With the man disarmed, filled with sedatives that stopped any movements in the arms and legs, and more than a few threats about possible resisting, Cassandra pulled off the mask lit up with neon lights. What met her was-

“An old man,” Jules mused. While likely not for the same reason, the woman would have used the same questioning tone. The voice heard the day before had been young. Not close to what matched the sight in front of her. “An old man managed to overwhelm you. There’s gotta be some irony in that fact somewhere.”

Yes, the two were most definitely not thinking about the same thing. As the analysis finished on the man’s face, Cassandra began to run it by the internal systems, referencing the data against the regional databases. As expected he wasn't from the city. With the gear on his body, there was no chance of-

Oh. There it was. Cassandra briefly flickered her eyes, as she looked over the charges sent on the man. There were more than a few warrants, two whole bounties, and even a warning listed about him. Dangerous to the point of lethal force being allowed from the get-go. That was to be expected. The man was not prone to refraining from it himself. The names of casualties were more than one page, after all. He had been busy, through the years. Busier than anybody had the right to be.

“Terrence Manson,” Cassandra said, her voice dull and uninterested. Here she thought she would get something worthwhile. Instead, she got a scumbag deserving of eternal fire. She only wished she could give it to him. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, all degrees of murder, theft, arson, and more crimes than anybody could count. Anything you say will be held against you. You are expected to-”

Cassandra had to stop her dull monologue of prepared words, as the old man began laughing to himself. His teeth showed as his mouth gaped in a laugh only those well into their years could pull off. His eyes could barely be seen, with how much his face was tensing.

“You expect to arrest me? Me? You stupid, little idiot. If poor weaklings were going to be capable of arresting me, I would have been dead long ago,” the old man said. Meanwhile, Cassandra looked through his portfolio of crimes. The list of arson attacks was especially interesting. There was only one real reason they had ever been started. The information of that was sent over to Jules. “I will see you both in-”

Moving faster than she was able to track, Jules stepped forward, hitting the man in the side of the head. Including the concussion, Terrence Manson ceased to hold onto consciousness, stopping all and every kind of thought. Cassandra gave the automation a stink-eye.

“What?” Jules said. “You ordered immediate incapacitation of mental triggers. What else did you expect me to do?

“I expected you to use the gear we have for this specific scenario,” Cassandra said, nodding towards the automations side, where one flat disk rested. When pressed against somebody's neck or head, it would cause instant confusion, disorientation, and make the person incapable of worthwhile thought.

The automation looked down at its own side, eyeing the device that it had had at its disposal this entire time.

“... oh.”

Cassandra just sighed, as she looked over the condition of the man. While the methods used might not have been perfect, they were well within their boundaries of sanity. From the information gained, the old man in front of them had a tendency for more… flashy getaways. As was clear, Terrence Manson was not somebody who was overly strong or had armour capable of defending him against every projectile.

If anything, it was only worth its weight in gold because of one simple reason. It was one of the greatest armours against medium-sized explosions. And that old man was a specialist in those, using them at every fight that he could. Old technology it might have been, but the firepower was more than enough to blow away any competition.

And quite literally at that. Every time he had been cornered, every time it should have been the end for him, explosives had been used to escape. Cassandra had not seen any around, but she did not doubt that there were some within five meters. If triggered, they would have killed her, allowing the man to escape at his own volition.

That same trick had been used so many times now. Countless had underestimated the man once he had been disarmed of his obvious weapon, left to lie in the steel-plated hockey armour he bore on him. Countless had similarly died due to force but upon their bodies, shrapnel digging into their skin, and burns making the internal-external.

It was a bad day for Cassandra. If they had disarmed him of the bomb-controls without causing disorientation, she might have been excused for kicking him in the throat. Though… perhaps she could- No. She had to remain professional. Even if her partner was poking at the body.

“He seems sent out cold,” Jules said, somehow not looking too happy about it. “Does this mean that we have to carry him out in the car?”

“It means that you will have to carry him to the car,” Cassandra said. The automation seemed annoyed from that fact, sighing to itself, as it began to get the still body into proper lifting position. A fireman's carry looked to be the obvious choice. “I will locate any explosives that have been set down. Be quick if I request emergency assistance.”

“I was fast the first time around. No need to remind me of it,” Jules said. The automation effortlessly carried the old man. With the armor, there had to be a minimum weight of at least a hundred and fifty kilos. But, no strain was seen, showing off yet again how much of an advantage the scrap-buckets had from the start.

Not that the woman paid too much heed to that fact. Throughout the months she had spent working with the automations, she had gotten more than a good grasp on just how much they could carry. The human standard was around twice one’s weight. They could easily triple that number. And that wasn't even beginning to think about the strength-based officers…

No, Cassandra knew more about that subject than she would ever need to. So, instead of thinking about her diminishing chances of having a job in the near future, she began to focus on the events that had transpired only minutes ago. As an officer, she had been trained for stressful situations. She had been trained to look down a barrel and smile. She had done it before if only with backup coming to her aid seconds after.

Here… it had been different. She had assumed Jules to have been stopped in its tracks. She had thought herself both helpless and in need of saving herself. Two facts that made the other impossible. And one of them was compulsory.

Cassandra had stared deep into death’s eyes, and there was not a chance she ever wanted that again. While the realisation of the fact had not come until later, she had been scared deeply at that point. She had thought she would meet her demise, no matter what she did. She had thought herself helpless, that her fate had been well and fully sealed. It had not been a great moment for her.

When the gun had been triggered, her eyes had not moved once. That had not been an act of bravery, but an act of cowardness. Her body had been frozen in fear, the slightest resistance stopped before it started.

Even after the fact, her hands still shook a little. They would calm down after a while, but, for now, her body continued to be in a state of alertness. Her medical signs were raising. It was not too serious. Breathing helped calm them down. Thoughts about what happened after helped calm her down.

Like every scrap with death, those able to tell the story always had a saving moment. An instant where the tides turned, where they began to be safe yet again. Cassandra’s moment had been the flying angel by the name of Jules. The automation had come in at the right moment and had stopped what would have been an instant kill. A heavy, moving piece of iron had saved her from death.

Wasn't that just ironic? Steel saved her from shrapnel. The industry was working against itself in the truest sense of the word. That… that did cause Cassandra to chuckle a bit. Not like the automation would notice. She could have the moment for herself.

The rest of her job was quick enough. The small explosives were near enough that they took no time at all to find. And since there were no complicated locking mechanisms, disarming them was an easy task, the woman just having to spet outside the building while automatic processes took care of it.

All in all, the heist of the day had been successfully stopped. A one-to-one on the leaderboard, even if one of the players had just been newly introduced. The looter had not been who Cassandra had been looking for, but she supposed that criticism like that was just on the edge of pettiness.

Jules had taken care of their captured target, having stripped the man of anything that could have potentially been used as a weapon. The automation had even disabled a few of the internal triggers, stopping any attempts at escape. While the old man might have been successful at earlier run-offs, that had only been due to him never being fully cleared. The police were just too ready for the likes of him.

Getting inside the police vehicle yet again, Cassandra took a glance at the back-side of the car. Inside several layers of protective shielding lay the man, lacking anything close to consciousness. She would have guessed that he would have woken up by now, but it seemed he was out for some time more. With how long had passed, serious damage might have occurred.

…

Oh well. Nothing she could do about it now. Jules similarly didn't comment on it, starting up the car, and backing out of where they had parked. With the store locked down under lock and key, the time had come to return to the station.

With a flick of a mechanical finger, the automation turned on the onboard vehicle, making it start blasting what could only be called an abomination of mankind. Or, put in other words, Jules had turned on some electronic music. Just the bass was enough to make Cassandra cringe in distaste.

Which was why she turned it off immediately, much to the distaste of the on driving the vehicle.

“Oi, I was listening to that!” Jules said in protest.

“So was I,” Cassandra fired back. “And I did not enjoy it.”

…

“You do a good thing, but then they don't care the moment I have a different opinion. Ungrateful people these days…” Jules said, likely in reference to something or another. Cassandra couldn't have cared less.

…

With a flick of her own finger, she turned the music back on. Jules shouted in joy. Cassandra could not bring herself to care. She only cared about showing that she was grateful. In fact, she was very grateful.

Not that she would ever say that, of course. There were standards to hold up, after all.