"Regina Alvarez. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?" Detective Walsh asked, one hand running through his disheveled hair, the other tucking a flash card back into his wrinkled trench coat.

With her bracers confiscated, she was only dressed in the metallic fabric suit that clung to her curves yet exposed very little of her golden-brown skin. Her dark hair was a wild mane around her shoulders, and her deep, dark eyes flashed with defiance. Despite her predicament, she carried herself with a certain poise, a certain confidence that was almost admirable.

Reggie merely grunted.

"Good enough for me." Detective Walsh quickly concluded, before turning to Jonas and the others standing in the damaged penthouse. "I'll take her down to the C.I.W. Once she's processed, you can see to reclaiming her... Er, I mean, your, uh..."

Miss Grace, Jonas' ever-efficient assistant, stepped forward, her round glasses glinting in the harsh fluorescent lights of the penthouse. She was dressed in her usual long-skirted business attire, her jet-black hair pulled into a severe bun. Despite her prim appearance, there was a steeliness in her eyes that hinted at a strength few suspected.

"I'll make sure all properties of Jonas Corporation are returned to Dr. Richmond." she said, her voice smooth yet firm. "The bracers as well as... Ms. Alvarez's bodysuit."

Reggie did a small bounce on the balls of her feet, accentuating her figure in the skintight suit. "You mean this?" she taunted. "It's not exactly mine, you know. It's Jonas' tech. He can have it back."

Detective Walsh cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in tone. "Right, well, that's settled then. Let's go, Miss Alvarez." He gestured towards the door, and Reggie smirked, walking ahead of him with a sway in her hips.

As they left, Reggie stopped and turned her head to address Geoff, "Oh, Senor Art-Man®?" she spoke, but paused until she had his undivided attention, "Senorita Gomez te manda saludos." she said, with a dark undertone, as if another, darker voice overrode her own.

Geoff's eyes narrowed, the name 'Gomez' sending a chill down his spine. He remembered the Were-Chicken, a formidable foe from his early days as Art-Man®. Deceased, or so everyone thought. But if Reggie was mentioning him, it meant trouble.

As the foray elevator doors closed, Geoff received a text, a simple Darwinian fish on legs emoji. He pocketed his phone, his gaze drifting to the balcony, where Jonas stood.

The gleam of Jonas' golden and purple armor was traded for a dashing tieless purple suit with a black silk shirt. His ebony skin seemed to absorb the sunlight, and his bright white sideburns glowed like neon.

Geoff joined him, the warmth of the sun on his face a stark contrast to the chill of the penthouse.

"I take it you have to leave?" Jonas asked, his gaze on the phone Geoff had just pocketed. His voice was casual, but there was an underlying tension, a question that went beyond the words.

Geoff nodded, "Salmon's here. He was helping me with one of my investigations."

Jonas' gaze drifted down to the ground floor entrance, where Salmon was indeed waiting, his small EV parked neatly by the curb. "I see. Well, don't let me keep you. We'll have this place returned to like new condition before you return" Jonas said.

Geoff hesitated, looking back at the penthouse, at the damage, reminding him of Reggie's taunting words. "Nah, I'll help. I needed to remodel this balcony anyway." Geoff said. He took his paintbrush and began to outline a new design on the balcony railing, the tip of his brush glowing with artistic energy. "Besides, I owe you one. Or several, considering how many times you've bailed me out."

Jonas chuckled, "We're friends, GG. No need to keep score." He stood up straight and pivoted, his eyes returning to the penthouse's interior. "I can at least repair the blast damage."

Jonas flicked his suit jacket sleeves, revealing two metallic bracers similar to Reggie's, albeit more intricate and ornate. Energy flowed from within their storage batteries, which Jonas instantly took control of. He manipulated the energy, creating matter on a subatomic level, repairing the damage caused by Reggie's attack. The walls smoothed over, the scorch marks disappeared, and the broken furniture reassembled itself. The hallmark of his supernatural abilities of which all of Jonas' technology revolved around.

Geoff watched in awe, as he always did when witnessing Jonas' abilities. "Still impressive, after all these years," he muttered, shaking his head.

"You're one to talk," Jonas chuckled as he turned to see a fully restored balcony. Geoff finished it off with one last confident stroke of his brush. "Your 'art,' isn't exactly natural either."

Geoff shrugged, "Natural is overrated. Besides, I'm an artist, not a physicist." He leaned against the railing, looking out at the city skyline. "So, what's the deal with Reggie? Why'd she attack me?"

Jonas sighed, joining Geoff at the railing. "I wish I knew, GG. I took her in, trained her, treated her like family. I gave her a suit, in my old colors. I thought she understood our mission, our purpose. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I overlooked something, some sign that she wasn't who I thought she was." Jonas' voice was heavy with regret, his gaze distant as he stared out at the city.

Geoff clapped a hand on Jonas' shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Don't beat yourself up too hard, Jonas. I mean, what does this make it now, three?" Geoff asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Three what?" Jonas asked, turning to look at Geoff.

"Three times you've been betrayed by a woman you trusted," Geoff clarified with a growing smirk.

"Man, please!" Jonas blurted, losing some of his refinement swatting Geoff's hand from his shoulder.

"There was 'Becca..." Geoff started holding up one finger as he started to walk toward the penthouse elevator.

Jonas strode quickly to catch up to Geoff and defend himself, "She was literally a double-agent for the group C.H.A.O.S. from the start, so I don't see how that counts," Jonas argued, his voice regaining its usual calm. They stepped into the elevator, Jonas holding the door to finish this conversation.

Geoff leaned against the wall; his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, there's also Crystal," he pointed out, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jonas rolled his eyes, "She merely struck out on her own path, GG. That's hardly a betrayal."

Geoff shrugged, "Semantics. My point stands. You've got a type, Jonas. Powerful women who end up stabbing you in the back."

Jonas' expression darkened, "That's not fair, Geoff. Each of those situations was unique, complex. You can't just reduce them to some pattern."

Geoff held up his hands in surrender, "Hey, I'm not judging. Just saying, maybe you should be more careful who you trust."

There was a shared look between them, a silent understanding. Geoff knew Jonas was thinking about the same thing he was - the time when they both trusted the wrong person, and it cost them dearly. But that was a story for another time.

The elevator began to close on Jonas' hand again, bringing him back to the present, "Oh, is she?" Jonas began to ask, pointing at the platinum blonde still asleep, suspiciously, in the bed.

Geoff was blunt, "I'm sure she's fine. She's a professional, and she knows what she's doing."

Jonas raised an eyebrow, "A professional what, exactly?"

Geoff shrugged, "You know, a professional. A... consultant."

Jonas chuckled, "A consultant, huh? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Geoff ignored the innuendo, "Look, she's good at what she does. And she's discreet. That's all that matters."

Jonas shook his head, "I hope you know what you're doing..."he spoke as the elevator doors cut off the conversation.

The platinum blonde, now alone in the penthouse, sat up quickly in the bed, grabbing her blonde locks and pulling on them, to reveal fiery red pigtails underneath. She stretched languidly, her curvy form accentuated by the navy-blue combat leotard she wore. Her piercing green eyes scanned the room, taking in the remnants of the fight. She smirked, "About time they left," she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed.