"This isn't fair!" Syd complained. "How come I have to ride in the back?"

"I rode in the back last time," Ryan reminded her.

"Yeah, but you totally deserved it. You were standing in the middle of the street and waving your dick at passing cars. I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Sydney," Amy said warningly.

"Well," she amended, "I didn't do anything wrong recently."

The policewoman made a doubtful noise.

"I didn't do anything wrong recently that you know about." Throwing up her hands, Syd flopped petulantly against the hard bench seat. "Fine, whatever, I'm a bad girl and I deserve to be stuck back here." With a disgusted expression, she attempted to wring some of the swamp water out of her matted blue-and-black hair. "God, I need a shower so bad."

She'd thrown away Ryan's singed t-shirt, swapping it for a fresh one from the bag of spare clothes Amy had purchased earlier that day. Ryan had taken the opportunity to put a new shirt on as well, although his replacement was already sticky with blood.

"You two are lucky that I found you," Amy remarked as she started the engine. "I wasn't planning to come this way, but by the time I made it back to my car they'd already blocked off the main road."

"Yeah," Ryan deadpanned, "today has been my lucky day." They went over a dip in the road, and he winced in pain when the movement jostled him against the center console in just the wrong way. "Ah, fucking hell, that hurts."

"Is swearing like that really necessary?" Amy asked in a prim tone. Glancing over at him, she paled at what she saw. "Ryan, what happened? You're bleeding. We need to get you to a doctor!"

"Absolutely not. No doctors. They'd ask too many questions." Patting his chest, he gave her his best attempt at a confident grin. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I've had way worse than this."

Ignoring the empty gesture, she turned in her seat to examine him more closely.

"You don't look fine to me," she declared. "I'm taking you to a hospital."

"Amy, we can't afford the risk. You remember that the government is looking for the three of us now, right?"

"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding," Amy said, although her tone sounded anything but sure. "A couple phone calls, and I can get it all cleared up. There are rules and procedures for this kind of thing. They'd have to go through local agencies –"

Ryan snorted. "Did those thugs in suits that we ran into earlier seem like they were concerned with following regulations to the letter?"

"They didn't even read me my rights!" Syd chimed in from the back. "That's something you're supposed to do, isn't it?"

"That was before they brought out the heavy weapons, too. How many forms do you think you'd have to fill out to get ahold of a rocket launcher, Amy?"

"Fine, fine, I get it! No hospitals. But Ryan, you really do need to get that burn looked at by a professional. I don't think my first-aid training is going to cut it." Amy frowned, tapping her hands on the steering wheel in time with the wipers squeaking across the windshield as she thought. "There's somebody I trust that we can go to."

Flicking on her turn signal, Amy changed lanes to pass a slower-moving pickup truck.

"Don't tell me you're planning on taking him to Cat's place," Syd said.

"What's wrong with that?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Syd muttered. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have an injured fugitive with no ID dumped in her lap at," she paused to check the clock on the car's dashboard, "eleven o'clock on a weeknight."

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies," Ryan said before Amy could reply, "but who's Cat?"

"She's a friend of mine who volunteers at the free clinic downtown," Amy told him. Sending a glare in Syd's direction, she added, "They keep late hours, and they don't ask a lot of questions."

"Your friend is a doctor?"

"A nurse," Amy answered with a shake of her head. "A very good one."

"You're sure she'd be willing to take a patient off the books?"

"If I ask her to, yes. We've been trading favors like that for a while now."

"Favors?"

"When I'm on the job, sometimes I run into people who need to spend a night in the hospital more than they need to spend a night in jail. If I can, I drop them off with her instead of booking them at the station." She shot him a wry half-smile. "I was originally planning to ask her if she could give you a psych eval, actually."

"Ah, right. What was it that you called me? Mister suspicious exhibitionist?"

"Mister suspicious escape artist exhibitionist," Amy corrected. A touch defensively, she added, "It was right after you had somehow slipped out of your cuffs, and then broke the back window of my car."

"Mister suspicious escape artist exhibitionist," he repeated, lifting his chin proudly. "You've got to admit, it does have a certain ring to it."

Syd started laughing.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Wait a second," she said a moment later, "is that why I don't have a window back here?"

"Anyway," Amy continued, "sometimes Cat has me come talk to her patients if they're not comfortable going to the police with a problem. I take their statements anonymously, and I do my best to get them whatever help I can. Between the two of us, we've sort of got a system going."

"Well, I trust your judgment. If you're sure that she won't mind seeing us... and that she won't talk to anybody else about it afterwards..."

"I'm sure."

The car rolled up to a stop sign. Letting go of the wheel, Amy poked him in the chest. Her dark blonde brows lowered threateningly, grey eyes boring into his.

"And, Ryan? Cat isn't a fighter like me and you. She's a sweet girl who wouldn't hurt a fly. You'd better not be thinking about trying to recruit her for this... space war that you're planning."

He held up his hands with an innocent expression, pretending the thought hadn't immediately occurred to him.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you." Amy didn't seem to find his denial amusing. "You already tricked Syd into joining, and you – you didn't even bother talking to me about it first!" The genuine hurt that was evident in her tone took Ryan aback. She jabbed her finger into his chest again, harder this time. "I thought you said we were a team!"

"Hey, nobody tricked me into anything!" Syd protested. "I knew exactly what I was doing. If he asked me now, I'd make the same choice."

"She's not even old enough to drink," she went on as if Syd hadn't spoken. "I understand that it was a desperate situation, but you never should have involved her in this."

"Oh, yeah?" Syd taunted her. "Remind me, how many years did you spend in the Marines before you could buy a beer?"

"That's why I know what I'm talking about!" Amy sighed, lowering her voice. "Listen, Ryan, I've been in a war zone before. It isn't fun. If you're serious about winning, you're going to need soldiers for your team, not schoolgirls."

"Syd is an adult," Ryan remarked, crossing his arms over the seatbelt he was wearing. "She can make her own decisions. Okay, maybe she wouldn't have been my first choice as a recruit –"

"I'm right here, you know."

"– but when it really counted, she handled herself brilliantly. I've worked with trained Enforcers who did a lot worse in their first battle. And it's the fate of the entire world that we're talking about here. If she wants to help, do we have any right to tell her no?"

The car went quiet. Amy's jaw was clenched, working angrily back and forth, and she held the wheel so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

Ryan tried to consider his options. If only this was a battlefield tactical problem instead, he thought. Those are so much simpler to deal with.

From his perspective, Amy was practically the ideal candidate to become an Enforcer. Or, well, the ideal candidate to become whatever he was planning to call the members of his own team, anyway. She was in good shape, and she already had some combat training. On top of that, she was highly-motivated, determined, and could keep her cool in a firefight. When he gave her an order, he felt confident that she'd carry it out to the best of her ability.

Syd, on the other hand, seemed at first glance to be anything but ideal. She was brash and moody, disrespectful and all-too-easily distracted. Getting her to take anything seriously had proven to be a real challenge. Her past behavior certainly didn't give him the impression that he could depend on her to follow orders. On paper, she looked like a terrible choice, the type of Enforcer candidate who would wash out of training in the first week.

But...

Watching her in action had impressed him, he had to admit. She'd demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for moving and fighting in War-Form, and that was something you just couldn't teach. Although her personality had a few rough edges, she was resourceful, quick to adapt, and capable of taking the initiative when circumstances required.

He wanted both women for his team. Was that too greedy? Apparently the two of them shared an apartment, but they seemed to get along like oil and water.

Would they be able to work together?

More importantly, would they be willing to?

There must be a way that I can convince them.

If there was, though, he couldn't see it.

"I hate this," Amy finally said. "The reason why I joined the Marines, why I decided to become a cop... why I agreed to help you in your fight against these alien invaders... it was all because I wanted to protect the people that I care about. To protect my family. My friends." Through the rearview mirror, she locked eyes with Syd. "To protect you, whether you believe that or not."

Turning away from the intense gaze, Syd stared out into the night through the broken side window.

"I know," she mumbled. "But I'm not a kid anymore, Amy. You don't have to do this alone."

"Syd –" Amy began, then stopped, swallowing whatever it was that she'd been about to say. Closing her eyes, she blew out a breath. "We're here," she said instead.

They'd pulled down a narrow back street, emerging into a parking lot tucked between several squat, identical brownstone buildings. The one closest to them, with a wheelchair ramp next to a set of stairs, had a small white sign above the door that read WEST SIDE FREE CLINIC.

"No discussing any of this stuff once we're inside," Ryan warned his companions as they exited the car. "The people working here aren't involved in our problems, and we're going to make sure it stays that way. It's safer for them, and it's safer for us. Understood?"

Once Amy and Syd had nodded in agreement, he started limping his way towards the entrance.

He'd only made it a few steps away from the car when Syd tackled him, wrapping her arms around his waist and nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. It was obvious that she was taking care to avoid his injured side, but the impact still hadn't felt great.

"Oof! Careful!"

Rising to her tiptoes, she dragged him down and planted a light kiss on his cheek before releasing him to skip away. Confused, Ryan rubbed the spot where her lips had touched.

"What was that for?" he asked.

She gave him a shy smile. The unplanned swim in the river had washed away most of the heavy makeup she was wearing earlier. When taken in combination with the abnormally-sincere expression that she was wearing, it gave him a very different impression of her, one that he decided he liked.

"For saving my life, dummy. And for giving me superpowers. And bringing me into your weird intergalactic war." Hands out, she spun in a little pirouette. "This has been the best day ever!"

Lowering her voice to a sly whisper, she put a fingertip to her lips and added, "Who knows? Maybe later there'll be more where that came from."

Amy tutted in annoyance. This time, incredibly enough, her anger wasn't directed at Syd. In fact, she seemed to have missed the whole exchange, her attention entirely preoccupied by an inspection of her battered police cruiser. Hands on her hips, she regarded it forlornly, the way a cowboy would stare sadly at a lamed horse.

"Ugh," she groaned, shaking her head. "I'm going to have so much paperwork to do when I put this thing back in the vehicle pool."

Ryan could sympathize with her plight. Caved in on one side and bulged out on the other, the original shape of the car's roof was now impossible to distinguish. It looked more like a piece of modern art than the midsize sedan it had once been. The top light bar was missing entirely, as was the front bumper and a rear quarter-panel, while the rest of the body was covered in dents and scratches of varying size and depth.

He doubted that the department higher-ups would accept a giant ape attack as an explanation for the damage.