Disclaimer: Aberrant, owned by White Wolf. Incredibles owned by Disney.

Author's Notes: No, this is not the NEW chapter...this is kind of a...slight side-step in the drama. But have no fear, the story will continue, and this actually has some relevance. Besides, did you really think Bomber was going to be ignored? This chapter is also going be a sort of off-beat change from the usual flow of the story. I may or may not use the first person PoV again...it all depends on if this works out or not.

Metroville Police Department

Isolation Block, Detention Center

1 November

0500 Hrs.

Hi there, my name is Jean-Paul Renard…also known as that annoying (depending who you talk to) nova mercenary called "Bomber". Truth be told, I'm not nearly as annoying as the world-wide press portrays me. Yeah, Bomber, the guy in the funky green armor that IS NOT a rip-off from a certain movie series based on a certain comic book produced by a certain comic book company, is a jerk and lives to annoy his enemies and piss off his uptight and overbearing colleagues in the trade. But Jean-Paul Renard…he's a cool and likable guy who's basically an adrenaline junkie, enjoys life, and likes watching sunsets preferably while skydiving.

Now I realize that you're probably thinking, "wait, aren't Bomber and Jean the same guy?" and the answer would be yes, but Bomber is just a front and a persona. Of course there are people who know me personally, like my best friend Nicholas DeYorke aka the mercenary nova "Slapstick", who would say I'm full of shit and that there is no difference. However, though he's my best friend and is like a brother to me, Slapstick is insane and did try to kill me recently; but it wasn't personal and I probably would have done the same thing if our positions were reversed.

But right now, you're probably asking me, "Jean, what does any of that information have to do with you ending up as a guest of the Metroville PD?"

Well, let's recap for those of you who are slow on the uptake. I was here about a month ago or so, doing a simple job that consisted of me attempting to kidnap a nova just to test what she was capable of. Said job turned out to be a successful mission with a decent payday despite the annoying Firewing showing up. I took my pay, left, took some time off and decided to try out a new glider-pack I had designed by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. While I was there, I ran into this weird nova bad-ass in black armor who murdered the resident super-team (except for one member who barely survived) before deciding to take his anger out on me by dropping a good portion of the waterfront on top of me. I then woke up in a hospital under arrest and being monitored by a Utopia security team who made sure I was drugged to the gills and had me singing funky 80s tunes in English, Portuguese, and Punjabi (which I would have been curious to hear). While at the hospital, the Elite mercenary known as Totentanz and Nick both showed up trying to kill me and each other. I was mostly drugged but I somehow managed to survive only to have some asshole show up, help me escape, knock me out cold, implant some funky chip in my head that could seriously fuck me up, and then shipped my sorry ass back out here to Metroville in a coffin with a bunch of cash and directions to a small warehouse to call home. While trying to learn my surroundings, I stopped at a Starbucks, got a mocha, ended up in the middle of a bank robbery that was not a bank robbery, got shot in the back, left for dead, got up and disarmed one of the bombs the "robbers" put up that would have leveled the building, caught up with the robbery crew who had one of their crew tunnel into the city subway system, killed a few of the would-be robbers, and ended up getting arrested by police as I was running out of the subway terminal.

And that is how I ended up in a jail cell at MPD wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. They had taken the bed out of my cell and left me a sleeping mat and a blanket. They didn't take the toilet and sink out though I'm sure they would have if they could. As it was, they put me in an "isolated" section because they were afraid I might cause a riot or something. I sort of built up a reputation over the last couple years I've been in the trade and I'm sure the higher-ups in the local PD didn't like the fact that they had a nova mercenary in their jail. Granted, I'm not a brick who can smash his way out of a cell, but I kind of got enough a rep that they stripped me of all my clothing and did a thorough search of my body, making sure they got whatever weapons, gadgets, or tools I might be hiding on my person. And, to give the MPD credit, they got most of them; I hadn't counted on that.

However, I also didn't expect the sudden change of attitude from most of the officers when it was announced that I had killed a particularly nasty nova called "Gator". Apparently, they recovered some of the video footage from the subway terminal and, the next thing I know, my jail-issue chow on a plastic tray was replaced by take-out, bottled mineral water and…a beer. I inquired from one of my captors why the sudden change of heart and that was when I found out that I had taken down a cop-killer.

Oh, I was still a prisoner and they didn't trust me with clothing they believed I could somehow use as a weapon (and you'd be surprised what a person can do with a single button), but I didn't experience the treatment I had normally received whenever I ended up in a jail. I was questioned a few times by various officers and one detective Daniel "Danny" O'Reilly who came across as a grizzled veteran though he looked he was only in his mid or late thirties. The detective did seem like one of those hardened assholes who wouldn't mind going "old school" on a perp and it was obvious he didn't like me; but he seemed to be going out of his way to stay professional instead of trying to beat the shit out of me. Then again, maybe it was how he moved differently from the other detectives I've encountered in the past. He seemed a little more guarded and aware of his surroundings than most…a definite sign that he probably was ex-military.

So, to say I was shocked when he came by with a bag of Thai food and a beer would have been an understatement. "You might as well enjoy it," he told me as he passed it to me through the bars, "because you probably won't be getting any more of this when you get transferred."

"I take it that your boss called up Utopia," I said before taking a sip of beer, "and this is the last meal of the damned?"

"Something like that," O'Reilly replied, standing outside the cell.

"And where do you stand on the issue?" I asked, sitting down on the floor and opening a carton of spicy chicken and rice.

"Honest opinion, Renard? I think you're an asshole and a menace, but that's my 'father' side answering that because I have two boys who think you're 'awesome' and watch all your video blogs." He glared at me for a moment and I was half-expecting to suddenly combust in flames. Then he gave me a predatory grin. "The cop in me thinks the same way…mostly, but you did something many of us wanted to do and that buys you a little bit of credit with all the brothers in blue." Then the grin faded to sadness and I saw a look in his eyes that I knew too well…loss. "The guy whose brother was killed by that bastard can't even begin to thank you."

"Your brother," I said, looking back up at him again, "he was the cop who Gator killed, wasn't he?"

O'Reilly said nothing to me for a few seconds. "Yeah," he finally said, breaking the silence, "the fucker bit his legs off and let him bleed out, recorded the damn thing on camera and e-mailed it to the Commissioner."

When he mentioned the Commissioner, I suddenly remembered something I had read in a newspaper a couple nights ago. "Police Commissioner Breaks Ranks, Supports Councilman for Mayoral Election" the headline had read. However, it was name of the Police Commissioner that caused everything to fall into place.

Police Commissioner James O'Reilly.

"Shit," I said when the realization hit me, "you're a family of cops, aren't you?"

"Actually, metaphorically speaking, all of us are family," O'Reilly replied with a grin. "It's just that my flesh and blood are almost all cops."

"Almost?"

"Well, I have a sister who's an ADA, but that's probably a good thing." Then his grin faded a little. "Look, Renard, as far as novas go…you're not a complete asshole. In fact, as far as Mercenary Elites go, you're not even nearly as cold-blooded as you should be."

I laughed at that and shook my head. "Shit, don't tell me you actually buy that 'cold and professional stone cold killer' rep the media loves to perpetuate."

"I don't but somehow I don't imagine the likes of Totentanz sitting in the cell you're in and engaging in idle BS like you have."

"True, he'd just glare at you and give you the silent treatment as he thought of a plan to escape."

"What about you," O'Reilly's eyes narrows in suspicion as he looked at me, "you plotting your escape?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," I replied. "In fact, I've got a couple plans to get out of here that could work…except...it would mean killing at least a dozen of you to get out."

"Now that's what I don't get, you're an Elite. I thought your kind didn't care who they killed."

"Those who think like that tend to live in countries where they can't be extradited. Me, I don't generally kill members of law enforcement unless they're corrupt bastards working for a cartel boss."

"Ah, like your little jaunt in Rio last summer."

"Say what you will about that, Detective, but they were literally getting away with murder."

"Hey, you don't hear me complaining, do you? I'm just pointing out the facts. Besides, compared to what happened a few hours ago, you're small fry to the guy that the NSA is holding."

"Whoa…hold on," I said, remembering how there seemed to be a lot of activity in the last couple hours among the "brothers-in-blue" and my guard detail went from six cops to one or two. "Does this have something to do with that shooting someone was talking about?"

"Don't see why I can't tell you since it's on the news and you'll probably be hearing about it anyway, but you know about that mega-genius punk kid? David Pine Flynn, the kid who recently inherited his father's corporate assets and turned it into a new tech firm?"

Oh shit, I thought since I was pretty much trapped in this crappy town because of the aforementioned mega-genius punk kid, did someone take him out?

"Yeah," I replied, wondering if my shadowy and unknown employer was going to activate the kill-switch in my head if Flynn got killed. Then I realized that Flynn was probably still alive since it hadn't been activated. "I read about him."

"Well, someone tried to kill him tonight, but ended up getting his vice-president instead."

Suddenly, my blood went cold when he said that. I had done my research on Flynn and his crew and I was surprised find out about the person he had hired as his vice-president. I had dealings with her (and her family, particularly her brother most recently), but I was surprised, given what I knew about them and Flynn, that she would willingly work for someone like him. "Violet," my voice was barely more than a whisper, "Violet Parr was shot?"

O'reilly must have looked at me for a couple seconds and, while I doubt he could read minds, I saw him start to instinctively reach for the weapon in his shoulder-holster before stopping himself. "You know her, don't you?"

"We've met, socially," I said, trying to sound as dismissive as I could. Truth be told, I liked Violet Parr (or Spectrum as she was known in the super community); she was cool, confident, smart, flexible, lithe, and...okay...fine...she's hot, especially when she was trying to beat the shit out of me. Of course, given our occupations, I couldn't just break up the fight and ask her out. For one, she'd beat the hell out of me and, for two, her father would also beat the hell out of me and then probably try throwing me across a couple state lines. On the other hand, she had this really cute snarl when she got pissed off...and someone shot her.

"Yeah, right," O'Reilly said. "I saw it in your eyes, Renard. There's more to it than that, isn't there? Is she a nova?"

"Can't tell you what I don't know," I said.

"You don't have to," he replied, giving me a sad smile. "Again, there's that look in your eyes. You're actually contemplating trying to escape this very moment, aren't you?"

I didn't bother denying that accusation because the bastard was right. "How is she?"

"According to the news reports, she's in critical condition." The detective looked at me again, but there was a calculating look in his eyes. It was almost as if he was planning something. "I'm gonna' level with you, Renard. I'm not a big Utopia fan, but my hands are tied. They will come for you in the next twenty-four hours, but I hear they're also going to pick up the shooter first. It's my duty to turn them over to you. If you try to escape now, everyone here has orders to gun you down and to keep putting bullets in your regenerating corpse until the Utopia team comes here to retrieve you."

"So why are you bothering to tell me this?"

"Just letting you know the rules, Renard." He then gave me a very faint nod. "When they come for you, you will be in chains and in a standard jumpsuit like the rest of the criminal trash I deal with."

I kept my expression neutral as I watched him walk away, then I allowed myself a tiny smile when I was certain he was gone. He knew my reputation, he was the one who ordered me stripped down to my boxers, and had the cell stripped of anything really useful for an escape. And now he was telling me that he was going to hand me over to Utopia wearing the usual prison monkey suit and I was to be manacled. Didn't think he'd be such a nice guy to actually give me weapons to use on the way out. For that, I decided I would go out of my way to avoid killing any of the local cops.

The Utopia security detail on the other hand...not so much. I'd deal with them after I killed the shooter.