Prologue

"Fucking son of a bitch," you muttered as you clutched on to your shoulder. Your black tank top was drenched in blood and perspiration. Blood dribbled down your face from the fresh split across your forehead where the gunman slammed the butt of the rifle on your head. Your right hand dangled uselessly by your side as you made your way through the basement. A layer of water covered the floor, making every footstep you take audible as you plodded across the rooms. Blood of those worthless gunmen that you've taken down stained the brick walls of the basement as their bodies laid lifelessly on the floor.

You shook your head and blinked to try and shake away the blood from trickling into your eyes. Red spread across your vision, causing you to halt your movements as your eyes stung, a desperate attempt by the eyes to remove impurities. Blinking rapidly, your vision focused enough for you to make out the path before you.

The sound of water droplets hitting the layer of liquid on the floor echoed around the enclosed area. "You idiot!"

You tensed at the voice, recognizing it immediately. Crouching low and slowly making your way towards the wall nearest to the voice, you released the hold on your shoulder. Raising your left hand, you clamped your jaws between the slide and pulled it back to allow a round of magazine to load into the chamber before releasing it to let it move completely forward.

"Get the fuck out of here and make fucking sure that she's dead before coming back!"

You took your lower lips between your teeth at the instructions given. It was obviously aimed at you, to eliminate you before he gets eliminated. Splatters were heard as the man hurried out of the room to avoid being killed by the man barking commands. Taking a deep breath, you steadied myself before taking a step back quietly.

BANG!

His eyes widened at your admission but was too slow to react as the bullet pierce deep into his chest. His body dropped to the floor with a splash. Without wasting another second, you appeared by the door and held the gun up, aimed in the direction of the man. Taken aback by the sudden outburst, he threw his hands into the air and backed away. "You don't have to do this. We can talk this through."

You scoffed as you stared impassively at him. "Talk? There's nothing to talk about." Just because you're a woman and younger than most of his henchmen doesn't mean you can't fight.

Click.

The telltale clack of a hammer cocking on the gun sounded in your ears. The feeling of a barrel pressed against the side of your forehead made you gulp. Your heart was pounding against your ribs. If not for the sound of water leaking onto the puddles on the floor, it would've been pretty audible.

"Oh ho, look who's having the final laugh now, Lopez." The man who was previously threatened by your firearm now relaxed and stepped forward. He took the time to smooth out his suit and fix his tie. His hair had turned an ashen grey from age and his wrinkles visible at the corner of his eyes.

"Put your gun down." The voice beside you commanded slowly.

You clenched your jaws together as your slowly lowered your gun. "Now, slowly back out of the room." He said, with the gun still held firmly against your head.

Blood was rushing to your head as fear administered itself in your brain. Is it going to end this way, without you avenging those who have died because of that merciless bastard who had bathed in the blood of your family?! He snuck a mole into your family just so he could destroy your family from within.

"Now drop the gun,"

With your right arm disabled, you could do nothing but concede. You dropped your gun and steeled yourself for what's going to happen next.

BANG!

You flinched and closed your eyes at the sound of a gunshot but realized seconds later that it didn't hit you. You look to your right and saw that the man who previously held the gun against your head had his eyes rolled back, his balance threatening to fall any second now. Instinctively, you grabbed the gun in his hand and aimed it towards the man who was gloating. A loud splash echoed around the basement as the man dropped dead. His arms shot back up in a submissive pose again as your arm resumed its threatening position. A coward that only relied on his henchmen. And when they're out of the way, he's just a useless bastard.

With him cornered and without anything to retaliate with, you took a glance back to see a figure approaching. "Stop moving forward or I'll shoot you before I shoot him."

Either that person didn't hear you or refused to acknowledge your threat. You turned to face the stranger with the gun. In a swift motion, the gun was wrenched out of my grip. You snarled at the stranger as she removed the gun from your hand. Her eyes seemed to pierce into you as she held your gaze. Her eyes were a blue so pale and vivid that it seemed like jolts of electricity was coursing through it.

"The cards are stacked against you." The stranger said as she dissembled the gun with expert speed, its pieces clattering to the floor. She was wearing a leather glove, possibly to prevent her finger print from getting onto the gun. "I need him alive." She jutted her chin towards the man who was eyeing the both of you.

"Detective." He said as he recognized the blonde beside you. She was wearing a beige tank top, a pair of aviators hung in the middle of her top and a pair of baggy army pants. A baseball cap sat snugly on her head, with her block locks hanging loosely.

"Glad you're still alive, Brown." The detective said as she stepped into the room and whipped out a handcuff, slapping it onto Marcus Brown's wrists.

You eyed the detective wearily as she frisked him. After risking your life and walking through that basement littered with bodies and stained with blood, you've reached the end to Brown being arrested by a detective? And she didn't even have a scrape on her while you're bloodied and battered.

But even so, there was something telling you to let it go. If it wasn't for her, you would've ended up with your skull blown up and your brain scattered, or made a laughing stock by Marcus. You relaxed and stared at the duo that was walking towards you. The detective stopped before you and took out a piece of cloth, pushing it into your hand. She held Marcus at arm length before leaning forward so that she's whispering into your ear. "I'll pretend I didn't see you, and you weren't here. When you get out of here, head to street 22 and go into the first building you see. Go up to the second floor and knock on the door of the third apartment five times. When the person asked for identification, say 'Pierce'."

With that, she stepped back. A subtle smirk ghosted on her lips as she tugged at the handcuff on Marcus Brown's wrist to pull him along. You watched her go, your grimace softening at every step she took away from you and up onto the surface of New York City. The pain began to administer itself as your adrenaline wears off. Using the cloth on hand, you wiped your bloodied face and head up towards the surface. With her words in mind, you head for street 22. If she wanted to kill you or take you to the station, she would've done so. You would have probably be dead by now if it wasn't for her.

Staggering up the stairs of the building, you leaned your weight against the wall on your left for support as you trudged towards the apartment.

"Identify yourself," the voice sounded when you knocked on the door five times, as instructed.

"Pierce," you repeated the words said to you previously.

The sound of locks being slid off was followed by the creaking of the rusty door hinge. "Damn Pierce, forever doing this to me."

You narrowed your eyes in confusion at him as he pulled the door wider to let you in. As compared to the shady neighborhood, the apartment was neatly furnished. The man closed the door after you and slid the lock back into position before leading you to a room further in the apartment. "I'm Joe."

"Santana."

"I'm not going to ask what happened because Pierce always find the shittiest moment to appear, no matter what she's doing." He gave a warm smile, trying to melt the tension between the two of you. Maybe it was because he was used to strangers that were bloodied and battered showing up at his door saying 'Pierce', or maybe it was just his personality.

So, the detective from before. Her name is Pierce. Detective Pierce. You snickered at how the name suited her character. "Detective Pierce, huh?"

"She's a peculiar one. Or should I say, exclusive."

"Pardon?"

"She isn't like the other regular detective where they go around clasping criminals in handcuffs, or one that goes by the book." There's a distant look in his eyes, as if he's recalling an incident. "She goes by her guts. And seemed like her guts seemed to be pointing towards you."

Towards you? Not wanting to probe any further or get yourself involved any more than you should, you gave a tight-lipped smile in return which he gladly accepted as an answer. He opened the door and revealed a surgical room. You raised by eyebrows in amusement as you stepped into the nauseatingly disinfected smelling room. He motioned towards the surgical bed in the middle of the room with his hand as he walked over to the sink at the corner of the room. As if he was a practiced doctor, he washed his hands and cleaned it with a paper towel before snapping on some rubber gloves.

You eyed him warily as he pulled out several surgical tools from various cupboards. Sensing the hole you were burning into his back by your stare, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Relax, I'm not going to kill you. Pierce sent you here for a good reason, I suppose."

A good reason? What reason did she have for saving you? You were about to kill a man she wanted, the reason behind all the blood stained walls in the basement and the bodies littered on the ground of the basement. All the more she should be arresting you instead of helping you, let alone sending you to a doctor. What is it with her guts and what has it even got to do with you? Wait, is the doctor even certified?

He sat down on a wheeled chair and rolled over to you. Having noticed how your right arm dangled uselessly by your side when you stepped in, he felt around your shoulder for the dislocation. You hissed at the pain as he prodded around your joint. Satisfied with his analysis, he moved on to the split on your forehead. "You've lost a nasty amount of blood. I'm surprised you're still alive."

You rolled your eyes, "it'll take more than a few pint of blood to knock me down."

"With that tongue of yours, I guess you'll survive." He joked as he poured a solvent onto a piece of cloth and gently applied pressure to the area around the split on your forehead to remove the blood that had dried up during the fight with the gunmen. "I'll need to put you under for a while to get you fixed up. You okay with that?"

You nodded. Much as you want to get away from here as soon as possible, you wouldn't want to sit through the entire surgical process and watch yourself be medically mutilated by the man whom you still don't know was certified or not.

He pulled out an anesthesia mask and gently placed it over your mouth and nose. "Breathe and relax,"

Your eyelids slowly droop close as the anesthesia took effect.

Having a writer's block from The Guardian and this idea popped into mind. Not sure if I should continue this or end it with a few quick chapters. Reviews are appreciated :) Beta-less, any mistakes made are mine.