“Well, look who we meet again,” a woman said, walking through the dense smoke. As she stepped out of it, Bureau Assassin unrolled her two whips and cracked them on the floor. Her high-heeled, shocking-blue boots crushed the debris as she approached. “Without the League here, we’re gonna squash you, Cotton.”

Cotton charged his weapon and chuckled. “I’d like to see you try!”

“Can I try too? Oh, hello!” another voice said, its owner trailing behind Bureau. The second woman was pale, lanky, and short, with big, blue, and unblinking eyes. Her bald head seemed to shimmer with the glitter in her fascinator.

“Of course you can help, Parfait.” Bureau whisked her whips, and they both snapped and curled around Cotton’s neck. “But let me make the first move.” She tugged at them, bringing Cotton Candy down with a dull thud. As Bureau paraded around the fallen man with a certain arrogance, her rust-colored curls bobbed. Dogs barked outside, almost as if translating the violence in her brown eyes.

“Not so fast.” Cotton gripped the rough leather of Bureau’s whip while his other hand clasped her ankle. He furrowed his eyebrows. From the palms of his hands gurgled a dense, pink foam that spread over the leather of both the whip and the woman’s high-heeled boots.

Bureau gasped as bubblegum-pink foam covered her foot and her entire leg. “Dude, these boots are real leather. Parfait, help!” Bureau’s whips were disintegrating under Cotton Candy’s fingers. Around her paralyzed leg, the burning effervescence was eating up the blue fabric, showing the black skin under her uniform.

Cotton glared at Parfait. “You better help this imbecile, baldie. Otherwise, she won’t be needing another pair of boots.” He got up and threw aside the remainings of Bureau’s whips.

Parfait ran to Bureau, fishing a golden scissor from her golden backpack.

“Please stand down and surrender.” Cotton Candy nursed the sore skin of his neck. “The rest of the Heroic League already knows you’re here.” He looked around, and his eyes set on the fallen plastipaper box of sashimi. “Aw, man,” he mumbled. “Y’all know how expensive this shit is? I’m glad you’ll all be taken care of when The Mayor gets here.”

Another voice joined in, “You forgot someone, mate.”

Grizzly Bear growled from the top of his six-and-a-half-feet. He flexed his muscles while, one by one, the tribal tattoos on his arms glowed a bright green. Against the light, the black leather of his uniform showed the silhouette of the muscles underneath. He used those same old drawstring pants and the tight tank top ripped by claw marks, the spiked bracelets missing a few spikes, and the dusty and bloodied sleeveless overcoat. Still, there was pure strength and sovereignty in him.

Bear looked to the side to see Parfait and Bureau cutting through Cotton Candy’s pink foam. His eyes then locked on Léon, and a crease formed between his eyebrows. “Release him,” he growled.

Léon’s heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to be embraced by him and feel safe against his warm body, but… would he ever feel safe again after everything that had happened between them?

“You’re late,” Bureau said with a scowl. Léon wasn’t the only one who was hurt by Bear’s actions, of course. At Bureau’s side, Parfait stuffed the golden scissor inside her backpack.

“Sorry,” Bear answered, not taking his eyes off of Léon. “Parfait’s explosion started a fire outside, and I was trying to put it out when guard dogs appeared. Took me a while to lock them in one of those containers without hurting them.”

“Shouldn’t you be dead or something?” Cotton Candy barked, pure fury in his eyes. “Not that I’m sad. Brash and I will enjoy making you pay for what you did to Celena.” Cotton reached for his weapon and pulled the security latch. “You know the drill, Rob. You are under arrest. And by The Mayor’s orders, Reality Warp is under the Heroic League's protection to be devilainized and incorporated in our ranks. Stand down or—”

Léon had never seen Bear move as fast as he did that moment. Grizzly Bear arched his back and dashed towards Cotton Candy, aiming a punch square in his face. The following punches, all too fast to count, pushed Cotton with such force he fell backward and slid a few meters, knocked out. Bureau, Parfait, and Léon raised their eyebrows, moving their gazes to Bear. He had a beet-red face, furrowed brows, and a body language Léon had seen only once before, violent and primal.

“Warp will never be part of the Heroic League,” Bear growled.