"We need to stop for some water. I'm parched."

Drew glanced over her shoulder. Jesse lay curled across the back seat, her shoes off, her eyes squeezed shut against the light. A look in the rear view showed her the trailer she'd borrowed from Charlie's junkyard. The back of Jack's head rested against the front of the trailer, his feet stretched out toward the tailgate. The trailer wasn't meant to hold passengers, and couldn't be comfortable, but he'd nodded, hopped in, and settled down for the ride. His posture hinted at a desire for a hat to pull down to shade his eyes.

"Can it wait until we get there, Jess? There's a convenience store just across the street from the bank, and parking this thing is going to be a pain." Jesse didn't reply, she just curled a little tighter and mewled a bit.

Ten minutes later they passed the bank. Drew maneuvered the car and trailer through a jug handle to get turned around, then pulled around behind the bank looking for a big enough space to fit the old sedan and Jack's trailer. Plastic sheeting and two by fours shaped into a crude tent covered the back of the bank, leaving no room for her to park, so she just stopped and turned the car off. The uniformed officer standing by the plastic tent started toward her, but smiled when he saw her climb out of the car.

"Detective Williams! God, I'm glad you're here."

"What's up, Tony?"

"You've got to see it to believe it. The FBI guy is in there waiting for you." He nodded toward the tarp.

She nodded and leaned back into the car. "Jess, we're here. You okay to walk over to the store?"

Jesse uncurled and twisted upright, up until the light hit her eyes.

"Argh. I'm gonna get some aspirin while I'm there, too."

"Yeah, you do that."

Jesse crouched, pushed the far door open a crack, and oozed out into the car's shadow. Drew hid a shudder and walked around to the trailer. Jack cracked one eye open a hair and peeked at her.

"We there, ma'am?"

"Yep. D'you need a hand up?"

With one smooth motion Sergeant Maliss pushed himself up and stepped off the end of the trailer. The trailer's springs creaked, bouncing the whole thing into the air an inch before settling down again. Before moving any further he shrugged and rolled his shoulders. Clanks and crunches filled the air.

"Any thoughts on getting airborne?" she asked quietly.

"No idea, ma'am. Shall we go see your Agent Johnson?"

"He's not my agent. I think we can wait for Jess. I've got to ask; have you ever been in law enforcement, Sergeant?"

He stared at her through narrowed eyes. "Not as such, ma'am."

"Not even as an MP?"

"Nope. Sorry to disappoint you."

She shrugged. "It's not a disappointment. You just... give off a cop vibe. Maybe it's your time in the military."

Sergeant Maliss returned her shrug, then shifted to look at the plastic covered bank. After a minute or so he nodded. "What do you think we'll find in there?"

"I'm not sure, but it's got Tony shaken up. He's a solid guy."

After that they stood, silent, waiting for Jesse. Before she returned, a figure appeared behind the translucent plastic. Tony leaned over and said something, nodding his head as he did. As soon as he stopped talking the person pushed through a gap in the sheeting. He wore an expensive looking, dark suit, the white shirt standing out starkly against his dark skin. Drew couldn't tell if he shaved his head or was naturally bald, but either way his head gleamed in the afternoon sun.

"Wait here for Jess, and bring her along when she gets back."

"Yes, ma'am."

Drew stepped forward to meet the oncoming Agent, out of long habit sizing him up as she did. The tailoring of his suit couldn't hide the thickness of his body and limbs, but given the stark planes of his face, the suit hid very little fat. It couldn't hide his guns perfectly, either, although it did a better job with the one on his ankle than the one in a shoulder holster under his right arm.

"Special Agent Johnson, I presume?" She stuck out one hand in greeting.

He shook her hand, his grip the careful one she'd felt from men who knew they could injure someone if they squeezed someone's hand wrong. His restraint told her as much as his conditioning.

"Yes, Detective Williams. Thank you for coming." He nodded toward the Sergeant and called out. "Sergeant Maliss. Could you join us, please?"

"I asked him to wait for Jess. She stepped over to the convenience store for some aspirin."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Johnson frowned, but didn't hesitate. "Officer, could you direct Ms. Rachelson inside to join us when she returns?"

"Sure thing, Agent Johnson."

Drew stifled a sigh and half-turned to the Sergeant. "Sergeant, could you come with us, please?"

He smirked, but walked forward. When he closed enough, he shook the Fed's hand. "Good to meet you, Agent Johnson."

"We've met before. Quantico, eighty two."

Jack froze. "I didn't think anyone remembered that."

Johnson turned and, with a nod, indicated the Sergeant and Drew should follow him. "I might not have, but you haven't changed much."

"Changed plenty. Just not where it shows."

Drew looked to the sergeant. "You never told me you were in the FBI."

"Wasn't. Instructed at Quantico for a spell."

They pushed past layers of plastic, the dry scent of brick dust heavy in the air. When they won free of the final sheeting, it took a moment for Drew's eyes to adjust. When they did, she froze, staring at the hole blasted out of the side of the bank. Fragments of the image stood out; a few bricks incongruously inside the bank, all but one shattered into fragments. Footprints leading from the gaping interior of the bank to one edge of the small, plastic-walled enclosure. A white sheet covered in red stains draped over a lump to one side of the hole in the wall.

Drifting in a fugue state, she felt things sliding into place in the back of her mind. She reached out to lay a hand on JJ's shoulder before speaking. "What the hell happened here?"

"Someone stole the bank vault. As for details, I was hoping you could help me figure that out. Any cameras close enough to get a good view are gone, but we did get a shot of a lowboy tractor trailer leaving the area. Other than that, I'd rather not prejudice you."

Drew reached into her back pocket for her gloves. "The hell?" She kept her gloves in her jacket pocket. She pulled on pair of latex gloves and started through the rubble, letting her gaze roam, looking for inconsistencies.

"The footprints are too deep."

"Even for Jack, here?"

Drew's gut clenched at JJ's mention of the sergeant, but didn't let sudden unease disturb her concentration on the crime scene. She let her mouth run to keep JJ busy while she worked, otherwise he'd pester her.

"No idea. Sergeant Maliss, could step over there next to those imprints in the dirt for comparison?"

"Are you accusing me of something, Mr. Johnson?"

"No, Jack. Your whereabouts during the time frame this happened are pretty well documented. I'd be lying if I said I'd crossed anyone off my suspect list at this point though." Drew noted JJ's continued use of the sergeant's first name. Maliss scared him, and keeping him on a first name basis helped defuse any potential violence.

"Please, Sergeant, I'm trying to get an idea how much weight the perp was carrying. Angela weighed you recently, so I can use that for comparison."

Muttering under his breath, the sergeant did as she asked him, moving carefully to avoid any of the loose bricks. When he stepped into the soft dirt, his feet sank in until he stood ankle deep in dirt. The boot prints beside him descended at least another foot into the ground. She waved him back, then stepped up and looked carefully into both holes.

"How much did the vault weigh?"

Johnson answered immediately, "Twenty five thousand pounds, plus the contents."

Drew did some mental math. "That sounds a little light."

"It's a smaller vault, installed when the original rusted out."

She ran through the numbers again. "Our suspect is of normal human weight. Sergeant Maliss would have sunk deeper. Three inches at least."

What am I talking about? How do I know this stuff?

"Excellent. Please, go on."

Drew bit her lip, trying not to scream in terror at the foreign knowledge lurking in her brain. Desperate to keep JJ from figuring out she had a problem, she moved through the ruins, careful not to disturb any of the debris. "Has the area been documented?"

"Digital photographs and video. I'll have them transferred to you."

She leaned down to pick up a brick laying slightly propped up by something beneath it. A tiny syringe, cracked and crushed near flat, lay beneath. She scooped it up, careful not to leave any of the plastic on the ground. She wrapped her fingers around the shattered barrel before anyone else could notice the faint blue glow.

"I need an evidence marker." She glanced around, realizing now she hadn't seen any so far. "Hasn't forensics been here?"

"Been and gone, and none of them found what you just did. Pardon, Detective, but do you have any relatives named Donaldson?"

Drew twisted in place to look at the agent. "Are you trying to tell me there's something about me you don't know?"

He shook his head and took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I used to work with."

The sergeant grunted, his eyes shooting wide. "Jane Donaldson? She partnered up with you?"

"She worked for me for a while. Speaking of which, now that we're all here I can explain the other reason I called you in here. Miss Rachelson, please don't ever try to sneak up on me again."

Jesse oozed up from the ground behind JJ, speaking as she did. "I'm sorry, Agent Johnson. I've been fighting an awful headache. I don't know what the heck came over me."

"Apology accepted, Miss."

Jack cut in, his voice more ominous for its near silence. "You were about to say something about a reason?"

"The Bureau was hit hard by the Rain of Fire. We're keeping it under wraps, but... Up until that night I ran a small division of my own in DC. There's a reason I'm in the field rather than behind a desk."

"And you're telling us this why?" Drew prompted.

"You've all passed background checks. You're the largest group to have done so."

Jack took a single step to his right. Drew shifted, making sure if he bolted or went for the agent, she wouldn't be in the line of fire. She had no idea what she'd do if he did, though.

"I'm not joining the Bureau. Same reasons as last time."

"I didn't think you would, but I had to ask." Jack turned to go, and JJ spoke again. "Please wait, I still need to talk to you."

Jack shrugged and stopped.

Drew still hadn't gotten over JJ's earlier phrase. "The largest group of what?"

"The largest group of individuals affected in a significantly positive manner by the Rain of Fire. I'd love to recruit all three of you as Agents, but by the look on Miss Rachelson's face, she's not interested in Quantico either. However, my division at the Bureau is specifically tasked with liaison with external assets, and at this point we're desperate for anything we can lay our hands on, no matter how outré. You've performed as an external asset before, Sergeant. Would you have a problem doing so again?"

"I don't do that anymore, Johnson. I'm really not Sergeant Maliss any more either. I'm just plain old Jack Maliss. If the Bureau needs some carpentry done, or maybe some remodeling, I'm your guy, but that's about all I can do."

JJ looked at Drew, then at the wide swath of ground disturbed where Jesse crawled up, and finally stared pointedly at the footprints Jack left in the pavement. "Are you sure about that? Are you all really sure the most effective use of your newfound talents is to pound nails, or to drive an ambulance? Your country needs your help. Your fellow Americans... your friends need your help." The agent wound down, his gaze fixed on Drew.

Jesse figured it out first, and her voice squeaked out of a mouth suddenly as tiny as a cartoon character's, beneath eyes wide as saucers. "The FBI wants us to work for them as super heroes?"