By this point she should have expected this whole mess to be related to the people snatchers. Everything she was dealing with lately seemed to be tied to it in some way, even a random encounter like this. They had squads of thugs driving around the city and loading them into vans, bought out entire apartment buildings to store them, had ties to realtors and apparently weren’t hesitant to burn down an entire building or kill people to cover their tracks.

What the hell was all of this?

What was it all for?

“I’m not a hero, I just… help out when and where I can. I’m not a detective either so, I don’t know, you should probably be telling all this to the police instead of me.” This wasn’t any of her business, not anything she should be getting involved in, despite the fact that she had already stuck her nose into it several times already. It was liable to get her killed, or get someone else killed because she tried to handle it herself instead of handing if off to someone more suitable.

This person was right though, now that she was… adjacent to it she couldn’t help but feel like she had to do something, even though she was just some random college kid who had a black belt and something that technically qualified as a super power.

“The guy who shot you. He worked here? Or did he just happen to be here when you arrived?”

Idly, Grim wondered if the carpet beneath his feet was actually beige instead of the mucus green muddled color it was. A milkshake of stains and colors. He had been in apartments like these a couple times before and they were all unpleasant. It was no wonder people couldn’t pull themselves out of poverty when their conditions were like this, long before they were ever here and never fixed.

Zoey made a mental note to check on affordable housing initiatives her family could get into.

It didn’t take long to get to Joel’s actual apartment which was maybe two steps above the rest. The shadowmancer idly pulled at a piece of peeling wallpaper to peer at the wood, tapping it with a finger. Was this building full of asbestos? Might explain a bit more about Wraith, who was talking nearby.

All at once, Grim stiffened.

He turned on his heel to come further into the room, peering over Wraith’s shoulder at the file he held. There, plain as day, was the file corroborating Joel’s words. Doctor Ellison of Nothwestern Memorial.

Fuck.

“I’ve been.” Grim withdrew to give the other man space, tapping his foot against the floor in agitation to avoid pacing. When Joel offered the chance to wash the burn, he took it if only to have a moment to himself, disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door. The motions were all automatic. Unwrapping his hand, washing it out, digging out the surprisingly well stocked first aid kit to apply burn cream and gauze. Just for something to do to keep his whirring mind occupied, Grim repeated it on the burn around his knee then stuffed the remains of his glove in a pocket.

It would be extremely difficult, if not outright impossible to keep Wraith away from Northwestern. Not that Grim particularly blamed him, but it would likely get extremely messy. However, even that took a backburner to the further, concrete reveal that the hospital was definitely host to more than just body snatching. How? Why Northwestern? Did her father-

Zoey paused, clenching the first of her unburned hand. No. Her father would’ve never allowed anything like that to happen while he was around. He was extremely protective of his patients.

So this happened under her watch.

The bandaged hand pressed against her mask as she breathed deeply, the hard press of her mask’s edges digging in a helpful grounder. Count to ten. Finally, after taking a deep breath that rumbled through Zoey’s chest and out Grim’s voice modulator in a low growl, the hero straightened up. He replaced the contents of the first aid box and put it back before leaving the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Grim took the coffee pot just to pause and examine it. How clean was this? Ugh, he didn’t even care right now. Grabbing a random cup he poured it and turned back to the file, making an unhappy noise in the back of his throat.

“I think you should let me investigate the hospital.” He finally called out bluntly to Wraith, raising the coffee to take a sip. It bumped against his mask. God damnit.

Joel couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in demeanor of his guest. Grim had been much more somber tonight than the one before, and Joel could hardly blame him. The last few hours had been particularly shitty.

He watched passively as Grim attempted to drink through his mask, and then pretended not to notice out of grace. He couldn't blame the guy for not trusting Joel with whatever was going on under there. (Joel had his money on it being some type of "Darth Vader" situation.) He was well aware of why superheroes hid their identities: to protect loved ones, have a life outside the mask, avoid paparazzi, ect. Joel didn't have any of those, so his secret identity policy was near nonexistent.

He took a moment to respond to Grim's suggestion, but he was surprisingly reasonable. "Sure, makes sense." It was becoming increasingly obvious that this investigation was going to hit closer to home for him than he could have imagined. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of returning to the ground zero of his life going haywire. Honestly, he just wanted to lay down on the couch and try to forget that tonight, and the last three years for that matter, even happened.

A knock on the door started him. He snapped the folder shut and tossed it back down on the table. Who the hell could that be?

"¿Joel? ¿Estás en casa querida?"

Oh, it was just Mrs. Ruiz. Joel opened the door and the elderly woman doddled in right past him.

"Me preocupo tanto cuando corres por las calles toda la noche," She said in a half chiding tone. "Podrías morir o contraer la gripe."

Joel half smiled as she made herself at home at the kitchen table.

"Grim, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Ruiz. She likes to pretend I'm her grandson, I think."

"Estoy tan feliz de ver que estás haciendo nuevos amigos. Deberías intentar llevar a una dama a casa a continuación."

Joel cleared his throat awkwardly and didn't acknowledge that last bit. He walked over and picked up the folder, lest she get the urge to snoop, and began going through the motions of making her coffee.

"Joel."

He couldn't blame the old woman for worrying. Without him around, she had no one else to talk to. She would be alone in this derelict building if something happened to him.

"Joel, psst, hey!"

He would just make her a cup of coffee and reassure her that everything was fine and- Wait. What was she doing up at this hour anyway?

"JOEL!"

Goddammit.

"Dame un minuto," Joel said to Mrs. Ruiz, then, to Grim, "Wait here a second." He slunk off to the halfway open door of his bedless bedroom. He shut it behind him just hard enough to show his annoyance.

"You know, I was really hoping that having my brain turned to dust and rebuilt meant that you were gone." Joel folded his arms across his chest as he glared evenly at his brother.

"Yeah, write me the essay later, numbnuts. Who the hell is that woman out there?" Doug pointed at the door in an accusatory manner.

"Mrs. Ruiz? She's been here since our family moved in. We've known her since we were kids."

"No the hell we haven't. I've never seen that woman in my life."

"Because you aren't real. You're some bullshit projection of my subconscious or whatever the hell you said."

"What difference does it make? Don't you remember going to the landlord's office with mom to translate? We were the only Spanish speaking family in the whole building; that asshole never shut up about it. Said he'd get us all deported if rent was late again, nevermind that mom had a green card." Doug paused to look around the room, "And another thing. Why the hell would you move back to this miserable excuse for a shithole? And where the hell did all this furniture come from? Looks like someone walked through a Salvation Army blind folded and picked the first thing they touched. It sure isn't from you and Rory's old place; she wouldn't have this garbage. Hell, even you wouldn't pick this crap out."

Joel felt an icy chill run down his spine. When did he come back here? He hadn't moved in. Rory and he had sold their old condo and put all their furniture in storage before taking off for LA. They hadn't been back in town long enough to find a new place before…

Who the hell was that old woman at his kitchen table?

Joel slowly walked out of the bedroom. He gave Mrs. Ruiz a nervous smile and a little wave before approaching the black clad hero. "Hey Grim, buddy, I think we should go."

Mrs. Ruiz stood up.

"We should go right now," He hissed under his breath, trying to convey the urgency.

"¿Te vas tan pronto? Acabas de llegar a casa querida. Siéntate y tómate una taza de café. Te mereces un descanso." She smiled ever so sweetly. Joel's eyes drifted to the cup of coffee in Grim's hand. He quickly snatched it and set it down.

"Mi amigo es en realidad alérgico al café. Necesito alejarlo antes de que tenga una reacción." Joel smiled nervously back and began pushing Grim towards the door.

"I can't let you leave, Joel," Mrs. Ruiz said in perfect, unaccented English. She stepped in their path, blocking the door. Her wrinkly old lady hands reached for the pocket of her house coat. Was Joel capable of decking an old woman? Absolutely not.

Bouncer gazed at the scene around them, firefighters and paramedics doing their best to handle the small catastrophe which had befallen the people who worked here. People who would be out of work, lost and confused and desperate, and she wondered how many of them would become just another bunch of lowlifes the city’s “heroes” cleaned up off the street everyday when that desperation pushed them to keep their families afloat. She looked up at the empty sky fed by slow pillars of smoke, and wondered if these beacons of danger would have been ignored if they’d risen from a bank, or a corporate tower, or a luxury high rise.

Then the fox mentioned police, and a short bark of laughter escaped Bouncer’s throat. The police. Certainly, a series of kidnappings by unknown thugs would make headline news… if the victims hadn’t all had just one thing in common. If they’d lived in different neighborhoods, kept better company, been more desirable, been richer. Been anyone other than the type damned by circumstance to disappear silently beneath an indifferent gaze that never looked down. Perhaps the disappearances would have never been noticed, if not for nosy sorts like that wolf woman or the pair of goths Bouncer had run into the night before.

Or a woman who had choked herself with smoke to pull a pair of mobsters out of a structure fire.

“Nah, I think I’ll just tell you.”

“Probably worked here,” Bouncer switched lanes to answer the fox’s question, her hands finding their way into her pockets. You weren’t supposed to put your hands in the pockets of fitted suits like the one she wore, and she remembered this with the same speed at which the fabric of her slacks became vacuum sealed to her ass. “Pretty sure he talked like this was his place. I dunno, he was…” Bouncer trailed off, trying to remember what she could of the encounter. The whole mess felt like a blind haze of pain and smoke. “...Friendly,” she said finally.

Her eyes squinted against a headache, trying to pull up what further details she could, but it felt like trying to grapple a bunch of eels. She never did have a head for remembering things; any time she’d been asked to help with something by the wolf woman, it was always one of her boys who remembered the important things and just told her what to do when they got there, like-

“Mateo!” the thought occurred to her so suddenly that Bouncer couldn’t help calling out. Of course, even if she didn’t remember much about the realtor guy, Mateo would. “Do you know what hospital they took those guys to?” she asked, spinning on the ball of her foot to face the fox woman directly.

Friendly. The guy who shot her and tried to burn her friends alive was ‘friendly’? Yeah, everyone who wore a mask was weird.

“I don’t know. They took your friends out of her about ten minutes ago and I didn’t think to ask.” Assuming they would even tell her in the first place, she didn’t really need to know where they were going. Her part of this was done, or had been, and if they had anything important to say then they could say it when the police questioned them; then it would be up people more qualified than she was to deal with the massive criminal abduction ring. “If I had to guess I’d say Northwestern Memorial; it’s the closest to here.”

It occurred to her a second after she had said it what the person in front of her might be thinking of doing with that information. “If you were thinking of visiting, I wouldn’t. Not unless you want to be arrested for arson after fleeing the scene and showing up with blood all over you.”

It was in the middle of trying to figure out how to drink his coffee that Grim heard the door, tilting his head to watch Joel approach. Guess that ruled out just turning his back and lifting the mask. Can’t win every battle though - he was just relieved that the other man agreed to let him investigate the hospital. After seeing Wraith’s work, Grim couldn’t shake the feeling it would be like a bull in a china shop.

The arrival of an old woman at this time of night had Grim’s eyebrows furrowing together beneath the mask, but he didn’t say anything. Old people were, quite often, just Like ThatTM. For all he knew, the lady was staying up late to make sure Joel got home safe. Which he nearly didn’t.

Grim’s stomach rolled and he quickly shoved that to the back of his mind.

It was almost too easy to fall back into boisterous, grand gestures. Almost comforting to fortify behind a blockade of a big, hammy personality. For as Joel introduced Mrs. Ruiz, the shadowmancer swept into a deep bow, complete with one hand across the chest and the other behind.

“Wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Ruiz! I promise I’m not hounding Joel.” He chuckled to himself as he straightened up, though under the mask a small smirk curled Zoey’s lips at the woman’s quip about Joel bringing home a woman. If only she knew.

It was quite impolite to pretend you didn’t know a language, but to be honest Zoey was too paranoid her accent would be noticeable between her two personalities. Besides, her Spanish was rusty.

On being told to wait a moment, Grim tilted his head to watch after Joel, eyes narrowed, but ultimately turned back to Mrs. Ruiz while politely ignoring the thump of a door shutting too hard.

“So… I’ll finish making that coffee for you.”

He had just finished setting the cup of coffee down in front of the old woman, along with presenting her the sugar and milk (admittedly after checking to make sure it hadn’t hit expiration yet) when Joel made his reappearance. Grim couldn’t so much as get a greeting out before Joel was trying to hustle him off, the urgency making metaphorical hackles raise.

What had changed?

He had left, then come back with the insistence they had to go, and then - why shoving? Why did he have to shove him?!

What the fuck was going on?

One thing was for sure, Grim could hear a threat clear as day. Even from an old lady. Shadows suddenly surged up from Mrs. Ruiz’s feet to wrap around her, another lunging for the front door of the apartment and ripping it open. In a swift motion the shadows wrapped around the woman threw her outside - only mildly gentler than normal, she was old as sin - before the door slammed and the musty couch was thrown in front of it.

“Seriously, what kind of shit have you got yourself into? I don’t even have this many twists in one night! And I’m a clown!” Grim grabbed onto the folder to shove into Joel’s arms, then the pot of coffee with one hand and Joel’s shirt with the other to yank him over to the grimy windows. He released the shirt to reach out with a hand and open the window, cursing on finding bars. Quickly concentrating on a larger creation, the shadowmancer raised a hand with almost dramatic slowness. From the darkness of the alley a large hand rose, mimicking the motion of as Grim mimed reaching up. It grasped onto the bars on the outside of the building, the metal groaning before one side was yanked out - enough for them to get out.

“Come on. I’m going to have to find you a place to den at this point.” The large pure black hand twisted and distorted so that when Grim stepped onto it they had already formed into stairs, the hero bolting downwards. “We’ll head to one of my hideouts.” It was just a small apartment above a little convenience store, but it had roof access and AC so what more was needed really? Oh, and it was closer to the reedy part of town than any of her other properties, so there was that too.

A thought suddenly struck Grim.

“... Have you ever been through a metal detector before? An X-Ray lately? Hell, have you been in contact with an EMP at any point?”

At this point it would be no surprise if Joel was swarmed with trackers, to be honest.

Joel was on the verge of hyperventilating. Somewhere among the noise and chaos in his head, a fleeting thought reminded him that a heart attack without his suit on would probably kill him. It was all he could do to hold it together enough to allow Grim to drag him out the window. Like a horrible, gut wrenching circus parade, one insane thought presented itself after the other. Sadly, at this point, any of them could be true.

Was everything he knew of his life for the past three years a lie?

Why was it that he never slept if he didn't have an incredibly rare and fatal prion disease?

Who was Mrs. Ruiz working for?

If he never moved in, how was it that he'd set up base in that apartment?

Was it bugged?

Was he bugged?!

Grim's line of questioning only solidified that fear, and Joel had a mini panic attack all over again until he remembered that he'd literally been reduced to ash just a couple hours ago. Any probes, chips, or ear worms would have been destroyed. Mindraker was right about doing what he did for Joel's "own good". Fuck, he hated it when the bad guy was right.

"The furnace," He said, as if that made a lick of sense to anyone outside of his own head. Another nasty thought crossed his mind. Mindraker had mentioned "artificial prions" that Joel allegedly had. The most common way to contract prions was through food. How many times had Mrs. Ruiz showed up at his door with a plate of hot leftovers?

He felt nauseous all of a sudden. It was probably a good thing Grim never drank that coffee. He could have ended up moving next door to Joel in Crazytown. Speaking of…

Joel's eyes darted to the coffee pot Grim had nicked. He made a sudden, manic lunge for it and swatted it out of the other hero's hands. It made a very satisfying smash on the ground.

"Prions!" Was all Joel could offer as a means of explanation. It would be hilarious if Joel didn't look like a man who's entire world was falling apart in one night.

“I didn’t flee the scene, I’m right here.” Bouncer motioned to herself, as if that were all the reinforcement her counter needed. She didn’t remark on the rest of the fox’s warning; they couldn’t arrest her if they couldn’t catch her, and also the Chicago police had plenty of other reasons they might want to bring Bouncer into custody beyond a brief disappearance from the site of a structure fire they themselves never showed up to.

The fox did raise a good point though. Bouncer looked down at herself, tugging at the bloodsoaked shirt sticking to her stomach. She should probably change her clothes. Bouncer clicked her tongue, trying to remember the last time she had worn something other than this suit; did she even still have other clothes? What an exhilarating mystery she had stumbled upon. Bouncer looked up at the masked vigilante, her eyes slowly scanning up and down the other woman’s body. Somewhat blackened with soot, but considerably cleaner than herself and with a slightly higher guarantee of having a change of clothes. Hm.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go to the hospital,” Bouncer conceded, a conspiratorial lilt creeping into her voice.

“So you fled and now you’re returning to the scene of the crime.” Kitsune let out another sigh and decided to let the matter go. She refused to let herself get drawn into an argument with this woman about semantics; at least she was no longer pretending that she hadn’t been here earlier.

The other woman then began to look her up and down and Kitsune could already see the gears slowly turning behind that gaze. When the next words came, the scheming tone giving away the fact she was planning something, the objection was already on her lips. “No. I’m not going either; you’ll just have to wait until your friend is released to talk to him.”

Bouncer’s face soured. She hadn’t even said anything yet. This fox was really the kind of girl who would throw herself into a burning building for total strangers but wouldn’t visit them in the hospital after? Geez! Wasn’t it kind of backwards for a person to be this opposed to getting involved in things despite how quickly she threw herself in harm’s way? Well, that was her prerogative.

“Whatever.” How long would the boys be in the hospital for, a day or two? It would probably take a while for the cops to notice they were there, too. Bouncer could probably just go in the morning. Like around… maybe 3-ish. Some time before 4 pm, probably. It would be pretty early, but she could swing that.

“Don’t suppose you have a change of clothes?” Bouncer sighed, pulling the sticky red fabric away from her skin again. God, she wanted a shower so bad. She didn’t really expect anything when she asked. More likely she’d just hunt around gas stations for a bit to see if any of them carried cheap overnight clothing.

“Fuck me,” The curse slipped out at the reminder of what Joel had gone through just hours ago, mentally kicking himself. To be fair, usually when escorting someone on the run that was a standard question - and considering how fucked the whole situation was quickly being revealed to be, it was a pretty good way for Grim’s mind to drift.

Much better than drifting back to charred bone and melting skin and screaming-

Oop, back to repressing.

“Right, well who knows who she called so let’s-” Grim paused as his sentence was suddenly interrupted, for a moment staring at his hand. It’s not like the slap particularly hurt since that was his hand still adorned in the thick leather glove, but it still left coffee all over the ground. And glass. And a handle. But the coffee was probably the most important part.

“Yes Joel, prions,” Grim tried not to sound as tired as he felt, but it was a losing battle. “We could’ve tested it.” That part was little more than a mutter under his breath, quiet and sullen. It was not the hero’s first time pulling a night this late, or even going a day or two without sleep himself, but despite the fact the hour was suddenly weighing in very heavily. It wasn’t even over yet, as who knew what kind of ruckus the Old Lady Spy was setting up for them?

The best way to stop that, of course, was to head it off. Besides, he’s been in rougher situations. It was time to man up. Mentally Grim slapped his cheeks and visibly steeled himself, pulling out his phone to do a few quick swipes. In the clouds above the Crow drones began to move across the city, quietly patrolling as they always did - though this time subtly checking for interception. With that done the phone was replaced, and Grim turned his gaze to Joel once more.

“Don’t worry, I’ve sniffed you out a place to lay low and lick your wounds. But we have to leave, now, so I sure hope you’ve gotten everything important.” Grim stepped toward the wall, half his body sinking into the shadow that solidified and became a portal just to reappear in the alley opposite them across the street. He raised his injured hand to offer Joel. “Come on. I’ve got your back.”

Oh god. Joel grimaced at the idea of shadow hopping again. But, it was indefinitely safer than wandering the streets in a T-shirt and jeans until the Free Candy van snatched him. He gave the straps of his drawsting backpack a tug, ensuring that the weight of his suit was still there. Then, he took Grim's hand.

Joel had his eyes squeezed shut the entire time with the classic "gonna' puke" look etched into his face. He probably would have if his stomach wasn't empty. When they finally came to a stop, Joel dared to unclench his jaw and open his eyes. He still looked a little green around the gills.

"Are we there?" He asked hopefully, glancing around.

A change of clothes? Not unless there was something in the van she had stolen other than the sweater she’d used as a gas mask. They were pretty far away from the area she normally patrolled after all; her normal clothes were stuffed into a public locker miles away from here. “Not nearby, no.”

This woman would just have to deal with her sticky, blood-stained clothes a while longer. Akeno could sympathise; she’d been in a similar position a few nights ago, only without the ability to heal gunshot and knife wounds.

The conversation seemed to have come to an end; there really wasn’t anything else for her to say if this woman couldn’t give her any information and wasn’t willing to talk to anyone else. The only evidence they might have had would have burned up in the building when it was set on fire and the person who had done it was long gone and not likely to return. There was still the address she had gotten from the van, but it was too late to follow-up on that now; what with the parking lot being filled with emergency vehicle and her having no way to extract the van from its midst. Once she was done here she would have to just go back home, walk home at that, and see what tomorrow would bring.

It was… frustrating.

She now knew something big was going on but had no way of dealing with it, no way forward. No clues she could act on, no resources to throw at the issue expect time and her own body. This whole thing had just fallen into her lap but she couldn’t do anything with it. She didn’t even know where to start.

“What’s your name anyway?” The woman in front of her was the only thing she had to go off of. Even if she didn’t know much she knew more than her; knew enough to target this building even if nothing came of it. Might as well get what information she could out of her.

“Yes.” The two had ended up on a fire escape, like one of so many in this city. This one was rusty yet quiet, taking up a good portion of the too-small alleyway that nestled between a little convenience store and a gyro place that was frankly amazing considering how many health violations it had. The escape didn’t quite lead up to the roof, but they still had ended up at the top floor outside a dirty window.

Grim gestured Joel back a moment before pressing their fingers against the glass and lifting it with the pressure. It only went up a few inches before a block stopped it, but the hero just moved one hand inside and carefully moved it to the right. Something clicked. Then another, then one more, then Grim’s hand moved to the left and there was a quiet thump before he finally gripped the window and opened it fully.

“Sorry, I don’t really use the door. Except to buy these green tea kit kats the place downstairs sells.” He stepped inside, letting the window go which stood propped open now. On the inside of the window was what could only be described as a booby trap - a wire configuration leading to an unmarked canister, a net hanging from the ceiling, and finally a simple cinderblock that appeared to be on a crude springboard.

It was a bit odd for a hero that had the persona of a golden retriever.

“It’s just a place for me to lay low, but it has the basics. First aid kit, some non perishables - don’t drink the water, I have bottled water and beer in the fridge.” Grim sighed as he pressed his hands to his lower back, stretching out and getting a satisfying series of cracks. “You can stay here for now while you … decompress.” Beneath the mask steel-grey eyes swept the apartment. It wasn’t exactly a Hilton, nor even a Four Seasons, but it was leagues cleaner than the cesspool they had just left. Aside from a layer of dust almost everything seemed serviceable, maybe the white walls a bit off color but nothing honestly terrible. It even had cable hooked up to a little TV in front of a surprisingly plump couch.

Grim politely waited a few moments before clearing his throat.

“Look, tonight was … a lot. And I don’t have a lot of context for everything that’s gone on but … Anyway, I’ll handle that Doctor, that I can promise you. In the meantime, uh… Do you need the number to a new therapist? I know a good one. Discreet.”

Green tea Kit-Kats? Gross. Joel made a beeline for the couch and plopped down. The exhaustion was setting in quick. He shook his head at the suggestion of a new therapist.

"I don't think mine is on whatever this is. She was the one that gave me those files about that doctor Frankensteining me."

"Frankenstein's monstering, you mean. Frankenstein was the doctor." Doug was standing next to Grim with his arms crossed, smug. Joel scowled. "Now riddle me this, Batman: what makes you think the good doctor stopped at you? Or the hospital for that matter? There's only so many poor, lonely bastards who's bodies won't be missed by a grieving family. Suppose he and whoever else he's working with found a way to bolster their numbers. Like kidnapping people wholesale off the street. Live, fresh test subjects are better than dead and brain damaged ones."

"Holy shit, you're right," Joel's eyes grew wide at the realization. He looked back at Grim, "Those bodies we found tonight were all wearing those metal bands, the same bands I took from that apartment. They were using them for identification, just like a hospital band. Ellison, and whoever else he is working with, is directly responsible for killing those people, the kidnappings, everything. And it's been happening for, at the very minimum, three years!"

He felt a little sick again. How could this have gone on for so long without anyone noticing?

Bouncer clicked her tongue. Gas station clothing it was, then. She would need to find somewhere to shower too - a motel, maybe. A cheap one. Or one with bad security, that wouldn’t notice her sneaking in.

A silence had fallen between the two of them, signaling an end to any conversation. Fair enough; Bouncer had already shared what crumbs of information she could provide, probably. Well, there was also the gay couple she’d run into the night before who had invited her to meet them at some bar, but given the time, she’d probably already missed it, and she didn’t really know how to get a hold of them beyond that, so even if they were investigating the same thing, it wasn’t like they could help anyway. Not unless she or the fox happened to run into them. As for the fox, she seemed… dissatisfied with what Bouncer had provided to her. There wasn’t anything Bouncer could do about that, but geez, this girl was like leeching vibe arsenic into the air with her palpable frustration. Honestly, chill.

She asked Bouncer a question. “What?” Bouncer answered, caught off guard. Her name? Like the codename superheroes liked to use? “Oh. I’ve heard a few people call me Rabbit before. The news calls me Bouncer, though. Either of those works.” She should probably ask the woman for hers as well, instead of just calling her “the fox”. “What’s yours, then?”

Bouncer, or Rabbit; she didn’t look much like a rabbit, so Bouncer it was for now. Interesting that she only gave names that other people had given her rather than one she had picked for herself; the woman was similar to herself in that sense she supposed. That probably meant she wasn’t a vigilante, or at least not one that called themselves a hero if she wasn’t interested in marketing herself. Maybe she wasn’t a vigilante either and had other reasons not to want people to know who she was. Once they were done here Akeno would need to look her up and see what the news was saying about her exactly; find out who she was dealing with.

“People call me Kitsune, I guess.” People had called her Fox as well, either worked, but she might as well go by the name that the few people aware of her existence online had given her.

“Perhaps not, but if these people have been keeping tabs on you-” Grim trailed off as it seems Joel was distracted by another conversation. Except it was one Grim himself couldn’t hear. The hero tilted his head to the side, seeing nothing but empty space beside him that the other man was reacting to.

He was reminded of all the stories of Wraith’s insanity, and how equally insane this night was.

To be honest, aside from Granny back at Wraith’s apartment and the folder he had, there was nothing but Joel’s word to go on. Grim was honest enough to admit to himself that at least part of the whole reason he was going along with this was likely a shared trauma bond after the earlier events of the night.

Earlier events of the night. Christ, this has been far too long of a night already.

Still, it seemed Joel had an epiphany from talking to … whoever. Grim raised a hand to press to his mask, running his palm down it as though it were his bare face.

“So you’re saying Ellison has not only been doing this for three years, killing how many people considering what we saw of one truck, but no one has noticed before? And - does that mean you might not be the only one that survived?” Here Grim paused, frowning beneath his mask as he crossed his arms. His foot tapped as he tilted his head to look to the ceiling thoughtfully. “Memory loss, set up, an influx of people of any background, age, gender, body type. Monitoring. You never had that suit or talked to… to whoever, before, correct?”

He gestured to his side, to the empty space Joel was talking to.

“Perhaps Ellison is looking to tap into previous research that has made artificial powers, or finding out which mutations in a person’s DNA cause them. It wouldn’t be the first time a man has tried to force these things. It would explain your … differences from before, and why he would monitor you.”

The hero huffed, then turned and went to the kitchen section of the open room. The fridge opened and he retrieved a bottle of Stella, using the edge of his mask to pop the top. Keeping his back to Joel, he fiddled with the headgear enough to be able to lift it and tilt his head back, taking a few long drinks before replacing everything. Only once the voice modulator was back in place did he speak.

“This is a whole fucking mess and neither of us have slept. Me for the night, you in god knows how long. We should reconvene - and I should check out a hospital in the morning."

Chicago had suffered from a human trafficking problem for decades. People being snatched wasn't new. The authorities probably noticed the uptick in numbers, but they were looking into the wrong crime. Or, even worse, they had moles actively misdirecting them. How big was this operation? How many people were pulling strings?

"I'm not the only one," Joel said quietly. "Mindraker knows about this too; he said messing around in my head jogged 'old memories'. I think he may have been a victim, but he was being a cryptic asshole about it. We should probably look into tracking him down too."

Joel chewed a knuckle absent-mindedly as Grim listed off the details they'd uncovered so far. His dark eyes lifted to other man's masked face when he was directly questioned. He shook his head. "I don't really remember when I got the suit, it just kind of happened. I mean, I'm pretty sure I was…normal before, you know," He motioned a finger gun at his head, "Mindraker said my brain injury caused me to act, uh, different. Violent. I think he was right. I did some really awful shit and I don't even remember why. I didn't do those things before."

He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face into his hands. Joel took a deep breath in. The memories of his own actions over the past few years made him feel almost sick. Doug was right when he called Joel out in that alley. Doug was always right.

He picked his head back up when Grim mentioned Ellison researching powers. "But that's the thing: my only 'powers' are ghost bullshit and super insomnia, and the latter was allegedly from the prions they were feeding me. The suit does the healing. If I get hurt when I'm not wearing it, I just gotta' suck it up." He remembered, briefly, his broken ribs from earlier that night. They had healed along with everything else during the furnace incident.

He had always blamed the clairvoyance on the 'experimental treatment' he received. Now knowing he had literally died and been brought back to life, that sentiment wasn't exactly wrong. The question was: Did Ellison give Joel ghost talk, or was it a side effect of dying once?

He shifted on the couch when Grim walked away, reclining and closing his eyes. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was turn his brain off for a while.

"Right," He said, exhaustion heavy in his voice, "I can look into Raker in the meantime."

Joel didn't say anything else to expand on that idea. That was because he was now slack jawed, head lolled back against the couch cushion, sleeping for the first time in three years.

"A pleasure." What was next, exchanging phone numbers? Bouncer didn't even have a phone. Wait, did she have a phone? One of her hands went instinctively to her pocket, checking for a familiar weight that wasn't there. There was a fleeting, intangible thought that she might have left it somewhere, but she couldn't recall ever having one to begin with. Odd.

"We both have places to be then," she announced suddenly, shaking the cloud from her mind. Bouncer offered Kitsune a lazy two-fingered salute beginning to step away from her and the scene of the fire. "See you, eonnie. If you change your mind about getting involved tomorrow, I'm sure you'll know where to find me." Maybe. Whatever.

There was a faint thp as she vanished, reappearing at the end of the street before teleporting a second time, vanishing into the night. Once a safe distance from the scene, however, Bouncer began to walk instead. She could already feel the electricity beginning to sing through her muscles, but she was… tired. As much as she would love to chase that high, Bouncer just didn’t have the focus to track how much energy she was building up.

Bouncer spent a lot of time out at night, but actually walking the streets in silence was something she hadn’t done in quite a while. Not since that woman had found her, slumped in some dirty alley outside the latest fight club she’d been thrown out of. Or was it… even before that? Oh, maybe not since-

A sharp headache flared behind her eyes, cutting off the thought and making her balance wobble. Maybe she breathed in more smoke than she thought. Rabbit pulled her makeshift mask down, taking slow deep breaths to steady herself, eyes shut tight, willing the pain to subside. It did after a brief moment, but she kept her eyes closed a while longer. Maybe she just needed to eat something, actually. Yeah. If she found a convenience store selling clothes that was still open, maybe she’d get something sweet too. That should help her feel a bit better. Yeah.

She'd just keep walking until she found one.