Sunlight streamed through the gaps in Angelo's apartment blinds, painting thin stripes of golden light across his rumpled sheets. His muscles screamed in protest as consciousness dragged him from sleep, every movement a sharp reminder of yesterday's sparring match with Red.

  "Everything hurts... again," Angelo groaned into his pillow, forcing himself to sit up despite his body's vehement objections. His newly issued uniform hung on the closet door, still carrying the crisp scent of fresh fabric - a stark contrast to his previous one that had ended up shredded and blood-soaked.

  Blue's measured voice echoed through their shared consciousness, carrying the weight of gentle reproach. "Perhaps engaging in combat exercises with Red was ill-advised, given your injuries have barely begun to heal." The words hung in their mental space like a professor's disappointed sigh.

  "Funny how you weren't protesting when you had the chance," Angelo shot back, fighting down a wince as he adjusted his collar. The fabric scratched against the barely-healed wound beneath.

  "I was occupied with matters of far greater intellectual significance than your physical altercations or resulting injuries," Blue replied with clinical detachment that somehow managed to sound both precise and dismissive.

  Angelo let the comment slide, his mind drifting through the whirlwind of recent events. In less than a month, his world had transformed completely - gaining and losing a partner, battling terrorists, confronting a serial killer, achieving evolution. The invitation to live with Bill's mother still weighed heavily on his thoughts, each memory tinged with bittersweet complexity. It felt like a fever dream, yet the aches in his body confirmed its reality.

  The morning routine passed in a blur of muscle memory, and soon Angelo found himself soaring between Novaria's towers. His evolved forged energy tendrils gleamed orange in the morning light as they latched onto passing buildings, each leap carrying him closer to the station. Other Aurons traversed the city similarly, the sight of their varied auras painted the cityscape like an artist's palette.

  Finally, his boots touched down before the precinct's imposing facade. The building's architecture spoke of authority and permanence, its stone walls weathered by years of service. Angelo's gaze lingered on the entrance, memories of that stormy night flooding back - Vincent Morrow, the rogue water Auron, whose death may have set everything in motion. Or perhaps fate would have found another catalyst; there was no way to know.

  The moment Angelo stepped inside, conversation died like a candle in vacuum. The usual bustle of police work ground to a halt as every eye turned toward him. The weight of their stares pressed down like a physical force, making even the infamous Angel of Death shift uncomfortably. The air grew thick with tension, broken only by the soft whir of ceiling fans and distant ringing phones.

  Near the center of the room, a cluster of officers had gathered around someone like moths to a flame. But even their attention diverted, heads turning to track Angelo's entrance with a mix of wariness and curiosity. A deep voice cut through the silence, filled with casual authority.

  "What's the holdup? Move aside." The crowd parted, revealing a figure that seemed more suited to a rock concert than a police station. He wore a leather jacket adorned with gleaming metal spikes, a skull with yellow eyes emblazoned across his black undershirt. His torn jeans and spiked boots completed the rebellious image, while his dramatic haircut - long enough to cover one eye - added a final theatrical touch. Every detail of his appearance seemed calculated to provoke, from the perfectly distressed leather to the precise angle of his hair.

  "And you might be?" The newcomer's voice carried the easy confidence of someone used to commanding attention. His posture radiated casual superiority as he looked down at Angelo - both literally and figuratively.

  Red's voice crackled through their shared consciousness like static electricity. "This wannabe rock star is getting on my last nerve. Show him what's what, Angelo!"

  Blue's response manifested as a soft mental snort, his silence speaking volumes about his opinion of the situation.

  Angelo's eyes shifted to burning orange as he sized up the stranger, his energy vision revealing impressive power flowing beneath the theatrical exterior. Several nearby officers flinched at the transformation, but the newcomer held his ground, meeting Angelo's gaze with unwavering confidence. The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken challenge.

  "I'm Angelo," he replied, his voice carrying the chill of a morgue. "Though some know me as the Angel of Death. And you would be...?"

  "Joe," the taller man drawled, his stance radiating practiced nonchalance. "Rock star by day, Evolved Auron by night. Or something like that." His lips curved into a smirk that suggested he was used to recognition following his introduction.

  Red's derisive laughter echoed through their link. "Famous? Never heard of this poser!"

  "As if you follow current cultural trends, Red," Blue interjected with philosophical disdain.

  "Who asked you, blueberry?!" Red's indignation flared hot enough to make Angelo's temples throb. "Whose side are you on?"

  "I maintain no allegiance beyond objective truth," Blue replied with desert-dry precision.

  "Cat got your tongue?" Joe's voice carried a hint of triumph, mistaking Angelo's internal dialogue for hesitation.

  "Will you two shut up?" Angelo thought furiously at his counterparts. "Your bickering is making me look worse!" Aloud, he kept his tone carefully measured: "No, I was simply trying to recall if I'd heard of you. Strange... nothing comes to mind."

  A muscle twitched near Joe's eye, the first crack in his cool facade. The tension in the room shifted as officers watched the verbal sparring match between the infamous Angel of Death and their apparent celebrity guest. The stalemate might have continued if Red hadn't materialized behind Joe, mischief radiating from every particle of his being.

  "Red! Stand down - I know that's you!" Chief Ramirez's commanding voice boomed from above. All heads turned to see him standing on the upper level, arms crossed and expression sharp enough to cut glass. Joe spun in surprise, finding himself face-to-face with another Angelo who had frozen mid-motion, clearly caught in the act of something dubious.

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  Angelo met the chief's stern gaze as his eyes faded back to brown. "The three of you, wait right there," Ramirez ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  As Chief Ramirez descended the metal stairs, his footsteps echoing through the suddenly emptying space, Joe's eyes fixed on Red with a mixture of disbelief and professional curiosity. The morning light streaming through the windows caught the metallic spikes on his jacket, sending tiny reflections dancing across the walls.

  "What exactly am I looking at here?" Joe gestured toward Red, his carefully maintained rock star indifference cracking slightly.

  "None of your business, rock boy!" Red shot back with characteristic aggression, causing Joe to blink rapidly as if trying to reset his vision. For once, Angelo felt a surge of satisfaction at Red's attempted disruption - seeing the self-assured musician's composure slip brought him an unexpected pleasure.

  Chief Ramirez approached their small group, his weathered face carefully neutral. "Angelo... it's good to have you back," he said, his gruff voice carrying the formal politeness of someone addressing a necessary but troublesome asset.

  "Liar," Red's accusation echoed through their shared consciousness, picking up on the underlying tension between Angelo and his superior.

  The chief gestured toward their leather-clad companion. "This is Joe Sturm, one of the Evolved Aurons assigned here in response to Novaria's elevated threat level." The fluorescent lights overhead made Joe's carefully styled hair gleam like polished obsidian.

  "He doesn't look anything like an officer!" Red burst out indignantly, his words slightly muffled as Angelo caught him in a swift headlock. "Look at him - he belongs at a concert, not a police station!"

  Joe's eyebrow arched elegantly at the sight of Angelo apparently wrestling with himself.

  "Please, ignore him and continue, Chief," Angelo managed, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity while restraining his more volatile aspect.

  To his surprise, Chief Ramirez seemed almost amused by the display. "Actually, Red makes a valid observation," he said, his tone shifting to something more formal. "Joe isn't a traditional officer. Evolved Aurons - or Advanced Aurons, as they're also known - can enter into contracts with the government through the Triple A - the Advanced Aurons Association."

  The chief began pacing slightly, his polished shoes clicking against the floor. "The arrangement is quite comprehensive. Monthly salaries, benefits packages, vacation deals - but in exchange, they're on call when the Association needs them. Now that you've evolved, Angelo, it's an option worth considering."

  Joe's eyes narrowed as he reassessed Angelo. "Wait - this guy's actually evolved?" Disbelief colored his voice as he gestured dismissively. "I thought he was just some weird anomaly with a split personality disorder."

  "Why you-!" Red renewed his struggle against Angelo's grip, his fury practically radiating heat.

  "He was talking about me, not you!" Angelo hissed, trying to maintain control of the situation.

  "Actually, I meant both of you freaks," Joe replied with casual disdain, examining his spiked rings as if bored by the whole exchange.

  Red's fury exploded at the insult, his violent thrashing nearly breaking Angelo's hold. "LET ME AT HIM!" he snarled, his rage making their shared form vibrate with barely contained violence. "I'LL SHOW THIS POMPOUS PRETTY BOY WHAT A FREAK CAN DO!"

  "ENOUGH!" The chief's voice thundered through the station, making both Angelo and Red snap to attention like cadets at inspection. "Yes, Angelo recently evolved, and you'd do well not to underestimate him. He's proven his capabilities repeatedly - sometimes to my considerable dismay." The last words carried a hint of grudging respect.

  "Chief..." Angelo murmured, caught off guard by the unexpected praise.

  "Whatever," Joe waved a hand dismissively, his multiple rings catching the light. "You wanted to discuss my arrangement?"

  "Indeed. Let's continue this in my office." The chief's expression grew serious as he turned back to Angelo. "For now, resume your regular duties. But understand this," his voice took on an ominous edge that made the air feel heavy, "Evolution changes things. When an Evolved Auron is involved in a fatal confrontation, it triggers an investigative committee. There can be serious consequences. Consider yourself warned."

  As the chief and Joe ascended the stairs toward his office, their footsteps fading into the general buzz of the station, Angelo felt something cold settle in his chest. "Tch," escaped through his clenched teeth.

  "Is this truly such a significant concern?" Blue's analytical voice cut through their shared consciousness. "Do you find yourself so driven to deal death?"

  Angelo's internal response crackled with frustration. "I'm not like Red - I don't kill for pleasure! My actions serve a purpose. Those beyond redemption will only return to their crimes once released. If I spare them, innocent people die later. In the grand scheme, there's blood on my hands either way - I'd rather it be the criminal's blood than that of future victims'."

  "Simple solution - just fight without evolving," Red suggested, his bloodthirsty eagerness palpable in their shared mind.

  "I suspect mere possession of evolved abilities is sufficient to trigger committee oversight," Blue countered with philosophical precision.

  Angelo moved through his day mechanically, but the weight of this new reality pressed down on him like a physical force. The mundane tasks of police work - filling out reports, reviewing case files, conducting routine patrols - all seemed to blur together as his mind grappled with the implications of these new restrictions on his evolved powers. The familiar halls of the station felt somehow different now, as if the very air had changed with his understanding of his new limitations.

  Evening painted Novaria's skyline in deep purples and oranges as Angelo prepared to leave the station. The day had passed without a single criminal incident - a fact that left him with an uneasy feeling about his future as an evolved Auron. Just as his aura began to flicker to life around him, his phone's sharp ring cut through the quiet. The name on the screen made him sigh.

  "Her again? What is it this time..." he muttered, thumb hovering over the answer button.

  "Um... Hello, Angelo? You there?" Neiva's voice carried a nervous energy that immediately set him on edge.

  "Yeah, what now?" He couldn't keep the exasperation from his voice.

  "I, uh... I need your help." Her words came out in a rush, pitched higher than normal with anxiety.

  "Why, what did you do?" Suspicion colored his tone as he imagined what trouble his self-appointed investigator might have found.

  "It's a long story..."

  [Yesterday Morning]

  Sunlight streamed through Neiva's apartment window, catching dust motes that danced above her cluttered desk. "Perfect! Thankies!" she chirped into the phone before hanging up, determination blazing in her emerald eyes. Her fingers flew across her laptop's keyboard, the gentle tapping mixing with the distant sounds of city life floating up from the street below.

  "Okay Neiva, think this through," she coached herself, pulling her brilliant red hair back into a messy bun as she dove into her research. Multiple browser tabs opened in rapid succession as she pieced together information about Ashford.

  "Small town... near Ashen Forest..." she murmured, clicking through satellite images. "The mountainous terrain forces you to circle around to reach it. That's not particularly helpful." Maps and local history articles covered her screen as she tried to understand the scope of Angelo's hometown.

  Her brow furrowed in concentration, connecting dots. "A simple town like this... a sophisticated laboratory seems out of place, especially hidden in a basement." She tapped her pen against her desk rhythmically, mind racing through possibilities.

  Suddenly, she sat up straighter, excitement lighting up her features. "That's it! A project like that would need specialized contractors - permits, equipment, expertise. The pool of companies capable of building a professional research facility can't be that large!" Pride colored her voice as she followed this new lead. "Find the contractor from 18 years ago, trace it back to who commissioned it, and there's our breakthrough!"

  The day slipped by as Neiva pursued this angle, her coffee going cold beside her keyboard. Multiple dead ends only fueled her determination. Finally, as afternoon shadows lengthened across her desk, she found something promising - the Construction Projects Agency, a well-established firm with over six decades of matching clients to contractors. Their website boasted of handling specialized construction needs across multiple regions.

  She scheduled an appointment and carefully crafting a cover story. All that was left was not messing it up.