A back alley in upstate New Jersey is hardly the place you’d expect to see a late model recreational vehicle but there it sat, a slender man in red goggles with a blond man-bun at the wheel, head on a swivel. At least, Harvey mused, he’d never lose track of his partner. He slid under the RV, came up through the specially designed trapdoor in its underbelly. Too eager by half, his long black trenchcoat, another layer of armor, rustled audibly as he moved, startling his partner. Harvey liked the idea of being subtle, mysterious and intimidating but he usually just came off as a hothead with anger issues. Standing up in the trapdoor, feet on the pavement, hood covering his helmet and the reinforced knuckles of his tactical gloves pressed into the floor he addressing Carroll Avery, his partner, brusquely. “I got a lead, c’mon”. He immediately dropped down, closing the trapdoor again, and came around the driver’s side to wait on Carroll to follow.

“Why’d you…” and he trailed off. It was pointless to ask why Harvey did what he did. His idea of horseplay, probably. The trap door was supposed to be for use over vertical entrances to places like the sewer. A great infiltration tool but only if the person using it couldn't be seen approaching the RV. Harvey had used it just to, basically, say hello when all he had to do was wave Carroll on towards him from the outside. For that matter Carroll had an earpiece connected to the comms in Harvey's helmet! Looking down, head more than seven feet up in the driver’s seat, Carroll smiled and rolled his eyes; from above Harvey looked ridiculous. Small. He opened the door, stepping out. “Okay. That’s what you said you were here for, you had a lead, then you went to follow up on it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What? What’s the lead, Harv? What are we doing here, man?”

“You gotta come hear for yourself.” Harvey's voice was tinny because he was speaking into a microphone and through speakers in the filters of his mask. At first this was novel but, after months of working together, it was increasingly annoying to listen to.

“For f—, okay? I thought I was too conspicuous. Y’know, ‘red, blue and yellow’? Ring a bell?”

“Well, I cased the area, confirming my informant is alone. Squatters are keeping clear of this part of town on account of the situation.”

“And what’s the situation?”

“You have to come see!” Harvey hissed, his patience running thin.

“Mother of God … fine, Harvey, I’m getting out.”

Stepping down from the massive vehicle, Carroll threw an arm back, swinging the door shut and tapping a button on the key to lock it. His blue and red jumpsuit made him look like he should be leading a parade but it played into his gimmick; the Mandusa. People liked to laugh, call him by other, cruder names but he had power, real power, made obvious as his hair unfurled slowly on its own, cascading around him then writhing like a nest of vipers. Shorter, stouter, Harvey surged forward, leading the way. In no mood to run, Carroll instead wrapped his midsection in hair to better bear his weight, planted his hair like a quartet of tenticular legs, crossed his arms, crossed his legs and fairly floated along as the hair walked. “How far, Harv? You were so paranoid of people spotting us and now you’ve got us hightailing it in downtown Asbury Park.”

“Told you before we got here; got an exodus of meth heads, squatters, homeless, you name it. Now I know why.”

“Wish I did. How does, like, four city blocks get cleared out without anybody noticing anyway?”

“Anybody else, you mean. And it’s more than four. C’mon, in here, got my informant sittin’, waitin’ for us.”

“Cool, that’s great, you had me thinking you did som—dammit, Harv—man, are you serious!?” Avery spluttered, nearly revealing his partner’s name, shocked at what he saw.

Glad his face was hidden Harvey smiled; Carroll would have to get used to this, the dirty side of their profession. The altered human’s body language was clear, though he kept silent; he was cursing inwardly, angry. When Harvey swung wide the door to the run-down shed, an add-on building to an equally run-down brownstone, he revealed within he revealed a dark-skinned man of Latin descent chained to an antique claw-foot bathtub. He’d lived a hard life that Harvey was making harder; baked in the sun and covered in tattoos, now with his face swelling, blood splattered everywhere. It was clear that Harvey had taken his typical liberties yet again.

“I got the information. Now, tell him what you told me, cholo.

“Fuck you, man.” Hissed the ‘cholo’, oddly confident given the blood loss.

“Dammit, damn, Bouncer that’s racist—gah!” Harvey recoiled from the man's swollen, blackened, bloody face.

Clicking, to no effect, the .50-cal pistol aimed right at Carroll’s head fell just as quick as individual hairs lashed out, striking nerves in the bloodied man’s wrist, a trick Carroll used frequently to disarm gunmen in the field. Dashing in, his chuckling hissing through the speaker system of his helmet, Harvey landed half a dozen undefended blows with his rock-hard, reinforced fists before Carroll pulled him back. “Lighten up, Mandusa! Ha-ha!” he cackled, pleased at getting a rise out of his partner.

“Excuse us!” Carroll barked at the gunman, pulling Harvey behind him as both men went back outside.

Outside, shoving Harvey against the wall of the brownstone, Carroll hissed “what the fuck was that!?”

“I was just letting him think he had an advantage! It’s a tactic to get in his head!” Said Harvey, extending both hands, a clip in his left hand, the round from the chamber in his right.

“No, no I told you about this. We have to be better! You don’t get into the Nine by beating the shit out of street-level perps every day. And giving him his gun back!?”

“His unloaded gun. And I didn’t just give it to him, I 'dropped' it inches outside his reach in a room full of tools. He’s a killer, Care, buddy, you need to get that through your head if we’re gonna make a go of this.” The nickname, ‘Care’, because Carroll actually gave a damn. It was both a term of endearment and a jab at his outlook.

“Oh, I’m the one who’s in doubt now? You don’t even have powers.” Another jab. They did this frequently.

“Don’t go there, man, I’m the one with drive, killer instinct and knowhow. If it was up to you nobody’d ever get punched.”

Carroll stifled a laugh. “Oh no, if nobody gets punched it'll be mass chaos! Please. You’re out of control.”

“Hey. Show some gratitude." Harvey's voice got low and serious. This part he only wanted Carroll to hear. "Without me there'd be no mobile command center. You’d just be another SJW talking homeless vets through their PTSD down at the shelter.”

That one hurt more than it should. Not because it was any real condemnation but because Harvey thought it was, that Carroll’s morality was somehow a drawback, and it stuck in his craw. "You're the one picking a fight, getting personal. I was helping people when you found me, dammit. Now ... I'm just an accomplice."

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Harvey flinched then turned away, looking up the alley. No retort. Accomplice. He'd been called a criminal and wasn't handling it well.

Carroll didn't enjoy this but Harvey's desperation for revenge on the world was dangerous; he was sure of it. “Look, let’s just get this over with, okay? Before you kill this guy, just keep that in mind, okay?”

“I'm not a killer” he hissed, fists clenched.

"Damned close."

"Whatever."

“Not ‘whatever’, rich-man’s-son, now get back in there before he gets away. And don’t just beat his ass for fun.” He hissed again, looking for eye contact with Harvey’s reflective lenses; they were implacable, but Harvey broke away first, confirming eye contact. This, hopefully, presumably, finally, meant he was taking his partner seriously.

Back inside, jamming a large drill bit into a link of rusty chain, Bouncer’s prisoner jumped at their return, feebly pointing the bit at his attacker. “No! No more! I did what you said!”

“Then you tried to shoot us.” Harvey growled, meeting aggression with aggression. At the sight of the drill bit surging forward before being held back by the supernatural locks of Mandusa.

This inspired further fear in his quarry. “You did that! You left it on the floor so I’d try! You’re sick!”

Seeming to deflate, Bouncer fell silent, perhaps becoming Harvey again in his mind. Carroll hoped that he was questioning himself and his actions. Even the supposed criminal he'd abused knew himself to be the victim in this situation of a wannabe "hero". Letting those last words hang in the air for a moment Carroll realized Harvey had lost focus, elbowing him in his armored shoulder to spur him on. Finding himself, crossing his arms, Harvey was Bouncer again. “Tell him what you told me.” He demanded, nodding in his partner’s direction.

“C’mon, man,” sobbed the alleged criminal, real tears merging with those tattooed on his cheeks, “you already got what you want! Just … let me go, or, or get the NJPD. I don’t care anymore!”

“Say it!” shouted Harvey, his voice reverberating metallically, a reminder of just how much gear the man encased himself in. It was a power play, make the perp jump, just because he could. Luckily that was as far as he went this time.

“Okay! Okay … it’s the BOGeyman, see? He’s receiving the weapons along with his boys, right? The ones he really trusts. I was gonna be held back in this, like, secondary force, in case things went south, y’know? It’s the old Wildcorp warehouse! Just … c’mon!”

“Okay,” said Carroll, shouldering past his partner and towards their prisoner who cringed at his approach. “You need to get out of here. Now.” He said, a tentacle of hair reaching out and snapping a rusty link in the chain with minimal effort. In a near panic, the prisoner put his back against the wall, rubbing his wrists.

“What are you doing!?” demanded Harvey. “This son of a bitch is going to jail!”

“No, he’s not.” Said Carroll, matching the bile in Harvey’s voice. “His crew will know the jig is up if this one winds up in custody. Now, you, you need to get out of town. Got me?”

“Y-yeah, amigo! Yeah, you’ll never even know I was here!”

“He’s part of a criminal conspiracy, Mandusa. Think about what you’re doing.”

“I am. Hey, friend … what’s your name?”

“It’s Enrique.” Said Bouncer.

“Not. You. Him.”

“Si, Enrique. Uh, my friends call me Ricky.”

“Okay, Ricky, you get why you have to leave, right?” asked Carroll, looking the confused man in the eyes. “My partner wants to kill you. You get that, right?”

Eyes widening, Ricky looked back and forth between the two partners, near panic. “Si! Yes! I, please, I have to go, I, I’ll go to Greenwich! I have family! A, a restaurant! I’ll go legit! Please!”

“Good, good, tell no one where you’re going, why you’re going or even that you’re going. You’re a ghost, got it?”

Nodding feverishly, Ricky scrambled to his feet, a little unsteady from the abuse he’d suffered, but not seriously injured. Carroll imagined he could hear Harvey’s teeth grind beneath that dark helmet. The pair exited the shed, watching the poor, abused lifelong criminal make his way out and away, out of the slums, probably to a subway station. A moment later, it was Harvey who broke the silence first, asking “You know I wasn’t going to kill him, right?”

“I know you didn’t plan to kill him.” Carroll had started to walk, Harvey just behind him, hands thrust, gaze downcast.

“It’s one thing to question my methods but I’m not a murderer.” Harvey whispered. Pausing, he opened his helmet, face riven with stress, veins raised and bulging. "But do you know what those tattoos on his face meant?"

Past exasperation, Carroll looked at his partner, wishing he would cry and release all that rage before it killed him. "He lost someone to murder. A few, judging by how many he had."

"On the right side, yeah, but he had them on both sides. Left side marks him as murdering at least two people in jail, Carroll. Think on that."

"That's the cycle of violence, Harvey. The cycle I'm trying to break in you." Pausing, he rolled his eyes. “You kept the hand cannon.” It was a statement. The pistol, giant for what it was, hung heavy in the lining of Harvey’s coat. It was reinforced, thick, but couldn’t hide 5 pounds of steel.

“Yeah. Yes. Of course I did. I guarantee the serial number’s been filed off this thing and it’s got power enough to kill a rhino.”

“True.”

“I’m not just letting some petty thug keep it. You want to talk about super powers, what level do you think a .50 cal pistol is equivalent to? Gamma? Delta? I guarantee you you’d be more likely to survive a punch from a Gamma strongman than a round from this pistol.”

“Fine, Harv. It’s fine. This turned out just fine. We just have things we need to work on, okay?” He started moving back towards the RV, starting to grind his own teeth at Harvey's behavior. The longer he went without a real challenge, it seemed, the worse he got. Clearly, by now, Harvey felt the Bouncer would be a household name.

“There you go, sounding like a therapist again.”

“Well, helping people is my passion. Listening to the problems of others. If I were a normal guy, that’s all I’d do. All I was doing when you, well, almost killed one of my clients, actually”

The walk back to the RV was much slower, neither man wanted to fight any more and they couldn't be too cautious, even with Ricky's information. He was a tiny fish and couldn't know everything about the Bogeyman's operation or every move they made. Keeping their heads on swivels, they both kept as quiet as possible. “I don’t know, man. Seems to me like trying to talk people out of being unbalanced pieces of trash is a waste of time. Besides, once we get noticed, you won’t have time to sit around with the crazies. And you can forget about serving soup.”

Rolling his eyes, Carroll sighed. “Trust me, Harv, it’s good to talk about your issues. When you’re ready, I’m here.”

“What, me? C’mon, man, you know I got me a trust fund, investments for days, all the ladies I can eat if you know what I mean.”

“Rich. Man’s. Son.”

“The fuck—?”

“I know you’re a little dense, Harvey, but you should know I did some basic searches online before I just started running around with you. I know what happened. It’s fucked up and it’s not your fault.”

Sputtering, stopping in his tracks, Harvey slapped Carroll on the shoulder, pulling hard. “Hey! What the hell, man? You had no right!” he hissed.

Not resisting, Carroll spun around and took a single step back, making any attempt by Harvey to lash out less dangerous. He only half noticed as his mass of hair recoiled, shaking as if angry, all on its own. Lifting his goggles up to his forehead he once more quested for eye contact. It was easy this time. “Hey, for all I knew you were some kind of ax murderer. I was actually a little surprised that you gave me your real name. Almost as surprised as I was when you recognized me out of my uniform. You knew way too much about me to know nothing about you and, well, the first thing in the search was … when they died.”

Turning his head aside, Harvey quivered slightly, letting his weakness be seen for just a moment. “We got a job to do, Care. First thing we do, get the Mobile Command Center into a getaway position. Then we gotta stake out the Wildcorp building.”

“Yeah, Harv, I know, but when you’re ready … I’m here, okay?” Carroll clapped a hand on Harvey’s shoulder, rubbing the weird, composite material, vaguely aware that the man underneath the armor felt nothing.

Looking back up at his partner, Harvey cocked his head to one side, chuckling. “I’m a grown man, partner. C’mon, we got some thugs to bust up. Once they’re locked up I guarantee you we’ll have a police endorsement. After that… Now, what do we know about this Bogeyman?”

"Not much."

"Well let's find out. Oh, and by the way; cheap shot. I did not almost kill that bum." Brushing past Carroll, Harvey made for the RV.

Watching him go, Carroll shook his head, his hair compressing down to hide in an impossibly dense man bun. Presumably Harvey knew what time it was going down, no doubt after dark, and it was best if they rested up and did some preparations. "Uh, yeah ... you kinda did..." he said under his breath. Sliding into the RV himself, smiling wryly, shaking his head, Carroll finally let his partner's antics entertain him a little. This was going to be a tough fight. With luck, afterwards, Harvey would calm down and the pair could make some progress.