Night had fallen over Novaria's town square, but nobody was sleeping. Bright emergency lights cut through the darkness like artificial suns, making the destruction impossible to ignore. Broken concrete and scorched walls told the story of the battle that had raged here just hours before. The air still crackled with leftover energy, making everyone's hair stand slightly on end.

  Angelo stood at attention before Chief Ramirez, trying not to fidget as his boss's face grew redder by the second. Next to him, Jack shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. Around them, police officers worked to secure the unconscious Infernian terrorists, their boots crunching on scattered debris.

  "So let me make sure I understand this clearly," Chief Ramirez said, his voice low and dangerous. He jabbed a finger at Angelo's chest. "Not only did you jump into this fight while suspended, but you dragged a rookie officer into it too?"

  Angelo opened his mouth to explain, but Jack stepped forward first. His usually cheerful face was dead serious as he spoke up for his friend.

  "Chief, please," Jack said, spreading his hands. "If Angelo hadn't stepped in when he did, we'd be zipping up body bags right now instead of taking statements."

  Ramirez's glare could have melted steel. "That's not the point, Jack, and you know it." His mustache twitched with barely contained anger.

  The questioning seemed to last forever under those harsh floodlights. Angelo's feet ached from standing so long, but he didn't dare move. Finally, as the clock crept toward midnight – four hours past when they should have finished – Ramirez let out a heavy sigh.

  "Angelo," he growled, "take Bill home. Make sure the kid's okay after today's... excitement." His eyes narrowed. "And don't think for a second we're done talking about this."

  The streets had gone quiet now, though evidence of the battle lingered everywhere – a scorched wall here, a pile of broken concrete there. Angelo and Bill walked in silence, their footsteps echoing off the buildings. Bill kept sneaking glances at his mentor, trying to read the serious expression on Angelo's face, but thought better of saying anything.

  They'd walked more than halfway to Bill's house when Angelo finally broke the silence. He glanced at his young student, his usual tough-guy act softening just a bit.

  "How you holding up after all that, kiddo?" Angelo asked, noticing how Bill's hands were still shaking slightly. "First real fight's never easy."

  Bill took a deep breath, his shoulders tense under his wrinkled uniform. "I'm..." He swallowed hard, then squared his shoulders. "I'll manage. Got to be strong, right? That's what being an officer means." He lifted his chin, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Isn't that right, boss?"

  A swirl of blue smoke suddenly appeared beside them, taking the shape of another Angelo – though slightly grayer, like an old photograph. Bill barely flinched now, already getting used to Blue's appearances.

  "Strength isn't just about being tough," Blue said gently, his calm voice carrying quiet wisdom. "Sometimes it means admitting that what we saw today would shake anyone." He gave Bill a knowing look. "And you handled yourself remarkably well under incredible pressure."

  A small, grateful smile crossed Bill's face. Blue studied him for a moment, head tilted curiously.

  "Though I have to wonder," Blue said, "with how much you love Pro Aurons, why choose this path? Why not pursue that arena instead?"

  Inside their shared mind, Red's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Seriously, Blue? The kid almost got killed today, and you're asking about his career choices? Besides, look at him – he wouldn't last five minutes as a Pro."

  "That 'kid' saved our lives tonight," Angelo shot back mentally. "Show some respect."

  Bill's eyes went distant, like he was seeing something far away. A sad smile played on his lips. "The Pro scene..." He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "Sure, I've dreamed about it. Who hasn't?" His face grew serious, his voice filling with emotion. "But my father – he showed me what real heroism looks like. He was an Auron officer, and watching him..."

  Bill's eyes found Angelo's, shining with determination. "The way you moved tonight, how angry you got when those terrorists hurt innocent people – it was like seeing him again. That same burning need to protect others, to fight against evil..."

  Angelo looked away, uncomfortable with the raw emotion in Bill's voice. "There's more to tell about your father, isn't there?"

  A shadow fell over Bill's young face. "Three years ago," he said softly, each word heavy with grief. "He died protecting people. Mom – she begged me not to follow his path. But she understands why I have to. Why I need to finish what he started."

  A heavy silence fell over the group. Even Red's usual snark went quiet. Finally, Blue spoke up, his voice gentle as a summer breeze.

  "We know something about loss ourselves."

  Bill looked between them, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You mean, your—"

  "Save it," Angelo cut in, his voice rough like sandpaper. He walked faster, as if trying to outrun the conversation. "My situation's different. Can't miss what you never knew. Never even met them."

  They walked in thoughtful silence for a while before Bill spoke again, his voice soft but sure. "I had you all wrong, you know? The stories about the Angel of Death... they make you sound like some heartless killer. Someone who enjoys dealing out death. But that's not you at all, is it?"

  They approached a modest two-story house, and Angelo squinted at the nameplate, grateful for the change in topic. "Hold up – Dealer? Your last name is Dealer?"

  "Oh, that," Bill said, rubbing his neck with an embarrassed laugh. "Family legend says my great-great-grandfather was some legendary merchant. I guess you could say it's not that big of a..." he winced, "...deal."

  "Oh COME ON!" Red's indignant voice boomed in their shared mind. "That was MY line!"

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  Before they could reach the front steps, the door flew open with enough force to make the hinges scream. A woman burst out like she'd been shot from a cannon, her face a storm of fear and relief as she wrapped Bill in a crushing hug.

  "Oh thank goodness," she gasped, her voice thick with tears. "When I heard about the attack – when they said Auron officers were involved—"

  "Mom, please," Bill wheezed through the bear hug, his face turning slightly blue. "I'm okay. Really. Just need to... breathe..."

  "Say something sympathetic," Blue prompted in their shared mind. "Show some emotional intelligence for once."

  Fighting back a sigh, Angelo offered, "It's natural for her to worry, Bill. Tonight was... intense."

  Mrs. Dealer finally released her son, whirling on Angelo like an angry tiger. Her eyes blazed as she jabbed a finger at his chest. "You're the mentor?" she demanded, her voice sharp as broken glass. "The one who's supposed to be teaching my son?"

  Angelo straightened his back, keeping his voice steady. "Yes, ma'am. That would be me."

  "Then explain to me," she said, her voice rising with each word until it echoed off the houses, "just what possessed you to let my son participate in a battle with terrorists?"

  "Mom, wait—" Bill started, but she silenced him with a raised hand that could have stopped traffic.

  "Bill Dealer, don't you dare interrupt me!"

  Angelo took a deep breath, choosing his words as carefully as a bomb disposal expert. "Ma'am, I gave Bill clear orders to evacuate with the civilians. He chose to stay. Said he hadn't joined the program to hide when danger threatened the people he'd sworn to protect."

  Her face flushed red as a stoplight. "And you LISTENED to him? You're his superior officer! You're supposed to be the voice of authority, not enabling his – his reckless heroics!"

  Angelo met her gaze steadily. Something in his eyes – maybe an echo of the night's battles – made her angry words stumble to a stop. "You're absolutely right," he said, his voice calm but carrying a core of steel. "I am his superior officer. And I don't regret my decision for a single moment."

  "How dare you—" she began, but Angelo's next words fell like thunder in the quiet street.

  "Your son saved my life tonight."

  The words hung in the air like they'd been carved there. The distant sounds of the city seemed to fade away as mother and son absorbed the weight of that simple truth.

  Angelo turned to leave, but paused, his voice softening just a fraction. "You've raised a good kid, Mrs. Dealer. His heart's exactly where it needs to be."

  His orange aura blazed to life around him, lighting up the night like a personal sunrise. With a powerful leap that cracked the sidewalk, he took to the rooftops. Glowing energy ropes shot from his body like living smoke, helping him swing and slide from building to building until he vanished into the darkness, leaving mother and son to process this extraordinary day.

  Through their shared mind, Red's voice drifted up like a lazy cat: "Show-off."

  But even he couldn't quite hide the note of pride in his voice.

  The police station felt like a ghost town at midnight. Empty desks stretched into shadows, lit only by buzzing fluorescent lights that made everything look sickly and pale. Chief Ramirez's footsteps echoed through the silent halls as he headed for his office, each step heavy with the weight of decisions he didn't want to make.

  Officer Vivian jumped in her chair when he opened the door, papers sliding off her lap. "Sir?" Her voice wavered with surprise and worry. "I didn't expect anyone else to still be here."

  Ramirez looked as tired as Vivian had ever seen him. His usually crisp uniform was wrinkled, and dark circles hung under his eyes like bruises. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

  "Still at your desk, Vivian?" he asked, his normally booming voice gone soft and scratchy. "Seems I'm not the only one who can't sleep."

  "Are you alright?" Vivian stood up, really looking at him now. The chief seemed to have aged years in just one day. "You look..."

  He waved her concern away like swatting at a fly. "Just watching everything fall apart," he muttered, slumping against his desk like his legs couldn't quite hold him anymore.

  "The terrorist attack was horrible," Vivian said gently, but Ramirez shook his head.

  "And then Angelo shows up right in the middle of it..." He rubbed his eyes like they were burning. "As if we needed that headache on top of everything else."

  Understanding clicked in Vivian's eyes. "Exactly what you were trying to prevent by suspending him."

  A laugh like broken glass escaped Ramirez's throat. "Want to hear the really crazy part? He didn't kill them. Had every reason to, but he didn't." His smile turned bitter as old coffee. "And God help me, but I almost wish he had."

  Vivian's mouth fell open. "Sir?"

  "Think it through," Ramirez said, dragging a hand down his tired face. "Now he looks even better to the public. Makes it that much harder to get him to change his ways." He suddenly straightened up like someone had shocked him, his face going hard as stone. "But that's not why I came here. Get me the eastern district chief on the phone. Right now."

  "Yes sir!" Vivian hurried out, her quick footsteps fading down the empty hallway.

  A few minutes later, the phone rang. "Connecting you now, sir."

  "Well, well!" A woman's voice bubbled through the speaker, way too cheerful for this time of night. "If it isn't old Ramirez! What's got you burning the midnight oil?"

  Ramirez gripped the phone so hard his knuckles went white, forcing his voice to stay calm. "Chief Lyla, I need to make an emergency request. We need to raise Novaria's threat level. We need Evolved Aurons—"

  "Now that's funny," she cut in, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "I don't remember hearing about any super-powered bad guys in your city lately."

  "Chief, there's been—"

  "A terrorist attack?" She sounded like she was examining her nails. "Oh, I read all about it. Three regular troublemakers, taken down mostly by some teenager who isn't even officially ranked yet. Doesn't exactly scream 'emergency,' does it?"

  All the fight seemed to drain out of Ramirez like air from a balloon. "The report's accurate, yes. And I know this isn't how things usually work. But if we don't do something now..." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I'm afraid something terrible is coming."

  "Oh please," Lyla actually giggled. "You're talking like Novaria's about to become the next Outlaw's Oasis."

  "The next... what?"

  "Outlaw's Oasis – that's what everyone's calling Geovale's Rest these days. Try to keep up, old timer." Her voice suddenly got sharp as a knife. "Now that's a place that actually needs extra security."

  "With all due respect," Ramirez growled, "I don't care what people are calling other cities. Novaria needs help—"

  "Perspective, Ramirez." All the fake sweetness had vanished from her voice. "Yes, you had a rough day. But other parts of Luminia need more attention right now." She paused, letting that sink in. "Evolved Aurons are special resources, mostly saved for military operations. With all the trouble on the Infernian border, we can't spare any – normal rules or not. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is."

  Ramirez's face darkened like storm clouds gathering. "So we're on our own."

  "If it helps," Lyla's voice softened just a bit, "I really am sorry."

  "No..." Ramirez stood straighter, his voice turning to steel. "I get it. If the region won't send backup, then I'll make sure my officers train twice as hard. We'll be ready for whatever's coming."

  "That's the spirit!" Lyla chirped, back to being sickeningly sweet. "Well, goodnight Ramirez! Always fun chatting!"

  The line went dead with a click, leaving Ramirez alone in his too-quiet office. He set the phone down like it might bite him, every movement slow and heavy. Through his window, Novaria's lights sparkled in the darkness – his city, the one he'd sworn to protect, and now he couldn't even ask for the backup they might desperately need.

  The whole awful day played through his mind like a movie he couldn't turn off: the devastating attack, Angelo's surprising self-control, and now Lyla basically telling them to deal with it themselves. Things were happening, but he couldn't see the whole picture. Couldn't tell what it was all building toward.

  Ramirez grabbed his coat and keys, feeling about a hundred years old. Tomorrow would bring new problems, and his officers – special backup or not – had to be ready for them.

  As he locked his office door, the empty hallways seemed to echo with the questions that had been eating at him since the attack: what could make three Infernian Aurons attack Novaria so boldly? And worse – were they just the first ones coming?