Undulating blue and red lights betrayed their approach before the police cars ever made that right-hand turn off Prowse Street. There were seven in total, along with a S.W.A.T team van. They approached down both sides of the cleared street, an imposing presence of law and order. Or, they would be, if the situation wasn't already under control.

From where she sat on the sidewalk, Ayda rolled her eyes. She saw scenes like this on a regular basis, the unnecessary displays of presence. Always the same thing with these people. Never mind the fact that her team already did all the work, as long as the police feel just a little more relevant. Pathetic, not just for the act itself, but because it actually worked.

When the police cars approached, they pulled into a rough perimeter on one side of the street. With a sigh, Ayda stood and approached, newly reformed and collapsed staff in one hand. In this form, it was barely over a foot long, though she could extend it at a moment's notice. Best seem as innocuous as possible if she wanted to get this over with sooner, rather than later.

Her teammates had left her long ago. Other teams had their own systems, of course, but hers patrolled in pairs on shifts which rotated every eight hours. Who partnered with whom changed bi-weekly. Their intelligence team—Birdseye, Crypto, and Top-Down—also rotated time slots. Her patrol with Flechette had been just about to end, so she'd sent him, along with Kindle, back to base. Besides, it was easier to face the cops alone. Less crosstalk.

The police officers filed out of their vehicles. Most moved to secure the perpetrators. Their motions were practiced and fluid. Some went about inspecting and transporting the petrified villains, while others trained guns on them on the off chance anything bad happened. Not that their weapons could do anything against the big green spotted one, but they didn't need to know that. Ayda noted that no on exited the S.W.A.T van.

Through all this commotion, Ayda focused in on one individual in particular, an older woman with just a touch of gray in her vibrant red hair bun. She carried herself with confidence while a determined fire burned behind brown eyes. The sight of her brought the tiniest of grins to Ayda's face. This would be easier than she thought.

"Captain Barnes," Ayda greeted when within speaking distance.

"Pulse," returned the officer. She held out her hand at a slight upward angle to compensate for their miniscule height difference. Ayda switched her weapon to her left and accepted the brief shake.

"It's good to see you here, Amanda," Ayda said, dropping her hand.

"I should be saying that to you, with all the work you saved us," Amanda said.

"Just doing my job." Ayda put the collapsed staff back in her right hand.

"Aren't we all?" Mused the Captain. "I trust they weren't too much trouble?" She looked to each group in turn; the monster, the pyrokinetic, and the gunmen.

"Not more than any other Neos, no." Ayda shook her head. "The fire guy was kind of an ass, though. Wouldn't mind getting a few extra licks in on him."

"Well, you're free to come back and interrogate him."

"I'll pass."

Amanda smirked. "Is there any property damage?"

"Uh… yeah." Ayda pointed to her right. "Sorry."

Amanda followed the direction, and the air around her stiffened at the sight of fallen bricks and dust which had once been part of a building. Ayda saw her shoulders fall just a bit, watched as the already stony expression her face hardened even further. The Captain, for her part, just sighed.

"I guess it could be worse." She tucked a loose piece of hair back into her bun. "Buildings in these parts usually have insurance, but anything it doesn't cover will have to come out of your bounty."

"I know," Ayda said. "I really am sorry. Flechette and I probably should've swapped opponents. It was a mistake on our part."

"No excuses, Pulse," Amanda ordered. "Besides, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Of course. We'll be more careful next time."

"I honestly don't care what you do, as long as you stop the supervillains. It's just the bureaucrats that don't agree."

"Tell me about it." Ayda rolled her eyes for the second time that day.

"You said Flechette was here?" Amanda changed the subject.

"Yeah. Kindle was, too, but I had them leave before you got here."

"That's fine." Amanda nodded. "Can you collect statements from them for me?"

"Sure. I'll text them right now, and have Birdcage send the statements your way." Ayda immediately made good on her promise, extracting her phone to message their text group.

"Thank you," Amanda said. "Is there anything else I need to know."

"Um…" Ayda pocketed her device. "Not that I can think of. No one got hurt, or anything like that. It was pretty tame."

"Especially by your standards," quipped the Captain. "If there's nothing else, then you're free to go. My men can clean things up, here."

"Alright," Ayda said. "Thanks, Captain. We'll be in touch."

"You'd better," Amanda said with smile as Ayda walked past her.

Though Ayda had taken her vehicle off the street, that didn't stop the police from parking closer to it than she would've liked. They weren't quite arranged around it, but close enough. There'd be hell to pay if any one of them scratched her baby.

Ayda watched the police work as she approached her motorcycle. It took a team of seven grown men to lift the monstrous Neo and get him into the S.W.A.T van, which explained why it was there. They dropped him inside none too gently. One of his arms flopped out of the back. Ayda shook her head as two officers struggled to fold it up inside. He barely fit when the doors finally slammed.

"Hey, Birdseye," she said while she watched.

"What's up?" Birdseye responded through the device in her left ear, a thing little more than a wireless earbud.

"Is that NAAME agent still hanging around the bank?"

"Um..." Birdseye trailed off. "No, not that I can see. Do you want me to find him?"

Ayda shook her head. "No, that's fine. I was just curious. I'm heading back."

"Drive safe."

Time to be gone, then. Ayda mounted her beast, revved it to life with a smooth button push, and pulled away from the scene. Driving away from the makeshift roadblock put her in mostly the wrong direction, but going around was easier. Besides, she could afford to take the scenic route.

Despite all the time that passed after the death of Tahoe, it still was somewhat jarring to do business in someplace other than the rundown industrial district. The tall buildings and clean streets of her current surroundings were certainly a dramatic change in scenery. This was the financial heart, the place set up for both white collar businessmen and tourists. Most people visiting El Puerto never saw anything outside of this admittedly large section, and the locals rarely talked about anywhere else. In that way, Ayda was glad for her line of work. She saw and interacted with a much wider breadth of people than mostly anyone else in the city.

Eventually, after several minutes of travel, Ayda reached her destination. It was a large building, wider than it was tall, but still stretched upward for five stories. The campus around it was rather calm, all things considered. There weren't many cars roaming around, coming and going. Most people who traveled outside did so by foot. They all looked professional and important, a stark contrast to Ayda's leather jacket and sporty motorcycle. For what felt like the millionth time, Ayda reveled in the dichotomy as she pulled into the parking lot. She reflexively read the sign on the way in: El Puerto Police Department Headquarters.

Ayda made her way through the lot, a space mostly reserved for visitors, and into the parking structure at its far end. A soft decline led into the first floor. Inside were mostly police vehicles lavished in classic black and white. There were also a few undercover cruisers and even a jet black interceptor variant.

Ayda remained completely impassive to all of this as she turned a sharp right the moment her bike met flat ground. Ahead of her now was a vacant section cordoned off by a black and yellow striped rectangle painted on the concrete. Someone could easily park two cars within it. She drove inside and rode right up to the wall. A few inches away, she stopped and dismounted.

From this distance, she could finally see the only other thing of note over on this side of the garage, other than the reserved spot itself; a keypad, set into the structure and painted to blend in. So complete was the camouflage, she'd walked right by it on several occasions. Now, however, she stepped up to the device. Ayda pulled out her phone.

The first step was inputting a twenty digit code, which she copied from her phone. The keypad contained no screen and made little noise when a button was pressed, so the only indication she'd been successful was when a little panel at the bottom slid away. Ayda pressed her thumb against the revealed black glass. After a few seconds, instead of a beep from the pad, her phone vibrated. She took her thumb away, and the sensor was hidden. The third and final step was to enter a different twenty characters. After all of that, her phone vibrated again. Ayda swiftly returned to her motorcycle.

As she did, a great cacophony of machine whirs and clicks sprang to life from within the wall. There was a slight delay before anything else happened. In the right hand corner, the concrete parted. The wall pulled away, sliding into itself. Slowly, an area behind the wall was revealed. Ayda drummed fingers on her throttle while she waited.

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Several seconds later, the process completed. For all the fanfare of this transformation, the unveiled area was rather lackluster. It appeared to be little more than a service elevator, just wide enough to park a pair of sport utility vehicles in. Ayda rolled her bike gently forward and onto the elevator platform. Once beyond the entrance, she performed a two-point turn so her bike faced back into the garage. When that was all settled, she tapped on her phone. The wall behind her slid back closed, leaving only a few caution lights on the elevator for illumination. Another tap on her phone, and the platform began its slow descent.

It moved at just about the same speed as any other elevator, which was impressive considering the size of it. The trip down was relatively short, only a few stories, but just long enough for Ayda to become impatient. When it finally hit the bottom, she was all too eager to be done with it.

Here within the bowels beneath the police headquarters, it was like another world. The walls were covered in reinforced concrete, not unlike a massive bomb shelter. Ayda drove forward and immediately found herself in a tiny parking lot. Along with Flechette's black chopper, there was a beat-up old white sedan and a couple dark painted police vehicles. There were enough spaces for a few more vehicles, but most were empty. Ayda claimed the space next to the aged car, switched off her bike, and dismounted.

Departed from her vehicle, Ayda strode toward a structure at the other end of the lot. Perfectly square, it looked like a huge, solid cement block, entirely windowless, marred only by a plain steel door. At two stories in height, it almost scraped the ceiling. There was enough room in the cavern itself to walk the circumference of this bunker.

Ayda walked up to the door. There was another keypad to its right. She punched a code into this one as well, but the sequence was much shorter this time around. Only four quick strokes, and a loud, low click sounded from the door. With both hands flat on the smooth surface, Ayda pushed it open and strode inside.

The entryway was a short, narrow hallway, illuminated by a single light and completely featureless except for a row of pegs to her right. Kindle's trench coat hung on one peg between Flechette's gray hoodie and a navy windbreaker.

Ayda stripped out of her cropped leather jacket. The black tank top beneath revealed the few scars on her arms including the old impalement wound on her left shoulder, along with a faded line between what modest cleavage the garment showed. She had fifteen scars in total on her arms, front, and back, but most were covered by the tanktop. She put her jacket next to the hoodie.

A door on the opposite end of the entryway opened up into the left hand corner of a wide open living room. Grey carpet smooshed underneath her boots. Doors lined the wall to her right. Eventually the room gave way to a corridor, which stretched for a few feet. A staircase both up and down at the end of it.

Brightly lit, the living room itself looked mostly like any other. A blocky, black leather sofa flanked by two matching chairs lay behind a glass coffee table in the middle of the floor. On the wall to Ayda's right hung a big flatscreen television, an entertainment system cluttered with various electronics below it. There was a bar with four empty stools on the far wall opposite her, which gave sight into the narrow kitchen, the door to which was left open.

Flechette and Kindle were both in the room. Flechette sat in the leftmost chair, combat boots propped up on the coffee table, his favorite cheap beer in one hand. Kindle sat on the couch cushion farthest away from him, still in costume but now sleeveless without her coat. Thirty-two years of age with sharp symmetrical features, a pointed chin, and brilliant blue eyes, she was a woman of intimidating beauty, complimented by the glorious long-haired white cat lounging on her lap.

"Hey, guys," Ayda said, walking into the room.

"Welcome back," Kindle returned.

"Took you long enough," Flechette scoffed over a sip from his bottle.

"Sorry for doing my job, Frank." Ayda strode just past him and stopped.

"Hey, don't look at me." He said. "You're the one who told us to wait here." Another sip.

Ayda just rolled her eyes at him. She looked around briefly.

"Where's Birdseye," she asked.

"I'll give you three guesses," replied Kindle.

"I'll go get him," Ayda said with a sigh. She took off down the hall. Her destination was the last door on the left, the final of three. It hung open. She turned into it and leaned on the jam.

The display inside was rather impressive. A man with short dark hair sat in front of an array of a dozen monitors, all displaying a different part of the city. They flickered and changed periodically to different scenes. The man typed on a keyboard in front of him and one view of an airport zoomed in slightly. It was a highly technical and complex array. The only out of place objects were the six action figures on the corner of his desk, one each for the members of the team, all done up in various action poses. Ayda spared a quick glance for her own. It still bothered her how the purple outline on the toy's staff was a tad too light.

"Hey," Ayda said from her spot in the door. The man craned his neck around too peer at her.

"Hey," he returned before going right back to his monitors.

Ayda entered the room. She walked up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, peering over his head at the various surveillance windows.

"Whatcha looking at?" She feigned ignorance.

"I'm just overseeing the prisoner transfer." He gestured toward the airport monitor. Ayda watched along, but there didn't seem to be much activity. All she could see was the rear of a large cargo plane.

"How's it going?"

"Well enough," Birdseye said. "They were loaded onto the transport just fine. They're just getting ready to take off, now."

"Good. That means your job is done." Before he could have a moment to protest, Ayda pulled his rolling chair away from the desk.

"Hey, Ayda!" The man leaned forward and grasped with his hands, but was too late to take hold of anything. "I wasn't done."

"Come on, Elliot," implored Ayda. "If something goes wrong, we'll know the moment it does, and it's not like we can do anything once they're in the air, anyway."

"But I need to make sure everything's okay," Elliot argued.

"They're on the plane, and they're in stasis. Unless the plane crashes, everything will be fine."

"Okay, but if the plane crashes, that's also our problem."

"El, we've been over this. I know all this stuff is really cool, but you can't live your whole life in front of them. There has to be some balance."

"No, you're right." Elliot deflated a little beneath her hands. "Sorry. I guess I'm still not used to having access to so much information all at once I mean, look at all these monitors."

"You don't have to apologize. Just come take a break with the rest of us."

"Okay, sure. That sounds good." Elliot got up and followed Ayda out of the room, leaving the chair pulled out.

"He lives!" Quipped Frank as Elliot entered the living room.

"Yeah, yeah." Elliot literally waved him off.

He sat down on the middle couch cushion next to Kindle. Their eyes met briefly in acknowledgment. Ayda sat on the arm of the couch next to her blonde teammate.

"Hey, Snowball," she cooed, petting the cat on Kindle's lap. Snowball leaned into her touch, a soft purr in his throat.

"Anything we should know," asked Kindle.

"Not really." Elliot shook his head. "The prisoner transfer went off without a hitch, but things are pretty quiet, otherwise."

"How'd they handle the big guy," Frank chimed in.

"That was actually kinda funny." Elliot smiled. "They started trying to lift him with, like, eight guys, but they eventually gave up and used a forklift."

"Amateurs," scoffed Frank.

"At least we didn't have to help with that part," Ayda said.

"Not that we could've anyway," added Kindle.

There came a slight lull in the conversation, which Ayda used as another excuse to pet Snowball. She knew bothering him too much would cause him to go elsewhere, which wasn't fair to his owner, but she just couldn't resist paying attention to that cute little ball of fluff.

After a few minutes, Frank got up and went into the kitchen. Ayda mostly ignored him, but still heard him wash out his bottle in the sink.

"Do you guys mind if I turn on the T.V.," asked Elliot.

"No," replied Ayda simply. Kindle said nothing.

Elliot grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched on the television. It showed a news broadcast of a rather familiar scene. Ayda and Frank could be clearly seen from an overhead view engaging the super criminals from earlier. Both featured fighters groaned, Frank as he returned from the kitchen.

"Anything else, please," Ayda requested.

Elliot hastily turned the channel. After a few flips, he settled on a gameshow where families competed to answer survey questions. The host walked in front of an African-American family to stop at a man Ayda's age near the end.

"Anthony, name something you'd normally find in a glove box," broached the host.

"Tissues," Ayda called out at the T.V.

"A gun," Frank gave a much better answer as he sat back down.

"Why does no one ever put gloves in a glove box?" Kindle asked of no one in particular.

"Napkins!" The overly enthusiastic contestant shouted.

"Show me napkins!" The host turned and pointed at the score board, six of eight numbered tiles. The last one rotated to reveal the word napkins, worth 10 points. The family celebrated their correct answer.

"I was close." Ayda accepted her victory. Though, Frank was also correct since someone had already guessed firearm.

"I'm surprised no one has said insurace card, yet," Kindle said. "That's the only thing I have in my glove box."

"You also haven't had that car very long," Elliot countered. "Give it time and it'll be full of crap."

"No, it won't, because I'm the organized one," Kindle said.

"I can think of at least one person who would disagree," observed Ayda.

"Is that one person you?" Frank said.

"No," Ayda chuckled. "Have you seen my saddlebags? It's like a rat's nest in there."

"That's putting it lightly," Elliot joked. "One day you're gonna find an actual rat in that mess."

"And when I do, I'll name him Rats Domino."

"I'm surprised you even know who that is," said Frank.

"Yeah, well, you can blame Bernard for my knowledge of lame old music."

The conversation probably could've carried on, but it was cut off by the opening of a door within the bunker. The one to the left of the entrance Ayda used swung open. In through it walked a young man with tanned White skin and gentle features. Chestnut hair clung in curls tight to his scalp. He had the build of a Spartan, tall and buff. A plain brown t-shirt and blue jeans concealed his considerable muscle mass. The strap of a green backpack hung off one shoulder.

"Hey, Cooper," Ayda greeted him as he entered the space.

"Lookie what I got~," he sang, brandishing a fistful of envelopes on his way over to them.

"Is that the drug bust from a couple weeks ago," inquired Kindle.

"No. This," Cooper flicked the envelopes, "is Bleeder."

"Wait, seriously?" Ayda said.

"How long as it been? Eight months?" Kindle wondered aloud as Cooper entered the room.

"Nine," corrected Frank. He accepted an envelope from Cooper.

"Did they say what took them so long," Elliot asked as he took his own package.

"Of course not," Cooper denied.

"That's what I thought."

Cooper handed Kindle and Ayda their prizes before standing next to the latter to deal with his own. Ayda tore into her envelope, which was addressed to her real name. Inside were two piece of paper. The first was a deposit slip. The other was the same letter which always accompanied these things, a missive signed by the Mayor's office thanking them for their service and offering payment in accordance with the Bounty Accord established in 2015. Ayda was about to check the amount of her reward when Frank interrupted.

"Two-thousand? That's it?"

"Well, yeah," Elliot said. "He's scary, but Bleeder isn't a pretty weak Neo."

"Pretty weak my ass! I almost died in that fight."

"That's only because you volunteered to be the bait, since 'he can't really hurt me.'" Cooper did a scarily accurate impression of Frank's gruff delivery.

"Give Frank some credit," Elliot interjected. "Bleeder had a hard time getting past his armor."

"Not hard enough," Frank countered. "I still bled from my eyes. That shit sucks."

"That's probably why they paid as much as they did," Kindle said in a much gentler tone. "Usually level threes aren't worth this much."

Frank sighed. "I guess I should be glad they pay us at all." He sank a little in his chair and put the check on the left arm.

Seemingly unfazed, Cooper placed his open envelope, along with two others yet untouched, on the coffee table. They read Rhiannon Lord and Dominick Albrecht, respectively. Cooper slid the backpack from his shoulders to instead grasp it in one hand at his side.

"Hey, Anna," he began tentatively. "Would you mind helping me with my math homework before we go on patrol, please?"

"Of course," Kindle replied with a smile. She removed Snowball from her lap and placed him on Ayda's. The cat looked confused for a moment, but laid down to settle upon his new bed. Ayda gave his back a good scratch.

"Thanks," Cooper said. He walked with Anna over to the bar.

"You're welcome. How did you do on that World Studies test today?"

"Alright, I think. It wasn't too difficult."

"Let's hope that's because you actually knew the material, and didn't just think you did" Anna pulled out a stool. She sat at mostly the same time as Cooper.

Ayda watched them for a moment before returning her attentions to the gameshow, which had progressed to the next round. A different family had control. Elliot and Frank watched along with her. With everyone occupied with their own tasks, some more involved than others, Ayda let a prevailing sense of calm wash over her. She could think of much worse ways to spend an afternoon than watching stupid television with her friends, especially after a good day's work.