pressed on when too many others gave up. And as much as Maize would never admit it to him, it was an admirable trait. He took this job, like any other, seriously—as in a way, with it being a friend of his, it was personal.

Maize didn't feel that way. A job was a job. That was what she told herself. It would really only last until the Captain could get a proper investigation going, paired with Kishan's statements, and speaking with other members of the bureau until his name was cleared. From there it would be the FBI's charge to put Kishan in some sort of protective custody on a higher regulation than just a city cop and a bounty hunter.

She was recommended for this job because she claimed she had been bored. She agreed to this job for two reasons; because she had wanted information—which she didn't get, and because she thought she had sensed something odd about this case. Something familiar.

But that had long since faded. Now it seemed the only thing left to do was guard the agent here until they were given the clear that it was safe to return—and beat up anyone who tried to interfere. It was simple.

Protecting one man from a gang that didn't even know where they were.

Simple.

* * *

Z

PENTHOUSE, LOS ANGELES

Over the beautifully lit night, a young man stood at the window of the penthouse.

His piercing cold eye gazed out at the city view through the glass, at ease as he nestled a light amber filled glass in his left hand. He liked this, this feeling, staring down at the world. Looking at it through the perception he was above it all. He could be if he wanted to.

This position of power. He didn't feel like a man, he felt like a god. Those beneath him were his to manipulate, as he saw fit. They followed him, respected him, feared him. And he relished in it all.

He had worked hard to become what he was. Clawing his way up from the gutter as nothing, to become this.

A leader, a master, a man of power.

He lifted the glass to his lips, savouring the taste of the bitter alcohol as his mind moved to a distant thought. Where he grew up as a child, in the poor streets, living like a dog barely managing to scrape for enough food to survive until the next day, just the mere thought of not having to think twice whether or not he would have a meal the next day seemed like too much of a reality to dream of. And yet here he stood. Those who had once looked down on him were no longer alive to feel regret for their actions, he had seen to that.

Anyone who did not fit into his vision of his perfect world, were gotten rid of. Simple as that. Blood, pain, and violence had gotten him here, and that didn't bother him in the slightest.

This world, despite the facade that veiled it, was a place of chaos—where children died each day simply because there was not enough food to go around, while on the other side of the world, people turned away a dish simply because it displeased their standards. Those people didn't feel repent, and they called it normal. He took the live of retched scum not worth living, and they called it monstrous.

But who determines what's out of their control versus what's satanic?

The world was somewhere minds like his did not fit into normal society, so, he would seek to change it. That was what the Syndicate was all about, wasn't it? To reshape the world?

He liked the sound of that...it had always amused him.

He only wished his precious black jade had been able to see it the same.

Had that been the case, the pieces that were about to fall into play wouldn't have ever been nessisary.

He lifted the drink to his lips again and closed his eyes as the scar across his face prickled.

The game has started, and you won't get in my way again...