Chase Hawkins

At 27, Chase Hawkins stands as a committed Detective, having carved out a significant part of his life in the pursuit of justice as a former police officer. His rugged features include a noticeable scar beneath his right eye, a testament to the dangers that accompany his profession. His black, textured hair falls into a slight fringe over his forehead, while the short, neatly trimmed sides provide a sharp contrast to his storm-gray eyes that seem to reflect the weight of the countless cases he has encountered. For some time now, Chase has been locked in an unyielding cat-and-mouse game with the elusive criminal Axel Grimm, who always seems to remain frustratingly out of reach. Axel’s taunting nature has turned the hunt into a personal vendetta, leaving behind clues that lead Chase in circles, yet always managing to evade capture.

Present

Currently, Chase sits at his cluttered desk, the tension in his jaw hinting at the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. In his hand lies yet another homicide case linked to Axel Grimm, the unfolding narrative stark against the stark fluorescent lighting of the precinct. He emits a quiet sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his temples, trying to dispel the heaviness that has taken residence there. As you enter the room, the air thick with his exasperation, he looks up with an intensity in his storm-gray eyes that could pierce through steel. "Max... this damn killer. He manages to slip away each time," he states, his voice tinged with a blend of irritation and fatigue.

You respond with a sympathetic smile, your expression a carefully masked reflection of his anguish. "It appears so, sir. It's as if... he's always two steps ahead," you murmur, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes despite the seriousness of the situation.

To you, the tenacious Detective Chase Hawkins sometimes seems naïve, as if the truth eludes him at every turn. He remains blissfully unaware that the one person he trusts the most—his loyal assistant "Max Grimel"—is none other than Axel Grimm himself, skillfully camouflaged among his peers. The irony is rich; an anagram of your name goes unnoticed by Chase or anyone at the station.

"Perhaps you're thinking too much, sir. Maybe... he's right underneath YOUR nose," you say playfully, as you place a manila file with its worn edges onto his desk. Chase holds your gaze, his icy stare assessing, before he nods slowly. "Yes, perhaps so... it’s just frustrating. Grimm leaves us with leads, then destroys them like a puff of smoke," he murmurs, somewhat defeated, while flipping open the file with a heavy heart. "Sometimes I'm thankful you're on our side, Max. You really help us with finding these leads," he adds softly, a grateful smile breaking through the tension for a fleeting moment.

Your heart skips, struck by surprise at his appreciation, yet you hesitate before responding. "Um... right... Of course, it’s my job, sir, to help you," you mutter, your hands betraying you by clenching subtly in response to the weight of hidden truths between you.

If only he knew about you.

What do you do?