“Sir, I had nothing to do with Grimmarson and Snow. I just said - “ Panzer tried to explain.

“I don’t give a damn about what you said, Grimmarson walked past you and the perimeter guard, started a fight with Snow with powers far beyond your previous fucking report, and killed Freefall! What do we pay you for Riggs?” Viskol shouted.

Viskol’s face was burning red and the oh-so-familiar veins on the side of his head and neck were popped out. He stalked toward Panzer, menacing her with his stature.

Panzer stood fast and squared her shoulders, when Viskol went to poke his forefinger into her chest, she shoved him back.

“You don’t pay me to be your punching bag, Riktor. With all due respect, if you want to blame anyone for this, take a look at yourself. You’re the one who decided to move forward with the award ceremony after we learned that Grimm Raven was Grimmarson, his connection to Snow, the motive, and how far into the GSO he’s gotten. This is on your head Director, and I am not taking the fall for it.”

This time, it was Panzer driving the Director back with a finger to the middle of the chest.

“How dare - “

“How dare you, Director. You’re the head of the GSO, you take responsibility.”

“Get out!” Viskol ordered.

Panzer slammed her fist across Viskol's jaw, sending the bureaucrat spinning to the floor, “Happy to, sir.”

Panzer strode out of the office and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She wasn’t surprised to receive a “Notice of Termination” from GSO HR. It hadn’t been an hour since Grimm and Snow engaged in combat, yet, prompt as always when it suited them the GSO was on the ball.

"Ma'am you're going to have to leave any GSO property and or weaponry - "

"It's all back in the bunk, all this is mine." Panzer answered the checkpoint guards at the main entrance.

The guard looked over her shoulder at her signature hand cannon.

Panzer's face split into a menacing smile.

"Oh no, Dag, he's mine."

"Ma'am, I've been given specific instructions to - "

"Piss off with your instructions, Daddy's coming with me unless you want to see how he got his name, what makes him Angry?"

The guard exchanged a look with the other directly behind Panzer and shook his head.

"Have a pleasant evening Ma'am."

"Reckon I will."

The walk to the storage facility was a cold one. The seasons were changing and Atreyu had been out and about flexing his powers which always brought a little chill to the air. Panzer passed the fob over the entrance gate's pad and it raised for her. There was no reason why it shouldn't have. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, grateful that the GSO hadn't seized any of her assets.

She moved through the complex to row D, unit 110, and pressed her thumb to the pad outside the door. The flimsy metal thing slid to the side, revealing Panzer's modest stash of the "necessities." Her hands swiftly found the light switch she rigged into the unit and flipped it.

"Hello lovelies," she said, "first things first..."

Panzer found the steel bucket that she'd maintained since boot camp. The thing was covered in dents, gouges, and grazes from knives, bullets, shovels, and who knew what else. She picked it up and stepped outside of the unit, filling it with water from the spicket outside, and walked back in toward the back corner.

After some rummaging, she found the two things she was looking for, a small music box, and the case she kept Hemi's straight razor in. She brushed her thumb over the dog tag welded to the top of the box.

HEMI NORMAN - ID: MOTORCADE - AB - UNDECLARED

She opened the box and withdrew the sharpening strop and razor. Dragging the blade back and forth across the strop was a near meditative experience for her, the sound was certainly less grating than Hemi's singing voice. She could almost hear him as she went about preparing to shave.

"So what, we don't know where Tango is, no worries, right? We either find them or they find us, we adapt, neutralize and move on, s'all there is to it, right Riggs?"

Panzer opened the music box, the lazy warbly lullaby played and echoed in the metal storage unit. She wiped the dust off of the small, cracked mirror inside and rested her fingers on the dog tags inside; Blockbuster, Nova, Com-com, Longeye, Juice, and Reload...

"Hey, lads... sorry it's been a bit since my last visit. I'm here now... I know, I know, just like Riggs to go AWOL for a spell then come back lookin' for help... but I need you all. We're out here on our own, no backup from HQ, and the Rookie's stuck somewhere with Tango. Whattya say? One last hurrah?"

The music box continued its tone as Verna Riggs shaved the back and side of her head, ditched the fatigues that she'd walked out with, changed, and set some "quick dye" in her hair. While it processed, she checked the gear she'd prepped to go. The gas-fueled motorcycle was idling outside, her holster from 2050, for the first version of "Angry Daddy" was a bit tighter than she remembered, but held him just as close as she wanted. Hemi's .45's fit well in her hip holsters and Longeye's six-shooter and gun belt hung off of her left hip in just the right spot.

Panzer finished up in the storage unit, shut the door, and went to get on her motorcycle.

"Hello, Panzer," said the tall red-skinned, horned woman leaning against her bike.

Panzer arched a brow at her. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to use the powers that she inherited from Blockbuster, Nova, Com-com, and Juice; they were with her now... they were all there to help how they could. Something about this woman seemed familiar.

"Do I know you?"

"I don't think we've been introduced..."

"Then why have I smelled you before?"

"Excuse me?"

"The night that Bradao's men hit the bank during the Rookie's exam after he took whatever was in that vial... smoke and briar roses..."

"I suppose - "

"You're his mystery backer, aren't you?" Panzer stalked forward, her lips drawn up into a snarl.

The red-skinned woman regained her composure, "Caught me red-handed, shall we get down to business?"

"The business of me beatin' you legless? Let's."

"Just a moment, Panzer, I'm not here to start trouble, I'm here to help, and trust me, you don't want any of my trouble..."

"Oh trust me sweets, whatever trouble you've got I can handle, you can take your 'help' and cram it. Now, off the bike before I mount your head on the handlebars."

The red-skinned woman turned a shade of dark purple for a split second before a thick tail tumped against the ground and pushed her fully upright.

"Suit yourself, Panzer," she declared before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Panzer waved the small cloud of smoke away, got on the motorcycle, revved the engine to cover her frustrated yell, and streaked away from the facility.

"I'm impressed Mr. Grimmarson, I don't think I've heard someone think 'fuck you' quite so many times consecutively," Psycher observed as she removed her hand from Sorli's shoulder.

"Glad to do so," Sorli spat.

He was familiar with how her powers worked, the more contact she made with a subject, the easier it was for her to pry into their minds. It had been almost all he could do to resist her influence and she hadn't even been touching his bare skin.

If I could just put the mask back on... he lamented.

"See? I told you that we were going to have a lot of fun. Ready for another taste?"

"Shit."

Panzer fanned the hammer of Longeye's six-shooter and swept the barrel across the hall, six of Brandão’s enhanced thugs dropped, clutching at their chests and gasping for air. They were lucky she'd loaded the non-lethal rounds. The last standing thug, the one directly in front of the door, had his sawed-off leveled at her. Panzer's eyes danced over the weapon, it was a 12-guage, and loaded with slugs, with how much distance she would close before he got jumpy and pulled the trigger, the first slug would hit 6 centimeters or so to the right of her belly button, the second shot, assuming he fired right away and the recoil, especially considering his unnerved state, would hit the middle of the left side of her collarbone.

The two shots boomed, impacted exactly where she'd calculated, her own powers at work. The slugs folded against her hardened skin and clattered harmlessly to the floor.

"How good are you at math?" she asked.

"Wh-what?"

Panzer crumpled the barrel of his weapon in the grip of her left hand and kicked his feet out.

"It's a simple question, mate, let's have an answer."

"I can do math!" the thug answered.

"So, there are seven of you in this hall, six of you are down, and the chamber of this gun has room for six shots, doesn't it?"

"Y-yes... so you're empty?"

"Am I? How many shots did you hear? See, I can't remember if I shot five or six times, too excited y'see. So, let me ask you again," she said, pointing the weapon at the man's face, "how good are you at math?"

"You've got to be empty," the man declared, hope and bravado flooding his face.

Panzer smirked at him as a round freed itself from the gunbelt and slid into the waiting, empty chamber. She pulled the hammer back. "I'm never empty."

"Please don't!"

"Run along and get Xander, c'mon now Shark Biscuit... up up, go on."

Sorli gasped for breath, "No... means... no... bitch..."

"Oh Mr. Grimmarson, I already told you, your right to remain silent has been revoked," Psycher menaced as she shoved the table aside and sat on the block of ice that was Sorli's lap, "scream for me, won't you?"

At that, she placed both of her hands on either side of Sorli's head and plunged into his mind. He couldn't control what she saw, he couldn't steer his thoughts. The past six hours, the interrogation, his skirmishes with Arclight and Atreyu, the fight with Freefall, all of it flashed before his eyes but slammed to a halt before the interior of Isto’s Warehouse was revealed. His right hand burned and he could feel freedom of movement as the ice melted away.

“Vidar.”