The elevator doors opened in the opulent lobby of the Jonas Plaza Suites for Jonas and Geoff. Salmon waited, his small EV parked by the curb. He wore his usual tweed suit, his bow tie perfectly knotted. His fishlike features betrayed none of the concern he felt.

“Ah, Professor Greene,” Dr. Jonas Richmond said, extending his hand with spread fingers. “Always a pleasure.”

Salmon took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Doc, the pleasure is all mine.”

“I’m told GG has you helping him run his fool investigations again,” Jonas said, nodding towards Geoff as he stepped out of the elevator, his voice laced with amusement.

Salmon smiled, adjusting his bow tie. “Indeed, he does. Though I must admit, I find it quite stimulating. Keeps the old brain cells firing, you know.”

Geoff rolled his eyes as he joined them. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Salmon. And yes, Jonas, he’s helping me because he’s my friend, and I asked for his help.”

Jonas raised an eyebrow. “And what riveting cases would these be? A lovers’ quarrel? A missing cat? Or corporate espionage, perhaps?”

Geoff smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Client confidentiality, Jonas. You know how it is.”

Jonas chuckled, “Indeed, I do. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Salmon, it was nice to see you again.”

“Doc, until next time,” Salmon bowed, tipping an imaginary hat.

As Salmon and Geoff walked towards the EV, Jonas called out, “Oh, and Professor Greene, please remind this one that we won the war against villainy five years ago. There’s no need to keep fighting past battles.”

Salmon glanced back at Jonas, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’ll do that, Doctor Richmond. But you know Geoff, he’s nothing if persistent.”

Geoff scoffed, “I heard that, you know. And if we won the ‘war,’ then why was I just attacked in my home by a woman wearing one of his powered suits, the third to betray him?” he asked, pointing at Jonas.

Jonas sighed, running a hand through his white sideburns. “Professor Greene, please remove this jackass from my sight before I’m forced to use my powers to do so myself.”

Salmon chuckled, patting Geoff on the back. “Come on GG, let’s leave the good doctor to his... repairs.” He led Geoff towards the mini-EV, his movements brisk and efficient.

As they sped away, Jonas realized the insult that had landed without his knowledge. He quickly called out, “And it wasn’t three!” But Geoff and Salmon were already gone, leaving Jonas alone in the lobby.

---

Back in the EV, Salmon addressed Geoff. “So, where too?” he asked.

Geoff paused, distracted by his tablet, which held the notes on the most recent case. “Hmm? Oh right, the Queensland Thornery, I already sent the address to your car’s GPS.” he said while making a twirling motion with his finger to the car’s center console. “It’s um, ahem, a lover’s quarrel gone awry, I guess you could say.”

Salmon arched an eyebrow in surprise. “A lover’s quarrel, GG? Please tell me you’re kidding?”

Geoff shrugged. “Hey, I never claimed to be a relationship counselor. But the client’s paying, and it’s better than chasing down stolen tech or lost pets.”

Salmon chuckled, “Fair enough.” His eyes flicked briefly to the rearview mirror. He watched the towering skyscraper recede into the distance. “What happened back there with Jonas?”

Geoff sighed, rubbing his temples. “Reggie, Jonas’ protégé, attacked me. In my penthouse. With a powered suit that he gave her.”

Salmon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “What? Why?”

Geoff shrugged, “No idea. Jonas seemed as surprised as I was. He’s going to look into it.”

Salmon was quiet for a moment. He processed the information. “And you suspect something larger at play?”

Geoff fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. His frame was far too large for such a compact vehicle. “Yeah.” he said, his gaze distant.

“Look, GG, Jonas was right about one thing,” Salmon said, navigating the EV through the bustling city street. “We won the war. There’s been no organized supernatural villainy since the fall of C.H.A.O.S.”

Geoff said with a frustrated grunt, “Doesn’t mean there aren’t still bad guys around. Besides, what about the supernatural villains who slipped through the cracks? The ones who didn’t get caught up in the big showdown?”

Salmon nodded. “True enough. While the members of her crew are all locked up, Gale remains at large... still, it’s been relatively quiet. Until now, it seems. Nothing to suggest a larger conspiracy, though. Just a disgruntled protégé lashing out,” Salmon said, his voice measured, trying to keep Geoff grounded in reality.

Geoff sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Perhaps you’re right. I just... suspect, Salmon. That someone’s plan is being executed.”

Salmon glanced at Geoff; concern etched on his fishlike features. “Suspicions are fine, GG, but we need evidence. Hard facts. Meanwhile, concentrate on this case.”

Geoff nodded. He then paused and leaned back in his seat. “Do you remember the villain Gomez Chicken?”

Salmon blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. “Of course, I do. How could I forget such a horribly offensive character? The Were-Chicken. One of the most dangerous and unpredictable villains we faced during our time as active heroes. He fell into a ‘micro’ black-hole over a decade ago. Why do you ask?”

Geoff nodded, his gaze fixed on the passing cityscape. “Reggie mentioned him, well, sort of. Said ‘Senorita Gomez sends her regards.’”

As the traffic light ahead of them turned yellow, Salmon slammed on the brakes. The EV screeched to a halt.

Almost losing his tablet, Geoff grabbed onto the dashboard. “Whoa! What gives, Salmon? The light was still yellow!”

“I did it for effect, GG. No! Just no! I won’t accept it!” Salmon said with a sneer. “Gomez Chicken? That’s who we’re dealing with now?”

Geoff shrugged. “I didn’t say we were dealing with him. I just said Reggie mentioned him.”

“But he’s dead, Geoff. Or at least, as well as. He fell into a micro black-hole. A machination of his own creation spaghettified the fool. Villains shouldn’t come back from that,” Salmon said, his voice edged with irritation. “If they can, what’s the point?”

Salmon was still so incensed that he failed to notice the white van pulling up in front of them until it was too late. The sliding door flew open, revealing a man clad in tactical gear, his automatic rifle pointed at them.

“No-no-no! Not the car!” Salmon said. He dove sideways across his seat.

Geoff remained upright as he sighed, “Swell.”

The car received a series of loud thuds as bullets ricocheted off its reinforced hull. Salmon, sprawled across the seat, asked out of instinct, “Are you alright, GG?” He looked up and noticed Geoff had already left the car.

The gunman deftly changed out the empty magazines, his movements practiced and efficient. However, a shrill whistle startled him. He looked behind and above himself and noticed Art-Man® on the roof of the van. Geoff remained in his normal attire, but brandishing his paintbrush.

With a swipe of Geoff’s brush, a 200-pound anvil materialized out of thin air. Before the gunman could even react, it dropped directly onto his head. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Art-Man® felt pleased with himself. However, the others in the van quickly shot through its roof, their guns blazing.

With their magazines emptied, the three gunmen waited for the smoke to clear. They gasped as the end of the paintbrush poked through one of the bullet holes. A torrent of water burst forth, flooding the interior of the van. The torrent short-circuited the electronics and sent the remaining gunmen in different directions.

The driver’s head slammed against the windshield, knocking him out cold.

Disoriented and soaked, the remaining gunmen stumbled from the van, only to find Salmon atop the EV’s hood. He delivered a swift kick to the first one’s chin, sending him sprawling onto the pavement. The second one, seeing his comrade go down, turned to flee, but Salmon caught the rifle strap around his neck, yanking him backwards. The man stumbled, falling onto his back, the air knocked out of him.

Meanwhile, Geoff had leaped off the van, landing gracefully on the ground. He approached the unconscious gunman, kicking the rifle away from his reach. He then turned his attention to the van, his paintbrush dancing in his hand as he inspected the damage.

Salmon, elated, gave Geoff a silent thumbs up, which was returned. But he quickly lowered his thumb. “Oh, you’re hit.” Salmon exclaimed, noticing a red stain spreading across Geoff’s shoulder. “I’ve told you before, GG. You should paint on bullet resistant clothing.”

Geoff waved him off. “It’s just a scratch, Salmon. I’ve had worse paper cuts.” He said as he flicked the brush over his shoulder, a bullet popping out and clattering to the ground. His shoulder had healed. Once again, his shirt was immaculate.

“Besides, it’ll take more than a little old evaporating bullet... to finish me,” he paused, looking confused. “Evaporating bullet?” Geoff asked. He stared at the bullet on the ground, dissolving into a rose-colored steam.

“Uh, GG? It’s not just the bullet.” Salmon stated, gesturing to the weapons, the van, even the fallen gunmen. All of them slowly dissolving into a rose-colored mist, much like the bullet.

Geoff and Salmon exchanged a bewildered glance, both confused by the phenomenon unfolding before them.

“Where are we? I thought we were approaching Queensland Thornery,” Geoff asked, looking around at the unfamiliar streetscape.

Salmon checked the GPS on the dash, his brow furrowing. “That’s strange. According to this, we’re right there. It could be a glitch. Let me try to recalibrate it.”

As Salmon fiddled with the GPS, Geoff noticed something peculiar. Parts of the building itself dissolved, including the welcome sign that now read, “We hope you enjoyed your visit... from... The Queen... of Thorns...”

The words sent a chill down Geoff’s spine. He knew that name, that moniker. It was a name unspoken in years, a name he’d hoped to never hear again. Rose, the Queen of Thorns, a mind-bending, reality-warping villainess who had once given him and Salmon the fight of their lives. They locked her away in an S2, a Super-Max Prison for the Supernatural. Yet here they were, standing in the middle of a street dissolving around them, her name literally written on the wall.

“Swell,” Geoff protested with a sigh. “The Queen of Thorns.” he stated, his hands now pressing against his back, his expression grave.

“The Queen of Thorns, AND Gomez Chicken.” Salmon interjected with a hint of sarcasm. “Are they working together?” he mused. “If so, how? The Chicken is dead, and they safely confined her majesty in an S2.”

Geoff, gazing at the sky, replied, “Maybe the better question is, who’s next?”