No one wants to work with him.

It's a well-known fact that Simon Riley is far from a perfect partner, that much anyone in LAPD can tell you. His reputation precedes him; a whispered legend in the precinct, a war veteran with a tragic past that twisted his sense of right and wrong. A loose cannon. LAPD's wild card.

Although he always gets the job done, his questionable methods, unapologetically dark sense of humour and recklessness make him unpredictable and, to put it simply, dangerous. But his flawless track record of closed cases (solved, most of the time, by going against protocol, mind you), makes the idea of firing him a bad choice.

Working with him would be like playing with fire.

Which is why, it seems completely absurd and ridiculous to make him your partner. Compared to the man who has a penchant for violence and is used to laughing in the face of danger, you are a picture-perfect detective, always working by the book. You two are as different as night and day and this partnership would sooner or later lead to disaster.

You didn't even get a heads-up or a friendly warning. When you got to the precinct this morning, all your supervisor told you was: Try to keep him in line.

Simon is lounging in a chair, your chair, boots up on the desk, your desk, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He gives you a long, assessing look from behind those dark shades, his expression hidden behind the barrier of the lenses.

"Looks like we're stuck together," he says, his voice a low, mocking rumble. "Better get used to it, partner."