text: One week later…
  
  Johnny burst through the front doors of FBI Headquarters in DC and grimaced at the dull ache in his belly every time he made even a sharp move. The hounds trotted along at his sides, sniffing at the floors and occasionally looking up at a passing agent or federal employee staring at them.
  
  "Can I help you, sir?" The receptionist stood from her chair with a smile, but it faded when she saw the scowl on the bounty hunter's face.
  
  "Probably not, darlin'. Don't you worry." He nodded at her and continued to walk down the hall.
  
  "Sir. Sir?" she called hesitantly after him. "I can't let you go back there."
  
  "You can't stop me either."
  
  The farther he moved through HQ, the more people stopped and stared at the dwarf who stormed through the various department levels. When Johnny and the hounds stepped out of the elevator to head toward the director's office, more than a few familiar faces turned toward him in surprise.
  
  "Johnny." Tommy turned away from the cubicle he'd been leaning on in conversation with another agent and headed toward the dwarf with a frown. "What are you doing here?"
  
  "Gettin' the damn job done, Nelson." Johnny sniffed disdainfully. "Feel free to stick around and watch how it's done. You could learn a thing or two."
  
  "Hey, my hands were tied, okay? And you brought that bastard in anyway."
  
  "Yeah, no thanks to you."
  
  Nelson sighed and tried to keep up with the dwarf as he lowered his voice and glanced at the other agents who stared at them. "You got your bounty in, Johnny. The Red Boar's off the streets. We're still sorting through the details and filling out the paperwork. I don't blame you for that—"
  
  "Good."
  
  "Because I signed up for the whole thing and helped you make it happen under the Department's radar. But you can't rush the process, Johnny."
  
  "Watch me."
  
  "Come on. Shouldn't you still be in bed, anyway? You know, recovering from a bullet hole?"
  
  The dwarf thumped his fist against the bandage over his gut and grunted. "I'm feelin' fine, Nelson. Now get outta my way."
  
  He stared at the agent and gritted his teeth. He's tryin' to prove a point but yeah, that shit still hurts.
  
  "Johnny—"
  
  "Move."
  
  "Fine. But I'm coming with you." Nelson stepped aside and Johnny brushed past him with a snort.
  
  "I just told ya you should." When he reached the director's office, he didn't even give the courtesy of a warning knock and simply shoved the door wide with a bang. "All right, here's the deal. I've been waitin' a whole damn week to have this meetin' and I'm real tired of havin' it pushed back over and over. So now you forced my hand."
  
  The director looked up from what he'd been reading on his desk and darted a wary glance at Tommy. "Agent Nelson?"
  
  "It's harder than you'd think to keep him away from something he wants," the man replied with a shrug.
  
  "Johnny, I've had to move back these meetings because we still haven't resolved certain outstanding factors of the Hugh case—"
  
  "I ain't here for Senator Hugh. As far as I'm concerned, that was over and done with before I left Baltimore." Johnny pounded a fist down on the director's desk, then pointed at the man's face. "Y'all have simply been tryin' to avoid this conversation, 'cause now the whole damn FBI knows what I dug up and how I managed to fix all your fuckin' mistakes without so much as a thank you."
  
  Tommy stepped toward him. "Johnny—"
  
  "Naw, I ain't finished. And boys, if he tries anythin', you know what to do."
  
  "Yeah, we do, Johnny." Luther turned and snarled at Tommy. "You stay right there, you salty two-legs."
  
  "We're all over it, Johnny." Rex sat where he could keep an eye on both Agent Nelson and the FBI director behind his desk.
  
  "Now." Johnny spread his arms. "We're havin' this talk, whether you like it or not, and I don't give a shit if the paperwork's not even halfway done. Y'all lied to me—straight to my face. For fifteen fuckin' years you covered all your shit up so I wouldn't find it and come down on the whole damn Bureau. Well, look what I'm doin' right now, huh? Did anyone ever plan to tell me Dawn's murderer was arrested and convicted? Or to tell me the fucker who gave the order to kill her was still out there and Operation Deadroot was supposed to bring him down?"
  
  The director lowered his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he hesitated. "Johnny, I don't know—"
  
  "Bullshit. You know exactly what I'm talkin' about. Now I'm here to even the score, understand? You lost the Red Boar the first time and made it real damn hard for me to feel like there was any justice in sight for my daughter. My daughter!"
  
  "Yes, I understand—"
  
  "No, you don't! How the hell am I supposed to trust anyone in this damn agency if y'all keep the lie goin' for fifteen years and won't even agree to a fuckin' meetin' to tell me I was right and y'all were wrong?" Johnny leaned over the director's desk and lowered his voice into a dark, warning growl. "You told me you'd always have my back. I trusted that. What happened to your personal stake in her case, huh? I never bought into your whole talk about this agency bein' family, but it looks a hell of a lot like you never believed a word of your bullshit either."
  
  The director leaned back in his chair, stared at him, and cleared his throat. "Johnny, I have no idea what you're talking about."
  
  "Don't tell me the director of the goddamn FBI's lost his memory from fifteen years ago."
  
  The man glanced at Tommy, who closed his eyes and shook his head with a grimace. "Well, given that I wasn't the director fifteen years ago, I can't accurately respond to that."
  
  "What?" Johnny stepped back and looked at the nameplate on the director's desk—M. Zimmerman. FBI Director's a ten-year gig. Rein it in, Johnny. "Fuck. You look exactly like Fitzgerald sittin' behind that desk."
  
  "Well, thanks, I suppose."
  
  "After he lost all his hair." Johnny spun away from the desk and pointed at Tommy. "Where the hell is Fitzgerald?"
  
  "Retired, Johnny." Agent Nelson gestured vaguely. "Eight years ago."
  
  "Yeah, I bet. Should we go pull him out of his retirement too for fun?" The dwarf scowled, glanced around the director's office, and shrugged. "It don't matter, anyhow. There are many agents here in Magicals and Monsters who were around fifteen years ago. Nelson's one of ʼem. I think I saw at least five others on the way here. And I'm willin' to bet not a single one of ʼem's forgotten about what the whole fuckin' Bureau covered up to keep Johnny Walker silent and stewin' in his grief. I'm here to get what's mine."
  
  Director Zimmerman folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "And what exactly is that? Given that you don't technically work out of this building or even for the FBI if we're talking logistics."
  
  "Naw, we're talkin' my logistics." He pointed at the man and gave him crooked smile that looked more feral than amused. "I have everythin' I need to expose the giant fuckup this agency made out of Operation Deadroot and my daughter's murder file. I'm sure y'all have copies of the records somewhere, but if you don't, I'm happy to bring your private stack of proof against yourself."
  
  Zimmerman glanced at Tommy again with a grimace. "So what do you want, Johnny?"
  
  "It ain't about what I want. It's about what the whole damn FBI owes me. Ya hear?"
  
  "Yes." The director pursed his lips. "You've been yelling since you stepped into my office."
  
  "Good." Johnny stepped away from the man's desk and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. "But since you asked, I'll tell you exactly what I want. And if I don't get it as soon as I step out of this damn room, I'm out. Forever."
  
  "Maybe that's a little premature," Tommy started.
  
  "Yeah. So was your lack of faith in my ability to bring the Red Boar in on my own fifteen years after y'all failed."
  
  "I'm sorry," Zimmerman cut in. "When you say 'Red Boar,' you're referring to…"
  
  "Chiron Fort," Tommy muttered.
  
  Luther sniggered. "I call him pissface."
  
  "Ha-ha. Good one, bro."
  
  "We're still working on identifying exactly what he is," Tommy continued.
  
  "He's an asshole who's gonna spend his unusually long Oriceran life rottin' behind bars," Johnny growled. "And shut up, Nelson. I ain't talkin' to you." He turned to Zimmerman. "Do you hear what I say over all this pissant's naggin'?"
  
  "I heard you preface your unstated demands with a threat to remove yourself from a partnership with the FBI if I understand you correctly."
  
  "Naw, that ain't a threat." Johnny shook his head and glared at the man. "That's a promise. If I don't get a handshake and contract written up with both our John Hancocks on it before I leave this buildin' today, I'm done. No more Johnny Walker. No more monster hunter. Y'all are on your own, and there ain't no comin' outta retirement a second time."
  
  "Fine." Zimmerman opened his desk drawer and pulled out an expensive fountain pen, which he laid neatly on the center of his desk. "State your terms, Johnny. Then I'll call in my assistant and we can draw that contract up. I was only starting my career when you came to work with the Bureau for the first time. It doesn't take being Director to know how valuable you are."
  
  "Damn straight."
  
  "So go ahead." Zimmerman cocked his head and stared at the dwarf. "What is it you want?"
  
  A slow grin spread across Johnny Walker's face. "You wanna write this down."
  
  Johnny stepped out of the kitchen with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in his arms. "I tell you what, darlin'. You had the right idea about bringin' snacks to a show, but there ain't nothin' like the do-it-yourself kind."
  
  "Snacks?" Luther whipped his head up and sniffed the air.
  
  Lisa turned on the couch and smiled at the dwarf. "Well, I didn't exactly have a kitchen to pop my own in last time."
  
  "Sure. And I'd say this is an upgrade even from the last suite. Before we ruined it."
  
  "Johnny, are you gonna share those snacks or what?" Luther padded after his master with wide, hopeful eyes.
  
  "Boy, get on outta here." He pointed toward the other side of the large living space he and Lisa shared between their adjoining bedrooms. "Y'all had your supper already, and it wasn't tiny either. Plus, I aim to keep y'all off the human food for a while. Whatever those pastries did ain't somethin' I'm fixin' to repeat."
  
  "But it smells so good—"
  
  "Git."
  
  Luther stalked away with a sigh and cast hopeful glances over his shoulder at the bowl of popcorn.
  
  Johnny joined Lisa on the couch facing the large entertainment center in the living room the Department had set them up in for the next week. She turned toward him and took a handful of popcorn. "So how did it go?"
  
  "Aw, we're gonna talk about that now? I thought it was movie time."
  
  "Sure. After you tell me about your surprise meeting."
  
  He snorted, set the bowl in his lap, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Let's say I got what I wanted. For now."
  
  She put a couple of pieces of popcorn in her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and snuggled into him. "And what's that?"
  
  "Well, to start, you get to stay in the Glades as long as you want to. If you want to, that is."
  
  "Why wouldn't I want to?" She took another handful of popcorn and grinned at him. "We're…partners."
  
  Her slight hesitation didn't go unnoticed by the bounty hunter, and Johnny turned his head slowly to look at her. He didn't remove his arm from around her shoulders, and she didn't give any indication that she wanted him to. "Partners, huh?"
  
  Lisa gave him a coy shrug. "There's more than one definition, right?"
  
  "Huh. Reckon there might be." It took me this long to say she's my partner. If she wants me to start sayin' she's my girlfriend, she can leave that at the fuckin' door.
  
  "So you're still working with the Department, then. Right?"
  
  Johnny sniffed and studied the blank big-screen TV across the living room. "We'll see. And you can decide exactly what you wanna do once I have everythin' in motion. The Department's workin' on it now."
  
  "Okay…"
  
  "And I'll need your help with it, darlin'. If you're willin' to pitch in. It might be a little slow goin' at first, but I ain't too worried. It gives me time for me to enjoy myself on my property, and the rest can roll on in as it comes."
  
  Lisa laughed. "Okay, now you have to tell me what's going on."
  
  "Nope."
  
  "Johnny, come on." She slapped his lower chest playfully and he grunted.
  
  "You sure don't hit like a fed with good aim."
  
  "Oh, my God. I'm sorry. Sorry." She patted the top of the bandage strapped to his healing bullet wound gently and grimaced. "I wasn't thinkin'."
  
  "That's fine."
  
  "Seriously, though. What are you planning?"
  
  He cast her a sidelong glance and grinned. "You'll see when it's ready. Then we'll go from there."
  
  Lisa rolled her eyes and leaned forward to take the remote from the coffee table. "Fine. It's time to zone out now, right?"
  
  "Go for it."
  
  She turned the TV on and the first thing that came up was Johnny's face.
  
  "What the fuck?" He sounded horrified.
  
  "Oh, my God." She laughed. "The first episode aired today. I completely forgot!"
  
  "Dammit. Come on. I ain't fixin' to sit here and watch this—"
  
  "Wait, wait. I think it's the end. Let's see, okay? I want to know how they managed to salvage everything into a coherent episode." Without waiting for his approval, Lisa turned the volume up and crammed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.
  
  Heavy metal blared in the background as clip after clip of the fight in the Baltimore hotel suite faded into the next. The last one was a shot from inside the suite's front door of Johnny scooting back across the hallway floor with a hand pressed to his belly and blood pooling around his fingers.
  
  The image faded and a still frame of Johnny Walker and Stephanie Wyndom filled the screen, and the music now became a slow, dark metal ballad instead of a fight song.
  
  "Johnny Walker got his magical like he always does." Phil's voice blared through the speakers. "But he lost something else as he pursued vengeance for his daughter and sought to apprehend her killer. A chance at love."
  
  "Jesus Christ." Johnny turned away from the TV and snorted.
  
  The show rolled through a montage covered with some sappy violin music—Johnny and Stephanie at dinner together, laughing in the park, and walking up to Senator Hugh's front door.
  
  "At the time of airing Season Eight's first episode, no one knows what happened to Stephanie Wyndom, Johnny's beautiful Light-Elf assistant. She was nowhere to be found when he fought his largest bounty yet and prevailed. Maybe it's too late for second chances if the woman who could have been Johnny Walker's whole world only served to fuel a romance gone wrong instead."
  
  Lisa sniggered. "This is hilarious."
  
  Johnny grunted.
  
  "If love's out there waiting for Johnny Walker, he still hasn't found it. But if we know anything about Dwarf the Bounty Hunter, it's that he never gives up."
  
  "Fuck, turn that shit off." Johnny reached for the remote in Lisa's hand. "This is terrible."
  
  She pulled the remote out of his reach and laughed. "Oh, come on. I'm sure there's someone out there for you."
  
  "Uh-huh." He shook his head and grunted. "It don't matter, anyhow."
  
  "Why's that?"
  
  Johnny turned his head to meet her gaze, their faces inches apart. "Well, if I was lookin' before, I sure ain't lookin' now, darlin'."
  
  Lisa grinned and changed the channel without moving her gaze from his.