“A goblin, Beth. They partnered me with a god damned goblin.” Agatha raged into her new earpiece as she jogged to work. Ten miles over the speed limit. For cars.

“Oh dear…. That’s two experimental changes to society that you’ve been apart of. Amazing!” Beth replied. All the while, Agatha bobbed and weaved through traffic with heavy footed stomps accentuating the sound of her sprint. If she ran through the ghettos someone would report gunfire— gang violence, most likely. Wasn’t her fault. Steel-toed boots were required, even for traffic duty beat-cops.

“Not amazing. Not at all, dammit.” Agatha huffed as she jumped onto the roof of a city bus to take a breather. A rowdy teenager stuck his head out of the window briefly before she put the fear of god in him.

“Now Agatha….. are we being racist?”

“What?! No. You don’t get it, this wrinkly bastard is green.” Agatha’s glowy veined display faded.

“Yes, that’s what goblins are known for honey.” Beth replied. Her words were almost swallowed by the fierce click of her knitting needles.

Agatha pinched the bridge of her thick nose, “That’s not— I mean, he has no experience on the field. Like he’s brand new.”

“Oh!— hahahahah! Right. You would mean that, how funny.” Beth said.

“You need to get out more.” Agatha commented, and then flinched as a camera flash from the Sudan riding beside her nearly blinded her. She turned and flipped the bird, posing just in time for the next flash.

“I would, dear. But, walking is quite hard when you can’t.” Beth replied casually.

“You want a blood transfusion?” Agatha ducked a streetlight as the bus crossed an intersection and hit the highway. Massive lake water full of sea beasts spread below the concrete belt, blurring as they picked up speed. She could run faster. But what was the rush?

“I think I’d turn to dust.” Beth replied, “But it would be nice…. I see you on the news some days, you know? Running into the burning buildings. Punching out the salamandrakes and doing the drug busts. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I think that’s why I’d turn to dust. You’re a special lady, Aggy.”

“Why’d you start kissing my ass? Mark not giving you enough sugar these days in the retirement home?” Agatha questioned.

“Oh I got all the sugar. Same way you got all the spice. Probably too much. You burn people. Try not to do that with…. Oh hell, what’s his n—“

“Grant Warlick.”

“Yes.” Beth’s slow nod could almost be heard. But she was knitting with the fierceness of warring werewolf gangs on a full moon, so unheard it went. “Grant Warlick, the green goblin. Don’t burn him. If he’s got no training, show him the ropes. Make a friend. I know I’m the only person you talk to, Aggy. That’s kind of sad considering I forget a few details about…. Everything every couple weeks. Oh dear, I’m on one percent. Talk later.”

Beth hung up abruptly.

Agatha took a seat at the front of the bus, letting her boots hang over the windshield. Wipers came and went, slapping her heels. She would’ve been annoyed at the drivers passive attempt at telling her to leave but her mind was elsewhere.

“It’s not sad, you goof. It gives us more to talk about.” Agatha took out her earpiece.

The bus took them south, into the more congested parts of the city. Behind the thin veil of expensive high rises, spotless public transportation and beautiful store fronts, an encroaching slum loomed.

In the alleys, tents blew in the winds. If you inhaled through your nose hard enough, you might smell decay.

Homeless elves and trolls lived under the railways.

Blue collar orcs tore down and rebuilt plots of land. Segregated from the rest of society with massive gates. Turning drug ring headquarters into more corporate placeholders full of nothingness.

Agatha sighed as the city swallowed her.

“Should’ve called in sick.”

The bus came to a stop at the police precinct. She hopped off the roof.

The moment she landed, the doors opened and out he came.

“Granny!” Grant stepped off the bus, all yellow sharp-toothed and open hands. “How the hell are ya?”

“How do you think?”

“I don’t… that’s why I asked.”

“Lord….. you keep testing me with smart mouthes and I will feed them their last meal. I’m a terrible cook by the way.” Agatha said to the sky as if someone was up there listening.

“I didn’t take you for the religious type.” Grant said as he tapped his bald chin. It looked sharp enough to cut concrete. All of him did. Not an ounce of fat sat anywhere. Just tight green skin pulled over hard bone and sharp elbows.

“I’m not.” Agatha headed up the steps.

Grant followed. He wore his officer uniform of black slacks, a vest and button up. All black and complimented by the state badge. He was the real deal. Only no guns, pepper spray and one set of cuffs.

The other officers didn’t seem to believe it. They looked at the two of them as if they were an in uniform circus act as they mounted the steps to the precinct.

At least she didn’t smell like garbage this time.

“So, where’s your other armor, granny? That was a good look for you…… then again, I don’t think anyone your size is pulling off some skims. Well, m—.”

“Left it.”

“Ok, what about the swords?”

“Left it.”

“Did you leave your sparkling bright mood to—“

“Yea. And that one ain’t coming back, greenie.”

Grant raised a spiky overgrown eyebrow at her as he nearly jogged to keep up with her, “That felt like a slur.”

“Shut-up.”

“Not a chance.”

Agatha shoved the doors into the precinct open. The clock read six in the morning. Day shifts just started. The place was flooded with boots.

“Someone feel like shooting me?!” Agatha yelled.

They all looked at her, recognized it was….. her, and went about their day. As if her antics were par for the course.

“Oh, come on! You guys do it for less outside every day.” Grant said to the flood of cops from beside her. Making finger guns at them as they passed.

The officers that heard had mixed reactions. Some laughed it off, unable to take the goblin in uniform serious while others glared with a cold rage.

“Son of a…. You’re one of those, huh?” Agatha sighed and kept walking.

“One of what?”

“One of those anti-law folks. Wait— why are you even here then?” Agatha questioned as they stepped into the elevator.

“Everyone’s gotta work, granny.” Grant leaned against the wall of the elevator, trying to put on a cool front. But his hand gripping the railing ruined it. He’d never been in one. “Plus, it was either this or juvie.”

Agatha almost had a stroke as the metal doors into the elevator slid open. This time, it was her turn to follow him as they headed down the busy middle floor halls.

“The hell do you mean juvie?”

“You know, the place you go when you’ve been a bad little boy. Or girl. Or elf. Or o—“

“Grant, how old are you?”

Grant looked up at her as they stopped at the end of the hall, standing before two wooden doors leading into the briefing room for all beat-cops. “I’m sixteen, obviously.” The youth in his golden eyes seemed to beam then as if it too was pointing out the obvious.

The time between Agatha opening the doors into the briefing room and taking her seat felt infinite and absent of sound.

She must’ve had a look on her face the way the officers gave her a wide berth, even leaving their seats as she took hers in the back. It was only when seated that she realized, she had the whole door in her hand by the handle. Ripped completely off the hinges.

Grant crouched on his tip-toes in the seat beside her, “Damn, lady. If you wanted to use a riot shield there’s better options….”

“This isn’t gonna work…”

“I could’ve told you that. People get shot through doors every day!”

“I’m calling Fitz. I’ll get fired— I don’t give a damn. I’m not babysitting.” Agatha continued.

“Wait— WHAT?”

The officers turned around to face them.

“Shut-up! Or I’ll rip your ears off.”

Grant grinned, “Get on with it then. I’ve had enough hillbillies try that on the way here anyway. I think fates telling me I don’t need them. Not much of a listener, for that matter.”

“Fate should’ve told you to get in school. Where you belong.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been to school, so we’ll pretend you know what you’re talking about.” Grant replied slyly.

Agatha sighed, leaning the door against the wall beside her. Talking to Grant was somehow more exhausting than running at fifty miles per hour for fifty miles.

The senior officer— who recently took the podium raised an eyebrow at her before looking back to the door. Officer Castle. He was a hard old man. You could see the strength in him even behind the bushy grey eyebrows and wrinkles. He’d been at the precinct as long as her. He should’ve been commissioner, he was voted in. But he turned it down.

“Take it out of my check and get on with, sir.”

He rolled his eyes. Continuing begrudgingly, “Morning officers, we’ve got a busy day today. Celebrities in town, a multi-species rock group called Ivory N Gum….. that’s a play on words I think.—“

“Anyone wanna hear the three little piggy boys latest track? It’s more b.s about the big scary human suprem—“

“Officer Wylder.” Castle, still standing at the podium cut in, “You’ve been on the force six years. I know you’re aware that divisive terms aren’t allowed here. Especially when your brothers in arms may be different from you as well.”

The giggles died down.

“Oh, right. We’ve got some new blood, today. Forgive me, Grunt. I’m only a jackass on Mondays.” Officer Wylder said from the front where he sat. His thick black mustache bristled as he smiled wolfishly.

“Water where the trolls go, I don’t like their music anyway.” Grant replied and waved him off.

“Ah, see? He’s one of the good ones.”

“Wylder.” Agatha spoke without meaning too, “Face forward and be quiet.”

He saluted playfully, “Sir yes sir!”

“So original.” Agatha thought.

With the ice broken, the briefing continued.

“Like I said, some celebrities are in town. And not just any celebrities. Aside from their musical exploits, Ivory N Gum are a civil rights group for marginalized races. Their shows double as protests. We have the sole responsibility of keeping the city on schedule and safe. They try to block roads, unblock them. We give them one block of space to protest and nothing more. Use force, call back-up. Everyone stay connected. You won’t be fighting humans. You’ll be fighting orcs and elves. They’re faster, stronger and capable of animalistic rage. It makes it impossible to reason with them. Don’t let it get to that point. I’ve seen my men impaled by orc gangs in a drunken rage more than once. Take them down hard and fast. Otherwise, stick to the roads, be safe, and keep that holster open. Come see me after the briefing for your scheduled routes. Dismissed.”

For the next ten minutes, Agatha and Grant stood in a line looping around the whole meeting room as they waited to be given their routes.

Officers readied themselves as if they were heading into war. Amping up. Embracing a reality that wasn’t that. Shortening their own fuzes before even hitting the road for the sake of—

“Time to protect and serve! WOOHOO!” Wylder yelled as he headed out of the briefing room with his partner. He smelled like hair gel, cigarettes and cologne.

Agatha rolled her eyes.

“Please don’t smash his desk, too.” Officer Castle said as Agatha came up to the podium, still somehow towering over the old man.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sir.”

“I know you don’t. Blessing and a curse I suppose. How long you rolling with us for?”

“Indefinitely. Apparently what I did to get demoted was…. too far. Bull.” Agatha replied.

“What did you do?” Grant questioned from beside her.

“Quiet.”

“For what it’s worth, many of us agree with your decision. It was a tough one…. But the right one, in my opinion.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“That’s the thing…. It wasn’t tough at all.”

“…. I see.”

Agatha took her routes sheet off the podium and left.

Ten minutes later and they were in her squad car, going seventy down the highway leading to downtown. Sirens and lights flashed as she cleared traffic with ease.

For a real reason as well as twelve other squad cars followed behind. They had to reach the entrance to downtown before ten— when the band was scheduled to arrive to place barricades, spikes and defense positions. Or else they’d be overwhelmed.

All the while, Grant held up a pamphlet they were given by the front desk clerk on the way out. Something to catch Agatha up to speed on what opportunities her new demotion would bring to the precinct and beyond. Fitz was supposed to inform them, but he was still sour over spilled milk. Or coffee…. And desk, to put it more accurately.

“The BJTF…. Also known as The Bogart Joint Task-Force. Political speak for local law enforcement now using specialized Goblin Liaisons in the SpellHunters Division. We’re the test run, granny!” Grant explained as he flipped through the pages.

Agatha drifted around a corner on sixty-ninth and nearly scared the hotdog stand worker on the corner out of a job. “What exactly makes you special?”

“I’m a Bogart-Goblin, are you even paying attention?”

“No, not really.” Agatha turned up the rock music blasting from the radio as she chewed six pieces of gum.

Grant turned it down with fingers tipped by claws.

“You touch my radio again and I’ll tie you up like a pretzel.”

Grant shook his head, “No you won’t. You like your job too much. I mean— I get it. Once I get a car….. ouuuhohohoho what even is a speed limit to you guys, right?”

Agatha had to stop herself from reaching across the seats, “…… What is a Bogart-Goblin? Do you just steal more?”

“I can eat the magic off of anything. Even living things. Just gotta get my mits on it. I’m sure you know why the SpellHunters would have an interest in my kind.” Grant turned over his hands so she could see his palms. Swirling designs like birthmarks marred them.

Before Agatha could comment on them he added, “…..I’ve actually never stolen at all.” Grant sounded serious for the first time.

“Right…. and I don’t need air to breathe.”

“Do you know any goblins or do you just go off what the tv tells you about your green vertically challenged neighbors? I can answer that for ya if you’d like.”

“I know statistics. Goblins can’t live in groups over five hundred in a specified radius or you’ll tank the economy of the area from all the theft. Greed is in your dna. Elves are beautiful and acrobatic, orcs are violent and strong as bulls, goblins steal.”

Grant nodded as he danced to the music, “And you got all this from your statistics?”

“And arrests. Just in case you forgot what I do for a living.”

“Oh no, I didn’t forget, partner.” Grant grinned, “But how many of those thieving goblin bastards were well off when you caught them stealing? How many stole when they didn’t need to? Just askin…..”

Agatha didn’t reply.

“You know what they say…..” Grant sighed smugly, seemingly back to his sassy self.

“No. I don’t. Inform me of your sixteen year old world-view, please.”

“Statistics without context is just a smelly ass steaming pile of propaganda. You humans love that stuff, don’t ya? I thought you would’ve known that since y’know….. before we were here they hated you.”

Agatha turned to look at Grant. A chaotic flurry of emotions she failed to properly process spun like a whirlwind in her mind. She must’ve had steam coming out of her ears.

Grant didn’t look her way. He just bobbed his head to the music. “I lied. I love Ivory N Gum! This riff is INSANE!”

She didn’t even notice they were playing. Or that she was at their destination.

***

The intersection of seventy-fifth and third was a busy street wedged right in the middle of the commercial district of southern Chicago. Their premier shopping mall spread for two entire blocks to Agatha’s left as she exited her parked squad car. The thing was like a white stone and silver glassed castle specifically for rowdy teenagers and stay at home moms that didn’t stay at home. Every few hundred feet a different store front sign gleamed from the above.

On the other side more individual stores and nationally recognized mom and pop shops boarded up their doors, knowing what was coming.

Graffiti of the incoming civil rights band stood out like a warning sign. They didn’t bother washing it off their windows and alleys. People had to prioritize.

“So you won’t tell me what you did to get demoted? Like ever?” Grant questioned. He jogged to catch up with her at the back of her squad-car.

“No.” Agatha dug in her trunk, pulling out a roll of spiked metal on rubber strips. “Hold this.” She dropped it in his hands and he almost fell from the weight.

“Oh come on! Why?!”

“Because I don’t wanna carry the spikes.” Agatha replied.

“That’s not what I meant….” Grant growled.

“It’s not my story to tell.” Agatha shut the door to the trunk of her squad car and headed to the alleyway across the street, casually carrying two concrete barricades.

Thankfully, Grant paid the smallest bit of attention during his academy training. He knew how to lay road spikes. It took longer than usual since he was the size of a pre-teen but he got it done…… with only minimal sass. While doing so, Agatha instructed the homeless dumpster diving in the alleys to find a new place to loiter at unless they wanted to risk being run over to the sound of rock music and political debate.

A few blocks away, other working officers set up barricades at key access points and subway terminals. They couldn’t shut the city down, but if they needed to they could jam up a few blocks. The rest was up to her.

As early morning transitioned into late morning, activity heightened. Agatha and Grant found themselves directing traffic at the intersection leading up to the mall.

Also known as, hell.

“What is it bring your pet to work day?”

“The hell is that doing in uniform?”

“My father didn’t serve our country for this!!”

The vitriol was unending from some people. Others saw— and knew what Agatha was, and settled for petty mean-mugs as she waved them down the street.

“You think I could ask for a raise…. Y’know as emotional compensation haha!” Grant questioned as he waved down a car, winking at the elven women riding a bike beside the car.

“Sure.”

Grant sighed, “That’s all you’ve said for the past hour.”

“Sure.”

“We’re partners, granny. I like to talk— keep my brain active. Engage me, why don’t ya. Or else you’ll forget the word sure has any meaning.”

Agatha sighed, stepping to a semi that was too busy staring at Grant to see her not giving it the right of way. She ended up walking into it, stopping the massive vehicle halfway across the intersection and pushing it back in its lane like a linebacker at the combine.

“You don’t start paying attention and I’ll peel you out of this thing and drown you in citations you hear me!?” Agatha yelled so loud the drivers window warbled like it was about to shatter.

The honking ceased from behind. The semi driver put on his seat belt.

Grant watched in awe as she took her hands off the semi’s radiator grille— now dented with handprints, and got back to directing traffic on her end.

“Pay attention.”

“Attention is paid!” Grant played it off and got back to work, backing away casually as someone driving by dropped a cigarette at his feet, “So, are there any more like you here? Where’s the buff granny squad. I want an autograph!”

“I don’t know. We don’t keep in touch.” Agatha replied. Truth was, most were dead. Just like the world wanted.

“I guess you’re all social butterflies, huh?” Grant questioned as they stood back to back.

“Yea.”

Their conversation— that was going nowhere, was cut short as a black tour bus rounded a corner and headed down the street straight for them.

They could hear the music even from a block away. The cheers were a whole different story. They came with their own crowd of protestor-fan hybrids. Both singing along and touting provocative signage proudly. Almost all of them wore boar masks with massive tusks and gold piercings.

They looked like a cult.

Chaos was on the horizon. Grant was nothing but an inconvenience in costume as the civilians once hating him banded together to form a counter protest group of blaring honks and altercations seconds from becoming physical disputes.

“Dammit…. Dammit!” Agatha pointed to her left. “Grant, close off this street. No cars move until this lane and band is out or else we’ll have to choose between a car pile-up or street brawl. Too much paperwork either way.”

“Got ya.” Grant halted movement on one end of the intersection.

Agatha waved past the cars on her end, trying to push the band through to less congested areas.

After thirty minutes and four broken up fights, the tour bus rolled by. The protesters followed close behind like a crowd of dogs. Barking obscenities at Agatha and Grant the whole way.

They called him a traitor.

They called her chemical warfare personified.

She’d heard worse.

They stopped in front of the mall. There was no arduous set up process or lengthy pre-game like most artists did to wait for crowd build up.

The side of the tour bus simply unfolded like a vehicular futon and gave way to the band already on their own makeshift stage.

The protestors doubling as the crowd surged. Teens from inside the mall poured out onto the streets.

“God dammit. Close it down. Backup! I need back up on seventy fifth and third! Bring barricades, fences and protection rune overlays.” Agatha yelled into her walkie.

“Comin in hot.” Officer Wylder replied.

“Should’ve said nothing.” Agatha groaned and took Grant to begin closing down the streets out of fear of the crowd being run over. A common event at intense protests.

“Ladies, gentlemen and those who aren’t beholden to the human binary, we are Ivory N Gum!” The lead musician yelled into his microphone. His voice boomed, even from his masked face. A face no one had ever seen. It carried down the streets. Powerful and deep. He made every word sound like some gratifying revelation. “My name is Percy Porcine and every song sung today is for a reason!”

The first song was titled Omnivorous Machine. It lasted six minutes. The crowd only grew as the music continued— full of wild riffs, punching bass lines and lyrics so grotesque Agatha would’ve fainted it she hadn’t seen combat.

Half an hour of pure intense rock later and the band let the world breathe.

Officer Wylder stood with Agatha and Grant at the blocked off alleyway. Directly across from the band in front of the mall. A crowd of three hundred filled the streets.

“We’ve got eyes up top.” Wylder rushed to turn down his walkie, “Copy.” He replied.

Agatha looked up at the roof of the mall and found a swat officer walking with a sniper.

“He’s packing some serious heat for a protest.” Agatha commented.

“Better safe than sorry, right? Besides, this isn’t a protest. It’s a terrorist gathering.”

“…..right.”

“All my minorities raise your hand!” Percy yelled into the mic. His black cloak fluttered in the wind.

His lead guitarist struck a chord, trying to make his random— and a bit silly sounding, shout sound hardcore.

A few goth elves and grunge college students raised their hands.

“All of you! You’re all minorities against the machine! Human, man, woman, all colors, all races— every species. America is an omnivorous machine….. and it’s got a taste for all of you. Just depends on the time and climate. Those in power will lie and cheat and paint you anyway that keeps the rest afraid and unfocused so we can’t come together and take out the real threat!”

“No reason to lie when we’ve got people turning into giant wolves and pig men that can lift cars, you degenerate!” One of the counter protesters yelled from his pick-up. He wore a black hoodie and baseball cap underneath.

The crowd booed him and flashed their signs.

Percy quieted the crowd.

He watched the man who was parked mere feet from Agatha.

“I could show you the truth. But you don’t want it. I’ll prove it to you.” Percy clicked his mic back on the stand.

Members of his band seemed to know what was happening. The guitarist raged— his band mates had to hold him back as Percy stripped off his cloak. He was thin, still covered head to toe in clothing. But less than ever before. Part of his whole shtick was the mystery. Everyone assumed he was an elf.

Agatha shifted uncomfortably. The guitarist was screaming like he was watching a loved one walk into a meat grinder. She hadn’t heard screams of terror so raw since…..

Her mind shut the thought down.

She continued to watch. Everyone did. It felt like the streets were silent for the first time.

And then, Percy Porcine removed his mask.

Shocked gasps spread like wildfire.

“Well I’ll be damned. He’s an orc…… wait— how didn’t we guess that?.” Grant commented.

But he wasn’t like any orc any of them had ever seen.

He was downright frail. Completely lacking the animalistic might and size of their race. No bulbous traps or gigantic bulging veins. He was just a green skinned man with tusks. Barely six feet tall and visibly tired from the bags rested under his round blue eyes.

Something about the sight of him transfixed everyone.

He grabbed the mic, wiping sweat off his brow with shaking hands, “Do you think I can lift a car? I probably could…… not without chemical substances though, I kicked that habit years ago. Ask yourselves something and truly consider it. Do they keep my kind away from you for protection of you…… or their own lies.”

Wylder cursed under his breath and headed down the alley at a brisk pace as he pulled out his phone.

“Hey— where are yo—“

A gunshot went off, ripping the shocked silence to shreds. Screams of terror and pain leaked in the aftermath like blood.

Agatha spun around with one hand on her walkie and the other on her gun as she took aim.

“Shots fired! I repeat shots fired at seventy fifth and third!” She took aim at the sniper on the rooftop. Swat or not, he wasn’t securing his line of sight. He hit three innocents in his urge to take down his initial target.

He took aim again. Black spiral of smoke and gunpowder still spinning from his barrel.

Agatha was faster. She fired three shots across the street, tagging him once in each shoulder and again in the leg. He fell out of sight.

The extra shots only added to the crowds chaos as a riot broke out.

The driver that was once parked beside her floored his engine and took off in a burst of rubble and dust. On his way out, he sideswiped the crowd and took out three teenagers.

“Grant! Find Wylder and join up with the other incoming officers!” Agatha yelled back to her partner only to find him backing away as a couple approached him with bats in hand.

“You’re part of it aren’t you, greenie?!”

“Oh for the love of everything.” Agatha grabbed Grant and threw him onto her shoulder, “Hold on!”

She took off in a sprint, now with a goblin perched on her left shoulder like a real life gargoyle.

“This is going to shit!” Grant yelled as the wind speeds pulled open his eyelids.

“Shut-up!” Agatha was running beside the pickup in no time.

She glanced over the hood to see if any civilians were on the other side. When she found none, a smile spread across her face.

“You’re under arrest, dickhead.”

The fear in his eyes didn’t last long. She lunged, shoulder checking the truck so hard it flipped and skirted to a metallic screeching halt on the sidewalk as it crashed into the barricade she placed hours earlier.

Before it even finished moving, she was turning around and running back into the fray as a Sudan came flying in from an alley between a pizzeria and coffee shop further up the block from where she once waited.

She met the car head on, placing her hands on the hood. The driver revved the engine. Her boots dug into the street and the hood crumpled against her grip like paper.

“It’s at least fifteen years for assaulting an officer, Junior!” Agatha said through gritted teeth.

The young man in the drivers seat wore a hood and baseball cap underneath. The sight stuck out to her analytical mind but she didn’t get the chance to figure out why before he raised his hand from the wheel, whispering unintelligible words. Spirals of smoke and flaming embers spilled from his dry lips. his car lights flickered, the power box on the side of the pizzeria in the alley exploded. Intense heat emanating from his palm distorted the sight of his face, flickering into massive red flames that he shot straight at her—

“FIRE—“ Grant’s hand flashed in front of her face, absorbing the searing blast as it ripped through the windshield like a missile.

The driver sat in shock.

“Yummy…” Grant dusted his soot covered palm on Agatha’s shoulder.

Agatha ripped the man out of his car and head butted him. His nose shattered and he went out cold.

“Cuff him and stay hidden in this alley. Keep calling for backup.”

“You got it, granny!” Grant hopped off her shoulders and dragged the man behind a dumpster. Under any other circumstances the sight would’ve broke the internet. Unfortunately there were much bigger fish to fry.

Agatha pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, feeling the toxic concoction and essence of Mana in many strains flow through her. Veins glowing. Muscles building.

“Everybody break it up!” Her voice boomed, going off like a stun grenade. Once what it was used for in raids overseas. “Disperse immediately or I won’t rest until every last one of you is arrested and on trial for—“

A protestor smashed a bat over the back of her head. It shattered like glass.

She spun around— stopping as another pick-up came rushing down the street. Empty back-end. One driver. No Mana. It had to be driving over seventy miles per hour. With all its built up speed and raised frame it blasted over the barricades, nearly crashing before recentering, now with a broken wheel.

“Everyone back away!” She could hear the ambulance in the distance. “Why the hell is it so far away? They should’ve been on standby.”

The driver wore a hoodie, face cast in shadow. Jaw set with manic determination.

She knew a kill face better than anyone.

She took off as the crowd backed away, ready to collide with the truck and hope for the best.

As she ran magic pulsed beneath her veins. With focus, she could empower specific parts of her body. Like the flexing of a muscle— she could fortify and marginally strengthen sections of her frame. Simple, to the point. It got the job done for most operations. Super strength, stun-roar, collagen fortification etc.

Then there was The Rush. She didn’t have just adrenaline anymore. Mana interacted with chemicals and earthly substances in bizarre ways. An entirely new compound ran through her veins— a hybrid of hormonal substances born in the Plane of Mana. Aspects taken from the afflicted shape-shifters and sea-beasts and other nightmarish figures. An attempt at taking the best aspects from the enemy and jamming it into allied operatives. It’s primarily what stopped MEO’s from being considered human. It’s also what led to many taking their own lives.

Agatha didn’t like embracing The Rush. But she had a job to do. She had to protect and serve.

In a flash, a myriad of changes took her over. She didn’t even lose a step. In fact, she got faster. Stride widening as she grew a foot in height. Bones cracked and tendons stretched like rubber bands pulled taut. Alchemical substances naturally occuring in her bone marrow turned into steel at the touch of blood, causing her to become twice as heavy. Now with a metallic skeleton. Her uniform ripped, leaving her in her black shift-weave undergarments. Her dark-brown skin took on a pure black hue with a metallic luster. Her nails lengthened into claws. Her nappy white hair once held in a bun exploded into a crown of multicolored flames.

She could smell the drivers fear. It pulled at her. At the conflicting portions of her altered dna.

The feeling of the incoming frenzy had her recalling her training. Focusing on neutralizing the rush-inducing force and securing the area.

Closer.

Closer.

She braced for impact. Only just beginning to notice the electricity on the whole block was out and none of the cars were working except her attacker’s.

From the alley, she caught a glimpse of Grant, reaching for her as if he’d touch from his distance. The swirl in his palm glowed as he tried to absorb the oncoming mass of Mana infused cargo on the pickup.

Only there was none before.

She didn’t need to read his lips to know what came next.

It was an attack. It always was. Not just any attack, an assassination. Percy’s band mates knew it. Percy knew it.

There were flags everywhere. Her brain was already itching to put the pieces together when the truck hit and an explosion to shake the entire city went off.

Even in the black of unconsciousness, a portion of her rattled brain was working. Understanding.

Ivory N Gum was more than a politically radical band.

And this was only the beginning….