A/N: Welcome to the second story in the series following the career of police officer Bayley Martinez. The first story is called The Goddess, and can be found on my profile page.

The culmination of Bayley Martinez's first undercover operation as a police officer was at hand. Her services had been leant to Stamford City Police Department's Intelligence Division. The division was made up of some of the city's best detectives, making working with them quite an honour for a regular police officer like Bayley.

Her role in the operation had been to play the part of prostitute and a drug addict in order to get into a house where a significant pimping and cocaine running operation was suspected to be based. Having spent a few minutes inside, Bayley had confirmed that both of those suspicions were accurate. Armed with that knowledge, she had excused herself to go to the downstairs bathroom.

Bolting the bathroom door shut behind her, Bayley took her phone out of her purse and called the number she had been given for the head of Intelligence Division, who was parked out in the street with a van load of armed detectives and police officers.

"Yes?" the commander said, answering the call.

"Three men and four prostitutes, all in the living room in the back," Bayley said quietly. "Lines of cocaine on the table and a package on the floor. I'm sure there will be more."

"Understood," the commander said. Just before the call ended, Bayley heard an order issued. "Let's move,"

Knowing that the front and back doors would be smashed in momentarily, and that bullets might start flying if things went south, Bayley got ready to take cover between the bath and the toilet if necessary.

About thirty seconds later, there was a huge crash from the direction of the front door. She heard people rushing into the house, yelling that they were SCPD, and wanted to see hands in the air.

Things started to go wrong when Bayley heard someone kick the bathroom door. Someone was breaking in, and she didn't have a weapon with her to defend herself. The second kick sent the door flying open, and one of the men walked in brandishing a pistol. "This was you, bitch!" he accused, pointing the gun at her.

Bayley raised her hands, but didn't get a chance to try and plead her case. One of the Intelligence Division detectives appeared behind the suspect, jamming the end of a rifle into the back of his neck.

"Drop the gun!" the detective yelled.

Thank god, Bayley thought as the suspect complied immediately, letting the gun fall out of his hands to the floor. Bayley picked it up and disarmed it, while the detective cuffed the suspect's hands behind his back. Judging by the shouting throughout the rest of the house, she could tell that the other men were under arrest. Rooms upstairs were being cleared.

Happy with her part in the operation, Bayley followed the detective and his prisoner out of the bathroom. They found the commander of Intelligence Division coming the other way. She was in her mid thirties, Bayley estimated, with long dark hair that was currently up in a bun, and a very attractive face. It wasn't the appearance people might expect of a division commander, but maybe that was an asset in and of itself.

"Hello, Mickey. You've been a naughty boy," the commander said in a well-spoken English accent, obviously recognising the man who had just been placed under arrest.

"Fuck you, Thorne," the suspect said, spitting in the woman's face. She responded by smashing the butt of her rifle into the middle of his face, breaking his nose with a loud crack, and damn near knocking him out. He was stopped from collapsing by the detective behind him.

Jesus, Bayley thought, telling herself never to fuck with Lucy Thorne. Apparently being in charge of Intelligence Division put her in a position to be able to do something like that to a prisoner. If Bayley had done that as a regular police officer, it would likely have resulted in a suspension from duty at best.

"Get him out of here," Thorne instructed, wiping the spit from her cheek. "Bloody animal," she snapped at the barely conscious man who was apparently called Mickey.

The detective escorted the prisoner towards the front door, leaving Bayley standing with Commander Thorne.

"Martinez, yes?" Thorne said, trying to recall the name she had only heard once, when sergeant Reigns had introduced them that morning.

"Yes, ma'am," Bayley said respectfully.

"Good work, Martinez. There's a squad car outside, ready to take you back to the station. You'll write up a full report of everything you saw and heard here today."

"Including...?" Bayley looked in the direction of the suspect who'd had his face smashed with the gun.

"No, not including that," Thorne said pointedly.

"Yes, ma'am." With that, the two women parted ways. Thorne continued down the hallway and up the stairs to supervise the operation, while Bayley left via the front door for her ride back to the station.

The locker room was Bayley's first stop when she got back to the police station. Spending the rest of the day dressed like a cheap hooker was not high on the list of things she wanted to do.

By chance, only moments after Bayley entered the locker room, Ronda Rousey, her former training officer, walked in. Her eyes widened when she saw Bayley and took in the revealing top, booty shorts and long boots that went almost up to the knee. "Martinez? Christ, what did you come as? I thought your new hair cut was drastic enough."

A few weeks earlier, Bayley had changed her hairstyle to a bob cut, and had been teased mercilessly for it by her colleagues for it ever since. It was lucky that she could take banter when it came her way.

"Very funny, Ronda," Bayley said with an eye roll. "I was on my first undercover assignment, for Intelligence Division."

"Thorne's unit? Nice," Rousey said, sounding genuinely impressed. "How did that go?"

"Yeah, it went well. Three arrests made. I had a gun in my face for a moment, but the situation was quickly dealt with. What do you know about Thorne? It seems weird that an English woman is the commander of SCPD's Intelligence Division, although she does seem pretty badass."

"That's an understatement," Rousey said. "She was MI6. That's British secret intelligence. I heard there was some kind of exchange that saw her come over here and an American detective make the move to London. All I know is, she's not to be fucked with."

"I was thinking the same thing earlier," Bayley said. It struck her that if Ronda Rousey said someone was not to be fucked with, they really were not to be fucked with.

"Is your shift over? Mine is," Rousey said.

"No chance," Bayley groaned. "I've got to write my report about today before I think about going anywhere."

They made idle conversation while Bayley got changed into her uniform, and Rousey got changed out of hers. When she was done, Bayley said goodnight to the woman she still thought of as her training officer and walked out of the locker room.

On her way past the roll call room, she saw a group of officers congregated in there, which was unusual for that time of the evening. They looked rather distressed. Bayley decided to go in and find out what was going on.

"How can no one have seen anything?" a male officer cried as she walked into the room.

"What's going on?" Bayley asked the first officer she approached.

"We got an officer down call a few minutes ago," he said. "Ramirez was shot in the head at a gas station. He's dead. Anderson was his partner today, but he was in the gas station when the shooting happened, and he didn't see it. Witnesses say they didn't see anything either."

"Jesus Christ," Bayley said quietly. She didn't know Ramirez or Anderson well, but she knew who they were. Any fellow officer being killed on the job was heart-breaking. After all, they were brothers and sisters in arms.

Feeling somewhat empty inside, Bayley set off to find an office where she could sit and write her report in peace. Concentrating on it had just been made harder by the sad news.

A couple of hours later, Bayley finally arrived home at the apartment she shared with her girlfriend Sasha Banks. Arriving home late was not all that uncommon for her, thanks to the irregular hours required by police work. Bayley always made sure to call Sasha to let her know if she wasn't going to be home on time, so that Sasha didn't worry about her.

"Bay, have you seen the news?" Sasha said, hurrying from the living room to greet her.

"You mean about the officer being shot?" Bayley said as they embraced. "Yes, I heard about it at the station. It's awful."

"They're saying on the news it might have been a sniper," Sasha said, looking deeply concerned.

Bayley's eyes widened in surprise, and she walked quickly through to the living area to take a look at the news coverage. "A sniper? That's extremely unusual. Someone taking a pot shot with a pistol, or even an execution style murder as payback for someone Ramirez arrested I could maybe understand. But I guess this explains why witnesses didn't see anything."

On the TV screen Bayley could see a shot of a gas station taken from a fair distance away. The film crew were behind an established police cordon. There were squad cars with flashing lights parked everywhere. The only one that didn't have its lights on was the one on the gas station forecourt. It stood with the passenger's door open, likely as a result of the deceased officer being removed from the vehicle.

"I'm scared, Bay. Why would someone shoot a cop like that? What if they keep doing it?"

Bayley turned to Sasha and took her hand, wanting to reassure her. "I'm almost certain that won't happen, honey. Ramirez, god bless him, was likely a specific target. The gas station will have CCTV, as will other stores around there. Whoever did this will be caught soon enough."

"You think so?" Sasha asked hopefully.

"I know so. We're very good at what we do," Bayley said with a smile.

"And you're the best of all," Sasha said proudly.

"I don't know about that, babe, but I do what I can."

A/N: Thank you for checking out the first chapter of this new short story.

What do you think will happen next, as the investigation into the shooting gets underway?