Another night brought on another patrol, yet this one was far from routine. Ayda found herself on the beat a bit earlier than normal, roughly ninety minutes or so. This wouldn't be a normal night for her. There'd be little time for listening to a police radio or chasing down bad guys. No, this time around Ayda had a different—though no less vital—agenda.

She rode her motorcycle through the darkened streets of El Puerto in pursuit of the evening's objective. This was a part of the city she didn't get around to often. The teenager had nothing against it per say, there was just nothing to see. It lay just on the edge of the financial district. Many smaller businesses and gas stations were located here. They couldn't afford the more extravagant parts of town, but thrived in this little oasis.

Most buildings were only a single story tall. Only a scattered few stretched past three. At this time of night, most places were already closed. Those that weren't stood out like sore thumbs with the light which poured from their windows. It was one such establishment which Ayda sought. The girl had never been there herself, but from what she'd read it was rather nearby.

Following the instructions on her phone's GPS, Ayda pulled her bike around to the parking lot in back of a small two-story office building. There was signage on the front and rear to denote which businesses owned the space, and roughly where within they resided. There was a boring little travel agency, a shady private investigator, and a few others, but Ayda had something a bit more... public in mind. And, unlike the other organizations, this one was open at these ludicrous hours.

With her goal in mind, Ayda walked around the front of the structure. A sign above the rightmost door read KR 103 Studios, a private provider of radio content in El Puerto. She smirked. She wouldn't have to go up the stairs, after all. It was a small victory, but every bit helped. The teenager's heart already fluttered in her chest. The last thing she needed was any amount of physical exertion to make the problem even worse.

While the windows were large, they had a dark tint to them. It would be difficult to see inside even at high noon. The low light of evening made it impossible. All she could see was her reflection. As almost an afterthought, the girl adjusted a stray hair which had fallen in her face. Ayda lingered for a moment at the door. The fingers on her right hand flexed and tightened, working out nervous kinks. With a quick breath in and then out, she grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

A small bell earmarked her confusion as she crossed the threshold. The girl wasn't really sure what she'd been expecting. Instead of high tech broadcasting equipment or a sound booth, she instead strode into a lobby. There were a few chairs against both the east and west wall. A long desk lay at the far end with a dark-haired man sitting behind. Though diminutive, it served the purpose of welcoming guests. Or, at least, that's what Ayda thought it was; an area for guests and DJ's to wait before going on air. With all the different shows the station hosted, this building probably saw a lot more faces than she realized before.

There was little time to worry about that, though, as the moment she entered, the man behind the desk looked up at her. Though the slant to his eyes was quizzical, he didn't speak at first. Ayda took this as an invitation to approach. With purpose in her stride, she closed the short distance between them. The man didn't divert his gaze as she came on. He remained confused, as opposed to surprised or awestruck. But maybe he just made a good show of hiding it? Ayda silently ousted these trepidations from her mind. Ten seconds in, and this already wasn't going very well.

"Can... can I help you... with anything?" The man said, seeming to choose his words carefully.

"Is there any way I can talk to Casey? Casey Calamity," Ayda clarified, and kicked herself immediately afterward. This guy obviously knew which Casey she referred to.

"He's in the middle of a broadcast right now," The man said. "Are you a friend or family member? I can tell him you were here."

Ayda sighed. "Do you recognize me?" The girl hadn't wanted to play this card so soon, but it was immediately apparent she didn't have any other options. She'd expected the man himself, not his damned secretary.

"Should I?" The man raised an eyebrow. Ayda gathered all the conviction she could muster before giving her response.

"I'm Pulse." She said simply, looking him straight in the eyes through her sunglasses. The man's face fell from confusion to incredulity. His entire posture slumped a bit.

"Right, and I'm the fucking Queen of ruddy ol' England." He sat back in his chair. "Nice try, kid."

"What?' Ayda said after a beat. It was her turn to be baffled. "What do you mean 'nice try?' I am Pulse."

"And let me guess, you want an interview?" The man mocked. "Come back when you have proof." He chuckled. "Great costume, though. And the accent is on point. Way better than the cospalyer we had on a few weeks ago. I don't even think she was Middle-Eastern." That last quip was made to no one in particular.

Ayda huffed shortly through her nose, unable to hide the slight clenching of her jaw. She blinked a few times, thoroughly unimpressed. She should've known. The moment she came through the door, it should've been obvious. Everyone wanted her to prove herself, to provide some evidence she truly was the person she claimed to be.

The girl peered around the room for a moment. There wasn't a whole lot to see besides the desk and chairs, but one thing caught her eye. A cute little potted cactus sat on the left corner of the desk. Alright, then. If this asshole wanted proof, then she would give it to him.

Expression even, she strode the short distance over to where the innocent plant stood. She grasped it with only the tips of her fingers, careful to avoid the little spines. The girl had never been pricked by a cactus before, and this would be a lame time to start. With prize in hand, she walked back over to the secretary, or whatever he was. The man wore the same puzzled mug as when Ayda first entered.

"What do you want with Chester the Cactus," asked the man.

Ayda said nothing as she faced him, lifting the cactus at her eye level so as to make it easily visible. The moment felt almost like a game show host presenting a prize, and the dramatic irony was not lost on her. The man flicked his pupils between the cactus, its new owner, and back again. When Ayda was confident she had his full attention, she enacted her plan.

Five miniscule blasts ensued from her fingers. Of course, they cracked the tan ceramic pot on contact. Pieces of it flew in every which direction while black soil particles filled all the spaces between. The cactus flew straight forward. It impacted the wall with a solid thud just inches from the secretary's head. It split apart at rent seams and shattered ribs.

The man leapt from his chair and pasted himself up against the partition behind him. He sank as far as his body would allow into the dirty white plaster, trying simultaneously to both crawl up it and make himself as small as possible. His wide and shaky gaze shifted several times between the sickly green remnants of the poor plant, and its destroyer. Whether by fear or a sensory overload, his muscles refused to move a single inch.

Ayda gave a sideways smirk. A small laugh escaped her lips. How's that for proof? For further emphasis—and because it was fun to watch the man squirm—she swiftly flexed her fingers one at a time, accentuating each motion at its peak with a blast.

"I am Pulse," she reiterated. "Do you need any more proof? Because, I'm sure I can find something else to break. This desk looks pretty cheap." She ran her hand playfully over the pressboard surface.

"No!" The man croaked, voice uncharacteristically high. He cleared his throat and popped off the wall, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "No, I think that was good enough."

"Good," Ayda nodded once. "I really didn't wanna have to replace this." She lightly smacked the desk. The man flinched at the impact, probably fearing another mini explosion. He cleared his throat again, obviously trying his hardest to maintain an at least somewhat professional moniker.

"You, uh, wanted to speak to Casey?"

"I want that interview you mentioned," corrected Ayda. "Right now, if at all possible."

"Sure," the man said slowly. With ginger movements and eyes completely transfixed on the girl, he made way back over to his swiveling office chair. "I'll let him know you're here. I'm sure he'll be excited to meet you."

The man finished the process of sitting down, and went about typing up something on his computer. Ayda thought she sensed some sarcasm—or perhaps vitriol—in his last comment, but decided to drop it. Further confrontation likely wouldn't do her much good. Instead, she walked back over to the corner where Chester the Cactus had been to wait patiently for whatever happened next. She felt kind of bad about killing the plant. It did nothing wrong. But, its sacrifice put the teenager one step closer to completing the night's goal. The death of the adorable cactus would not be in vain.

At a lack of anything else to do, she looked around the lobby, or whatever it was, once more. There wasn't a whole lot else to see, though, aside from the new ceramic debris and dark dirt all over the place. There was a door to her left which she hadn't noticed before, though. It was slender and appeared rather thick. Instead of a proper knob, it had a slim handhold similar to what could be found on a sliding glass door. She hadn't the faintest idea where it led.

After what felt like a few minutes passed, Ayda decided to settle herself in for a long wait. While she wouldn't sit in one of the chairs without permission, since that'd be rude, she could at least occupy herself. Ayda pulled out her Belmont International smartphone and began messing around with it. She idly played a game about lining up different candy pieces into groups, which then poofed away into points. It was something she rarely ever bothered with, but it served as an adequate distraction at times like these.

As fortune would have it, though, her preparations were entirely superfluous. After just a short while and a few hundred points more, the door to her left slid open. Out from it strode a man. He was tall and just a little bit on the heavy set side. Auburn hair clung in tight curls to his head and connected to a luscious full beard of the same style. His attire was smart, a green sweater and khaki slacks.

He stopped dead in his tracks the moment Ayda's eyes met his own. When the dumbfounded expression on his face combined with the slow slide of the door behind him, Ayda couldn't help but snicker. Her humor turned out to be the perfect ice breaker. The man took a step toward her.

"Steve told me someone claiming to be Pulse was here." He couldn't keep the suspicion from his immediately recognizable voice. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah." Ayda didn't hesitate before upturning her palm to create a small purple blast atop it. "It's really me."

The man stepped back. "Holy shit..." he breathed, eyes looking like a pair of oranges.

"Freaky, right?" Commented the secretary, whom Ayda now knew as Steve. She shot him a quick, icy glare, which he shrunk considerably under.

"Wow, I mean, I don't even know what to say," The new arrival stumbled around his own thoughts. "I'm Casey. Casey Calamity."

He walked toward her, a hand outstretched. Ayda took it in a firm grasp. She had to think for a moment before introducing herself.

"Pulse," she said, as her heart rose back to its normal position. She'd almost used her real name.

"It is an absolute honor to finally meet you in person," Casey said.

"Likewise," returned the girl. "I don't mean to be rash, but I came here wondering if we could set up an interview, like, right now?" She changed the subject and crossed mental fingers for good luck.

"Yes, of course! Absolutely. I'd love to." Casey agreed multiple times, nodding his head with each utterance. Ayda gave him a smile for his efforts. "If you'll just follow me through here, we'll get everything set up."

"Sure," Ayda said. She fell in behind him as he started back toward the door he'd emerged from. "How long will that take?'

"Not long," answered Casey. He opened the door and gestured for Ayda to enter first, which she did. "There's just a few pieces of equipment I need to show you." With that he also stepped through the threshold. The door slid itself shut.

The land beyond the door was a narrow hallway, just barely wide enough for two people to pass through without squishing themselves up against the medium tongue and groove walls. There were two doors on the right side, one just a few steps from the entrance and the other nearly all the way down on the end. Gray carpet cushioned Casey's footsteps as he awkwardly slipped past her.

"We're going right down here, the far door." He instructed. Ayda followed him down the hall. "This first door here is our sound room," Casey pointed as they passed. "Jenn is in there right now. She's gonna freak out, she's a huge fan."

"Oh," acknowledged Ayda. 'Well, maybe I'll pop in when we're done."

"You'd make her year," Casey quipped.

They traveled in silence the few remaining steps to the far door. Again, Casey allowed Ayda to enter before him.

The recording room was bigger than she expected. A large square table dominated the space. Various pieces of equipment covered most of its surface. There were four separate, identical silver microphones on elaborate swinging, bending rigs. The one on the far right corner had a laptop beneath it. Ayda assumed this was Casey's. More miscellaneous electronics scattered along a few rolling shelf units placed at seemingly random intervals. It all looked a little disorganized to the untrained eye.

Other than the table the other dominant feature was a huge two-way mirror which took up most of the right wall. It would allow whoever was inside to see out into the recording room without being observed themselves. Ayda was strangely disappointed at that. She wanted to see the aforementioned Jenn freak out.

"A bit overwhelming, isn't it?" Casey said as he stepped into the room.

"Just a bit," Ayda agreed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, don't worry about all the technical stuff. I can handle that." He pulled out the chair directly across from the laptop station. "All you need to do is sit down and talk."

Ayda considered the chair for a moment before beginning toward it with a quick nod. Casey did not wait for her. He walked around the far side of the table and sat himself behind the computer-microphone combo, confirming Ayda's suspicions that it belonged to him. He directed a few quick jabs at the keyboard. Distantly, Ayda noticed it was not a Belmont International product.

From here, the room felt almost claustrophobic. Nearly surrounded by equipment, Ayda wasn't really sure what to do with her hands. She folded them in her lap. A glance upward revealed the microphone was well above her head. How was she supposed to talk into it all the way up there? Casey must've noticed her predicament, for he spoke up.

"You can move the mic down," he began. "Put it right in front of your mouth then sit back in your chair."

Ayda said nothing and hesitated a moment, unsure if she should really mess with such expensive equipment. But, if Casey gave his blessing it was probably okay. She reached up and grabbed the arm contraption just behind the microphone. It bent down to her level with surprising ease. The girl did as instructed. The microphone came to a stop exactly even with her lips. Despite how easily it moved, the arm stiffened up rock solid in place when she let go. Leaning back, Ayda couldn't help but wonder exactly how that worked.

"Try to project a just a little bit, like you're talking on the phone," advised Casey. He received a simple nod in confirmation. "Any questions before our commercials wrap up?"

Ayda thought for a moment. "Not really, no. I guess I'll just follow your lead. And try not to touch anything." She added.

"Works for me," Casey chuckled.

The next few minutes passed in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Casey continued working at his computer. God only knew what he was actually doing. It was enough to occupy him, though. He seemed much calmer in person, as opposed to on the radio. If not for the voice, Ayda wouldn't believe the two were the same people. He certainly didn't look like she imagined. Red hair and an ugly sweater were close to the exact opposite. Though, she should know better than to judge a book by its voice.

Shifting her focus from him to the room she sat in, Ayda noticed the butterflies in her stomach. Fingers drummed against her thigh, and thin layer of sweat began to pool at embarrassing places. Ayda blinked a few times. This was stupid. Why was she nervous? This was just a normal conversation between strangers… that thousands of people would hear. Okay, perhaps her nerves were well-placed, but that didn't make them any more acceptable. She'd faced down metal men and literal murderers before. Why did the prospect of talking on the radio make her so uneasy? Casey spoke suddenly, and interrupted her train of thought.

"Twenty seconds," he said. "I'll count down from five before we go on."

Too late to go back now. Ayda sat up in her chair in an attempt to look at least somewhat presentable. She slumped back down after a second, though. This was radio. Nobody could see her. She settled for staring at Casey, waiting for his signal to begin.

The man shifted in his seat. He had one finger over a button, and his mouth an appropriate distance from the microphone. A beat passed, and he held a hand up over his head, fingers splayed out. Silently, Casey counted down from five. A finger tucked away as each second passed. Ayda watched them fall with nary a blink. The count narrowed to just one. He took a breath, and pressed the button.

"And we are back on KR. 103. I'm still Casey Calamity, and I'm still bringing you all your nightly chaotic needs."

It was like someone flipped a switch inside the man. Gone was the surprisingly reserved individual from just moments ago, replaced by someone bombastic and bursting with energy. It never really crossed her mind, but it made sense he would have a radio persona separate from who he really was. But there was no time to ponder this, as Casey pressed on completely oblivious to her epiphany.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began with gravitas in his tone. "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm very excited right now, because we have a very special surprise guest in the studio today. You've heard stories about her, and maybe you've even seen her on the streets, but she's here today to shoot the breeze with yours truly. Please welcome El Puerto's own savior Pulse to the show!" Casey ended the introduction with a gesture in her direction, which she took as a cue to speak.

"Hey, everyone," she said, and instantly frowned. Seriously? That's the best she could come up with? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No reason to be nervous. Just a conversation.

"Why don't you prove you are who you say you are, just real quick," Casey posed.

"Um… okay, sure."

Ayda held her hand palm up in front of the microphone. Unsure of exactly how far away to hold it, she kept it just in front of her face. She glanced up at Casey, who gave her an affirmative nod. Ayda let loose a small blast about the same size as the ones she'd used previously. It filled the small room, echoing off the walls for only a brief moment.

"I'm not sure how well that worked," Ayda said after the sound dissipated. "They can't exactly see me."

"Well, I can see it, and trust me, she's the real deal." Casey chuckled. He leaned forward, suddenly more serious, but only just. "A little peak behind the curtain for you folks, Pulse just wandered in here a few minutes ago demanding an interview."

"That's not the word I would use," she interrupted.

"Regardless, I eagerly accepted, but I have to ask, what made you want an interview with me all of a sudden?"

Ayda thought for a moment. She'd rehearsed the answer to this question, just in case it came up. It helped that her answer was not entirely untrue.

"Okay, do you remember the selfie from a few weeks ago?" She began.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's still on the front page of Reddit," joked Casey. It wasn't. Ayda checked earlier that day.

"Well, after that went super viral, I realized I have a public image to think about, if that makes sense, and not everyone sees me in the most positive light. I thought a good, candid talk with one of my most vocal supporters would be a great way to let people know who I really am, and what I really do." Ayda nodded after she'd finished speaking, satisfied with her answer.

"And what is it exactly that you do?" Casey said.

"I… fight crime," Ayda began tentatively. This wasn't a question she'd expected. "I protect the people and root out criminals, wherever they hide."

"And what got you started down that path?" Casey followed up without missing a beat. "I don't think most people would just wake up one day, put on a cape and say 'I'm gonna go fight crime.'"

"That isn't really something I like to talk about." Ayda let out a labored sigh. "A few months ago, I lost someone very close to me. Someone I love was killed by a member of the local Triad. I was angry and depressed. Her killer was out there, but the cops weren't doing anything about it. But I could. I had the ability to go after him myself, and I couldn't just sit around doing nothing. So that's what I did. I took matters into my own hands.

"I tracked him down. I had him right where I wanted him, but something made me realize it isn't just him. He's just a part of a bigger problem, a symptom of a disease. It wasn't just my loved ones in danger, but the entire city. I'll admit it started as a revenge quest, but after that it became so much more. I do what I do to honor her legacy, and make sure no one else has to suffer like she did."

Ayda told her story, all of it, as truthfully as possible, though she left out all the names and places, and changed a couple parts for the sake of her own safety.

"Wow," Casey said. "That's an amazing story. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"You mentioned the Triad. It's no secret most of your busts involve members of the gang. Do you target them specifically because of what happened?"

"No, not necessarily," Ayda shook her head, "though I'd be lying if I said there wasn't some satisfaction every time I took one of them down. The Triad is by far the biggest gang in the city. They have their hands in everything. I just look for crime in general. The fact that they're normally involved is a coincidence."

"And do you work with the police at all?"

Ayda laughed at that. "No. I don' think they'd have me. But they seem to have lightened up a bit ever since the school shooting."

"What makes you say that?" Casey asked. "Do they just let you walk away?"

"Not officially, of course." Ayda grinned, eliciting a giggle from her host. "But there have been some pretty close calls where an officer should've come after me, but didn't. I haven't had a chance to speak with anyone yet, but I think a lot of them are grateful for my help."

"It would certainly make their job easier," Casey commented. "I remember the school shooting. That was a harrowing day. I know I was praying you'd make an appearance, as were—I think—a lot of people."

"I only wished I'd got there sooner," Ayda said.

"The important part is you stopped it before anyone else could get hurt," countered the host.

"I know," Ayda returned. "I'm still proud of what I did that day. It felt like the first time I really made a difference."

"I'm sure the parents and children would agree, but I think you make a difference every day."

"Thank you," Ayda said again. Casey leaned back in his chair, denoting another change of subject.

"Why don't you walk us through a day in the life of Pulse? What does normal look like for a superhero?"

Ayda paused for a moment at the last word he said. Superhero. No one had ever called her that out loud and right to her face. It was a jarring phrase to hear it with her own ears. She'd never thought about it before. She didn't think of herself as any sort of comic book hero. Of course, she also realized other people did, and that was fine. It was just strange to hear. Nevertheless, Ayda blinked once to refocus on the moment, and pressed forward.

"Well, when I'm not wearing a jacket and sunglasses, I do the same things as everyone else. I have bills and obligations, and stuff like that. As far as anyone else knows, I'm just a normal girl."

"And what kinds of obligations?" Casey pushed. "You look pretty young. Are you in college?" He asked, which Ayda took as a compliment even though her eyes narrowed at the question.

"I'm not sure I want to answer that," she said slowly. "I hope you understand, Casey. I can't give away anything too specific, or people might figure out who I am."

"No, I totally get it," Casey put up his hands in weak a show of innocence. "You don't have to answer anything if you don't want to." A short pause followed as the DJ worked out a new direction for the conversation. "How about where you're from?"

"Well, it may come as a shock, but I'm not from Texas," said Ayda. They both shared a chuckle at that. "Again, I don't wanna be too specific. I'm from where I sound like I'm from."

"While we're talking about your life, we have to mention that motorcycle of yours It's so badass. Ducati Diavel, right?"

"Thanks," said Ayda. "And it is. I'm impressed you knew that."

"Well, don't be. I had to look it up," Casey said. "Was it purchased specifically for your career, or did you have it beforehand?"

"No, no, I had it before. What can I say? I like motorcycles, so I bought myself one. I've had her for a little over a year."

"It's a serious piece of hardware. I bet it's come in handy more than once."

"Yeah, she helps me do what I do."

"I'm glad you brought that up, what you do, because it's my next topic." Casey leaned forward, one elbow lazily on the table. "Many people support you, not just in this city, but all over the world. Whenever someone doesn't, however, they usually take issue with your methods. They call you brutal, sadistic, and needlessly violent. Do you have anything to say about that?"

"Sure," Ayda began. "Let me make one thing abundantly clear right now: I do not enjoy hurting people. I like fighting, but injuring people? Killing them? No, I take no joy in that."

"But you have killed before. There was that one gang member during your first reported outing."

"Yes. That was… unfortunate." Ayda took a second to compose herself. "I'd just lost my loved one at the time. I was sad, and angry, and frustrated, and as much as I wanted to get to the bottom of everything, I also wanted to take all of that emotion out of someone. I'm not trying to make excuses. It was wrong, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost control like that.

"I'm not sadistic, like some like to say. I feel bad for the people I hurt. I actively go out of my way to avoid going too far. What I want people to understand is, these people are criminals. They want to kill me. I do what I have to in order to protect not only my own life, but the lives of everyone in this city. Sometimes that means using a little more force than necessary. I don't like it. In fact, I hate it, but that's the reality of the situation." Ayda stopped short of saying more, realizing just how long she'd spoken. "Sorry, I didn't mean to rant like that."

"It's perfectly fine." Casey waved away her concern. "By all means, rant away." He smiled, an expression she had to force herself to return. "Why don't we change the subject?"

"Please."

"I'd be remise to not mention your outfit. It's very unique."

"I like to think so, thanks."

"When most people think of superheroes, they think of colorful spandex, not leather jackets and motorbikes. What made you go with your current look?"

"I mean, think about it. Why would anyone in their right mind run around in neon tights? It's completely ridiculous. I want to look intimidating when I fight people, not like some lunatic. Though, people still probably think I'm a lunatic."

"No comment on that," dismissed Casey. "So, where did your clothes come from?"

"My closet," Ayda said simply. "I literally just chose what I thought looked cool, and what I thought criminals would remember."

"Well, you definitely succeeded on both accounts," praised Casey.

The interview carried on for roughly ten more minutes. Honestly, Ayda kind of expected more. She thought this would be an ordeal of at least an hour, if not even longer. Though, it did make sense. Most television interviews weren't very long, so it stood to reason radio would be the same.

Casey asked her a few more poignant questions, such as a request for insight as to how her powers really worked, which she dodged to the best of her abilities. After a while, however, it devolved into a simple pleasant exchange. The two of them shot the breeze about nothing specific, yet Casey always managed to bring it back to her in some way, shape, or form. An affable man my nature, Casey approached every topic with a decidedly neutral stance, as if he were open to having his mind changed. It made him very easy to talk to.

The entire experience was a highly positive one. As it drew to a close, Ayda realized the last time she'd talked to a stranger about her powers was when she first met Elliot. It was nice to speak with someone genuinely curious about her and what she can do. Perhaps Casey was a little biased, but that didn't really make a difference to the girl. She let herself become wrapped up in the talk, to revel in the simplicity of it all.

But it couldn't last forever. Neither of them wanted it to, no matter how nice it was nor how much fun Casey was certainly having. After an appropriate amount of time, the air between them stilled as the talking slowed down. The moment seemed to be drawing toward a natural conclusion. Casey must have felt this as much as Ayda did, because he leaned back in his chair with a short contented sigh.

"Well, Pulse, I think it's about time to wrap things up," he said. "I'd like to thank you for coming on the show, even if it was a little expected."

"Thanks for letting me crash your studio," Ayda jabbed in return.

"You're welcome any time," Casey offered, a not-so-subtle hint he wanted to do this again sometime. "Is there anything you'd like to say to? Any parting words?"

"Yes, actually." Ayda said. She bit her lower lip in contemplation. This was her big moment, the thing she'd been awaiting since before since entering the lobby.

"I'd be lying if I said the only reason I wanted to come on your show was for a PR stunt," she began.

"Oh?" Casey perked up. "Then, please, do enlighten us."

Ayda wavered for a second. "Earlier, I said the Triad was the biggest threat to the city. They're everywhere. I've had a lot of friction with them, so much so that I even ran into their leader a few times. He's a Kiwi man who goes by the name of Tahoe, and he's..." She took a deep breath in. "He's like me. He can turn his body into a metal so hard even I can't hurt him. Our last two encounters didn't exactly go in my favor."

Ayda paused to collect her thoughts. Casey's eyes widened at this revelation, as probably did many others around the city. It was a bombshell. There were two super powered freaks running around, not just one, and only half of this new equation had the best interest of El Puerto at heart. Some still thought neither did. Ayda knew what the reaction would be in the coming days, which was why she had to keep speaking, to dispel any uncertainty toward her cause.

She downcast her eyes. "It's hard for me to say, but I'll admit I've been running from him. I was afraid. But I'm through running. I'm ready to face this." Ayda looked lifted her head, determination in her gaze once more.

"To any members of the Chinese Triad listening right now, I have a message for your leader." She stood from her chair, leaning into the microphone with palms against the table.

"Tahoe, I'm calling you out. If you're half the badass you think you are, you'll meet me at ten o'clock tomorrow night, in the place where we first met. I'm sure you remember it. You've been a thorn in my side for too long, and I'm sick of it. Let's finish this, you and me, once and for all. And I will take you down. For all the people you've hurt. For the crimes you've committed. For the good men and women you've corrupted. For those who died under your orders. Your reign of terror is over. I promise I will be the one who stops you.

"For better or worse, this ends tomorrow."