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Stiles wasn't a terrible assistant, he was just... okay, yes, Stiles was a terrible assistant. He did things like: "Good morning, Lydia! I forgot to stop and buy your coffee, so I just made some!" "Stiles, I'm assuming by the smoke coming from your office that I won't be getting any coffee." But then he also did much worse things, like: "Hey boss, I forgot to tell you, but you've got a meeting with my dad in.... ten minutes ago." "Stiles! Ten minutes?!" Ten minutes late was so beyond fashionably late. And unfashionably late meant... well, unfashionable, and if there was one thing Lydia Martin was not, it was unfashionable. A meeting with Sheriff Stilinski didn't mean anything good. If there's one thing independent detectives can't stand, it's police officers. If there's one thing criminal masterminds turned detectives can't stand, it's the police officers who arrested them. Well, and gave them a second chance, but Lydia was in a bad mood, so she didn't want to think of that. "What's this about?" Lydia demanded. "Nice to see you too." Sheriff Stilinski said. That's when she smelled it. That cologne. She knew it, she knew it, she knew- Yes, there across from the sheriff sat the one and only Madison Rice. Well, her name had been Madison Rice then. In the hunting business, names equaled targets. Lydia doubted "Madison" had kept the same name for longer than a week her whole life.
"What is she doing here?"
"It's nice to see you too, Lydia. And really, I should be asking you what you're doing here. I thought they locked you up years ago."
"She's the best private investigator in town." Stilinski cuts in. "And she's your partner for this mission."
"What?" Madison demands, and at the same time Lydia said "Why an I working with a hunter?"
She had most certainly not zoned out thinking about how cute Madison's was or how good she smelled, even if the last time Lydia had smelled that she had been face down on the concrete, impossibly caught.
Stilinski shrugged. "Madison, your father and I agree that the two of you would make a good pair for this mission. And Lydia, I promise, you will need a hunter."
Lydia sized the girl beside her up. Madison did the same.
"What's the mission?" She asked, not taking her eyes off of Lydia.
"The werepeople, the natives of our planet, are going extinct."
"Then why the hell do you need a hunter?"
"Because of what's killing them. Someone has found a way to create supernatural beings."
Lydia frowned.
"That would require... ancient, most likely destroyed Martian technology. Are you sure you have your story straight?"
The sheriff ignored her. "The two of you can leave any time, preferably soon. The faster you track down whoever is responsible, the less time you have to spend with each other."
"Is that all? No clues, no... no directions you could point us in?"
"That's all, Martin."
Lydia stormed out of the room. Today was a day for the dramatics. "Out of all the planets she could be on, she just had to choose Mars. Just had to be were I am."
"Talking to yourself?"
Lydia almost jumped. Almost.
Madison pushed herself up from were she'd been slouched against the doorframe. "Habit of you "detectives", huh? Or does that one come from the felon side of things?"
Lydia decided to choose her battles and didn't reply.
"Where do you plan to start with this mission.?"
"So we're being completely professional, then. Shame, this elevator ride could've been a bit more interesting."
Lydia wasn't sure if she meant fighting or kissing. With girls like her, it was hard to tell.
The doors opened. Stiles stumbled into view.
Madison's hand was around his throat without a second thought.
"He's my assistant, Christ. You can let him go."
"Ya coulda said that a little earlier, boss." Stiles said, coughing into his hand.
"Maybe if you hadn't forgotten my coffee and my meeting, I would have."
Madison didn't seem to be enjoying their exchange. "You smell like wolf."
Stiles glared at her. "Yeah, it's my boyfriend, and my best friend. Both werewolves."
"So we start there then. We can ask around, learn what the local packs know."
"Stiles, I hate to say it, but you might be useful. Can you get your boyfriend to talk to us?"
"He'a teaching a class right now and Scott's at work but I can leave him a message, boss."
"Thank you."
Madison was glaring at her. "What?"
"Well we can't just sit around and wait. As beautiful as you are, and as delightful as I find your company, the sooner I get this case over with the better. I've got things to see and people to be, Martin."
Lydia huffed. "What would you suggest we do, then?"
"There's one other person in this city I think might know something."
"Who?" She was already dreading the answer.
"Erica Reyes."
"How do you know Reyes?"
"Who in this galaxy doesn't know Reyes? Besides, she and I go way back."
Lydia, once again, wasn't sure if she meant fighting or kissing. With girls like Madison, it was hard to tell.
It was true that everyone in the galaxy knew Erica Reyes. She was a force to be reckoned with, owner of the largest, most exclusive club Mars had to offer. The last time Lydia had saw her, the thief had been making off with twelve of Reyes nicest paintings.
"I can't promise you that this will end well."
Madison shrugged. She pulled a crossbow out of her pocket, because she was, apparently, the type of person who had pockets deep enough to fit all manner of weapons.
That will be handy until the moment she decides to pull one on me.
The truth was, Lydia did not trust Madison. She knew that, no matter how close they might get personality wise, Madison would always hate her for what she was: a criminal. Ex-criminal, her mind supplied.
Reformed villian.
Recovered thief.
But really, the question was: who is Madison Rice?
Her name was Allison Argent, but Lydia wouldn't know that until later.