Stretch heard a knock on the door and barely got his pants on before opening it. On the other side he saw Red, Kitty, and two grown men he didn't know, all of them looking like they'd crawled out of some cave, clothes crumpled and ripped and stained to varying degrees, faces slack and coated with dried sweat and dust and exhaustion.

He stared at them, and they stared at him, and no one really knew what to say before Red finally raised a hand and gave the laziest wave ever. "Sup. We, uh... kinda need some help."

The hand was completely wrapped in what looked like a suit jacket, a deep red fabric slathered with a deeper, muddy crimson that even now dripped blood lightly down his forearm. Next to him, Kitty bent slightly over a stomach splashed with the same color.

The girl glanced up with hollow eyes, a brief look that went almost immediately to the floor the moment he met it. "We didn't know where else to go," she said. "Sorry..."

Stretch opened his mouth, said nothing, then closed it again. Behind him, a set of footsteps clapped softly on the panel floor, and a voice unfamiliar to the rest rang groggily over the uncomfortable silence.

"Hey, who's at the—" Pause. Everyone stared past Stretch at the man mid-step behind him, one that stood practically naked save for the loose underwear he was still pulling on. The man noted the four visitors, noted their wretched state, noted the blood. He took a small step back. "Uh..."

Sighing, Stretch reached up and rubbed at his forehead. "Andy, it's been fun, man, but I think you oughta leave." Dragging a hand down his face, he gave Red and Kitty a disbelieving once-over. "As for you guys... Alright. Just lemme make a call. But you seriously owe me one."

- - - — MKII — - - -

Twenty minutes later they all sat around Stretch's living room. It was a dingy space filled with a single couch, a TV, and a small coffee table with a pair of chairs by the window. A small kitchen came along with it, separated only by a peninsula counter with its own set of stools, and the open concept went a long way in making the whole place seem bigger than it really was.

Baba had come over with a first aid kit, and now she sat on the peninsula wrapping Red's mangled hand in a thick roll of bandages, his sleeve rolled down to his shoulder so it wouldn't get in the way. Stretch sat with them, and Red had taken the chance to explain what had happened from beginning to end, telling the story in between the flinching that came alongside getting sprayed with disinfectant and prodded on a spot that would surely heal into a sick scar.

"You're lucky I was still awake," Baba muttered. The woman had her pajamas on, a matching nightshirt and loose pants combo covered in tiny, almost robotic flowers. She nudged her head at Stretch, her loose gray ponytail. "This one still hasn't bought himself so much as a bottle of Tylenol."

"That's why I have you on speed dial," Stretch said, smile tired. He'd thankfully put on a shirt. "And I spend most of my time at the Outpost anyway."

Anger wasn't the kind of thing Red would've usually attributed to the guy, and Stretch had done his best to hide it, but he'd been pretty obviously pissed to have his date interrupted. Now that he'd heard the frankly ridiculous series of events that had led to it, the man seemed to have funneled all that anger into a sort of tired acceptance, welcoming complete strangers into his home without bothering to even ask for their names based solely off Red and Kitty's testimony.

Once again, Red had to reflect on how cool a person Stretch was. That or unreasonably forgiving. Either way, it did make him feel kinda bad about the whole thing.

"So, was that, like, your boyfriend?" he asked, cringing when Baba tightened the knot at his wrist.

"He was what I'd call a fun night," Stretch said. He scratched the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. "Honestly though, he was getting a little clingy, so I appreciate you stopping by. But, er, maybe next time don't come half dead."

The way things had been going for him, Red was becoming increasingly less certain that was the type of promise he could really keep. He was about to say so too, but then Baba cleared her throat and sent him a dry look, by now done with his injured hand.

"How's she doing?" the woman asked, nodding discreetly at Kitty.

Red followed her glance and saw the girl sitting by the coffee table across the room, her own wound already treated. She hadn't said anything since they'd gotten there—in fact, none of them had said much during the drive there. It made sense; no one had been much in the mood to chat after burying Scarlet's body, and for once that included Red himself, who'd had to dig the grave himself with a single functioning hand.

Roman had sworn he'd come back and give Scarlet a proper resting place after everything was all said and done. Now he sat with Donny on the couch, both of them hunched over and muttering the odd word or two. From what Red could see the two were mulling over their current predicament, maybe freaking out, maybe too exhausted to do even that.

But Kitty's silence was different. The girl just stared blankly ahead, as if looking out through the drawn window blinds. Red wasn't convinced there was any thought in that head of hers. She seemed somehow on autopilot, her body a vessel from which conscious activity had been sucked out.

Something about it made him wither from sheer proximity, so he'd honestly been trying not to look in her direction. "She's not doing great..."

Baba grunted in the affirmative. Then she looked at him, eyes steady behind her round glasses. "And you, kid? How're you holding up?"

Red gave her a bemused smile. Aw, didn't think you cared, Granny. That's what he was about to say, or at least something equally flippant. But then he took in the frank sincerity in her gaze, and his smile, an almost instinctive curve of the lips, slowly dropped.

The crease that formed on his brow then wasn't deep, but it was insistent, a kind of nagging wrinkle that refused all attempts to smooth it out, and he remembered Scarlet's face when they'd buried her not half an hour before. It had been too peaceful, too unbothered by the piles of dirt that had forever hidden her in an earthen embrace.

"I... I couldn't do anything," he admitted, voice low and uncertain. As he spoke, the nebulous cloud of frustration that had strayed this way and that within him now found, with each word, a semblance of direction, a path to travel, and to his growing surprise that path led right back to himself. "The fight... It was too quick. I totally fumbled it."

The whole chase had been too hectic, shots firing everywhere, and worst of all were Owl and Hound themselves. They were sneaky, and deadly, and insanely skilled. Had Red just gotten close enough to lay a hand on them it would've been over in a second, but they'd seemed to know that as much as he did. It had been easy for them to keep their distance, attack at range or through ambush tactics, and entirely eliminate any threat he posed.

It was worse than how it'd been with Harmony; at least back then Red had some recourse, some workaround, because ultimately Harmony's power had forced them to come in close, even if only for the briefest of moments. But there was no getting close against a hail of bullets or a surprise shadow spike that came from nowhere.

And it was even more than just that. Owl might not have known all about their plan, but she'd been aware enough that something iffy was going on to get herself some backup. Hound had followed them so quickly on that motorcycle, he must've had it ready outside before they'd even thought to drive off with Donny. Right from the start, those two had complete control of the battlefield, leading Red and his group down a preordained path, stinging them into place like a pair of shepherding bees.

A different kind of enemy. A new puzzle. It was the thing that would've excited Red, should've had him cracking his knuckles and raring to go like always, but for once he couldn't feel it. All he could do was bow his head.

"I don't mind takin' a few licks," he said. "Usually that's fine. I can take it. But this time it wasn't me who wound up hurt. Scarlet... She literally took a bullet for me. That's what killed her, y'know. And the whole time, I could barely even keep up with what was happening." Red clenched his hands into tight fists, threatening to rip his new bandages through sheer grip alone. "It sucked. That wasn't fun at all."

He glared down at the counter, and as he did Stretch and Baba shared a hard look. The former eventually reached over to put a hand on Red's head, ruffling the boy's curly hair.

"You did your best, man," Stretch said. "Can't ask for more than that."

He hadn't said anything special, but what else could he say? As a Ranger, death was just part of the deal, whether it be your own or someone else's. No one lasted long in this business without seeing it.

Still, Baba twisted in her seat, leaning back on the counter and staring intently at the two on the couch. Roman and Donny felt the weight of her gaze soon enough, and when they looked back at her they found as tough a customer as they'd ever encountered, an old woman who'd seen just about everything and wasn't particularly willing to compromise.

"Gentlemen," she said, "I'm sorry things didn't work out, but I think you've asked enough of these two kids. It's time you both left."

It was a ludicrous statement. Red and Kitty had both signed up for the job, and things had gone bad under their watch as much as anyone else's, and to kick the men out now basically meant handing out a death sentence to both of them considering who lay in wait.

Baba knew this, and so did Donny judging by how he got to his feet, a pinched scowl splitting his face. "I don't know who you think you are, lady—"

Roman stopped him with a hand on his arm. The Syndicate Captain looked Baba in the eyes, something crossing silently between them before he nodded. "You're right. Things are... Well, there's no point dragging anyone else into this more than we already have." He stood up, hands easing the wrinkles on his shirt. "Thank you for your help. Kitty, Red, I'll be sure to send your payment. We'll see ourselves out."

"No."

Everyone turned to Kitty. The girl had been quiet but stern, enough to stop Roman mid-step on his way to the door. Slowly, her ink-black eyes slid over to him, two orbs of dark intensity.

"What are you after?" she asked.

Her directness gave Roman pause. He glanced around, at Donny and at Red and then at the two veritable strangers at either side of the boy. They all looked back at him, waiting, expectant, even a bit perturbed.

Roman cleared his throat. "I thought I already told you. Once I'm the new Don—"

"I refuse to believe Scarlet died for a man on some power trip," Kitty said, crossing her arms. "Her loyalty... it wasn't something that cheap. So tell me right now, why should I help you? What do you really want out of all this?"

Roman met her gaze, thoughtful now. After a moment, he chuckled, shook his head, smiled ruefully. "Alright. Sure..." He stepped back and sat on the couch again, leaning forward with elbows on his knees, hands linked together. "Let me just think for a second."

They all sat in silence, watching him do exactly that, eyes closed, playing with the ring on his middle finger. An engagement ring, Kitty now knew, just a simple gold band as if the wedding had already happened. A mark of the Volante Don's favor, one that let everyone know who he'd chosen as his future son-in-law.

"I grew up in midtown," he finally said. "Right by where they built out the I-25. Just me and my mom. Got my start as a corner boy."

Roman let out a breath, remembering, though his eyes seemed strangely out of focus. "I won't give you some sob story. All you need to know is I've seen what this life does. The terror, the death. And I've seen that when you live in that, there are no better options. It's easy to say people have a choice, but that's not true. When survival isn't a given, you have to do whatever it takes. In the end, only the ones with power can choose what they do. They're ones who can make real decisions. Rising up the syndicate... Really, I just wanted to make sure I had some control over my own life."

He smiled, a soft broken thing. "Then I met Scarlet, and I realized how... big the world really was. I realized how much more was at my disposal. I realized I could change things for others too. Those Talismans." Kitty straightened, and Roman gave a short nod. "They sell for a whole lot more than guns or drugs. That's important. Not just because it's a way to climb up the ranks, but because money is the only thing that really matters in my line of business. That's the engine and the fuel. The terror, the death, the grudges, the reckless violence... Those things are just a consequence of powerful people competing for cash. They're just collateral damage. And collateral damage can be reduced."

"You're talking in circles," Baba put in. She leaned against the counter, looking coolly down at the man. "Get to the point already."

Roman let out a dry chuckle. "Sorry." He looked at Kitty, who'd listened with nary a change in expression. "You already know I want the Volante Syndicate to get into the Talisman trade once I'm in charge. But what I haven't told you is I plan to make this our... exclusive specialty."

Raising a hand, Roman held it out and open, as if grabbing at something. "No more guns, no more drugs. Only magic items, deceptive little things that no normal person can even use, much less know about. The syndicate will grow, expand, beat out our competition. We'll sweep away as much of the criminal underworld as we can and replace them with something that no longer destroys innocent lives. Kids will stay in school instead of out on the street. Their fathers won't die meaninglessly, will find work that doesn't force them to kill each other." He smiled again, and this time the curve was almost savage. "And if that work can't be found, the syndicate will be happy to bring them into the fold. A whole empire built on Talismans, one won't need to feed off endless war and death."

It was a grand, stupid dream. He'd probably spend the rest of his life pursuing it, and would probably fail somewhere along the way. But something about Roman's smile told the rest that he knew it just as much as them. He was, if nothing else, absolutely committed. That was the only way anyone could be this openly naive when already so far on the back foot.

And Scarlet would've surely loved it, Kitty knew. A grand, stupid, committed fool. Your kind of man, she thought, closing her eyes. I can finally see why.

"No more death," Baba said, frowning. "You mean unless we're talking about Mystics. Selling Talismans isn't any better than selling guns. The only difference is you're giving ammunition to magic criminals rather than normal ones."

"A much smaller population," Roman said.

"So we're not as important?"

"You chose this life." Roman turned fully to her now, smile tight. "You Magicians aren't born with your powers. You realize they exist, you learn to use them, and you decide to break from the regular world. You have the choice. I didn't. Us weak, regular people," he waved at himself and Donny, "we have to play with the hands we're dealt. We're here because a lack of power forced us to seek power or die trying. But that's not right." His face grew firm. "All I want is world where the people can choose. Don't we deserve that much?"

Baba was about to respond, but Kitty interrupted the argument before it could start in earnest. "So you haven't given up?" the girl asked. "The fight for the syndicate. Agrivon, Owl, Hound. You still think you can win?"

Roman pursed his lips, fiddling with his ring, really thinking. "I can't say for sure. With the way things went tonight... Ah!"

He flinched, hands slipping apart. At first it seemed like a rather uncharacteristic yelp of despair, but then Kitty saw him waving his hand as if he'd burnt it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," the man said, frowning. "It's just... strange."

He held out his hand and, steadily, almost experimentally, took his ring off. Roman examined it with narrowed eyes, flexing his hand in slow, steady motions.

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"Started as an itch," he mused. "But now there's a sort of... frizzy feeling."

Kitty rose. Slowly, an arm around her bandaged stomach, she walked over to him, zeroing in on the ring in his hand. "Roman, give me that ring."

The man gave her a skeptical glance, but didn't argue, handing over the golden band. Kitty took it, held it up in front of her face, and stared hard as if reading some invisible inscription. Just a normal ring. Except...

- - - — MKII — - - -

"You should try a makeover."

Malcolm looked up at Zelda, scowling and adjusting his glasses. "What are you going on about now?"

"A makeover," she repeated. "You know, for that girl you like."

Rather than look back at him she kept her eyes on the view of Soratan below. They both stood on a great stone outlook right on the side of Ranger HQ's great tower, the city's nighttime skyline laid out far below and a sea of clouds taking up the whole horizon beyond that. Above them, stars swirled clear and bright along an endless white band, blue and purple hues joining them to fill up the roof of the world.

It was the only time Malcolm could remember seeing Zelda both away from Jason and not glued to her phone. He supposed it made sense to some degree; if this was the view she'd gotten used to growing up, most other places wouldn't have much to keep her attention.

Malcolm bent forward, leaning hard on the parapet, chin nestled in his arms. "I don't think a haircut would suddenly have Rebecca fall for me," he grumbled.

"Oh, I don't mean it like that," Zelda said. "It's just, maybe you're so unmemorable right now that if you change up your look a little she won't recognize you as the guy who threw up his lunch all over her couch."

"... Can you please not be a jerk about it?"

Zelda glanced his way, saw he really was quite miserable, and sighed. "Alright, fine."

She'd been hoping that needling the guy would at least get him mad enough to snap out of his funk, but clearly he was still too hung up on what had happened to feel anything other than the most annoyingly straightforward teenage angst. No use wasting all her good zingers on him now; she'd just have to wait for after he got over it.

Others milled about around them, some of them Rangers, some random bureaucrats, even a few Greenkin here and there. The one thing they had in common was that none had been allowed into the meeting room, which had been reserved only for Captains and other high-level figures. As it was, they were all practically strangers. At least, most of them were.

"Hey, Mal! Zelda!"

They turned and saw, of all people, Clover Fall, hand waving high overhead and face beaming as she made her way towards them. It had been around a week since either of them had seen the girl, which was strange seeing as she was the Eco-Scout assigned to their Outpost, but then again these were strange times.

Stranger still was her blazer and her dress pants, possibly the most formal clothes they'd ever seen Clover wear. The only thing she liked more than learning about the outdoors was being in the outdoors, and now her rustic wildness, like her normally free-flowing hair, seemed awkwardly constrained, tied up in a tight bun that threatened to break apart at any second.

"Hey," Malcolm said, and wasn't able to get another word out before the older girl wrapped him up in a muffling hug.

"I knew I recognized you guys!" Clover said, letting him go and pulling Zelda into the same embrace.

The other girl rolled her eyes and gave Clover a couple of dutiful pats on the back "What are you doing here?"

"Duh, I came for the meeting." Clover stepped back, looking at them with arms akimbo and an ear-splitting grin. Even Malcolm felt his spirits rise at that; though it had only been a week, he'd missed her tenderness. "Well, my mom came for the meeting. I just sorta tagged along."

"I guess I should've expected her to be here," Malcolm said. This assembly had been called because of what had happened at the World Tree, so it only made sense to have the one ELD councilmember left take part. "How's it been with you guys, then? Things still a mess over at the World Tree?"

Clover's smile thinned. "It's better. But yeah, pretty much a mess. We're making a lot of progress though—"

"Sorry," Zelda said, hand held up. Then, one brow raised, she pointed. "Who's this guy?"

Malcolm blinked and glancing sideways saw that, yes, there was just some guy standing awkwardly over Clover's shoulder. He stuck out like a sore thumb with his navy suit and bulbous pompadour, and though the sun had gone down some hours before he wore deep black sunglasses like some sort of secret agent. Malcolm had just thought him another of the several strangers around them, but now that he'd been addressed the man set himself fully at attention.

"Linker," the man said, holding his hand out. "Eric Linker."

Malcolm shook his hand, finding it solid enough, though still something about the guy just seemed... off. He watched Linker nod his way before holding his hand out again toward Zelda.

The blonde looked down at the hand, unimpressed, her own arms crossing decidedly. "Your fly's down, creep."

Linker yelped, looking down at his pelvis and immediately going for the open zipper. He pulled it up, straightened, coughed into his hand, and the entire time retained a kind of intense frown, like every second took all his concentration. "I apologize. I'll be sure to add that to my morning routine."

Malcolm tried for a smile, then realized the man wasn't joking. He glanced at Clover, who'd stood through it all with a pinched look.

"Agent Linker's been helping out at the World Tree," she said. "He's an Enforcer. Nothing serious. Guess Director En just wanted one of his people around to keep him informed on how things are going."

An Enforcer? Looking the man over again, Malcolm tried spotting whatever it was he'd missed, and while he found the gold badge just fine he still found himself... disappointed. Enforcers were the cream of the crop, supposedly, but while this man clearly put on a good act it seemed somehow insubstantial, a marionette of competence.

"Nice to meet you," Malcolm said, because in the end he wasn't raised to be rude. Next to him, Zelda merely grunted, because apparently she certainly had. "So, I guess you being here means En called you back?"

"Director En," Linker said, stressing the word, "has placed his trust in Councilwoman Fall. And, of course, an Enforcer like myself can't stay on the sidelines forever. The Corps will need all hands on deck to deal with our Talisman problems."

"It's crazy to know Harmony and the rest were just the tip of the iceberg," Clover muttered, getting a nod from the others.

"En—" Malcolm glanced at Linker. "I mean, Director En's real worried about this Prometheus guy. But honestly, I don't get it. How is it that no one's ever made Talismans that dangerous before?"

"Hmph." Linker readjusted his sunglasses. "Prometheus isn't just making Dupes, he's modifying Peerless ones." Everyone just stared at him. After a few seconds, Linker coughed into his fist again. "Er, what?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Malcolm admitted.

"Same," Clover said.

Zelda shrugged, though it was hard to tell how much she was paying attention. "Some of that sounds familiar."

Talismans were rare enough that Malcolm had only ever seen Jason's sword and, more recently, Kitty's ring. He didn't really know much about them, and it wasn't like he could just google this kind of stuff or find some Wikipedia article on them. Clover and Zelda seemed to suffer from the same ignorance.

After a moment, Linker realized something that immediately made a smirk break through his self-imposed severity. That being, he was the only one there who knew what he was talking about. "It's just basic paranological terminology, but it appears you haven't gotten your hands on the Ranger's Handbook yet. It's a new release, so I suppose I understand, but you really should be more attentive to these things."

He was allowed to enjoy the advantage for another few seconds before Zelda froze him with a deadpan gaze of cold impatience. "Either explain it or buzz off."

"R-Right," Linker said, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "Yes, I suppose I can do you the favor. Erm." He coughed into his fist a third time, and by now Malcolm was starting to think the guy had a cold or something. "Artificers split Talismans into categories, you see. Genuine Talismans are true originals, ones found out in the world, whereas Duplicates are artificial Talismans Artificers create through their Art. The problem is, not all Genuine Talismans can be replicated."

He held his chin now, voice taking on a more thoughtful tone, almost falling into his own words. "RC Artificers have only been able to duplicate simple Talismans, ones with easily replicable effects. The Enforcement Bureau benefits from that. Our handcuffs, for example. Then there are Recurrent Talismans, ones that Artificers can't duplicate but have effects that have been found in other Genuine ones by coincidence. There are plenty of different myths with similar items, after all. Say, an invisibility ring."

Malcolm and Clover shared a look, but it was clear Linker didn't suspect he'd hit any kind of nerve there. Actually, he seemed pretty into this by now, enough that the rest felt a bit uncomfortable. It was one thing to ask a question and get an answer, but it was a whole other thing to ask a question and get a whole lecture.

"Then there are the Peerless Talismans," Linker went on. "Those can't be duplicated, and as far as anyone knows there aren't any other Talismans with the same effect. The real legendary stuff."

"Like the Crown of Thorns," Malcolm put in.

Linker snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "Ah, but see, there's the rub! The Crown that Harmony used was Genuine—it had to be, since as far as we know there's no way to duplicate it—but it was also modified."

En had said much the same when they'd talked at the World Tree, but only now did Malcolm understand the gravity of it. "That's not supposed to be possible, right?"

"Not at all," Linker said, nodding at him. "A new category. And this Prometheus isn't just messing with regular old Genuines or Dupes. He can apparently tinker with Peerless Talismans too, make them much more dangerous." His frown deepened. "Worst of all, he's unlicensed! A terrifying thought."

Malcolm hummed, yeah, it didn't sound great at all. Clover seemed to think the same, frowning down at the floor.

"The Genuines," she said. "How are those made, then? You said they're natural, but what does that actually mean?"

Linker frowned along with her, and watching him Malcolm realized the man had, perhaps unknowingly, dropped the awkward front of professional excellence he'd introduced himself with. Was he... enjoying this? Maybe he'd been a teacher before getting into the Ranger game?

"Talismans are objects that had someone's Spirit transferred onto them," he said. "That's how Artificers make Dupes. They study a Genuine and then... imbue their Spirit into something else in a way that makes it feel like the real thing. Genuines are the same, just with fewer steps. Someone pushes their Spirit into an object, makes it do the same things they can."

"I wouldn't know the first thing about doing something like that," Malcolm said.

"Neither would I, but you don't need to know. Some Artificers think it's automatic, you see. A sort of instinctive reaction."

Zelda raised a brow. "Reaction to what?"

Linker opened his mouth, hesitated, and when he next spoke the words came out with some discomfort. "Reaction to... well, to death, of course."

- - - — MKII — - - -

Kitty stared at Roman's golden ring, felt its cool touch at the tips of her fingers, focused, and there. Something pulled at her Spirit, an almost inviting nudge. Slowly, she slipped it on, feeling her skin tingle.

"It's a Talisman," she breathed out, her awe coming not only from the shock of it but also from what it immediately implied. There was only one way she knew that this could be a Talisman.

The others watched her carefully, and then, pushing her Spirit onto the ring, Kitty changed. Her hair lengthened, her eyes dipped and shifted into blue, her skin tanned to a deep brown, and soon enough the young lady who stood before the rest was a total stranger.

She heard a gasp or two, a sucking of breath from Baba, an amazed 'that's so sweet' from Red. Breathing deeply, Kitty took the ring off and felt her body immediately snap back, skin and hair and eyes returning to their original state in an instant.

Roman looked at her intently. "Like Scarlet," he whispered, almost to himself.

"Her Spirit is in this ring," Kitty said, her own voice just as low. She clutched it tight, feeling it, feeling her. "It lives on. She gave it to us with her last breath."

Standing, Roman held his hand out, a wordless demand. Kitty looked down at it, and for a moment she considered not giving him what he wanted. She imagined claiming the ring for herself, struggled with the temptation, not for power but for the feeling of that familiar Spirit, an ephemeral sense of presence that she'd only just come to accept she would never feel again.

When I had nothing, he gave me everything.

So Scarlet had said, and as those words crossed her mind Kitty finally relented, handing the ring over with a soft sigh. He had as much a claim to it as she did, even if he couldn't use it.

"This," Roman said, holding the ring up to his face. Like her, he examined it, tried to decipher it and whatever he saw there must've been good, because now he smiled. "With this, we have a chance. And as long as there's a chance, I have to keep trying. For Scarlet too, now."

Kitty nodded. "Good. Then... we keep going."

"Wait a minute," Stretch said, gesturing time out with his hands. "Hold on. Look, don't get me wrong, I'm just as mind blown as you right now, but let's try being realistic. You guys are still dealing with two world-class assassins, right?"

"Owl is my responsibility," Kitty said. "Whether I helped Roman or not, I was always going to face her again."

"Okay, but what about the other one?"

Red punched his palm. "You let me worry about that guy."

When Stretch turned to him, he saw the boy smiling. "No offense, man, but didn't you already get your ass kicked?"

"Yeah. But I'm a lot better on the rematch anyway." Now Red turned his grin on Stretch, and the older Ranger saw it wasn't the same smile he usually blared to the world. More compact, more determined, and it seemed more for himself than anyone else, as if it took some effort. "Plus, now that I know Scarlet's still fighting on, there's no way I can give up either."

"There's no plan," Stretch stressed. "From what you said, this sounded like a one-and-done sorta deal. What the heck are you guys gonna do now?"

Donny huffed, arms crossed. "Roman'll come up with something."

"Oh, well that's reassuring. Sure, lemme just take your word for it, random person I just met."

"The how is something we can figure out later," Kitty said. By now she'd slipped fully into work mode, whatever vulnerability had slipped through the cracks of Scarlet's death buried fully behind a stony, unreadable expression. "What we need to do now is find somewhere safe."

Stretch gave her a flat stare. "Is... my place not safe?"

Kitty shook her head, and immediately Stretch groaned, a hand coming to his face. "Owl and Hound know I'm alive, so they'll definitely look into where I've been the last few years. That'll take them to the Outpost, and from there it won't be hard guessing that I might look for help from the people under me."

Baba cursed, more frustrated than truly angry. "A search like that wouldn't take long. How good are these people?"

"The best."

"Tch. We'd better get a move on, then."

"Okay, yeah," Stretch said, "let's join up with the friggin' mob. No worries. Sounds like a good time."

Kitty gave him as close to an apologetic look as she could manage through the tightness in her eyes. "You don't have to join us. I'm sorry again, but you could stay at a hotel until this is all over. I'll even pay for it."

Stretch waved his arms in front of him. "No way am I letting you two go off on your own." With a deep breath, he forced himself to smile, though it came out a bit crooked. "I am still your senior, you know. This Owl might be your responsibility, but you are mine."

"So, where can we go?" Donny said, looking at Roman. "Maybe stay with someone else in the crew?"

The other man shook his head. "We'll have to reach out to everyone, but that wouldn't be any better than somewhere like this. If those two assassins know all of Kitty's connections, they'll also know all of ours." He scowled, thinking hard. "What we need is somewhere they couldn't possibly suspect. Somewhere not connected to anyone here."

"That doesn't even make any sense," Stretch muttered.

As everyone pondered it, Red happened to look down at his arm. His hand still hurt a bit, but past the dried blood he noticed strange markings, ones he almost didn't remember. They weren't as dark as before, but something written with a permanent marker could last quite a while.

"Oh," he said, suddenly remembering not just what the markings were but, in a flash of insight, who had made them. "Actually, I got an idea!"

Everyone looked at him with more than a little doubt. He smiled sheepishly back, holding his arm out and showing it to them. "It's a little out there, but I figure we're pretty desperate right now, right? Anyone mind letting me use your phone?"

- - - — MKII — - - -

Rebecca hadn't actually expected Red to call, especially when he'd kept saying he didn't even have a cell, so the fact that he'd done it anyway really said a lot about the impression she'd apparently made on him. Even better, he'd wanted to come over.

Sure, it was pretty late, and also a Sunday, but the boy's eccentricity had been what drew her to him in the first place. The upshot was it would give them some alone time.

That's what she thought, at least. Then the doorbell rang, and when Rebecca opened the door she saw Red had not only brought company, but a company that was decidedly not built to party.

The boy stood alone on her doorstep, fidgeting in place, and behind him was parked a car filled with people. Some lanky guy with a goatee and an old woman at the front in what looked like pajamas, plus two grown and suited men in the backseat, all of them looking decidedly sleepless. In the middle seat sat Kitty, the only other one Rebecca recognized, looking somehow far more intimidating than she had the Friday before.

Rebecca was about to say something along the lines of 'what the fuck' or 'get the hell out of my property' but before she could Red raised a hand wrapped up in bandages that fit the rest of his ripped-up and bloodied appearance.

"Okay, I know this is weird and you're probably freaking out," he said. "So I'm just gonna be upfront here. We're working with the mafia, and also need to hide from a couple assassins." Then, after a pause, he perked up. "Oh! And also, magic is real. Sorry, almost forgot about that. Mafia, assassins, and magic. Can we come in now?"

Blink, blink, blink. Red got increasingly uncomfortable with Rebecca just staring at him, so he looked back at the others for support, but just found each and every one facepalming in his direction.

"What?" he asked them. "You said to be honest! What'd I say?"