Besides the ability to finesse the wanted answers from people, Rylie could also light up her hands in big balls of light energy. They didn't seem to harm or protect, but they were incredibly bright, and Mark couldn't look directly at them. She could dim them and turn them brighter, but that was about it. Thinking better of making fun of his new partner so soon, he nodded and assured her that it would probably develop into something else.

"I thought we weren't lying to each other," Rylie said with an amused expression.

"It's not lying. Maybe. I could be right. Guess we'll find out together."

Even though all the walking was making him miss Lily's teleportation portals, they carried on the few blocks to Mary McKenzie's shop. At the very least, it was a good way to learn more about Rylie and answer any questions she may have about the whole situation.

"I guess so. So, what do we do when we get there? Do we just hunt down whoever is doing it and kill them? Do we talk them out of it? What?"

Mark cracked his knuckles, "I mean, I wasn't planning on killing anyone today, but if that's what you're into, kid, then that works for me."

She laughed, "Kid? You're only six years older than me, and since you're an old man, I have to be an adult at best."

"Fair enough," he laughed, "but we're not going to be killing anyone. Hopefully. That's a rare move for the more dire situations, which are currently above our pay grade. You were told that newer recruits aren't fully connected, yeah?"

She nodded, "Sure. As much as Traitor chose me, right now I'm in the testing phase. Then I'll get the option of joining fully or bowing out."

"Correct. Which is super pleasant, and nothing like most of the other patrons. We call you guys recruits. For instance, this Dreaded recruit is most likely not connected. If they don't pass the test to fully connect, then Dreaded tends to upheave their entire life into chaos until they die, whether at their own hand or by some accident. Fiend recruits that fail initiation tend to be torn apart by connected members. Though to be fair, they'll tear each other apart, connected or not."

She looked down at her feet as she walked, nearly running into a street vendor before Mark pulled her out of the way. The two of them stopped and she turned to him, "So what do we do? Capture them and hold them until their patron kills them?"

He shook his head and waited for her to look at him, "They still have a shot at being human. So do you. Don't let all of this fool you. I like you so far, rookie, but if you feel like you want out, I won't deny you the right. For recruits who want out, we have a ritual to sever the connection. it will ensure that that patron or any other won't come knocking again. The ones who don't want to tend to be chosen anyway. They really embody the powers they have. We can sever the connection, but the patron tends to make it whole before we get a chance. If they pose a danger, we imprison them for now."

"For now?" she asked, ignoring Mark's attempts to convince her to leave.

"For now. Five years ago, we were still looking for a way to sever the connection for fully connected people, even by force. It's not great to take away their agency like that, but for the betterment of humanity, it's something we have chosen to do."

She nodded, "And for those we try to capture who are wreaking havoc and put up a fight?"

"Then we fight back," Mark said. "And yeah, sometimes that ends up with someone being killed. It should never be our first option but, sometimes, it becomes necessary. We monsters are beyond becoming human again unless our patrons allow it. And in my experience, that's only happened once."

"With you? Except, you're back."

"I made a deal. If I could live out the rest of my days as a human, then Traitor could have me back when all was said and done. Unfortunately, that only meant five years." He grinned, which caused her to laugh, and the pair took back off down the street, finally making it to the shop.

Mary McKenzie was a middle aged woman, worn older by the exhaustion that showed on her face. She smiled weakly at the pair, inviting them into her shop to look around. She looked wearily at the clock, and Rylie approached her.

"Ma'am, we're here with the Guardian Agency about your complaint."

Mary's expression showed relief as Rylie said what she wanted to hear. Mark could almost feel it. He looked around at various items in the shop, mostly worn furniture that could barely be considered as antique. He was hoping his suspicions were correct. First Rylie, then Lane, then Rylie's powers. He had become a lot more observant since returning to the mortal coil, and he had seen that before.

Sure enough, the clock turned to noon as Rylie comforted Mary and a nearby vase burst into flames. Rylie jumped and Mary started crying, but Mark focused. Before he died, his sense power only worked for hearing, but now he was able to trace small fringes of magic. It was coming from above the shop on the second floor, and he could make out distinct giggling. As the vase turned to ash, the fire disappeared.

"Who else is here, Ms. McKenzie?" he asked.

She looked up, Rylie rubbing her back, "Only my son, Gregory. Why?"

"He's upstairs?"

She nodded, then looked at Rylie. He could sense her trying to figure out what Mary wanted to hear, but he could tell by her expression that she couldn't say it. His partner looked him in the eyes, realizing what was happening.

"Mary," she said, "can we talk to Gregory?"

"Don't ask her. I'm right here." Gregory McKenzie came out from a back room that connected to the second story by means of a hidden staircase. He was about fourteen or fifteen, a scraggly boy with messy black hair. His eyes were wild with magic use, "I guess you figured it out. Sorry, mom."

"Gregory? But how? Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged, "I just realized I could. I wanted to test it. Though," he looked down at the floor, "I keep hearing other things. Every time I do it, I feel so much better, but at the same time I want more. I want to burn down the house, to run out into the street and make cars swerve and hit each other. I want to so bad. Every part of me wants it, but...I can't."

"You want the world to be chaotic," Mark whispered.

The boy nodded, "It needs to be. I'm tired of all the stupid rules at school and here and everywhere else. But I...I can't just go killing people, can I?" He was shaking, his mom crying after every word. Rylie focused on him, and Mark could feel the faint traces of her power.

"We can help you, Gregory. We can remove it and set everything back to normal."

Mark nodded, "She's right. If you two want to come with us, we have people at the agency who can get rid of the power and those feelings."

The mother and son brightened at this. Mark was getting worried. The boy was riding the line between wanting to stay human and wanting to join Dreaded. If they had waited another day or two, Dreaded would have either chosen him or destroyed him. The four of them left the shop, making their way to the agency as Mark held on to the boy, who kept looking out into traffic like he was ready to make a run for it.

Mary stayed in the lobby as Hanna found a ritualist for them. Rylie and Mark watched in the room as the ritualist drew an intricate pattern around the boy, then began chanting. Gregory bent at the waist, his arms holding his stomach, and screamed for the duration. When the ritualist finished, Gregory fell to the floor, unconscious. Mark approached the boy, feeling his neck for a pulse before sighing in relief when he managed to find one.

He looked to Rylie, "It looks like Dreaded didn't want him after all. We made it in time."

Her expression softened and she spat out a shaky laugh. Gregory was moved to a recovery room as they told his mom the good news. She and her son would be able to leave after they woke up, and Hanna gave her a number for a therapist that worked at the agency on cases like these.

The two made it back to their desks before Rylie asked, "What's with the therapist?"

"For both us as teams and the people we help, therapy can go a long way. You should definitely talk with her as a rookie. Back when I joined, it was still Guardian. I wanted to protect my big sister and she wanted to protect me. Apparently, that innate need to help each other was enough for Guardian to choose both of us. Now that he's Traitor, that means you were chosen because you betrayed someone for the greater good. It's the same for the others. Something in Gregory wanted chaos. Dreaded just latched onto it and fed it. Just like someone who joins Modify is obsessed with being different than how they are. Between that and the power and feeling that took over him, Gregory needs a therapist."

"And this therapist is used to people who were almost monsters?"

"More or less. She's one herself, though she's a disciple of Knowledge."

"And we trust Knowledge? Wouldn't they consider us traitors as well?"

Mark shook his head, "Nah. Knowledge feeds just that. There are ones who are good, and ones who are evil. They are a neutral party. They only difference between them all is what they study, pretty much."

"How do you keep track of all of these guys?"

He laughed, "Honestly, I used to keep a list of them all on me. But after dealing with them all individually over the years, you just eventually get there. Like any job, I guess."

"This is actually my first job," Rylie said, sounding embarrassed.

"What, rich family?"

"Yeah, more or less," she said cagily, "How are you so sure I betrayed someone for the greater good? Maybe it was for my own nefarious purposes."

Mark laughed, "A guess really. Traitor is only Traitor now because we betray the other collectives. If you didn't do it for the greater good, that would mean he isn't betraying the rest any more."

She thought that over, "That's either impeccable logic or the most bullshit thing I have ever heard."

Hanna had chosen to walk by their desk just as Rylie said that, "Yeah. Welcome to your new partner, rookie."