It had been a slow day. Heck, it had been a slow week. Ever since they broke out, nothing much had happened. Life had mostly gone on as normal. She had been to the church, he knew that much, but other than that, it was like she'd disappeared off the face of the earth. He had people watching his apartment, following him to work, escorts every time he left the building and she had done nothing. He had figured that Johnny would lie low- two years on death row and never being able to see Aisha would definitely have him hiding for a little while, but the kid had no one. At this point in time, he knew where stood with Johnny. Johnny wanted to put a bullet in his head and had told him that to his face. He wasn't scared of Johnny. (Okay, maybe he was a little scared- he had worked with the man and seen first hand how he can be after all.) The kid had been awake a matter of hours before deciding to get up and walk out of the prison like she owned the place. She'd killed the only people who knew what she looked like now, so they didn't even have a proper mug shot to go of off. She had shot out the cameras at the courthouse and there were varying reports of a tall woman with purple hair coming in to the station from various sources, but it was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Every time someone would show up at a crime scene to find her, she'd be long gone.
The morning meeting was consumed with talk of her. No one knew her name, so they just kept calling her "The Boss". Hearing her called that sent chills down his spine. She was in charge of the Saints now, and that scared him. Troy knew what she was capable of and had watched her in action many times. The first time he'd taken her out with him, she'd killed three Vice Kings without even flinching. The first time he'd taken a life, he'd thrown up everything in his stomach and hadn't slept for weeks afterward. She'd looked like she was stood in line at the grocery store, or something equally as mundane.
"Why don't we just arrest them on sight?" One of the newer recruits asked, clearly getting agitated by his strict rules. He didn't blame them. When he was new to this, he'd jumped at the opportunity to fight crime. Jumped so much that he'd gone too far and been volunteered for a project that was still tearing him apart five years after it had ended.
"Because they wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in your head. I've seen how they operate. They're psychopaths."
"Oh yeah, we all know how Troy got his promotion." Mike commented dryly. Mike had been annoyed since Troy came back in a blaze of glory. He'd been his partner when he was undercover, but Troy had seemingly done all the work.
"Which is why I'm telling you that under no circumstances do you approach either of them. If you turn up to a crime that they have a hand in, do not approach them." He slammed his fist on the table, angry that he was being questioned on this. He'd already lost too many officers to those two psychopaths; he couldn't lose any more. Everyone grumbled, but they knew his word was the law around here. Turning on his heel, he stormed out of the meeting and back into his office.
Helen followed him, closing the door behind her. He sat down, ignoring her.
"Troy come on, stop beating yourself up."
"Twenty five officers, babe. They've killed twenty five of my officers." She walked around the back of his chair, arms wrapping around his body. He felt her lips go to the top of his head, and he sighed. She was right. There was nothing he could've done to stop the kid. No one had guessed that this would've happened, and never in a million years would he have thought he'd have to deal with the two biggest psychopaths in Stilwater's history being free and on the streets. Just when everything had seemed to be going so well, it all blows up in his face again. Karma is a bitch.
"Promise you'll be alright?" Helen asked, her chin on his shoulder. They'd been seeing each other for around six months now, and he really liked her. Dating had been hard when he'd been a Saint, and even worse when everyone found out that he was an undercover cop.
"Yeah, babe. Go back to work." He squeezed her hand and forced a smile for her. She smiled back as she headed towards the door.
"You want to grab some dinner later?"
"Yeah, I'll meet you after work." Her smile widened as she left the room and Troy sighed.
He couldn't stop thinking about the kid.
The kid. He kept calling her that, but she wasn't any more. She was 21 now. She'd missed five years of her life. No wonder she was starting to wreak havoc like a one-woman hurricane. But that was nothing new in this city. He'd tried to dig through the old case files on her five years ago, but nothing came out of them. He'd been quickly told to get back on track, finishing the takedown of the Saints and trying to track down Julius. Fucking Julius. If he had thought his captain was giving him a hard time BEFORE the boat incident, he had been wrong. So fucking wrong.
He could feel his hand moving towards the cigarette package in his desk drawer. He hadn't smoked in months. Hadn't needed one. But goddammit, this whole mess was sending him off the deep end and he needed a cigarette to take the edge off. No. He couldn't go back again.
Then his phone rang out.
He didn't recognise the number, but something told him that he should pick up.
"Hello?"
"I hear congratulations are in order, Chief." The woman on the other side of the phone spoke softly with a trace of an accent that he couldn't place. He felt like cold water had been poured on him with a feeling of dread that he knew exactly who he was speaking to.
"You would be a few years too late for that."
"Well, I've not exactly been around. I do have a big stack of cards for every occasion I missed though." He could imagine her smiling on the other side of the phone.
"What do you want?"
"Can a girl not call an old friend just for a chat?"
"How did you get this number?"
"I have a friend with some connections."
"Do you now?" She laughed, the sound sending goose bumps down his whole body. He turned his chair around, away from the door. "What are you doing, kid? This is a very risky move."
"I figured that you kind of owe me."
"Oh, and how did you figure that?" He tapped his fingers on his knee, shaking his head.
"Explosions aren't exactly your style. They might be Gat's, but something also tells me that it wasn't anything to do with him. He knows nothing, but I bet you know something."
"And if I did?"
"It would be in your best interests to share." He paused at her comment. Would it be? She didn't exactly have much to offer him at this moment in time, but then again- he had a feeling that it wouldn't take her long to build up the Saints again.
"Is that a threat?" He finally asked, and she chuckled again.
"Maybe." He could practically see her smiling right now, and he sighed.
"What's in it for me?" He asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.
"You'll have to wait and see, won't you?"
"Maybe we can make a deal then." He felt like he'd regret saying this later, but he needed all the help he could get. And having her on his side rather than picking off his officers one by one would make things a lot easier.
"Fraternizing with the enemy? Whatever would your employees say?"
"Half of them are being paid off by gang members anyway. The other half are too stupid to know that the whole department is corrupt." It was the truth. Stilwater was the most corrupt department in the country. No other department would work with them, and for good reason. If the other departments had a criminal move to Stilwater, they'd just close the case rather than looking for them.
"So it was all worth it then?" She asked and all he could do was laugh, but there was no humour in it. "Perhaps we can figure something out that will work for both of us."
After her words, the line went dead, and Troy stared at the phone in his hand. Did that really just happen or had he imagined it?
It was a few days before she did anything.
"I am the head of the Stilwater PTA association and I demand to know what your Chief is going to do about the rampant gang violence in the streets!?" A shrill voice rang out, coming closer to his office. He could hear people telling this woman not to come back here, but the door to his office slammed open. He put his head in his hands as the clicking of her heels got closer to the desk.
"Miss, I'm sorry, but I'm very…"
"No you're not, you're just sat there. Look at him, he's just sat there!" He should've looked up earlier, because the voice she had put on wouldn't have given it away. But her eyes did. They were as piercing and as menacing as they had always been, that's probably how she had gotten this far with the disguise she had on. No one questioned her when she wanted something. The disguise was pretty fucking believable if you asked him. Pencil skirt, designer shoes and blonde wig. Her tattoo was covered up, but he could see the cherry blossoms poking out from underneath the sleeve of her blouse. No one would've expected it from her. She had some kind of folder in her arms and papers in her handbag. She almost looked the part. If she had been any older then he probably wouldn't have even recognised her.
"I suppose I can spare a few minutes. I have a real interest in cleaning up our streets, Miss…?" He held out his hand, for show obviously. She ignored it.
"Smith." She replied, sitting down and waiting for his secretary to close the door. Once she had, Troy turned to her.
"You've got some fucking nerve coming here like this." He felt the anger bubbling up now. How dare she think that she could just walk in here when she felt like it?
"Oh, relax. I'm coming under a white flag." She had dropped the shrill act, and her voice had gone back to her normal pitch.
"White flag? Kid, you've killed over twenty-five of my officers since waking up. Not counting how many you injured." She held up a hand.
"Technically, some of those were Gat. And imagine my surprise when I wake up to hear people talking about my friend, the great Troy Bradshaw, Chief of Police, hero of Stilwater." He opened his desk drawer, grabbing the cigarettes. Fuck quitting; if she was back in his life, he was definitely going to need this. Taking one out of the pack, he offered her one too, almost forgetting that five years had passed, almost forgetting that he wasn't actually Troy the gangbanger anymore. She took one, lit up and put it between her lips, inhaling deeply. She smirked when she saw him staring.
"I didn't come here to smoke, Troy. I came because I want to make a deal."
"Are you bribing an officer of the law?" He said flatly.
"Technically, it's only a bribe if I offer you something. If you decide what you want as a present and I get it for you when something happens, I think that could be considered gift giving between friends."
He laughed bitterly. "When did we become friends again?"
"When I figured out it wasn't you who blew me up." He stubbed out his cigarette and went back into his drawer.
"Look kid, I didn't give you this. But this is all I can give you. I don't want you coming here again. I don't want you contacting me again. I've got a new life now, and I'm actually pretty fucking happy." It was her turn to laugh as he slid the case file across to her. It was nowhere near the full file, but he wouldn't be able to just hand that to her without questions being asked.
"Troy, if that were the case, you would've arrested me the moment I walked through that door." She put the file in her bag and pulled out a phone. "Do you have any idea who is actually in these gangs apart from their leaders?"
Troy was silent. He had ideas, but they were guesses at best.
"Thought not." She slid the phone across the desk to him. "Think of it like this. I scratch your back and you scratch mine. I give you information, and in return, you go easy on us."
"Us? You're really setting the Saints back up?"
"Just think about it. Oh, and don't bother tracing the number I text you off. You won't find me." She stood up and smoothed out her skirt before leaving.
Troy just started at the phone, unsure of what to do next.
The phone didn't buzz for two weeks.
She was true to her word. Details of rival gang activity and of several elusive lieutenants. Followed up with just the words "Your move. I'm watching."
The information was good. They made arrests and put things into place for the weeks ahead. He had no doubt that she had more information that she was keeping to herself considering they also came across several groups of dead gang members when they turned up to these scenes. So that night, he went home without his escort. It didn't take long for him to hear the door click as she picked the lock. He didn't know why he had trusted her to come alone, but the rush he was getting from the fear… It was the most alive he had felt in five years.
The door shut behind her and he heard her make her way across the room to where he was sat. He tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn to her. She was a world away from that disguise in his office, her shorts showing off too much of her legs. Five years ago, he'd seen one picture of her before she joined the Saints, and he knew how beautiful she'd been then, but it was easy to forget with her dressed as a boy. Now she wanted people to know who she was as herself, not as the playa.
"It's not nice to stare, Troy." He gulped and turned back to his beer.
"Your information was good. Mostly. Did you have fun?"
"Taking out those fuckers is always fun. Or did you forget that when you got boring?" He looked up at her again. Curse her and her stupid crop tops. Fucking distracting, that's what they were. She was waiting for him to talk, but he was speechless. Now she wasn't hiding behind baggy t-shirts and sweat pants, he was stumped. She snapped her fingers in his face.
"Troy. Words. Use them."
"When did you get hot?" He had blurted it out before he could stop himself.
"Apparently, the lovely taxpaying citizens of Stilwater are to blame."
"I had nothing to do-" She raised an eyebrow.
"I stole that file." He looked away again.
"Besides, there were still things that needed tweaking when I got out so it wasn't all them."
"You can't even tell… You know." He gestured to the faint burns along her back, but she just shrugged. He had some idea what the doctors had done to her, but he also knew they'd used her to experiment treatments on. He hadn't been happy about that, but there wasn't much he could do without being accused of helping her.
"I didn't come here to talk about that. I gave you information and now you owe me."
"I can't promise anything, but I can try figure something out." She moved closer.
"Yeah, that's not good enough."
"Kid, my hands are tied here. I can't just turn a complete blind eye to what you're doing." She knelt in front of him, pouting.
"Then just a few of us. I've got some friends on your most wanted list who haven't even done anything wrong." He snorted.
"They're hanging with you, kid. They've definitely-" She cut him off by unzipping his jeans. "What the fuck are you…?"
"Shh, Troy. I'm untying your hands."
He didn't speak for a while after that.