The world swam back into focus, music playing faintly in the background. Something hard and angular in Drew's pocket vibrated along to the tune. Disjointed images flashed through her head; a giant lizard, mouth gaping; a juggernaut the size of a small moon crashing through the sky; a gun leveled at her face, the barrel pointed just too low for her to see the bullet.

  That last image had her rolling to the side, trying to get out of bed before she opened her eyes. The leather of her pants squealed in protest as she twisted to get her feet under her. Midnight finished crouched on her toes, scanning the room for any cover.

  The garage, a hanger in all but name, echoed with the sounds of her sudden movement, then went still. Next to where she'd been lying, Grace sat cross-legged, steam rolling from her frozen surface.

  "I really hope you've got a reason for your alarm, Midnight. While you slept previously, I discovered my clothing is occasionally turned to ice by my transformation."

  Drew blinked, the past few days' memories flooding into her mind to replace visions of death and destruction. "Um... what does that have to do with anything?"

  "I like this blouse. I'd hate to see it melt."

  A jaunty little jingle sounded from the floor near Drew's butt. Without looking, she reached around, picked up her phone, and lifted it to her ear.

  "Williams! I've been texting you for five minutes. Where have you been?"

  "Sorry, Agent Johnson. I've been unconscious on the floor of the hangar."

  "What's going on? Do you need backup, too?"

  She shook her head, pushing herself to her feet and reaching for Grace. The smaller woman rose gracefully, without assistance, then fell in beside Midnight as she walked toward the door into the base.

  "Nah, just a stupid prank by Axe. Who else needs backup?"

  "The Agent I sent down to look into your Captain Walker. He ought to have reported back by now." For once the imperturbable Special Agent seemed shaken.

  "Okay, so what do you want me to do about it?"

  "That's what I'm trying to..." Johnson cut off as Midnight's phone hiccoughed with another incoming call. "...out." A quick glance at the phone showed her Widget's gear icon.

  "Agent Johnson, can I put you on hold? I've got another call coming in." Without waiting, she swiped the phone. "Hey Ang. What's up?"

  "We need to get in touch with Agent Johnson." Uncharacteristic hesitance marked Widget's voice.

  Midnight pulled the phone away, stared at it a moment, and then tapped the control to go to speaker phone. All the while she strode deeper into the base, headed for her office. "I am talking to Angela, right?"

  "Yes, Drew. It's me. Jane woke up."

  Drew blinked. She'd handled the initial paperwork for the Jane Doe, and she still had nightmares about the woman's condition. Her gut clenched as she remembered what had been done to her. "How is she?"

  "She's... well, I find it hard to believe no one's taken a blood sample since the Rain, but…" Angela trailed off into silence.

  "What's she doing?"

  "At the moment? Floating around the room, trying to figure out how to get down. Half an hour ago? Killing off an assassin sent to kill her."

  "What?" Drew held the phone away and stared at it, almost as if she could force Angela to recant her statement.

  "Yeah. She's claiming a bit of amnesia. Not unlikely with the brain damage she came in with. However, she does remember quite a lot from before the events leading to her injury. For instance, she remembers her former occupation."

  "God, I'm gonna have to deal with another murder case. I hate murder cases. So much damned paperwork." Drew started tapping at her phone, looking for the app Angela had put together to let her do her paperwork on the run.

  "Well, Like I said, I'd call it self-defense. The guy had a high caliber gun, and it's been fired. The bullets are in the wall and the floor."

  "Right. I'll be down as soon as... wait. Shit. I've got a potential kidnapping to investigate. We need someone else who is trained to take care of documenting this crap."

  "We're in luck, then. I'm fairly certain Jane can help with that."

  Drew froze. "What do you mean?"

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  If Angela realized she'd shocked Drew, she didn't indicate that. "She's an FBI Agent by the name of Jane Donaldson. Guess who her partner was?"

  Drew shook her head, disbelieving her own words, "Jamil?"

  "Ayep."

  "Oh, this is too rich. I've got him on the other line. He wants me to go back up an Agent of his who was checking out that Captain Walker thing. Hang on..."

  Blue light flickered from the phone as Drew switched lines. Before she could react, Johnson's voice rumbled out of the speaker. "Williams! What's going on?"

  "What's your old partner's name?"

  The phone went quiet, the silence ominous. Finally, Johnson ground out, "Why do you need to know?"

  "I need to verify an identity. It's urgent, but it might not be bad news."

  Another silence, followed by a deep whisper. "Her name was Jane Donaldson. Now, can we get back to your Captain Walker?"

  "Is."

  "Huh?"

  Drew smiled into the phone. "I said 'is'."

  "What the hell are you talking about, Williams?" Johnson growled.

  "Your partner's name 'is' Jane Donaldson. Not was. Is"

  The phone went quiet again. After a few moments it clicked once again. Drew pulled it away and swore; Widget had hung up and called back. "Special Agent Johnson?"

  "Yeah, Williams?" he choked out.

  "I need to pick up my other line. Widget's got something going on. It may be related to your partner."

  "Go."

  Drew swiped her phone, only to have blue light flicker across her face before receding.

  "Drew! I need you to intercept us on route two-ninety-five. Bring the VTOL and make it fast!" The sound of rushing wind and nearby traffic nearly made Angela's voice unintelligible.

  "What's going on?"

  "I'm not sure, but Jane muttered something about 'corruption' and 'injustice', then blasted through the exterior wall of the building and headed south."

  ***

  Jane heard the doctor leap from the building in the distance behind her, felt the woman calling her name, but none of that mattered. She could see the assassin's trail, saw where it split from another. Secondhand traces of that other clung to Midnight, brushed on her by the edges of Walker.

  Walker. Imprisoned without trial and without cause. Even if she couldn't find another clue to point her toward her own justice, she couldn't let an injustice like that stand.

  She felt him in the distance, connected to Midnight by the faintest of traces. Even as she groped to hold on to him, he slipped from her grasp, but that didn't matter. Before she'd lost her grip on him, she'd found his jail cell.

  Injustice taunted her, but she slept no longer. Justice would prevail.

  ***

  Walker hid a wince at the sound of his dinner tray rattling through the slot in the wall. Since the incident with the radio, he had new jailers. None of them responded when he spoke, and all of them seemed to have a grudge against him personally.

  All but one of the four guards wore their uniforms like recruiting poster fodder. Unusual in the situation to say the least. The final one, less rigid than the rest, got dressed down on a daily basis, but nothing seemed to faze him. He walked in every day with his uniform blouse slung over one shoulder, his shirt untucked until his fellow guards berated him into replacing it.

  So far none of them had mentioned their rank, and their names were almost certainly fake. The chances of having four guards named Charlie, Mike, Oscar, and Victor were so slim he hadn't even bothered trying to convince himself. All his efforts on that front he saved for one thing and one thing alone; convincing himself any of them were actually United States soldiers.

  If they weren't, he didn't think he'd be getting out of the cell alive.

  ***

  Grace buckled herself into a seat on the plane as Midnight ran a pre-flight check. The moment her friend entered the craft, Grace knew she had to go along. With all the things Drew had suffered, she might freeze at any moment. If that happened, someone on the team needed to know how to handle things. By what she'd heard, Steven had no idea and Jack couldn't handle talking to a woman about this kind of trauma.

  Both men buckled in behind her, closer to the exits, which even now slid closed as Midnight flipped a switch. Steve laughed and reached out with his axe to tap one of the parachutes bolted to the walls of the plane.

  "Who are these for?"

  "I didn't know you could fly now," replied Jack.

  "Yeah, no, but I'd rather get down fast and get up close and personal, rather than be a dangling target."

  Jack just shook his head. "You're not worried one of these injuries is going to be one too many?"

  Steve just grinned and rolled his eyes. "I used to run into burning buildings for a living. Nothing heals quite so slow or hard as a burn, man. Shit, this job's a cakewalk in comparison." When his gaze came back down from the ceiling, he stared straight at Grace. "And the scenery's much nicer, if you know what I mean. What do you think, chica? You want to go grab a beer after we're done?"

  "I'm not terribly fond of the taste of alcohol, Mr. Chambers."

  "Call me Steve. How about dinner?"

  She shook her head. "I've found my appetite particularly poor since waking up in your Headquarters."

  "Oh, hey, not my headquarters. Those belong to Charlie. I just work here." He lifted the axe above his head, one hand at either end of the handle, then brought it down behind his back. He stretched, coincidentally flexing his chest as he did so. "So... if you're not up for drinks or dinner, you want to just cut to the chase and bang? You would not believe the endurance I've got. The sorority chicks said it was inhuman."

  Grace sighed. "Mr. Chambers, while I'm sure you're quite skilled, are you aware what happens when I lose control of my emotions?"

  "You get really freaky? It's okay, I've got the cash to replace the sheets. I'll just hose the room down if I have to."

  "No, Mr. Chambers." She let just a tiny thread of her pent-up emotion loose. The plane filled with near scalding steam for a few moments before the ventilation fans pulled it away. She looked back at Steve again, watching as the ice crystals in his eyebrows melted and dropped to the floor. "This is what happens."

  He blinked once, his axe slipping free of one of his hands to swing to the floor with a clunk. "Whoa. Ice queen. Freaky." He cocked his head, silent for all of five seconds. "Never done it with an ice sculpture before. First time for everything."

  Midnight cut off Grace's answer as she strode past. "I told you to secure this thing," she snapped. She grabbed Steve's axe, twisted it from his hand, and slammed it into a set of clips beside one of the doors. Moments later, she slipped back into the pilot's seat and pulled back on the yoke. Gravity increased, and the walls outside the windshield slid downward.

  "I just got a text from Widget; Jane is off the highway and headed cross country. It's pretty clear where we're headed, and we're going to try to intercept her after we pick up Widget. Next stop Fort Dix."

  "Are you sure we have clearance to fly there?" asked Jack.

  "I hope so. I really don't want to get shot at. This is my first time driving one of these."

  "You mean a VTOL?"

  "No. A plane."