Chris tried in any circumstance to stay positive, or at the very least, stay unswayed, but it was days like these that made him hate the city and how it worked.

He had been stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for almost half an hour on the freeway, everyone around him honking and shouting as if that would make anything better, and as he finally got to merge over to take his exit, he almos hit someone who was hovering in his blindspot. He missed them, thank goodness, and yet the person was still furious and followed him for three blocks, even getting out of their car at a stoplight and walking up to his window to yell at him, only relenting when Chris threatened to call the police. Then, as Chris turned into his neighborhood, he accidentally ran over a squirrel.

So, he was not having a very good day.

They never usually stayed in the city long. By the time these sorts of things would start to get under his skin, they would already be packing up to leave, but the prospect of that now was uncertain.

They had not parted with New Jersey for three months since they had returned from those baleful beaches of Galveston. Aviva was serious about taking a break, for them and for herself, even though her idea of a break was toiling away in the hangar in New Mexico, bitterly eradicating and replacing all the repairs Paul Hubbard had impermissibly made to the Tortuga. Koki was with family, Jimmy was with friends, and the brothers were with each other, stranded in the one habitat they couldn't stand.

They hadn't really asked Aviva in what time they would resume their usual work. When she dropped them off at home she said that they'd "all know" when they were ready, and everyone had been so traumatized, they agreed on the notion without question. But that blind unanimity was beginning to fade, as the days wore on and the distastefulness of the city grew harder to overlook. Yet, still they did not pester her for release from it. True, a return to the wild would have brought freedom, but it also would have brought risk, danger, and even after three months, everyone was still hesitant to go back to that lifestyle, some certainly more than others.

But again, days like these tested that hesitance. Every step Chris took up the front lawn and across the front porch, feeling the harsh, flat force of his hiking boots against the concrete and old wood, he wished he were instead traversing a terrain that wasn't such a trammel, like a forest floor or a desert dune.

He opened the door, but jumped back in surprise. His mother was standing right there by the doorway, and he almost walked right into her. She seemed distressed, her hand cradling her chin, her forehead wrinkled with worry, and her eyes darting about the floor.

"Geez, you scared me!" Chris said, once his heart had settled. "Is everything okay, mom?"

"Well, I don't know." She said, rocking on her feet. "Someone's here to see you."

Not more commissioners! Chris thought. That was the nickname the crew had come up with for the henchmen of the Raptor Commission, the task force run by that Paul Hubbard, who, like Aviva, had been serious in his parting promise to make things difficult for the crew. The Kratts had endured constant home visits, and Chris knew he was being followed on multiple occasions, once even finding a bug on his laptop - the spying kind of bug, not a living, breathing creature he would've been thrilled to meet. It was looking like these factors would once again pile up and greatly increase his disdain for city living - and yet, his mother continued.

"I don't know who she is, I don't know how she got this address. She - she showed up yesterday too when neither of you were here, and after I told her you weren't home she just left."

Chris pushed passed his mother and moved down the hall.

He pivoted around the corner of the entryway into the kitchen, caught sight of the stranger, and backtracked a bit, so he could peer at her from halfway behind the wall. Her head was on the table wrapped in her arms; she looked up briefly as Chris emerged around the bend, but after scanning him quickly with her dark eyes, she returned to her resting position.

"She said... she was looking for Martin." His mother said. "Do you... know who this is?"

She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, she had black hair that was both distinctly curving and frizzy, like a puff of smoke, and matching that were two thick, furrowed brows. Chris turned to his mother, and shook his head. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her further away, back towards the front door.

"Chris, what are you doing? Aren't you going to go talk to her?"

"Mom, you can't just let people into the house!" He said. "Not with all this... you know, that's been going on!"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Honey, I know, but I don't think she's one of them. She just seemed so... sad. Besides, she's not wearing a suit like the others, I think this is something else."

Chris wanted to listen to his mother, but the sequence of events leading up to this moment, and his general restlessness in his situation was making him jittery with temper.

"But still, who is she? And what does she want? It can't be anything good if she's come like... that."

"Like what?" His mom snapped. "For all you know she could be a fan, from a troubled home!"

"She's, like, 20. I don't know why she'd need our help."

"Maybe she needs some help related to your work. One of those...creature emergencies."

"Well, we're off duty." He said, bitterly. "She'll have to go somewhere else."

"You try telling her that." His mother said. "Or better yet, go ask her why she's here, instead of pulling me away into this little pow-wow to whisper about your problems! Honestly, you two have gotten so guarded since you came home, you boys really have to work on that."

Chris breathed through his teeth, and wanted to rebut, but he could not find the words. He just rolled his shoulders contemptuously and returned to the girl.

He stormed across the kitchen, and plopped down into a chair across from her.

"Hello." Chris said. She looked up again.

"You're the other one." She said. She had a British accent, but it wasn't quite complete. There were traces of some accent else that Chris couldn't place.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Where's Martin?" She asked.

Chris winced. That was a loaded question.

"I don't know." He admitted.

She put her head back down. "Then we wait."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Chris snapped. "And what do you want?"

"I'm... Grace." She hesitated with her name. "Your brother knows me."

"Okay, so what do you want from him?"

"Don't know you." She muttered through her folded arms, though it was loud enough to understand. "Don't trust you."

"Seriously?" Chris scoffed.

"I won't say, until he's here. I can't."

"Okay, I'm not the person who just let themselves into someone's house and won't tell any of them why."

Her head shot back up, and in that moment, something inexplicable took hold of him. There was a great despair, a great grief, a fear in her eyes, and it reached out and met his own, and the two understood eachother. Well, he didn't understand her. He knew his own grief and what caused it: crashing into the ice, losing Martin, being unable to help, finding him as he was, facing the fearsome Nora, drowning willingly, then being stuck here in the city, hounded by Hubbard, with Martin's distance and unwillingness to open up about it all, however much he had been improving over time. Those were his problems. He didn't know her's, he couldn't feel them. But whatever they may be, he could tell in that moment, when their gazes met, that they were equal.

This put a heaviness onto his spirit, like a fire blanket extinguishing his temper. He was still confused and not really trusting of her, but at the very least, he had settled, even if it was into the valley of his own misery.

"Please." Was all she said.

"How do you know my brother?" Chris demanded, though sadly, quietly.

"It was... a long time ago. I hope -" she stared back down at the table, looking concerned, as if she hadn't thought of this yet, "I hope he remembers me."

Chris was baffled by this girl's mannerisms, but it was something he couldn't bring himself to argue with. It was a strange power she had, whether she knew it or not.

Chris was about to stumble through a reply, when his mother caught his attention. She was pointing down towards the front door.

"Chris-" she began, but stopped, only looking down anxiously, as both she and he heard down the hallways the lock on the front door being turned.

Martin came inside with his eyes connected to the floor and his hands connected to the wall, following their planes as he took his paces. He got halfway across the hall before looking up at his mother, as if up until that point it was vital for him to watch his feet with every step they took. He gave her a haggard smile, one that was just following a slight turmoil, but it faded without contest once he processed her distress.

"Someone's... showed up to speak with you." She said.

"Not more Raptors?" See, that was Martin's own specific choice when it came to referring to Hubbard's goonies, he just thought it sounded cooler than Commissioners, though everyone else protested that such a moniker lended them more "coolness" than they deserved. Nonetheless Martin insisted on using it. It should be noted that the Raptors, or Commissioners, themselves were not to keen on being referred to as either.

"No, this is something else entirely." She responded. "We don't know-"

Martin too came into the kitchen, clutching his mother's arm to either reassure her or himself. He crossed the threshold, and recognized the arrival, who had rested her head back on top of her arms, though he took a few seconds to make sure he was not mistaken.

"Shikaar?"

She noticeably flinched. It was a name she hadn't heard in regularity in some time. She had changed her name to something else years ago, and whenever that old title had reared its head, it was only in a moment of weakness or anger from the one person living with her who remembered it, her father. That new association raised an animal dread inside her, that she struggled to suppress as she lifted her eyes to see the one and only person now that she trusted, though she had only met him once. To have to put faith in such a stranger only added to her anxiety.

"I'm... going by Grace now." She said nervously.

"Martin, who is this?" His mother asked him, now returning her son's grasp, though only as he pulled away from her.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I need your help."

"What? With what, where's... where's your father?"

"Martin!" Chris butted in. "Who the heck is this?"

"Shikaar... I told you about her, right?" Martin said. Chris shook his head.

"Martin, please, you have to help me." She rose to her feet. "My dad is missing."

This back and forth was slowly creating a whirlwind of agitation that swept through the whole room.

"Dr. Tendua's been missing for years! So have you!" He replied. This Chris did recall.

"Wait... Dr. Tendua? As in... weird and creepy Dr. Tendua? As in, betrayed you to the leopard stealing guys Dr. Tendua, even though he was the one who brought you there in the first place?"

"बदतमीज!" She angrily cried. Chris lurched backwards, as if she were a cobra who had reared up on him.

Martin finally calmed the storm, reaching across the table to grab the young woman's hand. "Shikaar," he spoke softly, "what's happened to you?"

She took her bleary and enraged eyes from the paralyzed Chris, and let them soften as she turned them to Martin. She sat down, and he with her. Chris remained standing, leaned against a cabinet, his arms crossed. Their mother, in the wake of the tension, finally found it in herself to treat this unexpected guest as mothers do, offering her something to drink, and when she accepted, making Chris go fetch the request. Chris grumbled and set about it as quickly as he dared, but returned to that same cabinet-backed post as soon as he'd set the glass of water in front of her.

She began to tell them her story, starting with that night, that night five years ago. She had been left alone in their house, perplexed. Perplexed as to why Martin had visited after Tendua told her he was leaving, who that large man with the orange mustache was who also stopped by, and why her father went with him, why he seemed so frightful about him, why he turned to look over his shoulder and told her "चिंता मत करो," but why that just made her worry even more. Of course in recounting this she spared the brothers of her own internal details, as well as how the night seemed to drag on as she sat stagnating in her own miserable speculation.

But some time past 4:00 AM her father returned. He seemed...different. He had become this walking bundle of pride, fear, relief, concern, excitement and dread. It was a combination she had never seen before, not in her father or anyone else. He told her -

She began to choke up at this moment. "He told me we had to go, that we had to leave everything behind." She explained. "He had done something terrible, something he had to do, and now we had to leave and hide."

"Well that clears up that mystery." Chris said.

"What'd'ya mean?" Martin asked.

"Who shot that Bruce guy. Wasn't it still up in the air? I think that answers it pretty clearly."

"Maybe." Martin said, honestly a little put off at his brother's bluntness in the presence of this clearly distressed girl.

Shikaar made no input. She was instead thinking still on that night, her confused tears as she had to pack up all her things in preparation to leave her home, her friends, her life behind forever.

"We fled to Europe." She continued between sniffles. "We hopped around from country to country, often times erratically. But eventually, we settled in London for some time." She described their time there, how it was a lonely one - she never attended any schools, he took work as an office temp, and even though they stayed within the city, moving around within it became customary.

But still, London itself, after three years of occupying it, became familiar, a new home. Shikaar herself grew to know the ins and outs of it quite well, and could navigate the underground train systems from memory. It wasn't really so bad, especially since, because they were hiding from something, her father no longer tried to hide from her, and was always still right with her. It was not the strongest or fondest of bonds, no, it couldn't have been in that strained circumstance. But it was better than nothing, and at the very least, she started to understand him, to see where his spark was, especially when they granted themselves the luxury of enjoying the city, and saw all its famous sites and attractions. Her father particularly loved the natural history museums and zoos, his eyes lighting up at all the creatures he got to see.

"It sounds like he still wanted to work with animals." Martin remarked at this. The poor old man, he had that in him all along. "So why didn't he?"

She was put off as she thought of when she likewise asked her father why he didn't simply go back to his work, under a different name, and make that their new life. But he replied with misty eyes that it was his retribution, his punishment for betraying the leopards those years ago.

The poor, tortured, troubled man; he was like a child who felt the joy of playing with a shiny, novel toy, but only once and never again, thus spending the rest of his days being dragged shrieking past the toy shops. He could only see the wondrous things through the windows, and not as they sat in his own tender grasp - only, the hand that wrenched him away from even the fantasy wasn't that of a stern parent, but his own guilty conscience. And, as it is in many strict upbringings, in denial after denial, repression after repression, he began to think there was a good, just reason as to why he was being denied that which he desired, that he did not deserve it.

But in reply to Martin's question, all Shikaar could say was "he was afraid."

"Really? Paul Hubbard was giving you that much grief? He's been on our asses, but it hasn't been that bad." Chris said.

"Well, Aviva's helped with that." Martin said.

Shikaar cocked her head. "Paul Hubbard? Who's that?"

"The head of the Raptor Commission? He wanted to find your father, to get to the bottom of who shot Vincent Bruce." Martin said. "He's not a good person. But that's why you would've been running, right?"

She shook her head. "He never spoke of a Paul Hubbard. That's not who we were running from."

"Well, I'm sure Hubbard never just introduced himself to you, he... at least tries to be secretive."

"No, we knew who it was." She said. "The person's name was," she paused and stared off blankly into the table, "Odyssia."

Chris and Martin looked at eachother.

"Odyssia?" Chris asked. "Is that even a real name?"

"Probably not." Martin retorted.

"About ten years ago," Shikaar explained, "my father said he got an email from a person going by that name, claiming to be a biologist on the verge of a scientific breakthrough, the - creation of life."

Chris mouthed at Martin, that's what Aviva said. He was referring to Aviva and Koki's own discovery when they were down in the facility that imprisoned Martin. That was the unformed beast in the test tube, composed of the same black metallic ooze that was responsible for the takedown of the Tortuga, as well as what the supposedly deceased Nora Donovan was armed with. This revelation sent shivers down Martin's spine.

"What was that?" Asked Shikaar, who had spotted Chris' wordless message but could not read it.

"Nothing," Martin said, "carry on."

"Anyways, my father was surprised that this Odyssia would choose an unknown like him to help with their work, but nonetheless he was thrilled to be a part of the project - that is, well, until Vincent Bruce showed up, said he was working for Odyssia, and in their name forced my father to help them capture leopards."

"He never told me that part of the story." Martin said.

"He only told me one year into living in London." She said. "He did everything in his power to get away from them, but..." her tears resumed, "about four weeks ago, he got another email from Odyssia, even though he had changed all of his contacts and accounts, they still reached him, and they said they'd found him, and were coming for him. We had to leave London." She wiped her eyes. "We went to Scotland instead, to this small town far north and on the coast. It was so secluded and... lovely. Everyone was nice, and it was the kind of place where anyone was welcome. It should've been perfect, but... only after three days of living there, we left, he in a panic, and returned to London. I don't know why we-" she trailed off and into her tears.

"Shikaar-"

"But then, as soon as we got back, he just left me in a hotel saying," she said between sobs, "that he was going back to the Píosaí - sorry, that's the town we left - because he had left something behind - an old ID or something, and he-" She said. "But he... never came back."

Martin and Chris stared at her in silence. Her face had become blank and emotionless, like she had used up all her humanity for the moment. "He left me with 200 and told me that... if he didn't return in a week, I would 'know where to go.'" She looked up, her human sorrow returning. "But I didn't. We had cut all ties with our old friends and family, and he was adamant that we keep it that way. He was distrustful too of the police, rambling on and on about how he swore they were somehow in Odyssia's pocket. I had no one to turn to, nowhere to go, and all I could think about -" her pleading voice wavered, as she stared desperately into Martin's eyes, "was you!" She reached back across the table and gripped his folded hands. "Please - you have to help me find him."

Martin sighed.

He too had been having a terrible day, though it was for different reasons from his brother. Martin had been affected, negatively, terribly, by all that had happened to him. The first few nights back home were hell, marred by nightmares and panic attacks and terrible restlessness. He knew he was worrying his family, so he, without telling them, sought a psychiatrist to help him get over his trauma. It was working, if slowly, however today's session had opened up some really bad memories, and he spent the last moments of the appointment in a panicked fit on the floor, not really recovering until a while after their appointment was supposed to be over, which delayed the therapist's meetings with his other patients. As much as this doctor had reassured Martin that his health and wellbeing was a priority, and that recovery was not linear, nonetheless Martin left feeling embarrassed.

He didn't think he was ready to get involved in something like this. He was even nervous about returning to regular work, worried they'd encounter some wild goat species of some kind and he'd have to hide behind a rock and cry. He knew how unhappy Chris was here in the city, and the last thing he wanted was to keep him there, but at the same time, Martin was still in pieces, and well aware of it too.

And yet -

Something about Shikaar struck a chord with Martin. They had both been grabbed and dragged into this state of great misery by the same villains, only Martin had the advantage of being surrounded by friends and family who, even if they didn't get the full picture, were still here, and supportive. Shikaar, meanwhile, was all alone.

"Chris, private meeting?" Martin asked.

"Yep." Said Chris, removing his arms from their fold and bouncing off the cabinet he rested against. Martin rose from his chair, and the two scurried off to a beneath-the-stairs closet.

"We have to help her." Martin began.

"What? Martin, are you serious?" Chris said.

"I can't just turn her down like this!"

"Martin, this sounds like a job for the police."

"You know we can't do that, Paul Hubbard has his eyes and ears on everything. As soon as we report this, he'll be all over it, and she won't have the same excuses we did to get her out of trouble."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's a good thing." Chris said. "Her dad did shoot a guy."

"Yeah, but she didn't!"

"Okay," Chris whispered sharply, "so why help him? Why not just help her? Why not hook her up with a job somewhere here, we have enough connections in the city to do that! We can help her start her life over how she wants to!"

"You really want to tell her that, to just give up on her father?"

"Yeah, it sounds like she was pretty sick of running."

Martin rubbed his forehead. "Tendua's a good man." He said.

"Since when? All I remember about him was how he put my brother in danger!"

"He was in a difficult situation!" Martin said. "He was trying to stop the poachers!"

"I just... sorry, I can't forgive him for turning you in like that, and leaving you to fix everything."

"He shot Vincent Bruce. That was a pretty good fix."

Chris sighed. "I still don't like this."

"I don't either. Believe me, I don't. But think of this - we've been the only people having to deal with Hubbard, with these weird poacher, scientist people. If we find Dr. Tendua, we'll have another ally in this fight!"

"But is this really a fight we want to keep up?" Chris asked.

"You're not telling me you want to just run away?" Martin replied.

"I... guess not. I'm scared of that they might do to... us. I don't want anyone else getting hurt."

"People are going to get hurt anyways." Martin said. "Innocent people. Entire ecosystems are at stake for what this Odyssia has accomplished. I'm really scared too, but... no one else is going to do something about it." Martin shrugged. "Besides, it's not like we're going to storm their main headquarters or anything. We're just looking for a guy."

This put a slight smile on Chris. "I guess you're right. Okay, let's do it, on one condition:" he said, stopping Martin before he rushed out of the closet. "We bring in the rest of the crew too. I don't want us to get in over our heads."

"Heard loud and clear, bro." Martin grinned. He was actually quite relieved at this stipulation. In fact, this whole prospect was growing fonder in his sights, because part of him was thinking, if he could find Tendua, he could get answers, as to what was going on, and perhaps that could help him finally close this harrowing chapter on his life. This was made even sweeter by the promise of their good friends being there to see him along the way.

.

.

.

"Absolutely not." Was Aviva's response.

Chris blinked. "Seriously?"

They were on a video call; she was working on something mechanical, probably an internal component to the Tortuga Chris had never seen before. She put down the screwdriver in her hand.

"Hubbard is breathing down my neck enough as is, without us running off to look for a man who's critical to his case!" She said. "You really want that added pressure?"

"No, but," Chris scrunched up his shoulders, "we shouldn't turn our back on an innocent man just because of that."

Aviva raised a brow. "You really think he was innocent?"

"I mean, he did some good things. He killed Vincent Bruce, right?"

"We don't know that for sure." She said. "Chris, this really sounds like a job for the police."

Chris breathed through his teeth. She was making all the points he had, and they still were good ones. Chris didn't have the advantage with Aviva that Martin did with him, so outside of that Chris didn't really know how to argue with himself.

"If you two wanna go running after this guy, that's your prerogative." Aviva remarked.

"Aviva, but-"

"Chris, I haven't finished the repairs on the Tortuga yet. I can't just drop everything to go on a manhunt with you!"

"And what happened to doing everything as a team?" Chris snapped, though he regretted it after the sour look she gave in response.

"Chris, this isn't the team's job. I don't know this guy, I certainly don't like this guy, so I'm sure as heck not gonna risk my neck him! Look, obviously I can't keep you from going, but don't be surprised if everything goes wrong!"

"Aviva, wait-"

She hung up.

Chris groaned, slapping the now inactive creature pod against his forehead.

My conditions can't be met. So now what?

Chris slinked into the kitchen, where Martin and Shikaar were waiting. He was reassuring her, that they'd all set out, that they'd all find her father. She looked... guarded, maybe a little unimpressed, despite being so clearly shaken with worry and guilt.

Maybe it's not worth it. He thought. After all, we're still resting from the last big misadventure. We don't need a new one!

But Chris saw something in his brother there that he hadn't in a while. It was energy, a drive, a spark of life, something he had briefly forgotten the feel of.

Besides, Chris liked mysteries. So why turn down this one?

Chris joined the pair at the table.

"So, what's the word on the team?" Martin asked, grinning big.

"They're not coming." Chris said.

"What?" Martin's smile dropped.

"Aviva was a sure no, and I called the other two before her and they didn't pick up. Looks like it's just us three."

"Wait... you're still coming?"

"Against better judgement, yes." He sighed. "Besides, you were probably going to run off to do it on your own anyways, and I wasn't about to let that happen."

Martin chuckled. He actually wasn't planning to run off without his brother. He would have redirected Shikaar elsewhere, and stayed home. But if Chris was going back on his word like this, he wasn't going to complain.

"Glad to have you on board." Martin said, putting his hand on his brother's back. "I know this isn't something we do, but... I need closure."

"I get that. Of course."

"And finding an innocent man who could be in danger." Shikaar butted in. "You're in this for that too, right?"

Martin nodded, but Chris tensed uncomfortably. He was here for Martin, through and through, but he wasn't sure how much of this standoffish girl he'd be able to tolerate, now that the potent but brief connection they'd made had passed.

"Plus, you know, Dr. Tendua was a great researcher of the creature world. Finding him and getting him back into a job that suits him would be a major win for the conservationist effort." Martin pointed out.

"Huh? Oh yeah, for sure." Chris chimed.

"So, what's out first move?" Martin said.

"Obviously," Chris said, getting a bit of his wiseacre air back, "we start out with the town he returned to - what was it... P- Pizza?" This demeanor was of course quite shattered when he failed to remember the name of the town, and sputtered out the closest thing that came to mind. Shikaar glared disdainfully, but Martin cracked up.

"What, are you turning into Jimmy now?" He laughed.

"It's Píosaí." Shikaar corrected. "It's a secluded town in the far north of Scotland, surrounded by bushes and mountains."

"Oh, lovely!" Chris said. "I've always wanted to go to the highlands!"

"Yeah, the moors aren't a habitat a lot of people talk about." Said Martin. "But it actually has a wonderfully diverse ecosystem that's-"

"We're looking for my father." Shikaar said. "Not animals."

Chris could see Martin get a little sad at being interrupted and shot down like that, so he cut in. "Okay, ground rules. We are zoologists, not detectives. You don't get to fault us for that."

"Whatever." Shikaar sank into her chair. She had grown older, but it looked like she hadn't yet matured out of her crabby temperament.

"Come on, Chris, let's go find a flight." Martin said, putting his hand on Chris' shoulder, as if to say, don't worry about me, or maybe, let's just leave it, or perhaps, she's been through enough, go easy on her? In that moment, he couldn't read his brother all that well. Perhaps it was all three being conveyed.

"Alright." Chris said. "Alright."