On a suburban New York neighborhood, Allyson leads a SWAT team into the home of a suspect, as they get ready to bust the house, Ashburn taps one of the officers on the shoulder and signs him an instruction.
"Huh?" says the SWAT guy.
"Oh, my God!" whispered Allyson. "It means, cover me and go left! Read the manual, why don't you?" The officer starts to go, but Allyson stops him. "Wait for my three count. And one, two..."
The SWAT team ignores her and goes in to bust the suspects house. The SWAT team then busts into the suspects home
"FBI freeze!" yelled SWAT leader. "Don't move! Get on the ground!"
Allyson walks in and places her sunglasses on top of her head. "Surprise." She smiles.
Most of the officers searched the area. "We've checked everything. There's nothing." One of them said.
"Well, the place is clean, Dawson." said Elliot. "Looks like you're theory has a few holes in it. Let's role, boys."
"So you think it's clean, huh?" asked Allyson.
"Oh, hear we go." Elliot rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, that's what they said last year right before I arrested the Red Falls Killer." Allyson leans down to look at a plate of ribs on the coffee table. "What are those, barbecue spare ribs? Is that what that is? I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. Or..." Allyson places her hand under the table and rips out big bag of marijuana. "Maybe I'm not? Yeah. Air tight, dipped in wax? I respect that. I especially like the meat to distract the dog. And while that may have fooled the loudest breather in the world, it did not fool me. And unfortunately it's not what I'm looking for. So why don't we just cut to the chase? Are there guns in this house?"
"I have no idea about any guns." said one of the thugs.
"Interesting. Maybe I'm wrong, you know?" Allyson walks around the room.
"Wait for it." said Elliot.
"Maybe these guys are...are right for a change. Stranger things have happened, right guys?"
"No, that's a trap."
"Meteors, comets, somebody marrying Pete and he can't even count to three. Oh, so frustrating." She walks around the room and stands by the fireplace. "I know they loved these houses during the Prohibition Era. You guys know what Prohibition is, don't you?
"Yeah, selling your ass for money." He answered.
"Really?"
"Really?" said Elliot.
"No." said Allyson. "No, it was uh...alcohol. People loved to drink it even though they weren't supposed to. And these houses had all these little nooks and crannies where they could hide it." She uses her thumb to press under the small shelf above the fireplace, which opens up a secret compartment in the wall revealing where the guns are being hidden. "Like this one. Is there something behind me?There is, isn't there?"
"Fuck." growled the other thug.
"Now you can role." Allyson starts to walk out. "Gentlemen, nice work." As Allyson walks out of the house, the other FBI officers are annoyed at her for how proud she is of herself, she gets into the car and goes to out on the seat belt.
"Let's go." Allyson says. She looks over to the drivers seat and sees there's no one else in the car, the other officers continue to stare at her.
"Hard to believe she's single." said Elliot,
Later at night, Allyson is sat watching TV in her apartment holding a cat; whispering to the cat as she watches a surgery being described. "Wow, pretty impressive. Did you see that? Look at that? That's pretty amazing, huh? Pretty amazing." She kisses the cat and then hears her neighbor calling for the cat.
"Pickles? Here, kitty, kitty. Are you at the neighbor's again? Pickles? Here, kitty, kitty."
Allyson lets the cat out of the apartment through her patio door. "Go on home. See you tomorrow."
"Pickles, I told you to stay away from that weird lady." said her neighbors.
Even though she was an excellent FBI agent, Allyson was lonely. Her marriage failed about two years because of her working habits. Every night Pickles would crawl through her window and into her house. He was her only company.
Allyson goes to check her computer and sees her superior, Trish, is being promoted and sees that his former position hasn't been determined yet, she smiles to herself.
The next day, Allyson goes to work the next morning and walks into Trish's office as he's finishing his conversation on the phone in Spanish.
"Oh, boy. Your husband doesn't like you working late, huh?" asked Allyson.
"What do you want, Allyson?" asked Trish.
"Oh, just uh...letting you know that I have been observing the Agents overseeing with what they've been up to. You know, keeping an eye on them."
"Yeah, supervising them."
"Supervising. Yes, ma'am."
"Look, Dawson, I haven't made any decisions yet."
"Oh, of course not. Every...everyone deserves a shot."
"Let me just spit it out. I don't know if you are the right person for this position."
Allyson felt a hurting pain in her. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry, what? What? I'm confused."
"Walk with me." Trish starts walking out of his office and Allyson follows him.
"Trish, I don't...I don't understand. I've closed more cases than any agent here, should I not have done that?"
"You are a solid agent, Allyson. There are many other solid agents."
"Well, none of them have closed the Red Falls Killer case." Ally pointed out.
"Allyson, it's no secret that none of the other agents like you."
"What?" Nobody would talk to her ever and the agents would make fun of her. Allyson had always wondered why they didn't like her.
"I've gotten countless complaints of arrogance and competitiveness and showmanship. Just give it a rest."
Both of them enter another office. Trish sighed, "Alright, we got a situation in Miami. The Feds picked up chatter on a guy moving in, Spencer Massett. We don't know what he looks like, where he comes from, nothing." She shows Allyson a photo of a man. "We believe this guys is doing the leg work for him: Trent Jackson. Nasty son of a bitch. Murder, extortion, this is his MO. The problem with guys like that is that everyone's scared to talk. Pack your bags, I'm sending you to Miami. You know how to get inside people's heads. Wanna find Spencer, get to Trent. You do well with this, we could talk about the job."
"I can do that."
