Gregoir dreamed of sirens in the dark. They sang to him, muffled and distant, through rock and stone. He was trapped, immobile, pressed down on all sides. Helpless and afraid, but the sirens gave him courage. So long as he could hear them, he knew that people were searching. So long as they rang, he'd fight to stay alive.

He dreamed of sirens in the dark. The same dream as always.

He had been in the basement of the gym, searching for spare boxing gloves, when the world detonated. Heat and sound and force had blasted him into the closest wall as the shockwave ripped the building asunder. Debris had rained down before he could regain his senses, trapping him, breaking him. He could feel the blood pooling beneath his body, could feel it as it cooled and dried. He should be dead.

He refused to die. They were searching for him. The sirens told him so.

Gregoir was not a quitter. He was the child of two immigrants, French and Irish, and he carried their hopes on his back. He would be the first generation of his family to rise above the poverty line. The first to own property. The first to choose a career out of choice rather than necessity. The first, but not the last. He bore the hopes of his forefathers, and he could not do that if he was dead.

He would remain still. He would breathe slowly. He would not panic. He would wait. He would survive. He'd do these things, because he was Gregoir Pierre-Louis, and this was not where his story ended.

The sirens wailed and Gregoir waited. As the concrete pressed down, as the pressure increased, as the pain slowly crept higher, he waited. As the air grew thin, as his breaths became ragged and weary, he waited. He knew he would be okay.

Because the sirens were getting louder.

Something shifted, as it always did. A mistake from the rescuers, carelessness born of exhaustion, and Gregoir's fragile shelter collapsed. His breath was forced out of his body as the pressure on his chest tripled in an instant. Stone collapsed inward, crushing his arms and legs. Where there once had been wiggle room, there was now only pressure and pain. Only his head was spared, with his neck narrowly avoiding the fate of the rest of his body.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He was being crushed, even as the sirens came closer and closer. He heard voices in the distance, shouting, calling to him. Debris rained down on his face as his rescuers shifted earth and stone, now more concerned with speed than safety. He had moments, mere moments, to live. He could feel it, his life ticking away.

He refused to die. Not here, not now, not like this.

Gregoir grit his teeth, he tensed his muscles, he fought to breathe. He ignored the pain, the encroaching darkness, the cold that seeped into his very bones. He remembered his goals, his hopes, his family.

He kept them in his minds eye as he pushed.

He would not end here!

Gregoir opened his eyes. His heart beat slowly in his chest, despite the intensity of his fading dream. This calm was hard won, through the sacrifices of dozens of bed frames and several apartment floors. Though he enjoyed the surge of energy his dreams had once granted him upon waking up, the cost simply became impractical over time. Besides, the noise made him an unfitting neighbor, and Gregoir was nothing if not considerate of his fellows.

Though, that habit was less than relevant at the moment, as he was currently strapped to a metal table. How puzzling. Gregoir distinctly remembered entering a charming little hotel alongside two of his fledgling rookies, on a glorious mission to catch a thief! Of course, that had turned out to be nothing, just some perfectly understandable panic on behalf of the owner. The specifics eluded Gregoir at present, but they weren't important.

So, how did he get here?

Here, being a makeshift holding cell. The room was a square, with solid steel walls and ceilings. The floor was white marble and immaculately clean. A single door was positioned in the far corner of the room, opposite Gregoir. It, too, was reinforced steel, and lacked the sliding slat one might expect for a prisoner's room. There was little noise to be heard, just the sound of Gregoir's breathing.

His clothes were missing, his uniform shirt and slacks, alongside his Kevlar vest. Even his badge had been taken. That was unfortunate, to have such identification floating around in the streets. Gregoir would need to reclaim it once he was free. He paid no mind to his nudity. Gregoir's body was a perfectly sculpted masterpiece, one that he would proudly show off to the masses if only it were legal. A shame, that. It was a good man's duty to bring joy to his neighbors, and stripping down was hardly a time consuming process.

He moved his gaze down towards his restraints. The table was long and wide, and his arms were trapped down beside his waist. There was next to no leverage available to him, and the shackles were extraordinarily tight against his skin. They might have even damaged a less vital man. In addition, something heavy and pointy was around his neck. A collar of some sort. It didn't seem to limit his ability to turn his head, but sitting up would be problematic.

Gregoir gently tugged at the heavy steel manacles, if only to prove that they weren't for show. He wished he could meet their creator and shake his hand; these shackles were certainly an admirable attempt to hold him. A small wonder that he dreamed, while in this situation. He felt just as trapped as he had all those years ago.

The difference, of course, was within Gregoir. He was no longer a helpless boy, but a man grown. It took more than a bit of immobility to shake his confidence. Still, it was a curious coincidence that he woke in this position. Perhaps his would-be captors had done their research?

Kenny would tell him to consider the circumstances, the evidence, the possible motives. He would say, in his gruff voice, "Nobody acts without a reason. Know it, so that you know them." Kenny was clever like that, and Gregoir had spent much of his apprenticeship soaking up the older man's wisdom like a sponge.

Unfortunately, that particular lesson never really stuck. Gregoir was no fool. He could think and plan and analyze, but Gregoir preferred his own method of solving crimes. He simply applied escalating levels of either force or encouragement to his target until he achieved his goal. It was about as straightforward as strategies come, but Gregoir made it work.

Which is why he knew, with absolute certainty, that he'd make it out of this situation. He would capture whoever had brought him here, locate his wayward rookies, and continue his ride along. This was a special day for aspiring officers, and Gregoir would not allow something as trivial as a kidnapping to ruin it.

But for now, as he had in the past, Gregoir would wait.

He didn't have to wait for long. Within minutes of his waking, footsteps trickled down into his room. He listened carefully mentally mapping the hallway and stairs that the footsteps proceeded down. It wouldn't do to get lost after he busted out of his restraints.

But first, he had a criminal to interrogate!

The door opened with a screech of metal, and a man in a labcoat stepped inward. His demeanor screamed I am a mad scientist!

"Always a labcoat," Gregoir muttered to himself. It was incredibly frustrating. You'd think it would vary wildly, but no! Mad scientists must all subscribe to the same crappy fashion magazine.

"Have some originality, fiend!" Gregoir advised loudly, making no effort to keep his opinion to himself.

The scientist paused at the entrance, blinking at the unprompted criticism. He was quite young for his occupation, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. He was skinny, pale skinned, and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was short but untamed and haphazardly trimmed. It was as if his barber held a grudge against him, or maybe he'd tried to cut his own hair in a foggy mirror with his non-dominant hand.

Gregoir was betting on the latter.

The man scratched beneath his chin. "Ah, I can't say that I've ever had that shouted at me before." He stepped forward, his hand ghosting through the air. The air rippled lightly as it passed, growing blurred and murky. A strange fog swirled into existence.

Gregoir narrowed his eyes as the substance drifted towards him. A poison, perhaps? Something to weaken him? Maybe some variation of the truth-teller, an attempt to turn him against his allies? His spirit burned at the challenge!

The fog drifted over him, across his skin and over his face. He breathed it in—Why avoid the inevitable?—and felt his head lighten with a drunken haze. He could feel its dark intentions battering at his consciousness.

BUT HE WOULD NOT GIVE IN!

The feeling vanished, scoured away by the light of his conviction!

"As if I could ever be felled by such underhanded methods!" Gregoir mocked, loud and victorious.

The man hummed to himself. "Subject has previously proven susceptible to power-based mental effects. Attempt at recreation through indirect biological means, a failure."

Oh joy, more mad scientist dribble. They tended to love the sound of their own voice, even more so than the few criminal masterminds that Gregoir had run into over the years. He suspected recording equipment was stashed somewhere within the small cell, so that the man could record his thoughts without effort. His shrimpy arms would struggle to even hold a tape recorder.

Gregoir spoke, before the scientist could get lost in his own head. "Why am I here?"

The scientist sighed at the question, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "You are here because there is a dearth of competent minions in the world."

"Hah!" Gregoir scoffed. "I will never serve the forces of evil!" Admittedly, the man hadn't yet done anything outright evil, merely extraordinarily illegal, but between the use of an unknown power, and the man's general aura, it seemed a safe assumption. Well, that and the kidnapping. Though, how this man managed to—

Oh.

Memories flooded in. Of a manager's office, of a man with a silken voice, of suggestions given and obeyed. It was like a door had been unlocked in his mind. Or, more accurately, uncovered. It had been hidden from him, tucked away in some distant corner. He might've never remembered had the situation played out differently. Even now, it was a blur. A kaleidoscope of noise and color.

The scientist cocked his head at Gregoir's furious expression. "Oh? That's quite a look. Finally remembered how you got here?"

Gregoir growled, at himself, at the violation of his mind that he allowed to happen. That sort of control was extraordinarily rare. There were a mere handful of upgrades that could interact with the minds of outside individuals, and all of them were heavily restricted, not to mention weak. This 'Eddie' clearly had access to resources that he shouldn't. Bribery, perhaps? Corruption!? He would have to be brought to justice! Gregoir's heart pounded in anticipation, his muscles swelled beneath his skin, his power roared in outrage.

But still he waited.

Answers first, and then the reckoning.

"So you sent your underling to kidnap me?" Gregoir growled menacingly. "Very well. I'll forgive your impertinence if you surrender yourself into my custody—"

"No." The scientist shook his head.

What a shame. That worked, occasionally. Gregoir moved on to his next tactic.

"Well, you've got me. Is this where you brag about your elaborate plans so that I, your hated foe, will understand the true extent of my failure?!" This also worked, far more than occasionally. Mad scientists loved to brag.

"I meant no, I did not send my underling to kidnap you, you great oaf," the scientist interrupted with frustration.

Gregoir blinked. An innocent bystander then— No, of course not. There was nothing innocent about the man. Still...

"An accidental kidnapping?" Gregoir rumbled in amusment. "My congratulations. This is a first for me."

"Quite," the villain acknowledged with a dainty sniff. "The original plan was to abduct an officer with a police-issue upgrade, or a mutate."

He glared at Gregoir. "That means literally any officer except you. Had things gone to plan, you would be going about your business, none the wiser, while my team tried their luck again elsewhere."

Gregoir loved mad scientists. "So you faked a minor problem on the day we were having ride alongs, in the hopes of ensnaring one of my fellow officers, only to encounter me instead? Hah! Lady Luck herself is against you!"

"Yes, it was quite annoying. When one of your litte rookies broke free of Mr. Charleston's control, he panicked rather badly." The scientist shrugged. "It's not a total loss, however. Connor Graham will fetch a hefty ransom, and you will make a fine test subject for my experiments."

Something cold and dark trickled through Gregoir's mind, blotting out the pride he felt at Daniel's implied escape. "What have you done to Mr. Graham?"

"Nothing yet," the villain answered amicably. "He'll probably end up losing a finger, or perhaps an ear, but he'll be fine if the ransom is paid. Well, for a given value of fine. I've been told that some people receive a certain amount of trauma when placed in these kinds of situations."

Gregoir clenched his fist and tried not to demolish the table beneath him. "And these... experiments? What is to become of me?"

His enemy lit up with delight. "That's the real question, isn't it?" WIth a flourish, the man produced a clipboard, and began to read off of it. "Gregoir Pierre-Louis, a twenty-year veteran of the APD. Known to be the only member of the force with a naturally gained power."

He met Gregoir's eyes and smiled pleasantly. "Did you know that you have the most extreme form of regeneration on public record? I'm sure that some members of the Old Crowd could have surpassed you, but they are all dead or in hiding. You are quite the unexpected windfall, my friend. Just think of the insights that studying your power will give me!"

"If I am such a catch, why didn't you target me to begin with?" Gregoir asked, grimly supressing his righteous wrath. His power burned within him, sending warm pulses throughout his body.

"The job was to replicate a restricted upgrade," the villain conveniently answered. "I wanted a rookie officer, someone who wouldn't be missed. Taking you was both high-risk, and pointless for the objective that I am attempting to achieve."

Gregoir ignored the roaring in his veins, and forced a smile onto his face. "Yet here I am."

"Yes, well—" The scientist coughed awkwardly. "Once I actually acquired you, it was a little difficult to let you go. Intellectually speaking. I hope you don't mind, but I performed a few tests while you were sleeping. Your regeneration, while potent, did not seem anywhere near as powerful as it should have been. What an interesting puzzle."

"The reason is actually quite straightforward," Gregoir corrected. The heat bubbled and churned inside him. His muscles tightened against their bonds.

"Oh?" The villain leaned forward, his face filled with interest. "I don't suppose you'd tell me?"

Gregoir's smile turned vicious. He'd heard enough from this man to guess the specifics of his operation. Should this continue any longer, the villain might elaborate on the sorts of experiments he'd performed in the past. He might explain the plans that he had for Gregoir's coworkers, for the men and women who sacrificed themselves daily for the city.

So this was enough. Any more, and he might not hold back. He might splatter this villain across the room in his righteous fury. No. He needed the scientist alive to testify. He needed him conscious, so that he could pry the location of his recruits out of the man's mouth. He needed this place intact for proof, to see how deep the rabbit hole went.

The roar in his veins escalated to a crescendo.

"I won't tell you," Gregoir admitted. He'd given the same explanation for years, and not a soul had believed him. It was pointless to tell the insect before him.

"But I can show you."

Muscles tensed and pulled, his mouth opened in a defiant roar, and the fire in his chest spread to every atom of his being.

HIS FIGHTING SPIRIT SURGED!

And the table shattered beneath him, his arms ripped free of their restraints, and Gregoir lept forward in the name of justice!