The police station was small, slightly damp, and had the buzz of flies about it. In fact, everything in Washington was slightly damp, although thankfully not all of it had flies. They were specially reserved for this place.

“So there’s really a woman who shaves people’s heads while wearing a carnival mask?” the policeman asked.

Ninja nodded.

“The things that go on in this world,” he said, shaking his head slowly.

“Any sightings of her car?”

“Not so far, but we’re looking.”

His collar talkie beeped. “We’ve found the Chevy. It’s on the south side of town, at the corner of 36th street and Morning Glory lane.”

They got in the car and sped towards the location. Glass was driving, to Ninja’s regret. The rental car squealed as it went around the corners. It caught air over speed bumps. When they finally reached their destination, Ninja was glued to the seat, fingers clenched into the tacky seat covers.

“I’m never letting you drive again,” she resolved through her teeth.

“But we got there on time,” Glass pointed out.

“There was no deadline,” Ninja replied.

“There could have been.”

Ninja got out of the car, knees still shaking.

The Chevy was parked at a slight angle in it’s parking spot. Its paint was sun bleached, and it was empty.

“It’s not registered to any name,” the officer present said. “But it has the same license plate number as reported.”

“Are you sure that it’s not abandoned?” Ninja asked.

“It’s definitely the same car.” Glass replied.

They approached it slowly, as if the perpetrator was somehow hiding inside. Glass went invisible. Ninja threw open the door.

It remained empty.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Ninja commented. “Can we get forensics down here?”

“Yes ma’am,” the officer replied, phoning it in.

The DNA and fingerprints present were not on file. Apparently the perpetrator had never, up to this point, engaged in any criminal activity. There were no identifying papers in the cab or glovebox, or any documents to speak of, and the car in general was squeaky clean, leaving no clues for the duo to pick up on.

They decided to split up, Glass staking out in the Chevy in case the shaver came back, and Ninja heading out to find suspects via polling local DNA. Ninja’s was, by far, the less pleasant job. It involved long spats of walking, unpleasant receptions, and memorizing a spiel about genetic research and how this poll would help.

Glass just sat in the Chevy and slept. She’d meant to stay awake, but she’d had a late night, and her energy drinks weren’t working.

Ninja found that not everyone was so keen on donating DNA, not that it presented a problem. Their reason for refusal popped right to the front of their mind. One man was afraid it would be used for paternity tests. Another thought she was a salesman, closing the door before she could even begin. Actually, several thought that. The most interesting person who opened the door, however, resembled a young, goth Mrs. Weasley (the book one, not the movie). She analyzed Ninja in a few moments after she opened the door, and her first thought was: They finally found me.

Ninja had to conclude that either she was paranoid, or she had a guilty conscience. And, as Ninja sorted through her memories, she became sure that the girl before her was the serial shaver.

“Hello, May,” Ninja said, showing her badge. “I’m with the police. I’m arresting you for a series of shaving attacks.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Shaving attacks?” May played innocent for a moment.

Ninja got out her handcuffs.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. And that badge looks fake.”

“It’s not. Please hold out your wrists,” Ninja said calmly.

May darted through the house and out the back door.

Ninja pivoted around to run through the back yards after May. It was a Ferris Bueler’s Day Off style moment, where they followed each other through yard after yard, hopping fences and crashing barbeques.

May reached into her pocket.

“Glass,” Ninja radioed. “She’s coming your way.”

Glass snorted awake.

May pulled out a small black box. “Beam me up, Scottie.”

Ninja’s eyes widened. She tackled May just as a beam of bright light fell over them. Gravity seemed to reverse as the two of them fell upwards. Ninja struggled to regain control, but it felt like her brain had turned upside down, and May, more accustomed to this experience, knocked her out cold.

She dreamed of her first home: a pale blue room decorated with suns. She played there with her sister, used to the sterile scent of rubbing alcohol and hand sanitizer. The men with clipboards encouraged her and her sister to color with the crayons and cut shapes out of construction paper with safety scissors. She didn’t like those men. They took away her artwork and gave off too many strange thoughts. The more men that came in to watch, the louder the small room became. She never shared her own thoughts with them, but they didn’t seem to care. She wished it could always be just her and her little sister.

Ninja woke with a dull pain where May’s blow had connected. She found herself gazing into the face of a strange man. He was bald. Very bald. This, Ninja realized, was the crux of the problem as she read his thoughts, his strangely smooth thoughts. He simply wanted hair— long, beautiful hair— and in his spite, he didn’t want other people to have hair. He was sewing something that resembled a colorful cousin Itt costume.

Beside him stood May, her hands on her hips. She wore a very imposing expression, but Ninja knew she really felt a stern interest in this whole situation.

The stranger put down his wig, and took out an item that looked like a spatula. He looked at it, concentrated, for a moment. “It appears you have heightened abilities for a human.” He wagged the spatula in the air with seeming randomness. “Okay, we’re clear.”

“Clear?” Ninja asked, trying to understand the thoughts that were coming towards her—

A sudden coldness spread over Ninja, beginning in her middle and spreading to her extremities. The room went eerily quiet. Her powers were—

“Your powers won’t work here,” May said, as if she were the mind reader. “Mr Clean has resources.”

Ninja blinked, shocked by the sudden silence in her mind. In other circumstances, it might have been peaceful. As it was, it left her feeling very naked. She was keenly aware of a pain in her temple from being knocked out.

“Now,” Mr Clean said thoughtfully, “What are we going to do with you?”

“Where am I?” Ninja asked.

May squinted at her. “You don’t know? We’re on a UFO.”

Mr Clean winced. “I told you, she’s very sensitive. You can’t call her those silly human nicknames. Her name is Rosebud.”

“The ship is,” May clarified. “Named Rosebud, I mean.”

Ninja snorted. “Rosebud, sure.” She became aware that gravity was normal where she was sitting, but why shouldn’t it be?

May shrugged. “Whatever.”

Mr Clean rubbed his shiny head, then put the wig on it. “What do you think?” he asked Ninja. “I think I’ll make some eyebrows.”

“Is that all the hair you stole from those people?”

“Yes,” he replied, his tone conversational. “Humans have the best hair, outside of my own race.”

“Your race? Then why don’t you have your own hair?”

He scowled. “No. Just no.”

“Nice going,” May said. “He’s very sensitive.”

“Like Rosebud?”

“May, take care of this arrogant human,” Mr Clean said. “I can’t be bothered.”

“That’ll be another three thousand dollars.”

“Sure.”

Ninja rose intentionally to her feet. She might not have her telepathy, but she was still a ninja.

May took the spatula from Mr Clean and waved it diagonally. Ninja found herself glued to the wall. Maybe I am getting arrogant, she thought.

May stood before Ninja, tapping the spatula thoughtfully.

“Now…” she said.

Ninja, without her powers, had no idea what was going to happen next.