Grace had never left a hotel room so quickly in all her life. After seeing Psycho Green appear on Earth though, she knew she had to know the truth for herself. She hoped and prayed that somehow, someone had pulled some form of galactic level hoax. That perhaps a completely unrelated monster had just co-opted the image of Psycho Green in order to use his notoriety, his reputation to spread fear and dread, but that didn't help the intense discomfort in her chest. Just the thought, the idea that it was possible he was back was enough to drive all her body to such levels of anxiety that if it wasn't for the vast number of advanced implants she'd created and had installed over the years to keep her active so long that in her seventies she could work schedules that it could put some in their thirties or even twenties to shame, she wasn't sure she wouldn't already be in a cardiac unit.

Grace was well known to the world, she was a former member of NASADA, and was at one time considered for the Apollo 11 mission to be the first person on the moon, only losing out to Neil Armstrong because there were still a lot of people who weren't sure how the public would take seeing a woman being the one to lead such a vital mission in 1969. She was one of the leading figures in technology thanks to her Promethea foundation, and was always on the cutting edge of virtually every advancement for the last forty years. She was also quietly a key political figure, having been influential in her advice of every administration since the Nixon era, but one item on her resume, one thing that was unknown to all but only seven people on the planet, was what happened on the moon back in 1969.

There had long been rumours of a major incident on the moon shortly after Armstrong's mission, and of course the conspiracy theorists had gone wild with their speculation over what happened, but with no one else there, no one that would ever divulge the horrors of that day at the least, pretty much everyone on Earth was ignorant of the very existence of Psycho Green. He had been sent to Earth to enact a conquest long before anyone had even heard of Rita Repulsa. The mission had succeeded in stopping him, but not without cost. Three people had lost their lives to ensure a world that would never even know it was in danger would remain safe. It was the incident that drove Grace's every action ever since, and haunted every one of her nightmares for almost fifty years.

She arrived at her location, paying her cab driver for the ride, and stepped out, making her way onto the pavement. She could see the entrance to a subway a short way off. There were chains and signs across it, but she approached anyway. As she grabbed one of the chains, preparing to lift it, she heard someone speak.

"Excuse me ma'am." A passer by addressed her. "I'm afraid that train station isn't in operation anymore."

Grace just looked at him. The guy was probably just trying to be helpful, so she didn't want to call him out.

"In fact, that station shut down when I was a kid. The railway routed it to the new line a couple of blocks that way." He told her, pointing. "I don't think there's been a train near here for...more than twenty years."

"Thanks for your help." Grace said, before lifting the chain and stepping under it, descending the stairs. The guy just sighed and shrugged his shoulders, before going on his way.

Grace got to the old turnstile, which had a large sheet of plywood behind it to block anyone else that came down here. She got to the turnstile and put an ID card into the slot where the ticket used to go, at which there was a beep and a mechanical sound preceded the "plywood" moving back. It revealed a platform that didn't look like it had been used in some time. Grace went to the platform as the door closed behind her and pulled out a fob, pressing the button to request her ride. She didn't make a habit of using this method of travel, it was there for emergencies, but this definitely qualified. Within minutes a bullet-train floated into the station, coming to rest in front of her. The door opened, allowing her inside.

When she got in, it was decked out with technology even the Pentagon likely didn't know existed. Computers and monitors decked out the whole train, which was completely automated. She took a seat at one of the computers.

"Summer Cove." She called out. The train lifted off the tracks, before shooting off, picking up speed as it went. Grace hoped and prayed that this day would never come, but if her own personal daemon had indeed returned, she would have to see it for herself. Knowing she had some time to kill, she took out the flash drive, putting it into a secure computer and booting it up. As the opening page came up, she furrowed her brows.

"This is an employee record for the Department of Military Law Enforcement." She stated, checking it closely to see the un-redacted version of Trevor's file. "So Trevor's always been a cop?"

Some years previously in Afghanistan, an infantry unit was standing guard over what was left of a village. They were miles from the nearest city, and had discovered the village on a routine patrol. It wasn't hard to spot, when they arrived; clouds of smoke were still rising from the remains of the buildings. When they got there, nothing prepared them for the carnage they would find.

"About bloody time." One of them commented as a couple of trucks rolled up, bearing military police markings. The Sergeant walked up to the truck as the unit disembarked. He saluted as the man he presumed to be in command approached him, returning the gesture.

"Sergeant Thatcher, infantry." He introduced himself.

"Sergeant Trevor Marx, military police." Trevor introduced himself, shaking his hand. "What do we have here?"

"One hell of a mess, that's what we have." Sergeant Thatcher told him, gesturing to what was left of a village. "It was a bloody massacre. Everyone's dead, they even killed the pets and the livestock!"

"Alright, set up a perimeter and then document everything!" Trevor yelled to his unit. "You know the drill, I want pictures, I want everything you find catalogued, and then I want everything taken back to the lab and I do mean everything! If it doesn't look like it belongs, bag it, tag it and pack it!"

His unit started to file out to begin their work. Thatcher just shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm not even sure why you're out here. I just called this into base and they ordered me to wait on you guys." Sergeant Thatcher commented.

"We're here to find out what happened." Trevor told him, gesturing to one of his guys. "It looks like that building was hit hard, look inside, I want to know what it was before it was hit."

"Yeah, but this region's been at war for years, it's sad but stuff like this probably happens all the time." Sergeant Thatcher commented. Trevor stopped by what looked like a pile of rags, pulling on a pair of gloves. He turned it over, at which Sergeant Thatcher looked like he was going to be sick.

"You're right about one thing, things like this are way too common out here, I've already seen more than a dozen villages like this and my higher brass wants to know what's really going on." Trevor told him. "This girl doesn't even look like she was five years old. Whoever did this, it wasn't soldiers. The only word to describe them is monsters." Sergeant Thatcher could only nod in agreement.

Back in the present, Trevor found himself back home, with no recollection of how he had gotten there. It wasn't the first time he had lost time or travelled with no idea how since he collected the dagger from Grace's office, but by now, he was starting to come to the conclusion that the power he now had, the armour he'd used to confront the Rangers had some kind of auto-pilot that took over when he was in danger. He had gone from the precinct parking lot to his house following the attack, and now he had gone from the attack at the Industrial District back to his home after the intervention of the SWAT team.

He looked to his hands as he recalled much of the battle. He had felt the power within him, but he was amazed by how much power he truly had. He had taken on the Rangers directly. He had never dreamed he'd be able to do that. He had been amassing followers and building an arsenal just to find something that could actually harm them. He was still well aware that bringing them down would be an uphill struggle. However, when he had the armour, he was able to stand toe-to-toe with them and fight them directly.

He had always been concerned about the monsters. The Rangers were tough, but the monsters were also tough, and the authorities had always been sceptical of their ability to turn them back without the Rangers leading to the hands-off policy on the Rangers. Trevor though could see nothing but the inherent dangers in anyone having unchecked power.

In his lifetime he had known of two Ranger teams whose identities were known to the public during their tenure. The Lightspeed team had been his idols growing up; it was them that inspired him to serve in the first place. They were heroes, but more than that they were heroes everyone knew. Trevor had always idolised them. They had answered the call, they had subjected themselves to training and they answered to the Government, and fundamentally to the people. The Overdrive team weren't exactly a Government operated outfit, but at least they were subject to oversight by virtue of the fact they were all identified to the public. That was what he wanted. It was vital that those charged with such power and responsibility were held responsible for their actions.

He smiled as he remembered the battle. It had gone a lot better than he had expected. He hadn't just matched the Rangers; he had them on the ropes. He had at least two of them out of the fight already, and he was closing in on the others when the SWAT unit intervened.

"They ruined everything." The voice said to him.

"They were doing their jobs." Trevor replied, thinking about the battle. He was angry that they had fired on him, he had been calling out to them, trying to alert them to the fact he was there to help, but they obviously took one look at his armour and saw a Ranger. Without knowing who he was, without being able to tell he was one of them, they had acted entirely as he would have expected. He then recalled the suit lashing out, seeing the trucks overturning and the other cops flying as the suit retaliated. "You...You attacked them..."

"They fired upon us." The suit stated.

"You could have killed them!" Trevor screamed, before his mind started to race. "Oh my God, you could...we...I could have killed them! Are any of them...? I need to call..."

"They will be fine. I did only what I needed to in order to stop them." The suit assured him. "Perhaps now they will think twice before firing upon..."

"We can't do that again. We're trying to help them, not kill them!" Trevor stated, starting to pace. "Alright, I understand you were trying to help me escape, but from now on, no more lashing out at cops alright? If we need to we run, but no more attacks."

There was a long pause, before he finally got an answer.

"Agreed." The suit replied. "The Rangers now know of us. We will not have that element of surprise again."

"Wait, I hear something." Trevor said as he went to the window. The school bus rolled up to the kerb, at which Hayley, Calvin and Kody got out. They both looked decidedly down for a couple of kids who'd just finished school for the day. While it had been a while, he could still remember when he was a kid when the final bell rang it was like a scene from a loony-tunes cartoon, where all that would be left was a Trevor-shaped cloud of dust.

He smiled a little to see them. He hadn't really considered having kids himself. It wasn't that he was against the idea; it was just more something that he didn't really pursue or that really came across his path. After Afghanistan, he had taken a while to recover before getting into the police force, and he'd been kept pretty busy with that until the fated day he had pulled over a spirited young woman that ended up changing his life.

He was a little hesitant at first to hear that he was going to suddenly end up with a teenage daughter, but he and Hayley got along really well and it all kind of fell into place.

He saw them talking, unable to hear what they were talking about, not that he'd have wanted to intrude. Calvin seemed like a good kid, and he did seem to make Hayley happy.

As Hayley bid Calvin farewell and he walked down the driveway and headed up the street towards his place, Trevor couldn't help noticing her limping. She got into the house, at which he approached her.

"Hey, how was school?" He asked her.

"A little livelier than I'd have liked." She told him as she hung up her jacket. "Do we have any aspirin?"

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked. "What happened?"

"Oh, we were testing our extra credit projects." Hayley told him. "Let's just say there was a little more excitement than we'd have liked."

"Wait, why did you take the bus?" He asked. "Where's Calvin's truck?"

"That would be the root of the issue." She chuckled. "A little experiment didn't go exactly as planned.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

"I'll be fine." She answered, heading for the kitchen. "You got the stuff to make falafel right?"

"Just rummage in the cupboards, it should all be there." He told her, noticing the bruises on her arms. He just eyed her up. "You'd tell me if there was something wrong right?"

"Trevor, could you stop being a cop for like five minutes?" She asked him. "I just took a little fall. It's nothing."

"Alright." He replied. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, I should be good." She replied. "I've been looking forward to this all day!"

As she started to look out the ingredients, Trevor went back to the living room, looking out the window. He didn't like what he had seen at all, and couldn't help thinking about what Hayley had said. "I fell"? It was something he had heard from far too many people in his line of work. He clenched his fists, staring down the road Calvin had taken home.

Meanwhile at the Maxwell House, Calvin pulled into the driveway, killing the engine and getting out of the truck. He headed into the house, hoping to avoid his mom. He was still worked up about the mishap with the part. He had been working on it for weeks now, and he had spent all his time researching just the best components he could afford to make sure that everything went according to plan. He knew that his new fuel injection system would operate at extremely high pressures and so he didn't want to take any chances with it. It was all fine and well making concept models out of re-purposed parts for a test, but he didn't want to risk...well...exactly what had happened.

He hadn't had much of a chance to go over the damage to be sure about what had happened, but he was pretty sure one of the parts his mom had altered had failed. A weld may have burst or a joint that wasn't designed to fit being altered probably didn't hold up, but whatever it was, his beloved Nitro had been fine in the morning, and now...now he was wondering whether there would be anything left of the engine worth salvaging.

Calvin went to the kitchen, looking for something from the fridge, intending to go to his room and just draw a line under the day. He tossed a couple of pizza pockets in the microwave, setting it and pressing the button.

"I don't blame you for wanting to avoid us." Dave said, appearing in the doorway. Calvin just sighed. He had hoped he hadn't heard him coming home.

"Dad, I have stuff to do..."

"Not more important than this." He replied, snapping his fingers and pointing to a chair at the end of the table. Calvin made his way there and sat down.

"I take it mom told you..."

"Your mother and I talked." Dave said, folding his arms. "I just wanted to hear what you have to say for yourself."

"Dad, she blew up my truck!" Calvin told him.

"Yes, I got that part." He replied. "Do you think that excuses what you did?"

"Dad, she..."

"I found your mother in tears! She's in our room right now!" He said angrily. "Your mother was trying to help you and..."

"Dad, she destroyed my truck!" Calvin protested. "I never asked for her help!"

"Well, the thing about being a parent is often you don't wait for your kids to ask you for help." He replied. "She told me about the way you spoke to her in front of your teacher! In front of all your friends, your mother was completely humiliated...!"

"SHE was humiliated?" Calvin yelled. "She turned up at school uninvited, she put an untested part in my truck and she turned the truck I've been building from the ground up for the last five years into scrap..."

"IT'S A TRUCK!" Dave yelled at him, slamming his hands into the table. "You built one, and with your skills I'm perfectly sure if you needed to you could build another..."

"But I can't build another mom is that where this is going?" Calvin asked him. He regretted it almost instantly. As angry as he was with the damage to Nitro, he knew he could fix it with the right parts and enough time. Hell, as his dad said if he really wanted he could just start all over and build Nitro 2.0. However, he couldn't help feeling badly hearing that his mom had been crying. He wasn't expecting her to be jumping for joy about the fact he yelled at her, but he still loved her and didn't really want to see her hurt. Dave's expression changed. It was still anger, but it had gone from yelling to a whole different level, a cold fury that showed how disgusted he was with his son. The microwave bleeped at which he pointed to it.

"Take those to your room and think about what's important to you." Dave said with all the restraint he could muster. Calvin knew he had crossed a line, but he was still so angry he didn't want to back down. He took his pizza pockets and headed up to his room, closing the door behind him. He flopped down on the bed and unwrapped his first pizza pocket.

"Well, I was wrong about one thing." Calvin mumbled as he took a huge bite. "This day did get worse."