Silently, Turing lifted off from the dock, his arms under Guitar Hero's armpits, holding him securely against his chest. Beside him, Uncanny Valley took off at the same time, carrying Annie Oakley in a similar fashion as they followed in Americana's wake, drifting over the Bay only two meters above the waves. In Turing's arms, Guitar Hero fidgeted slightly, holding his guitar with a tight grip while strumming animatedly. Fortunately for them, the portable amp was currently off and resting on Turing's back, just above his built-in jetpack vents. Fang hung suspended by cords between Turing and Uncanny Valley – Guitar Hero had refused to let them leave him behind, and he had absolutely insisted on bringing the crocodile with him.

Despite his earlier words to Uncanny Valley, Turing did not understand the Heroes of Paris' insistence on indulging Jagged Stone's desire to be a superhero; he could only accept it to be the case and attempt to fulfill their instructions.

Of course, while Jagged Stone often spoke illogically, Turing could admit that he occasionally offered words of wisdom. Yet as he considered Guitar Hero's comments to him before they reached the shore, he was still left wondering: what did any of it mean?

To his side, Uncanny Valley stared straight ahead, her eyes opened to their fullest capability to take in as much information as possible. As if sensing him looking at her, she glanced in his direction and grinned. Turing nodded back, emulating her smile. Annie Oakley held one of her revolvers in her hand, her eyes narrowed as she stared down toward the water where a long, thin boat was tied to the small dock on the far side of Alcatraz Island, just barely sticking out past the end of the island. As the group flanked around the island toward the boat's location, Turing studied it carefully – thin, unsuited to long-distance travel on open water, the engine he identified from his scan did not match any standard engine for this configuration; it must have been upgraded for speed. The water around the boat made barely a ripple, but the engine block lit up brightly in Turing's thermal sensor: it had only arrived less than ten minutes earlier. Turning away from the boat and scanning the water behind it, Turing quickly processed the water temperature, tide, and current data, extrapolating the boat's route to the point. Although he could not be certain beyond a 20% margin of error, he plotted a trail through the water and sent it to Uncanny Valley: a trail leading out of the city, under the Golden Gate Bridge, and out toward the ocean. In less than two nanoseconds, Uncanny Valley had confirmed his hypothesis.

"Do you recognize this boat?" Turing asked Americana, keeping his voice as quiet as he could while still being heard. "Is it favored by any specific criminals operating in this region?"

"I mean, I've seen boats like this before." Americana shook her head curtly. "But none of the smugglers I've come across use this type of setup."

"I recognize it!" Uncanny Valley interjected, dropping a little lower as Turing matched. "Maybe not this one specifically, but boats of this type. Some of Winkle's people use boats like that to transport their goods. They're fast and quiet, but they're awful in rough waters, and they can't carry more than 300 pounds of materials, even with just a single person aboard."

"Winkle?" Annie Oakley cocked her head to one side in confusion. "I haven't heard anything about him."

"One of Minuteman's reports mentioned him," Uncanny Valley explained. "According to my mom, he has an operation all along the East Coast."

"Think he's expanding then?"

Uncanny Valley shrugged. "Logical."

"So, there's another boat around here that they're offloading from?" Americana furrowed her brows in concentration and rose higher into the air, drifting away from the group to quickly search the area.

"The trail leads out toward the ocean," Turing reported, jerking his head in that direction. "According to my recreation of the boat's wake, which may not be 100% accurate."

Nodding to herself, Americana ascended another ten meters, scanning the sea past the Golden Gate Bridge with a pensive look on her face. "I don't see anything from here…" she murmured before dropping back down to their level. "We'll have to check the ocean for another ship as soon as we figure out what's going on here," she decided, putting on a burst of speed and sweeping around the island toward the west. Turing glanced over at Uncanny Valley and accelerated at the same rate that she did, the two of them quietly following behind Americana. Below Turing, Guitar Hero shifted slightly in his grip, humming an unfamiliar tune to himself while his fingers moved along his frets. Annie Oakley, moving carefully in Uncanny Valley's grip, popped out the cylinder on her revolved and gave it a quick spin before closing it and sighting down the barrel. Suspended between Turing and Uncanny Valley, Fang began to fidget, trying to move his legs despite the grappling hook cords holding him in place. Looking back and forth between them, he let out a plaintive whine before Guitar Hero could shush him.

Turing glanced down at Fang before quickly scanning the island's shore closest to them for any indication of people. What he could see of the boat was empty and unmoving, but someone must have arrived on that boat. And someone else must have been here to meet them. Although he had not observed any movement on the shore, people could be waiting just out of sight around the end of the island, positioned to watch the Bay on the city side. Could someone have heard the crocodile's call? Would they recognize it for what it was? Were they perhaps walking into a trap? But still he could see no one – no motion, no people appearing on his thermal vision.

Carefully, Annie Oakley reached out to pat Fang on the flank. "You have to be quiet," she whispered. He let out a frustrated moan.

"This is positively rock-and-roll!" Guitar Hero enthused, grinning eagerly. "I can't believe I've never flown before!"

"Did you not ride a plane to get here?" asked Turing, cocking his head and looking down at the crown of Guitar Hero's head.

Guitar Hero scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "That's not flying," he retorted, picking out a tune on his guitar. "This is flying!"

"Will you be quiet!?" Americana hissed, glaring back at him before pointing forward as she rounded the bend of the island and paused, drifting a little further out into the Bay, away from the couple lights illuminating the dock.

Turing quickly scanned the spot she had indicated, taking in the crates along the edge of the water, not far from where a second boat was docked. Two lights on poles stood on either side of the dock, pointing down at the dock and spilling light over the pathway leading up to the distant prison building. A pair of tarps had been affixed to posts behind the lights, blocking them from view on the other side of the island while leaving the ground beneath fully illuminated. In the closer boat, Turing spotted two men sitting near the front and talking quietly, barely paying any attention to the activity behind them on shore. Between the light poles and standing out clearly in their illumination, Turing could see a small number of people standing in two distinct crowds, though two of them who stood apart he could not immediately recognize – not based on their clothing alone. Taking quick scans of the faces, Turing turned away from the two groups of mysterious figures and toward the final person. Standing near the end of the dock, the man held out his hand toward the pile of crates still waiting to be unloaded from the boat, and three of them rose into the air before a man from the larger group of onlookers pushed them down the path toward the old prison building. Their faces hidden behind cloaks, the two men who stood apart continued to quietly watch the proceedings.

Annie Oakley gasped, looking over the group on the shore and pointing with her pistol. "Do you see those two?" she whispered to Americana in a hushed tone. "Those cloaks look so familiar – do you remember?"

Americana nodded, her mouth set in a thin line, before holding a finger to her mouth. "What was it that Carbon called them? Astronomers? Astrologers? They're… new to the area," she explained to Uncanny Valley. "I don't recognize that other guy, though…"

Uncanny Valley cocked her head to one side. "I believe that may be Gravitor. He can manipulate gravity around him," she informed Americana. She hummed. "I thought he was based out of Brooklyn, however…"

"I wonder what he's doing here," Annie Oakley mused.

"Whatever he's doing, it can't be good," muttered Americana, her jaw setting in a hard line.

As the heroes drifted closer, a low growl emanated from Fang's throat, his eyes narrowed in the direction of the group of criminals. One of the cloaked figures turned in their direction. His eyes went wide beneath the cloaked hood. It fell back off his head, and he let out a shout of alarm, pointing at them. As one, Turing and Uncanny Valley put on a burst of speed, dropping toward the dock and releasing all of their burdens.