Ryan hopped out of BGM’s driver side and shut the door. Looking around at the torn up parking lot filled with abandoned cars, he nodded to himself. Nobody coming to hijack her here. She looks more banged up than the rest of these junkers.

Halfway towards the bus, the editor paused. Feeling like he was forgetting something obvious, Ryan quickly patted his gear down. Gloves, badge, nametag, tactical belt, face-mask, the last of their protein bars... in his right hand the editor held a medicine box with a heart monitor and oxygen inside. Functional props, to really sell the paramedic ensemble. Not that he had any idea how to really use either.

I have everything… so what am I--?

Ryan tapped himself on the forehead and jogged back over to BGM. Popping the rear door he reached behind the passenger seat in the back and grabbed the large black duffel bag waiting for him. Then he locked her up and walked nonchalantly back over to where Big Mamba was parked. Just in case anyone was watching. Though it seemed… pointless after the first dozen or so feet. Nobody was around. Ryan picked up the pace to a jog and hopped the waiting stairs into their main ride for the evening. A blue bus parked near the lot’s entrance.

BGM and Big Mamba had both been given a remodel and a fresh coat of paint for this mission. The monster truck he'd driven through a house had been converted into a black SUV with enough armor and failsafe mechanisms to escort the president. Big Mamba had been converted into a medical service bus, complete with the red cross and a logo for some company Carrie remembered that provided ambulatory services. 'Regional Health Services'.

The fresh paint they’d each received had lasted about .2 seconds driving through the woods. Now both vehicles were covered in dirt and scratched to hell and back. This was on purpose however, as any new-looking vehicle these days would be rather noticeable, if not a target. There hadn’t been many on the roads, but there also hadn’t been any trouble. The latter of which Ryan was grateful for, the former would make it harder to lose pursuers if they were chased.

“All set?” Lucas asked. The wolfman looked comfortable in the driver seat wearing his paramedic outfit, complete with RHS logo and patch. As the head of ops, Lucas was in charge here. Ryan had decided to drive separately to reinforce that point and give the wolfman a chance to set the mood with his team on their first mission.

"Yep." Ryan patted his duffel bag as he walked towards the rear of the bus where the rest of the ops team were waiting. Half of them on gurneys and all of them wearing the new faces Ryan had given them before leaving base. Renee appeared to be napping on her stretcher, laying there with a slack jawed and conked-out expression on her unfamiliar face.

"Almost forgot the mayor's gift basket." Ryan quipped, receiving a few dark chuckles in response. Then he leaned against the wall as the bus began to move.

Big Mamba pulled to a stop shortly after, then her engine revved three times in quick succession. “Chuck says we’ll be there in three minutes.” Lucas announced, turning around and looking at each of them in turn. “Everyone, be ready.”

Affirmatives rang out and… nobody moved. Except for Renee, who had jerked awake at the stop and was now checking herself over in a flip mirror to make sure the fake injuries Lily had put on her still looked real. Aside from looking a bit messy at the mouth, the fake blood still appeared believable to Ryan. It must not have to Renee however, as she gestured for a makeup bag and began applying fixes.

“We’re already ready, boss.” Kevin called from the stretcher he was laid out on, his voice somewhat muffled by the bandages covering most of his face. “Just let me know when I can get all this scratchy crap off me.”

"Oh suck it up, at least you don’t have to play dead." Grumbled a man's voice from the sealed body bag across the aisle.

"Terry? Is that you?" Ryan asked in surprise, unable to keep the laugh from his voice. Even with the changes, each person’s voice hadn’t changed very much. "Why are you zipped up? We're not even there yet."

"Getting in character." Responded the body bag, now recognizable as the plan's linchpin super, Terry. His voice took on a tone of recitation as he shuffled around. “I am one with the corpse and the corpse is with me. I am one with the corpse and the corpse is with me.”

“I don’t get it. Is that from some nerd thing?” Keith asked, his eyes and a grin betraying the fact that he did indeed get the reference.

Big Mamba’s engine revved in a way that sounded suspiciously like ‘Starrr Warrrs’ if you knew the answer.

“Okay, how did he even hear that? Isn’t he part bus right now?” Keith’s head swiveled about. He gave the speaker next to him a suspicious look.

“Chuck has an astonishingly small pair of --” Before Keith could finish whispering that sentence, the bus checked its brakes and everyone lurched forward. Keith’s gurney did as well, sliding him forward out of the straps to smack his head into the partition in front of him.

Everyone else who had seen this coming, including Terry, shared a laugh at the dragon aspect’s comeuppance.

“It’s part of his power.” Ryan said, answering the question on the scowling man’s face. “Big Mamba has voice recognition for the driver. A feature Lucas asked for in case someone tries to steal her. I imagine Chuck is using it to hear what’s going on.”

The medical bus’s ‘all-clear’ bell sounded with what sounded like a smug ‘ding’ as if to confirm the editor’s assumption.

Name: Chuck Houston

Superpower: Machine Possession (Limited): Grants the capability to possess any machine the user can touch. Once possessed, grants full control over the machine. Requires understanding of each internal and external function in order to utilize them while in control.

Warning: Possessing a machine that the user does not understand may result in incomplete control, inaccessible functions, or neural rejection.

Chuck had been a dishwasher with NASCAR dreams before everything went down. His twin sister, Nancy, had been in the school with him for a while but had ‘willingly’ walked out a day before Ryan and co. had shown up. Thanks to that, Chuck was matched only by Carrie in his hatred of their dear leader. The intensity in the man’s eyes, coupled with his power, had made Chuck an easy choice for their getaway driver. Especially since his body could be safely left back at base.

Pity he's just a car nut. If he'd been an airline engineer or helicopter mechanic we'd really be in business.

As the bus turned into the hospital entrance, Lucas turned completely in his seat. Putting his back to the road in a way that would’ve been extremely dangerous were he actually driving.

"Alright everyone. We're here. Ryan, grab Terry. Love, you've got Keith. If you’re finished--” Lucas paused, then resumed once Renee gave him a quick nod and put the bag off to the side. "--then it's you and me once we stop. Remember, you have been hurt. You are still hurt. At least, until we're inside."

As Lucas continued, Ryan looked at the window. They’d gone over the plan many times, he didn’t need to hear it again. Instead, he wanted to see what they were dealing with.

The hospital grounds looked much as they had before, save for the addition of more police milling about. And it was more crowded. The parking lots, built to handle far more traffic than the administrators likely expected to see, were almost full. There was also no checkpoint to get in, which was surprising, but he guessed the Mayor was trying to keep up appearances. Keep at least part of the town looking normal, maybe keep the people calm.

That or he doesn't have the manpower to be everywhere at once. Not many people would be dumb enough to attack a hospital.

On the 1 to 10 scale of villainous moves, attacking a medical facility was a pretty clear-cut 8. Maybe even a 9 considering Arborview boasted a rather extensive children's ward on the 3rd floor. Which was exactly why they had decided to try and get through this without hurting anyone. To infiltrate and rescue, rather than attempt to take over. That way the hospital was still intact and able to help the city once they were gone.

Ryan had no intention of trying to campaign against Marcus, leading Arborview was just not something the editor saw in the cards for himself. Still, public perception was never something to be taken lightly. Especially since they were engaged in what was essentially guerilla warfare.

With the mayor currently controlling the narrative, his group had to be very careful not to give the man any more fuel to frighten the townsfolk with. His nightly fireside chats on the radio about their ‘dire situation’ and the ‘forces mounting against them’ were alarming enough already. Especially since Lucas’s contacts in the city had reported there was at least one firefight in the city each night. Some nights that meant guns. Other nights that meant actual fire.

His old history teacher in highschool, Mr. Bernett, used to go on long-winded discussions about the ‘real’ mechanics of war. The ugly sides. Things that weren’t written down ‘because none of those cowards on the school board think you can handle it’. The old man’s lectures had been… enlightening, in a morbid sort of way. Fueled and enriched by experiences the former soldier had lived through on deployment during his own service, they had seemed like stories from movies rather than real life.

Now though, the city was living its own horror story. Ryan was grateful for the lessons Mr. Burnett had shared back then. Even if some of it he really hadn’t wanted to think about at the time. It was thanks to those lessons on history that Ryan recalled the guiding principle behind today’s mission.

If you want things to change, you need the people’s support.

Mr. Bernett had put it another way, of course: “If you have to fuck things up to get shit to change, make sure you don’t fuck with people’s lives when you do.”... Blunt as the man had often been, the irascible man had been right.

Marcus had done a lot of undoubtedly evil things to take control, but he was also slowly taking steps to bring ‘normal’ back to the everyday family’s life. Building farms, organizing hunting parties, distributing supplies to grocery stores to replace the trucks that were no longer coming in… Even keeping the US dollar as a viable currency that still worked at the many businesses that had fallen in line with him. Moves that prove the mayor is smarter than some give him credit for. In a few years, he might even be able to claim the ends justified the means and those who didn't suffer at his hands directly might even believe it.

Lucas pretended to pull the bus into park at the rear end of the least crowded lot, the unmistakable sounds of the bus stopping pulling Ryan from his musing. Looking out the front, the main entrance of the hospital was bustling with patients. Which, sad as it was, suited their purposes just fine. The emergency ward entrance appeared less frantic, with policemen standing guard at either side of the double doors. A few people were even leaving.

The back doors of the bus opened wide and a ramp extended out to the ground. Ryan, Carrie, and Lucas grabbed their gurneys and filed out towards the emergency entrance. The pair of wolves moving with an exaggerated rush while Ryan walked slowly, as if in defeat.

Once they were inside, the plan was for them to split off. The mission of the first five was to find those being held, get them to the basement floor, and use Terry’s power to get them out of the building. Then load 'em onto Big Mamba and drive off, none the wiser. Assuming everything went perfectly, that is.

Ryan’s mission was simply to get Terry inside and then go play distraction. Keep the hospital staff busy and incapacitate any goons that came to interfere. The duffel bag held his trump card in that regard. Or his last resort, depending on how you looked at it.

And if I have time, figure out some answers. Like why the mayor didn't try to recruit or brainwash a potentially much more powerful super once they woke up in 'his' hospital. And why let me leave? Were the thugs he sent after us just a test to see what I could do? Or is it something more? An internal power struggle, maybe?

The fledgling editor wasn’t a fool. He did not believe for a second there wasn’t more going on here. He just… didn't know what it was yet. As they wheeled their team over to the emergency entrance, Ryan decided not to waste any more time guessing at answers.

With any luck, I'll find some today.

Walking up it seemed their preparations, and all of the points Ryan had spent on their disguises, were working. Each member of the team had a new face, but it wasn't a mask. They'd each volunteered not just to look like - but to be someone else. The sensation of flesh and bones shifting hadn’t been comfortable for any of them, but they’d gotten through it with minimal swearing.

Turns out, Lucas had been rightfully concerned that the police were looking for them. The faces of the intrepid trio who'd rescued the others from imprisonment had been plastered on various boards and walls throughout the city, each offering rewards for a small menagerie of wanted 'criminals'. Their own mugshots had no doubt been taken from cameras inside the school they’d forgotten to deal with. Lucas was, perhaps fittingly, worth more than either of them.

Coming in as they were had been a chance the wolf just hadn't been willing to take. Disguises had been discussed, then their local biology professor had taken that thought to its natural evolution. The benefits of having a multifaceted team behind him, and their combined forethought, was already paying dividends.

None of the half dozen or so police officers milling about spared them a second glance as they rolled the gurneys in. The guards posted at the door were alert, but not for medical personnel bringing in wounded it seemed. That made sense. What didn't was when neither of them even bothered to look at Renee or Keith’s injuries. Or the body bag Terry was so stoically playing dead in.

They didn't avoid it. Both men just treated the oncoming gurneys as if they weren't even there.

You would expect cops acting as guards to at least check. Even if it's a normal sight.

Both officers had a strange look about them as Ryan approached. It was wooden, almost. As if… the editor pulled up his power to check the mental status of the one on his left. Just in case.

Name: Jack Harthrow

Superpower: Enhanced Reflexes

Mental Status: Alert, Under Influence, Sickened

‘Under Influence’? Is that how Marcus is controlling them? Some sort of influence power? Before Ryan could call up another prompt to learn more about the man, the quizzical look on his face caught the officer’s attention just as the doors opened. It seemed to wake Jack up somehow. The officer appeared to interpret the look Ryan was giving him as a request for help. He shook his head and waved Ryan off apologetically.

“Sorry, son. Too many arseholes outside that want to put more good folk in there than we already have.” The older man's face took on a gentler expression, as if he pitied Ryan. He held one of the automatic doors, keeping it from closing. “Go on in. You’ll be safe while you’re here, I can at least promise you that.”

Unsure how best to respond, Ryan merely gave the man a nod of thanks and kept going. Looking back after the doors closed, Jack resumed his original wooden posture as if nothing had changed. Well that's fucking creepy.

Before he could think more on it, the situation got worse. Ryan's gurney bumped into Carrie from behind. Neither of the wolves had gotten very far into the entryway. Because the emergency ward was packed to the walls with dying souls.

Screams and cries of pain reverberated off one another, bouncing off the hall in front of them and rushing into Ryan's ears. Those sounds were soon followed by a constant stream of wounded moaning. An orchestra of patients struggling to live. Their voices forming a haunting dirge that seemed to demand of life itself: why?

Ryan froze as wave after wave of horrible sound washed over him. And then the smell hit him. Like blood mixed with festering shit. Then blended into a concoction strong enough to inhibit the rest of his senses.

There must have been half a hundred people crammed into the entry around the triage halls. Most weren’t on gurneys, just huddled into wherever they could fit with feverish eyes and leaking bodies. Looking around, it seemed like half the people in the room had been shot, stabbed, burned, or crushed in some fashion or another. Only three staff members, nurses in pale blue scrubs, could be seen walking carefully amongst the mass of people. Trying their best to triage those who needed it the most as fast as they could and direct them down the hallways. There wasn't a single doctor in sight.

“This… all these people…” Carrie whispered. Despite how close they were standing, Ryan almost couldn't hear her over the scenery before them. His eyes were glued to it. This wasn't an attack. Their suffering wasn't something he could just rationalize away in the heat of the moment. It felt… wrong.

Lucas's knuckles tightened on the gurney handlee. Keith and Renee kept quiet, laying still. Neither appeared willing to add another voice to the horror show in front of them.

Ryan made a snap decision. These people needed his help. And his team needed a distraction. There was no reason he couldn't provide both. The editor crossed over to Renee’s gurney and began unstrapping her.

"Renee, I need you to go find whoever is in charge. Tell them I fixed you, that I have a limited ability to heal, and that I want to help - but don’t want to get in the way. Have them point me at the worst cases first and I’ll take it from there. Don’t take no for an answer.” Renee looked at him with surprise at first, but quickly nodded and started removing her for-show bindings.

Ryan turned back to the lupine members of the ops team. “Lucas, Carrie, take the other two somewhere they won’t be noticed and keep moving as planned. We’ll catch up with you as soon as we can.” Lucas was technically in charge here. It was clear from Ryan’s tone however that there was no room for argument. The two men locked eyes. A twitch of approval crossed the features of an unfamiliar face.

Without hesitation Lucas walked over to Terry’s gurney and lifted the bagged man over one shoulder. Carrie followed suit, shouldering Keith in similar fashion with one hand. For once, the young man didn’t have a wry comment on the situation. As Renee got herself off the gurney and beelined for the senior-most-looking nurse, dodging or dancing past wounded as she went, the pair of play paramedics leaned up against the wall as if getting in line.

Ryan remained where he was, sweeping his eyes over the room. Calling ‘For Pony!’ repeatedly in his mind, he activated his power on each and every person he could see. Trying to see if any of them had suspicious-sounding mental statuses like the cop outside. He counted four with the very same affliction, including one of the nurses. The rest were just mixtures of fear, delirium, or other understandable side-effects of trauma.

Thankfully, none were under the apparently more direct status, 'mental control'. Good. Honestly, that was fewer than I expected. He thought.

Renee pointed over at him, and Ryan strode forward into the mass of wounded townsfolk before him. Doing his best not to aggravate injuries or irritate their owners. Most seemed too consumed by pain to complain about line-cutting. The nurse Renee had been speaking with met him halfway, his companion in tow.

“Is it true? Your power lets you heal?” She asked in a voice not built for the impracticality of hope. More for skepticism.

“Yes. I just need a room to concentrate in. And, if you can, only one at a time. My power works quickly, but it takes some preparation that I--”

“Done. Take room 102, right over there.” Commanded the authoritative woman whose nametag read both ‘Karen’ and 'Head Nurse'. “I don’t care how it works, just that it does. We’ll get you what you need, just tell Laura what that is. You’re not the only healer here, you know.”

Karen snapped a finger at the woman Ryan’s power had identified as being under the influence of another. “Laura! You’re with--” She gestured dismissively up and down at Ryan, as if the time she’d allotted this conversation had already run out. The woman literally looked at her watch mid-sentence. “--him. He can heal, but he’s particular about it. Figure it out. I’ve got to go check in on Reynard before he kills himself trying to save the whole damn building. And you.”

The strangely intimidating nurse rounded all of her 5 foot 4 inches of height on Ryan once more, turning completely past Renee as if she didn’t exist. Karen’s form twirled so forcefully Ryan almost brought an arm up to block.

“... thank you.” She added, with the first note of actual kindness in her voice Ryan had heard this entire bizarre conversation. “Not everyone stays to help. Even the ones who should.” One eyebrow raised as her eyes went purposefully towards the star of life patch on Ryan’s uniform that read ‘PARAMEDIC’ above it in big, bold letters.

Before Ryan could say a word in response, Karen turned on her heels and left. Dodging patients down the hall of the trauma ward like a professional running back, she was out of sight within seconds.

Renee and Ryan locked eyes as Laura headed over to them. The unfamiliar female face arched a brow in a way that reminded him distinctly of another time.

“Let me guess.” Ryan drawled, doing his best to seem as confident and unaffected as he could. “You like her?”

Renee didn't seem to buy it, but she played along. “Little miss no-nonsense? Oh yes. Very much. We should recruit her, if we can." Then she grew quiet. Her voice quivered a bit and she reached out for his hand. "I don’t want... this… to ever be us.”

Ryan couldn’t help but agree. They stood there for a moment, silent, as Laura made her way over. Several people reached or called out for the "medic", "doc", or "sir, please" to help them. Unable to find a reason or the will to resist, the fake paramedic began talking to them. Reassuring them as best he could.

Thankfully, Laura made it to them before his lack of medical knowledge became obvious. Like Jack at the door, her movements seemed stiff. Not awkward just… slow.

“Right. This way, please. I’ll bring Mr. Edwards in first. Both of his legs and one arm were nearly severed. Each limb was partially cauterized, so he has some time, but not much with his level of blood loss. Do you need anything aside from the room?”

As Ryan followed Laura into room 102, he saw Lucas and Carrie seize their chance to move in past the masses unsupervised. “No ma’am, just make sure to close the door after you bring him. I need quiet and concentration for it to work.”

Laura shook her head almost in apology. Or pity. "Quiet? You heard what his injuries were, right?"

**********

“A blood oath? Why? What are you, some kind of savage? A demon?” Asked a younger woman whose name Ryan hadn’t gotten yet. Her voice rose in alarm a bit with every word. One bruised hand rose to the cross at her neck.

She was now the 24th person they’d brought to him. The poor lass had been shot in the back at least five or six times. He’d stopped her injuries from worsening and stabilized her, but as with the rest Ryan found himself loath to spend more points without receiving something in return. And an assurance that the extent of his capacity to heal would be kept quiet.

Not everyone had accepted the offer for him to fix the rest of their injuries, given what he was asking. And he hadn't expected them all too. That was fine. Most had.

Ryan raised his hands placatingly. “I’m no devil, and I don’t want your soul. My ability to heal takes… a lot out of me. I can fix you, good as new, but if I’m going to do it I want to know the effort is worth what it’ll cost me. All I want in return is a favor, to be named later. That’s it. Promise.”

The young woman leaned back from him a bit, as if to contemplate, the movement aggravating her injuries somewhat. She hissed through her teeth at the sensation and it took a second or two of breathing for her to calm back down.

Ryan waited patiently. This wasn’t something he enjoyed, pressing people when they were vulnerable. But being an altruist right now wouldn’t help them. The energy reserves he’d brought with him had run dry on the last patient, and the editor only had so many points left. Too few points.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” She stated flatly, meeting his eyes with some defiant steel in her own. A touch of anger as well.

Why is that always the first thing women assume men want? Ryan lamented inside his own mind. Is that what society put into everyone’s heads? That sex is the only favor someone would want to trade for?

Outwardly, Ryan shook his head. “That’s not what I’m after. I don’t want anything sexual from you. You're not even my type.” He'd added the last line as a joke, but he could immediately tell it fell flat. The woman in front of him tilted her head and winced at the remark, as if acknowledging the poor taste of it.

“I mean it.” He continued, with renewed emphasis, trying to move past the awkward moment. “All I want is for you not to tell anyone about what I can do so people don't come looking for me every time they stub their toe. And… for you to consider joining up with me in the future, should that offer be made. That’s the favor I wanted. The only favor I wanted.” Ryan put as much sincerity in that last line as he could manage.

She seemed to mull that one over a bit. Then shuffled in her seat, which caused something to shift internally. Her face blanched and she shook her head. “Okay... Fine. That seems… fair. But what if-- nngh... What if I refuse your little offer later? Are you going to put me back like this?”

“Nope. Can't. It's a one way type deal. You’ll be fixed up and free to do whatever you like, even if that's giving me the finger.”

“Then do it. You need to prick my thumb or something?”

Ryan chuckled a bit in spite of himself. Being told they could tell him to pound sand later is what got most of them to say yes. “No, I’ve got enough of your blood on my hands already. I’ll just mix it with mine and we’ll be good to go. Now give me your hand. The uninjured one is fine.”

The editor activated his power, granted the young woman - whose name was Darla - the blood oath power, and then walked her through making the oath. Two minutes and done. He had the process down to a science by now. Once that was all done, Ryan handed her a sterile rag to bite down on and healed the rest of her injuries.

From the look on her face, the brief pain was quickly followed by intense relief as the tension went out of her shoulders. A curious look of relief mixed with disbelief crossed her features. "God above… I didn't think you could actually do it."

Darla slowly let out the breath she'd sucked in when the healing process began. Then she twisted around, reaching with an arm to see if the holes in her back had vanished. Only smooth skin met her.

"What about the bullets?" Darla inquired, an almost giddy excitement rising in her voice.

Instead of answering, Ryan merely pointed to the metal bits on the floor behind her. Darla's eyebrows raised another notch. Then she whistled.

"No wonder you want to keep your power hidden… it makes being able to fly look like a… joke."

"You can fly?" Ryan asked with genuine curiosity. He hadn't seen any wings on her. As far as he'd seen, powers were at least loosely based on physics. Even if those physics weren't well understood. At all.

This isn't the time to talk. Ryan reminded himself. Lucas and the others should be done by now. Renee already went to go check on them, she should be back any moment.

"It's not as great as it sounds. I can't even carry anyone." Darla remarked as she headed towards the door quite a bit happier than she'd been on her way in.

"Maybe you just need to do some pushups?"

Darla laughed at that. Then opened the door to leave.

Before she did, Ryan checked her power.

Name: Darla Powell

Superpower: Gravity Manipulation (Personal): Grants the capability to manipulate the effects of gravity on oneself.

Definitely need to keep an eye on that one.

Laura poked her head in the door as soon as Darla left, her face pale for the first time he'd seen so far. Though she still had a somewhat blank look to her eyes. "I know you said that was the last one, but we just had a kid come in who was impaled through the stomach by a street sign. There is… a large amount of debris in the wound and, do you think you co--"

Ryan patted his pocket. He knew there was nothing there, but he'd hoped he was wrong. His last protein bar was gone. After healing Darla, that meant he was down to a mere 260 points. Still, the editor didn't hesitate. Renee would grab him if his team needed anything. He was currently doing a better job distracting the staff by having them fetch him patients than he would have otherwise anyway.

"Bring him in."

Less than a minute later, there was a knock at the door. That was quick. Ryan thought, noticing a distinct lack of child screaming on the other end. None of the patients they'd brought him had been unconscious. Apparently, the hospital had run clean out of sedatives for all but the worst surgeries. Ryan laid a hand on his trump card, the duffel bag, conveniently located in easy reach on a nearby countertop. Something was making the hair on his arm stand up, and he didn't like it.

"Come in." Ryan said, loud enough to be heard through the door.

"Pardon the intrusion." Said a cultured voice as the dark-suited man it belonged to stepped inside. Scarring covered the left half of his face. "I hope I won't take up too much of your time."

Ryan recognized the man immediately. The last time he'd seen him, the big man in the suit had been flanked by a pair of sword-wielding elves. This time, he had a briefcase. And a handgun at his belt.

"My name is Chester McCarthy. And I come with a generous proposition for a man of your talents. One that comes straight from our dear mayor."

Only one thought crossed the editor's mind in response. Oh look. Answers.