The vehicle's plate was pulled from a surveillance video. It was the work of minutes to trace those plates to a rental company in Miami, roughly three hours away. Dan wasn't willing to wait and, after a brief explanation, Hauss was perfectly happy to have someone meet Dan there. The detective's presence wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary for the questions that needed answering. Any mook in a uniform would serve the exact same function.

"You understand that you won't be acting with any official authority, don't you?" Hauss asked. "This isn't the eighteen hundreds. I can't deputize you. You have no official power, and the officer accompanying you can't claim otherwise. Until our warrant comes through, even my officer can't demand records. If they say no, you have to walk away."

"They won't say no," Dan said with more confidence than he felt.

"Not if they're asked in the right way," Hauss agreed. He rubbed at his chin. "I think I know just the man for the job."

That's how Dan found himself in the slightly crowded lobby of a Hertz rent-a-car, clutching a grainy photo of the SUV, and a printout of the license plate information. He quickly spotted an MPD officer loitering outside the doors, and flagged him down.

"I'm Daniel Newman," he explained to the man. "Did Detective Hauss brief you?"

"He did," the man nodded. He extended his hand, "García."

Dan took it, and took the man in.

He was Hispanic, and built like a brick shithouse. He looked like a shorter, squatter version of Gregoir. His hair was sheared close to his scalp and kept a trimmed mustache. His complexion was carved out of granite, hard lined and cracked. He had the face of a man with a very versatile scowl.

He was perfect.

The pair stood outside the Hertz, quickly covering the plan.

"You want me to do the talking?" Dan asked.

"I want you to do the lying," García replied. "I'll keep it to the facts. You'll elaborate if you think it's necessary, and I won't correct you."

"Sneaky," Dan observed. "This standard procedure?"

The officer walked past him to glance into the lobby, knocking a fist against Dan's shoulder in a friendly, if painful, gesture. "This ain't my first rodeo, kid." He glanced back to Dan, then at his clothing. "Hm. A bit disheveled, but we can play into that. You see the television?" He nodded at the corner of the broad lobby, where a large TV had been mounted to face the line.

Dan saw it. The screen was caught in a screensaver animation of the Hertz logo.

"I see them."

"See if you get someone to turn on the news. I'll go in once it's done."

Dan grasped the idea immediately. He reentered the building with a casual gait, glancing across the broad desk from behind which the rent-a-car clerks sat and did business. It stretched across the entire length of the lobby, one solid piece of marble, with a computer mounted every dozen or so feet. The roped-in line was nearly at the door and moving at a snail's pace, so Dan simply walked around it all. He earned a few dirty looks, but once it became apparent that he wasn't skipping, people began to ignore him.

Dan glanced at the busy clerks, then back to the television. He extended his veil, sweeping across the floor and over the counter. It raced along the marble surface, poking at every rectangular object it encountered. He struck gold in seconds, finding the outline of a television remote tucked away out of sight behind the desk. His veil opened wide, and the remote fell into Dan's hand.

Ever so casually, Dan woke up the television. He wasn't familiar with any Miami channels, but fortunately the TV had been left on a local news network. The screen lit up, immediately showing distant pictures of the explosion on the ocean highway. Next came the volume, and the lobby was instantly filled with loud, echoing speculation as the casters argued over means and motive.

García made his move, strolling into the lobby as nearly everyone present was distracted by the breaking news. He glided past the masses of people, Dan sliding into step beside him, and seemed to materialize at the front of the line. García wasn't a tall man, but he was broad and imposing, with a face that only a mother could love. Between his appearance and his uniform, nobody questioned him.

García paid the civilians no mind at all. He stared straight ahead, walking purposefully forward to the nearest clerk and planting himself in front of the desk. The customer whose position he'd usurped paled and backed away.

"I need to speak to your manager," García rumbled in a voice two octaves deeper and gruffer than the one he'd spoken with to Dan. The officer dropped his badge on the marble desk, the loud rattle of wobbling metal against stone silencing the lobby.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The clerk glanced from the badge, to García, to Dan, to the watching crowd, then back to the badge.

"Right away," he squeaked, as he leapt out of his seat and raced towards a nearby door.

Dan tried not to laugh at the man's obvious distress. It seemed inappropriate.

They didn't wait long. A large man entered the lobby, wearing a manager's nameplate. His face was red and he was sweating profusely, from either haste or discomfort.

"How can I help you, officer?" he stammered, his voice barely audible over the news report booming in the background.

"I require information about one of your clients," García stated simply. He motioned to Dan, who slapped down the license plate printout, followed by the photo.

García indicated the picture. "This was taken off a surveillance camera on the A1A approximately five minutes before... that." He nodded at the news report, where a still shot of the gargantuan fireball had been plastered across the screen.

The manager's eyes widened and he pulled at his collar. His eyes glanced at the crowd, some of which were visibly attempting to listen in.

"Should we, perhaps, take this to my office?" the man asked nervously.

"This is a time-sensitive matter," Dan said, stepping forward. He wasn't half as intimidating as García, so he stuck next to the officer as if to borrow his authority. "There is a possibility of another attack in the future, so this needs to be resolved as soon as possible."

The manager stared at Dan, aghast. He opened his mouth, glanced at García, then clicked it shut. "I-I'm not supposed to give out customer information without a warrant."

"Except in the case of villain involvement," Dan interrupted with a flagrant lie. "Which is very much the case, here."

It was a common misconception among the populace. The police had a huge amount of authority when investigating a villain, but that authority was specifically limited to the villain himself. They could not invade the rights of a third party, such as Hertz, even in the case of a villain attack. The distinction was so rare as to be effectively pointless, as a judge would nearly always sign a warrant for information in such a case. If Dan and García were turned down here, they'd simply have to return in an hour or two with said warrant.

But Dan was in a hurry, and every second mattered.

The manager swallowed heavily at Dan's statement. He glanced to García, the man with a badge, seeking confirmation.

"We would like your cooperation," Garcia stated blandly as he stared the man down. It wasn't an agreement, nor a denial, but the manager was in no mental shape to take notice.

The manager caved.

"Rumors will fly, you know," Dan stated, as the pair left the building with a pile of copied documents. "Someone in there is going to talk about what was said."

García shrugged. "There was never going to be any covering this up. Not with the state of things at the moment."

Dan joined the man in his squad car, leafing through the rental papers. The signature on the papers was quickly entered into the car's computer, and a full profile was produced.

"Donovan Drake," García read, as he scrolled through the man's profile. "I was expecting something more... more. The man doesn't have so much as a parking ticket." He pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

"It's García," he said after a moment. "We got it."

He listened to the reply.

"An address? Yeah. You want it?"

Another pause.

"With the kid? You sure?"

...

"Will do, boss. I'll keep you posted."

The phone clicked shut, and he turned to Dan.

"We're going," García said. "Hauss is still two hours out."

"Fine with me," Dan replied, "but is that legal?"

"We've got an eyeball wit' saying that the driver of this car was involved in a villain attack, and now we have his address. Villain protocols are in full effect. We can go in and do whatever we want."

"Better call backup," Dan commented. "Who knows what's waiting for us."

"Way ahead of you," Garcia said. "The cavalry is already on its way."

Nothing was waiting for them, as it turned out. Donovan Drake's house was a small, run-down affair in the poorer part of town. García and Dan were met by a handful of other MPD officers, who conducted the raid with grim effectiveness.

The house was effectively deserted. It was suspiciously vacant, and missing anything resembling inhabitance. Dan wandered through the ramshackle building, taking note of its spotless shine. Someone had quite thoroughly cleaned it, and recently at that. Not even dust remained.

"He knew it was a one way trip," García commented, kicking at a nearby couch. "He cleaned house beforehand, so we couldn't find anything useful."

The officers had torn the place apart searching for a secret room. They'd found nothing. Dan's veil, too, hadn't discovered much. Not even a secret underground lair, which at this point he'd almost expected. But if this was indeed a People hideout, then there was one last thing he needed to check.

"You know who I'm with, right?" Dan asked García.

The Hispanic officer regarded him with confusion. "Sure, I guess? Hauss said you were a specialist consultant working for that Summers' broad. Apparently she's got some kind of beef with the People?"

Dan winced at the thought of Anastasia peeling García like an onion for calling her a 'broad' but nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah. So I'm going to try something, but no questions, alright?"

"No questions?" García repeated, immediately disregarding Dan's request. "No questions about what?"

Dan ignored him, instead slipping his veil over his eyes like goggles. He stared through his door into t-space, and imagined looking through a peephole. The world around him vanished from sight, and he was greeted with a vast and empty darkness. Dan turned in a circle, moving slowly to keep his balance as his sight clashed with his senses. He stopped as he faced the back yard, his eyes landing on what he'd hoped to find.

A churning silver orb hovered in the Gap, waiting to be opened. The effect was a power of one of the People, a dimensional displacement that the organization used to keep their secrets. It was something that Dan had seen before, several times. Anastasia had used his power to crack them open, dragging their contents back into the real world, but Dan had a different idea now.

"I found something," he said mildly, shifting his veil away from one eye. He walked towards the back yard, García following bemusedly.

Dan came to a stop near the middle of the surprisingly large back yard. The orb hovered in his vision, overlaid between worlds. Dan raised his hand placing it on the shimmering surface, placing it on the open air. His veil bubbled off his skin and into the Gap, flowing across the orb's length and breadth. Something inside him clicked, a new understanding. It wasn't just storage. This power was something more, but Dan's previous invasions had been clumsy and blind. He knew now what this was.

Dan made a fist, gripping at a door handle only he could see. He turned it sideways, and pulled.

"Open up," he ordered, and the orb obeyed.