Holy shit!

Ramirez's jaw hung open as she stared at the counter on the other side of the squad room. A sudden commotion had caught her attention as she sat behind her desk, having just left a voicemail on Corona's phone, and had made it to the doorway in time to hear a low-pitched but still feminine voice yelling something about a "goddamn reward for this sack of shit."

And now Ramirez was staring at the biggest chimera she'd ever seen. Female draconid, had to be at least eight feet tall, with wavy black hair tied in a ponytail that reached almost to her knees, and huge muscles rippling under her purple, snake-like skin. She held her ID in her left hand and the arm of a human in the other. Her bioluminescent red eyes looked ready to drill a hole through the forehead of the cop behind the counter.

Gwillim, Ramirez remembered when the guy glanced over his shoulder, giving her a good look at his face. She'd collided with him on her first day here, and he'd continued to be a pain in the ass ever since -- always making snide remarks, complaining to the captain about her attitude, and bitching about her cigars. That irritated her more than anything else. Her cigars contained genetically engineered products that were harmless and actually smelled pleasant, so Gwillim had no excuse for complaining.

Hoping for a chance to stick it to him, Ramirez strode across the room, puffing on her cigar on the way to the front counter.

"What's going on?"

The draconid held her ID out to Ramirez and said, "Name's Bertilla Hardison. I'm a chaser. This scumbag is Danny DeSalvo. I'm here to collect the bounty on him."

Ramirez checked the ID and raised an eyebrow. It was unusual to see a chimera working for the Fugitive Retrieval Agency, but the license was real. Ramirez shrugged at Gwillim and handed it back to Hardison. "So what's the holdup?"

"Beats the hell outta me," Hardison said. "The company he used to work for put the bounty on him after he went nuts and shot up the office, so it's their money, not yours." She shrugged and waved her free hand at Gwillim. "This guy has been giving me nothing but crap about it."

Ramirez almost sighed. As a general rule, she had never been fond of bounty hunters, but at least they took some of the workload off the police, which was why the Fugitive Retrieval Agency had been created in the first place.

"The police and corporate security were handling it." Gwillim scowled from the corners of his eyes at Hardison. "This vigilante interfered with police business. And she assaulted the suspect." He grimaced at Ramirez. "And keep that cancer stick away from me."

"It's not a cancer stick, you chucklefuck. We’ve been over this before."

"I'm not a vigilante," Hardison snarled, and Gwillim flinched. "The Fugitive Retrieval Agency is officially sanctioned by the US government, which does have some authority here, despite the efforts of the corporations that built this city. And I kicked DeSalvo's scrawny little ass because he shot at me. Be thankful that I didn't put a sixteen-millimeter round in his head."

"Can't argue with that, I guess." Ramirez chuckled, though a bit nervously. "Hey, Gwillim, just start the ball rolling on this, why don't you?"

He glared at her and shook his head. Before he could say anything, Hardison leaned over the counter and bared her inch-long fangs. He flinched again.

Ramirez waved a hand at his monitor, making a point of getting her cigar as close to his face as possible. "Oh, for Christ's sake, just do it! And get someone up here to put this guy in a cell." She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Gwillim until he got on the phone and requested a pair of uniforms to take DeSalvo into custody.

"We don't have the money in our budget to be paying out these bounties," he grumbled after he got off the phone. "This guy's company is gonna find some loophole to avoid reimbursing us."

Hardison rolled her eyes. "One, the company agreed to the Agency's terms when they posted the bounty. It's a legally binding contract. Two, it's a small company that generally plays it straight, not one of the megas, so they probably wouldn't be able to weasel out of it if they wanted to. And three, we wouldn't even be having this conversation if the cops or the company security had caught him first."

"Good enough for me." Ramirez smiled, then raised an eyebrow at Gwillim. "When a chaser signs up for a bounty, both parties enter into a legally binding contract, just like the lady said. They can't …"

"I know how it works! I'm not stupid!" Gwillim sneered at her

"You appeared to need a reminder," Hardison snapped. "I just explained why these guys won't screw you. Look into their past business dealings if you want. You'll see that they're on the level." She leaned over him again. "Just don't take too long."

Ramirez waved her cigar in Gwillim's face again. "I think you better get to work on it before she runs out of patience."

"Fine. Goddamn it." Gwillim swatted at her hand, sighed and touched one of the icons on his screen.

Hardison stepped back and grinned. "Thanks."

"No problem. And don't let Gwillim get under your skin. He's more bitter than his mom's pussy."

He shot a glare at her and Hardison snickered.

Ramirez hung around to make sure Gwillim finished the process, shook the chaser's hand and wished her well. After flinging one last smirk at Gwillim, she returned to her desk.

She glanced at the clock as she sat and winced. Past time to go home. Damn, was I really here that long? She'd worked late last night and had missed seeing her daughter, and she didn't want it to happen again. Kim often spent the entire night hanging out with her friends and usually got home after Ramirez had fallen asleep. She wanted to be there in time to see Kim, for once. If nothing else, it would be nice to just talk with her for a while.

I should be there for her instead of being someone who just happens to show up every now and then. She thought about quitting again, but being a cop was all she really knew. Quitting now, after all the years she'd put in, would be the same as admitting defeat.

Maybe a vacation, then. A few days off to spend some quality time with Kim. It would also give her time to clear her head and decide whether she wanted to come back to work. Maybe I can transfer to another city. Back to Chicago, or maybe LA. Or maybe someplace quiet and uneventful. Or maybe ...

She thought again about the agency Corona worked for. I hope she gets my message and calls me back soon. I'd like to talk to her boss. It'd be good to at least get some more information on the agency so she could have another option.

Well, I can worry about that in the morning. She let out a quick breath, ran her hands through her hair and decided to call it a night. She got up, said goodnight to Montoya, and headed for the parking garage. She took the elevator down to the first sublevel, hands stuffed into the pockets of her black bomber jacket, leaning against the wall and tapping her foot as she waited for it to arrive.

The elevator stopped and the doors parted. She stepped out into the cold, dark garage and shook her head. Only half of the light fixtures still worked and half of those were flickering.

"Marvelous," she grumbled around her cigar. She walked across the pavement. Water dripped somewhere in the distance and she mumbled a curse. Oh, that's good. This place leaks on top of everything else.

She reached her beat-up old car and unlocked the door, pulled it open and glanced into the back seat as soon as the dome light came on, just to be sure that nobody had gotten in and waited for her to arrive. That had happened to her once, and she'd never forgotten it.

I'm damn lucky to be alive after that. But then, so was the guy who'd assaulted her. She had panicked, drawn her gun and fired wildly into the back seat, hitting him six times but somehow missing anything vital. After that, though, she'd made a habit of checking the back seat before getting into any vehicle. Everybody's luck ran out eventually, and she wasn't about to put herself in that position again.

She started to get into the car, but something made her stop. She hadn't heard footsteps or anything, really, but she had sensed a presence. She reached for her gun, spun around, and found herself facing a man in a black topcoat. Before she could take in any details, he looked into her eyes and everything went fuzzy, as if her mind had suddenly been wrapped in damp cotton.

She had a vague recollection of getting into her car, but she had no idea what happened after that.