“There’s a gunman on the loose in Aloft Hotel, location 216 Duffield Street, Downtown Brooklyn. Requesting additional units near the vicinity through dispatch immediately. Over.”

It was almost a peaceful morning for the 26-year-old woman speeding on 22nd Avenue, but things just took a 360-degree turn upon receiving that tip. Under her ebony helmet and while riding her Nightingale Jaguar Motorcycle, which is also in the shade of black, Ally leers of gaiety.

She pushed the button to her radio transmitter and responded to the marshall, “Responding, Taylor:2164, show me going.” She stated her name and badge number, and soon, other police officers patrolling in the downtown part of Brooklyn clocked in to join the crime scene too.

Truth be told, Ally didn’t plan on being involved. She’s actually on her way to work despite not having a shift on Sunday. Perhaps, she’s just that passionate about her job. Nonetheless, if it weren't for the captain of her precinct forcing her to rest after the hectic weekdays, she would’ve been working on the cold cases by now.

Fortunately, a large-scale incident happened at this exact time. Well, it’s rather unfortunate for those stuck inside the building, but these types of actions are exactly the metier Ally lives for.

For years ever since she learned how to construct full sentences, she wished to become a policewoman. Actually, her grandfather mostly influenced her, but other people’s opinions didn’t matter that much either. Even her first sentence at the age of two was, “You’re under arrest!”

Going back, slipping from the usual bumper-to-bumper traffic in New York with her efficient motorcycle, Ally crossed seven blocks and reached the secluded perimeter. The NYPD has surrounded the place already, and about hundreds of her colleagues from different precincts across the city have been dispatched to secure all exits. Bystanders are on high alert, some of them might think they're shooting a movie, and of course, broadcast journalists arrived here first.

Ally parked her vehicle in a nearby doughnut shop and ran to the yellow tape, entering with no one stopping her. Eyes immediately shifted to the newcomer. Her black leather jacket, plain simple shirt, and tight raven jeans… complement her cool demeanour and loose black hair that extends to the bottom of her clavicle. Grabbing her badge strapped to her belt while she saunters to the main patrol car, she eyed Lietunant Raymond, the high-ranking officer in charge of this case.

Raymond caught a glimpse of the approaching detective and somehow felt relieved. Still, Ally forged ahead to introduce herself. “Detective Ally Taylor of the 17th precinct, Lieutenant. Here to report for duty. How’s the situation?”

“You don’t need to introduce yourself, detective. We got a pretty intense case,” Raymond responded. He knew Ally from the academy. He’s actually her former instructor in judo, and he had always admired the young lady, mostly because she can easily defeat him. He points to the set-up screen, which is manned by Arlo, head of the Cyber Crimes Unit. It displays the footage inside the hotel, where a man strapped with a machine gun paces around.

“Here’s our suspect, Harry Potterson.”

“He seems nervous, but wait, Harry Potterson? Damn it, how dare he have such a cool name? If I were him, I would forge documents and remove the son and move to Hogwarts. What if the NY subway has a portal there?! It would be pretty cool if you ask me—”

“Detective.”

“Oh, sorry. Continue.” Ally smiled whilst shrugging her shoulders. For the record, she’s quite a talkative woman who frequently gets distracted.

“Fifteen minutes ago, he entered the hotel and opened fire. We’re assuming that it’s a warning shot because he didn't target anyone and only demanded to know the hotel safe's location. Luckily, nearby officers were immediately alerted after the lobbyists sought help. As of this moment, he’s by the 12th floor, sourcing out possible hostages. We have evacuated most of the people on the lower floors—”

“Most?” Ally asks, to which Raymond responds, “Two cleaners and three residents are hiding in the storage area on the 14th floor. The suspect sealed the exits and cut the power line of the elevators. If we storm the 14th floor, things could go sideways really fast.”

“What’s his motive?” Ally’s eyes burned in the sight of injustice. She loves putting away bad guys for this particular reason.

“Officer Samantha has looked it up. It turns out that the suspect has been surveying the hotel for quite some time. He could deduce the location of the safe based on the informant's vague instructions,” Arlo chimed in. They retracted the video and showed the gunman drilling into a mounted safe. “Bad luck for him; it was empty because transport happens every Friday. So, when he pulled the lever out…” The video played the small door of the safe falling to the ground. “It was empty.”

“This is bad. I’m going in. He’s probably looking for potential hostages for a hefty bribe, and then he'll ride on his broomstick to flee, probably asking for Ron's backup or something. I doubt Hermione would be in for this.” Ally’s determination showed before her, but her jest never missed making the other officers chuckle. Loose gears are placed on a table nearby, so she begins to strap herself while Raymond keeps a resisting stance.

“Detective Taylor, are you sure about this? FBI is on dispatch; we can wait for them to take this step. It’s too risky for you to go in alone.”

Ally excitedly picked a gun and cupped a couple of tear gas. She blows raspberry and clucks the semi-automatic pistol. “You want me to let the FBI steal my thunder? Over my dead body. Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I got this. Arlo, be my ears… I mean, my eyes. Whatever. Just tell me where to go,” she excitedly says and strapped herself with a vest and a headset. Then, she struts towards the entrance with a gigantic smile.

“Detective—wait!” Even though Raymond is technically in charge, he knew that letting Ally in the scene would be the best step to preserve the NYPD’s glory. The FBI and the Police Department have been brewing some silent competition to impress the outgoing mayor, so whoever gets ahold of the situation will look at a better payroll.

Besides, Detective Allysa Taylor is Brooklyn’s best detective. Her arrest records, consistent paperwork, awards, and her prized medal of valour show it. Last year, she single-handedly bagged the kingpin of Brooklyn’s network-wide drug cartel, Seamus Anderson.

…

Silence filled the halls. It didn’t make things better, especially for the units dispatching on all sides. Amidst the silent tango of the cops and the robber, Ally wanders, muttering, “Damn it. I can’t see shit, and why are there so many naked statues in the hallways? Arlo, run me on the positions. I’ve reached the 12th floor, and I’ve seen a hundred naked statues,” she said to the small mic clipped to the collar of her shirt. Her gun is pointed outwards, while her less-dominant hand carries a small flashlight to brighten up her path.

Arlo mutters, “Aloft Hotel is a… red light hotel, detective.”

“Seriously? Ew!” Ally briefly responded to express her disgust.

Then, Arlo reports, “Eagle Unit is on stand by at the ninth floor, while Horse Raiders are burrowing towards the seventh. Destination, by the fire exit closest to the storage unit of the 14th storey. The gunman is still on the 12th floor. He’s by the left-wing corridor. As of now, he’s scouring the rooms one by one. I suggest you go up to the civilians first to keep them safe—”

“No.”

Everyone listening to the instructions, including Raymond, is taken aback by Ally’s response. It’s not the most plausible step, but everyone felt a hunch of what Ally might do, and it’s leaning towards the risky side.

After sneakily pulling the steel door of the fire exit leading to the left wing of the 12th floor, Ally tiptoes in, hiding beneath the creases of the support walls. “I’m taking him down right now. Eagle Unit, you go to the 14th floor while I distract this bastard, copy?”

“Hold on, Detective—” Arlo couldn’t finish his words because Raymond chimed in. “Taylor, do as I say and save the civilians first. They are our first priority. The gunman is already distracted; we should take this time—”

“Tch!” She clicks her tongue to interrupt. “I know. That’s why the Eagle Unit should do that right now. Go, Eagles! Horseys, back me up.”

“Detective, you have no authority to command my squad.”

Ally skips from wall to wall, leaning on the fancy knick-knacks coating the halls. “But it’s a good order, though, right?”

“Detective, go to the 14th floor. Now!”

“Come on, Lieutenant. Will Lara Croft save the people before taking down the bad guy? I mean, she probably would, but you know what I’m saying.”

Raymond, at this point, felt that he had made a major mistake because he saw a couple of vans arrive. It’s the FBI, and they are probably here to hijack the matter. “Fine, Detective Taylor, move fast. The enemies are here.”

Ally knew exactly what Raymond was saying. "The musty men of FBI?"

"Indeed."

Rightfully so, Ally moved faster and passed by an intersection leading to all four sides of the hotel’s outline.

‘Wait a minute… these are middle rooms…’ she thought when she realized that some unit, particularly the ones closer to the centre, are middle rooms. Meaning, these units aren't connected to the building's side, and hallways wrap all over its vicinity.

Through the line, she heard the FBI slowly taking over, but Raymond was buying her time.

“Great, the NYPD is here, but the commissioner called us. Hand over the radio, Raymond.” It was Charles, a high-ranking FBI agent, someone fairly familiar to Ally. She grunts on the inside and relies on Arlo for directions.

“To your left, Detective Taylor. He’s in room 1231.”

“Copy that.”

She heard a faint shuffling that came from one of the suites. Her nose flared as she laid her back on the wall. Ally crouched her way there and hid on the edge of a partition, just enough to conceal her presence. Using the reflective picture frame in front of the unit’s door, she watched Harry stealthily. It looks like the bootleg wizard is on the verge of losing his mind. He’s obviously trying to pillage for something valuable. ‘A nervous piece of shit... Lucky me!’

The moment Harry turned towards the door, Ally saw his face and could only think, ‘Ew, you do not look like Daniel Radcliffe at all.’

Ally stayed still to throw the man off, but he was not exactly an expert in criminal advances. In a rash manner, he opened fire and shot right at the door, ringing the entire building, and it could even be heard all the way outside the hotel. Some of the bystanders yelped in worry. But the FBI seem rather lukewarm. “Hand over the case, Raymond. We’re storming the building!”

Defeatedly, Raymond’s worry was overthrown by a tainted ego. He gave up his position, and even Arlo was replaced. “Who got shot?” Charles asked.

“We’re not sure if Detective Taylor was on the range,” Arlo worriedly reported to his new commander.

“Are you talking about Ally Taylor?” Charles asked with a frugal smile.

“Yes…”

“I see. It’s that nosy bitch. Let’s just hope she gets hostage instead because that will be easier for me. Deploying unit routing to the 14th and 12th floor. Gear up!” Charles commanded about 50 of his agents, and the scene just got a whole lot tenser.

Meanwhile, Harry warily walked out of the unit, spewing bullets left and right. When he finds no presence of life in the hallway, he’s left with mild relief. He saw a reflection on the picture frame moments ago, but when he looked at where it came from, it was just a silly statue of a naked woman.

Still, he stayed on high alert and ditched his plan to pillage rooms on this floor. Seems like his only chance of actually getting money out of this mess is taking someone hostage. So, with his machine gun loaded full, he marched forward.

However, not even ten steps later, a couple of opened tear gas hit his feet. “What the?!” the gunman panicked when a mini explosion rendered him deaf and blind. He grabbed his gun and started swerving around, shooting in all possible directions.

Charles watched the CCTV in surprise, but he didn’t waste a single second and commanded all units to immediately climb forward. The distraction successfully let the Eagle, Horse, and newly-arrived FBI unit up, but the person who threw the gas was the one who saved the day.

And that woman is none other than Ally, who’s currently crouching below Harry to avoid his direct hits as she covers her nose with her leather jacket. As Harry’s surrounded by a cloud of blinding ivory smoke, he is overcome when a force tackles him from behind, causing him to flail his heavy gun away.

Once the smoke protruded, Ally’s cheeky leer greeted him. She tightly restrains his knuckles with cuffs, chucking over the mic, “How’s that, Charles?”

“Not bad,” he amusedly commented.

"I heard you call me a bitch earlier, though. You piece of shit."

“Damn it…” Harry complains in the middle.

"Shut up, Harry!"

And thus, it was another day of Ally Taylor stealing everyone’s thunder.

“Harry Potterson, you’re under arrest for behaving like an idiot with a beautiful name like that!” She forced him up as several units arrived to help, all while Raymond snatched the radio transmitter, yelling, “Detective Taylor! For the hundredth time, state the Miranda rights when you’re arresting someone!”