In the sub-basement, Crested introduced Flat to Police Lieutenant Mike Devon. He helped supervise the Junior Hero Program and was a Mecklenburg Academy graduate. Devon would command the two squads from the tactical unit going out today. They would bring children's service workers and a few medics from the Swat team and fire department.

Devon gave a complex and tedious briefing as Flat had heard yet. She had a simple job. "Your students. You tag along to help in the search and arrest of females. Your a witness that my officers did not misconduct themselves," Devon said.

"Alright," Flat said.

"You're also the muscle if we run into a baseline. Other than that, it's your job to keep the Chinese Crested safe. You being here will allow the Swat team to avoid the use of heavy weapons. Express and magnum calibers in a city can be a bad idea.” Regardless Devon would carry a cut-down safari rifle.

Crested and Flat got into the police van. "Devon never said what your going to do," Flat said.

"I'm a county K9 officer. I get to smell yucky things and bark at people. Colby ordered me this new stun baton." Crested held up a Canadian moose-grade stun baton, a medieval mace covered in conductive studs. She had two extra charge cells on her belt. Each was good for two hits.

"I don't get a stun baton," Flat said.

"You'd break it when you hit something. I think you're at least twice as strong as Devon," Crested said.

Flat crossed her arms "It's the thought.”

Crested agreed. "Colby did place an order with the Gorilla Works for brass knuckles.”

"She’s a girl who cares," Flat said.

"True friendship is a pair of brass knuckles," Crested said.

The raid had started in a burst of adrenaline and turned dull and gross. The women walked from the rooms. Some half naked. The men were dragged out, searched, photographed, ticketed, and sent on their way. Flat being more cut proof than average had to search the clothes. A few women, fresh from their work, were sent to shower. When this happened Crested and Flat had to stay in the bathrooms with them.

Flat watched as the women showered. "We get paid to do this?"

"Yep," Crested said.

“We’re minors,” Flat said.

“Emancipated. Super powers make you an adult.”

Devon moved the women along with a pounding on the shower room door. It was bit shocking to Flat that no one was rude but not kind at the same time. This was not how she thought the world worked.

Outside, Flat and Crested sat on a raised flower bed and watched the working girls get loaded into buses. The social workers moved them in gruff politeness. Each shuffled along without a rush.

Flat counted heads as they passed. As the last woman got on the bus. "This is not whats shown on TV.”

"Not even close. Kind of kills the excitement of a crime drama," Crested said.

"Will we accomplish anything today?"

"No. The State has nothing to offer these girls," Crested said.

Flat got up as Devon waved for them to leave. "Nothing to offer? We just freed them.”

"Free? The underage girls go back home. A home they ran away from. How many were in this too long before the State got involved? No. Adaption under stress is permanent. The girls will never be right. And the adults? We marched them to the busses like prisoners. What are they going to do tonight? Watch one TV in the halfway house common room? Over the next few days, what jobs are they going to get? The local box store stocking shelves or maids at a hotel?" Crested said.

Flat closed the van door and the two buckled their seatbelt. "Nothing wrong with any of those jobs. The halfway house still has to be better than a brothel," Flat said.

"To do what? Run a vacuum cleaner for eight hours? Last night, the girls were dancing, drinking, smoking weed, and servicing men. And this place pays the girls, they get tips and it's not taxed. They make more than a lot of jobs. A Cartel of Doom run brothel can be downright decent. The mob takes pride in their work," Crested said.

"You're not saying the girls learn to enjoy this life?"

The dog girl gave a laughing bark. "How can we replace weed, sex, and booze when it's normalized?"

The next brothel raid was canceled. Devon never said why. The unit went on to site three. An older hotel run as a private club. The police entered. Flat and Crested followed along in the back. Once again women and their clients would get pulled out of rooms. Crested walked the line sniffing. She would find some weed. The police would flush it. And Crested could smell steel, she’d find a few hidden screwdrivers. One girl had a straight razor, said it was for grooming. None of it worth the paperwork and the weapons ended up in a medical needle box carried in the van.

Flat just stayed with Crested, looking at the girls looking at them. As with the first brothel, Crested and Flat waited by the police vans for Devon to finish.

"Every place we go I see the same eyes as Go-Go had before she left," Flat said.

"Broken girls with no choices. Society sees them as damaged. So the girls take the one open path. This lot ends up here. We're the same, all broken girls. The State took us from our homes but trained us as child soldiers. We ended up on the opposite side of the fence," Crested said.

"Child soldiers?"

Crested stretched her arms up. "We're given an illusion of choice. Go to South or risk organ trafficking, starvation, or sex slavery. Adaption under stress is permanent and it’s the same for us. There will always be broken girls at South. The school makes them," Crested said.

"It's a fallen world," Flat said.

"I find the world is better boring," Crested said.

"I'm getting to that place," Flat said.

The unit stopped for an early dinner at the mall's food court. Crested placed a Super Taco-Taco kiosk-only order; two double-wrapped birria pulled beef Burritos with extra consume.

"What do you want?" Crested said.

Flat looked at the Super Taco-Taco counter.

"Hey. You OK? Don't get all Go-Go on me," Crested said.

"No…Yeah. I went to school with that girl last year. Her name's Amber," Flat said.

"You going to say hey?" Crested said.

"Everyone looks miserable," Flat said. Amber had a grease stain on her red shirt. The forced smile Flat saw was not the bright smile from last year.

"Hurry up and order," Crested said. Flat went with the old standby, four Impossible Mission burritos with extra sour cream. The kiosk acknowledged the order.

A few minutes later. "Orders, Poppy and Felicity." Flat saw Amber at the register.

"Welcome to Super Taco-Taco Amigos," Amber said.

"Hey Amber," Flat said.

"Felicity? Where have you been?" Amber said.

"I changed schools. Both of these orders," Flat said.

"Why are you dressed as a cop?" Amber said. She tapped the register.

"Part-time job." Flat swiped the state benefits card.

Crested grabbed onto Flat's leg. "Mommy, I want ice cream," Her voice up two octaves.

"Get off." She pushed Crested off her leg.

"You have a kid?" Amber said.

"She's a stray," Flat said. "Thanks for the food Amber."

"Yeah." Amber looked at Crested confused.

"Mommy, why do I have to live in the basement?" Crested said as they walked away.

"Shut up.” The two sat with the Swat officers in the food court, and Crested laughed the whole meal.

"You do that to Gyaru, don't you?"

"All the time," Crested said.

"Amber has the same worn-out look in her eyes," Flat said.

"Work is work," Crested said.