"Sweet Polly! Sweet Polly!"

Polly scratched her fluffy ear, trying not to get her mascara wand caught on a lock of hair. She closed her compact mirror with one hand and looked up to see OJ running toward her, arms flailing in the air. Valentine followed behind him much more leisurely, with her hands clasped behind her back. Her whiskers were twitching with interest.

"Yes, Mr. Skweeze?" Polly asked.

OJ slammed his hands down on her desk. His eyes were big and he spoke hurriedly. "I just got a call that Simon Barsinister is about to rob the Two Cents Savings Bank!" he exclaimed.

Polly smiled as her ears pricked. Valentine's eyes narrowed, cutting over to OJ.

Polly shut her mascara, shoving both it and her compact into her purse before getting to her feet. She slipped her hand through the strap of a camcorder lying in wait on her desk and brought it up beside her face. "I'm on it, Mr. Skweeze!" she exclaimed.

"Ah!" OJ waved his hands in front of her face, and Polly stumbled back slightly. "Be careful! That thing's expensive!"

Polly clasped the camera in both of her hands, flipping out the screen. "I thought you told me you bought this at a…" She trailed off, spotting Valentine's eyes narrow further. She laughed awkwardly and chirped, "Yes, of course! I'll set off right away!" Then her gaze traveled to her bigger boss again, and she added, "...if that's alright, of course."

"Of course," Valentine answered, straightening up and nodding slightly. She shifted the knot of her tie with a claw. "I didn't expect to have a… a Sweet Polly Action Report the day I got here."

"Well," Polly replied, shutting the camera and making her way around her desk, "Welcome to Biggers!"

Valentine snorted, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

Polly gave her boss a polite nod, then ran out of the studio at full force, only slowing down to push open the heavy door. She slid into the elevator on her heel, punched the button, and kept hitting it as if that would make the ride go faster. When the elevator hit the ground, she slid out of the doors almost before they were wide enough to accommodate her, sprinted out of the building, and lifted her hand to call a cab. One arrived within seconds—Polly found that they always seemed to crowd around the studio—and she drove off to the bank.

Paying the driver and slamming the cab door shut, Polly found she had arrived a little too late. The first glass door was shattered on the ground, in pieces so small they looked like sand. The second door was in a similar state, its glass even shinier on the freshly-waxed tile. Polly carefully hopped and stepped around, trying not to cut herself. She stepped over the steel bases of the doors until she managed to enter the building. Shaking only a little bit, she slipped to one side of the frozen crowd, opened the screen on her camcorder, and held down the record button until the signal appeared.

Simon Barsinister was laughing maniacally, facing the massive vault in the back of the bank. He held a ray-gun in one hand; it was an orange-yellow and very round, with an antenna coming out of its front, capped with a sphere. He was pointing it up at the glass of the skylight, but Polly was certain that wasn't purposeful; his attention was focused solely on the vault in front of him. His two assistants stood on either side of him, both holding big canvas bags. One was something like a pitbull, tall and wide, who was easily recognizable as one Cad Lackey. The other was a curvy setter, of average height, named Veronica Magus. Polly scoffed. She couldn't help it.

The last time Polly had met Veronica, she, alongside Simon Barsinister, had used her charming good looks and a hypnotic perfume to control Underdog long enough for Simon to wreak havoc on the city. It was embarrassing for Underdog and Polly in a myriad of ways, from Polly's jealousy and the incredibly impure thoughts the perfume gave her, to the fact that Underdog didn't think he was susceptible to love potions. Veronica had been part of Simon's "team" ever since.

Polly rolled her eyes and turned her camera's lens cap to focus it. Focusing on focusing, Polly didn't realize that Veronica had turned to glance over her shoulder. Of course, she noticed Polly and elbowed her boss before gesturing in that direction. In the same moment Polly looked back up, she made eye contact with the wrinkly, hairless cat.

Simon twitched his ragged whiskers and lowered his gun. "Sweet Polly Purebred!" he said in the too-smooth, too-lustful way he always did. And all eyes turned to Polly. The building was already uncomfortably warm for a humid October day, and the stares of every living soul around landing on her only made it worse.

Polly swallowed back a pant. "Simon Barsinister!" she exclaimed, "You'll never get away with this! Underdog will be here to stop you soon!"

Simon let out his vulture-like laugh again, his face twisting. He lifted his ray-gun at Polly, and the surrounding crowd scattered, crying out for help and Underdog. Despite herself, Polly froze. She heard a high-pitched droning noise—the gun charging, she assumed—and longed to itch it out of her ear. But then her camera started warming up and her palms got sweaty and she was too nervous to move.

"SIMON SAYS," he announced, "MELT!"

Very suddenly, she felt like she was. Her tongue lolled and any air in her lungs compressed; she couldn't have called for Underdog even if she wanted to; every motion meant for breathing was simply trying to keep her standing. She felt the warmth and wetness of sweat gather on her skull, within her ear canal, under her shirt and jacket, and the shaved-down fur over the rest of her body. Her tights were definitely going to end up stained. Maybe she was melting; she tried to let go of her camera, which was so hot now that she didn't know if the film was still filming, but it was sticky enough that it seemed as if the plastic was coming undone. She shut her eyes and tried to think of some nice, icy landscape to calm down, but losing her vision only made her stumble.

Then she heard a noise like a cacophony of bells, and some of the heat subsided. It was followed by a plink-plink-plink-plink, and a shard of glass skidded to a halt in front of her feet. She looked up.

"There's no need to fear; Underdog is here!"

In his surprise, Simon had turned his gun away from Polly. Instead, its beam landed on a steel pole that held up the building. Blinking once, he snarled and aimed at the hero. "SIMON SAYS, MELT!" he shouted again, but behind him, Veronica and Cad were a flurry of motion.

Cad had dropped his bag first and started to run for the back door. Veronica copied him not half-a-second later, and Underdog was on their trail within the millisecond. With a blue contrail and a flurry of stars, the hero wrenched the softened metal of the steel pole from the ground and flew at them. After several awful creaking noises, Underdog's dust cloud faded, revealing that, tied up in the metal, he held Cad and Veronica.

Simon had tried to track him with the gun, which now looked like it was a glowing ball of fire. He suddenly flinched and hissed, tossing the gun from one hand to another. Underdog dropped his two assistants and recoiled, sucking in a deep breath that puffed his chest out. Then he blew it out at Simon. The wind was so intense that it flapped around his ears and ruined the hair of every bystander behind him. The glass of a few teller stands cracked.

When Underdog ran out of breath, Simon's gloves and gun had a coat of frost across them. Instead of glowing and orange, the gun had become a cold blue. Simon gulped, but raised the gun again and stuttered, "S-Simon says… melt!"

The gun whirred, the ball at its front turning white for a moment. Then it whirred lower and returned to blue.

"No… no!" he exclaimed. Simon grit his teeth and started to turn away. He dropped his ray-gun at the same moment he started to sprint for the door. Unfortunately for him, Underdog was much faster. There was another blur of stars, and the next time Underdog held his knot of metal and minions, Simon was sandwiched between his assistants. He hissed and spat and kicked his little legs, but his actions were futile. The crowd cheered, and Underdog's face became red.

Polly smiled. She hadn't realized when she brought the camcorder up to her eye, only when she brought it back down and pressed the stop button to ensure that the video was saved. Then she felt something rise in her chest and pressed it again.

"Polly Purebred, WTTV news!" she exclaimed, rushing through the crowd and up to Underdog. Underdog beamed at her before he nodded politely, the blush fading from his face. Polly continued, "You've defeated Simon and his… his Sun-Gun again!" she exclaimed, "Do you have anything to say?"

Underdog cleared his throat, then beamed again. Polly glanced at the gap between his incisors. "Though these three tried to ruin the day, I will take them to jail without delay!"

Simon grumbled, and the crowd cheered again, so Polly turned off the recording and shut her camera. Underdog turned red one last time, then raised his fist in the air and shot away. The blast of air was enough to knock away the rest of Polly's sweat, but it only ruined her hair even more.

All in a day's work, she figured, and the janitor was already mopping up the shattered glass of the doors. He tipped his hat at her and opened the door. Polly raised her hand to call another cab.

Polly didn't expect Miss Valentine to be as impressed as she was. In fact, she couldn't stop saying the word. The film had survived Simon's ray gun, though some parts were more burnt-up and blown-out than others. Valentine kept hitting the rewind button and replaying the moment Underdog had captured Simon Barsinister. Polly watched the reflection of his leg kicks in her enlarged pupils.

"I'm just so impressed," she said again, spinning the chair she was given in a little circle. OJ had found a small office space for her near the back of the studio, and though Polly was certain the lights worked fine, Valentine hadn't opted to turn them on. The room was a dark maroon with the sunlight coming through the drawn curtains.

Polly shifted on her feet as the video whirred with another rewind. Valentine had a chair on the other side of her desk, but Polly had already been standing for so long that she didn't want to suddenly start using it.

"You gotta stop me, I—" Valentine chuckled slightly, then placed the camcorder on her desk and slid it across to Polly. She picked it up and closed the screen.

Meanwhile, Valentine cleared her throat and raised a fist to her mouth. She pricked her ears and focused her eyes up at Polly.

"Again, you said?" she asked.

"Hm?" Polly replied, turning the camera off.

"You said that Underdog was stopping Simon Barsinister again," Valentine clarified, cutting through the air with her hand. "I suppose Barsinister robs banks… often?"

Polly tried not to be surprised, tried to tell herself that Valentine was new in town; but she couldn't help the full-body numbness of shock that overwhelmed her all at once. She blinked until her bulging eyes returned to normal.

"Y-y-yes," she stammered, "Every… week, or so, Dr. Barsinister comes up with a little ray-gun and a plot to take over the world."

Valentine glanced to her left. She held her head up by her chin, her thin fingers covering her mouth. "Robbing a bank isn't exactly… taking over the world."

Polly shifted again. "Well," she said, "oftentimes, he will do these little robberies to make sure his ray-gun actually works how he wants it to; if he's less confident, he'll kidnap people. And, um… most of the time, all he really wants is money and power."

Valentine cocked an eyebrow at her.

"...and money and power," Polly recited, her voice growing quieter. "...and money… and… power."

Valentine pinned her ears back. Polly wanted to be thankful for the darkness, it meant Valentine couldn't see the embarrassed flush on her face. ...however, being a cat, Polly knew that Miss Valentine could see her perfectly fine.

Polly swallowed thickly and decided on saying, "He's not the only one!"

Valentine's hand moved to hold her jaw. She had a bemused smile on her lips, but her ears were facing Polly again, and her delicate whiskers twitched. "Oh, yes?" she asked.

"Our crime rate is…" Polly faked clearing her throat, "...well, most of it is bank robberies; you'll find we have many, ah… traditional mobsters here." She twirled a lock of fur on her ear, quietly deciding not to tell Miss Valentine about all of the alien invasions. Most of those people did not return.

Valentine hummed, steepling her hands in front of her mouth. Polly saw her eyes flicker to her side, and her pastel tail twirl behind her. "I…" she ventured slowly, her voice quiet, "I didn't realize how… criminal, this city was."

Polly nodded kindly.

"When I was first founding this studio," Valentine continued, "I heard whispers of this one little gang… doing bank robberies, maybe a murder here or there. But they were pretty well suppressed by the law enforcement," she hissed like the idea hurt her, "Or some freelancer, or something."

"Underdog certainly tries," Polly smiled fondly, her face getting warm again.

Valentine snorted. She leaned back in her rolly-chair, the springs squeaking. "It had to have been fifteen or twenty years ago…" she reminisced, "Something like… Boston and Champion, I think."

Polly's ears pricked as she recognized those names. "Funnily enough!" she exclaimed with a raise of her finger, "The Champion is the person who taught Underdog!"

Valentine's ears swiveled for a moment, but they ultimately remained forward. "Oh," she answered. She sort of sounded… disappointed? Polly sucked in her lips, but then she shook her head gently; surely Miss Valentine had meant to make it a question.

"Champion…" Polly ventured slowly. Valentine didn't react, soPolly nodded confidently to herself and rose a fist to her chest. "...was the best hero Biggers City had before Underdog came along. He had to be, because Boston Bully and his gang were the most villainous villains. Before Dr. Barsinister turned to crime, of course."

Valentine hummed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her desk. "And Boston?"

"He died," Polly said coolly, turning to stare at the rubber baseboards, "A shootout between gangs."

"Oh."

Another silence drifted, but this one was quickly broken by Valentine's scoff. Polly faced her again. She smiled up at Polly with a sweetness that made her teeth ache. "You seem to know the crooks of this town pretty well," she stated.

Polly ran a hand under and behind her ear. She laughed slightly, "Well, I get kidnapped by them all often enough that I've… picked up a few things."

Valentine chuckled. Then she steepled her hands to her mouth again as her smile fell, and her eyes flickered across her desk, then up and down the poodle in front of her. Polly brought her hand down in the awkward silence. Then, suddenly, Miss Valentine pointed at her with both fingers.

"I think," she said carefully, "that you should make a report about the criminals here."

Polly blinked a few times. "What do you mean?"

"Something like… a guide," Valentine answered, "To help the citizens here get to know their local robbers a little better, so they might avoid them."

Polly's eyes scanned Valentine's face. "Most…" she tried cautiously, "...people here already know them… because they've been robbed."

"Most!" Valentine repeated with a forceful hiss. "You said it yourself. It'd help newcomers like me out, too, you know. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have a real guide, would it?"

Polly squared her jaw. She thought the idea of a Guide to Crookery was pretty useless; knew it was pretty useless, but…

"Is this a report, you're assigning me?"

Valentine rolled her shoulders and leaned back in her chair. "Yeah, sure, let's make it one. How long do you think it would take?"

Polly stared at the baseboards again. Let's see: Underdog was her roommate; she would more than likely be kidnapped at least once in the upcoming weeks; would Taptap be visiting again? Well, whatever the case, she figured it wouldn't be too hard to complete.

"Two or three weeks," she settled on.

Valentine's eyes widened slightly. "Woah, really?"

"There's a lot of criminals," Polly sighed.

Valentine blinked. "That seems… fast. But, as long as you think you can do it."

She pulled a loose piece of paper from the opposite side of her L-shaped desk and scribbled on it with a glittery pink pen. When she finished, she slid it to Polly's side. Polly picked it up and looked it over. The ink was black, and Miss Valentine's signature looked like a doctor signing a prescription.

"Good luck, Sweet Polly," she encouraged.

Polly shoved the paper into her jacket pocket and turned on her heel. "Thank you."

Polly's keys jingled in her apartment door. There was a soft muttering behind it, and she sighed to herself… nevertheless, she opened the door and put her keys back in her purse. She placed the small loop of her clutch onto the coat hook, then looked across her apartment.

Two cream-colored dogs with black ears were sitting on the couch. Polly's was freckled, stout, dressed in red, and had a joint hanging from his mouth. The other was, most unfortunately, tall, dark, and handsome. Polly didn't want to deal with him after her day at work.

"Pollyyyy!" Underdog exclaimed, standing up from the couch with his arms extended. "How was work?" he asked, taking the joint from his lips.

Polly sighed, a slight chuckle in her diaphragm. "Interesting enough I need one of those."

Underdog scoffed, but raised his hand in offering. Despite herself, Polly refused it by shaking her hand at his. Underdog shrugged and took another puff. Polly padded around him in the direction of her bedroom.

The other dog rose from the couch. "Well," said his smooth voice, which went straight to a region of Polly she didn't want to think about. "Your lady's home, so I'd best be off."

Polly paused while reaching for her doorknob, instead turning over her shoulder. "First of all," she said icily. It made the stranger jump. Polly reveled in it. "I'm not anyone's lady. Second of all, stay as long as you want, I don't care."

The handsome dog suddenly looked very awkward. His eyes were so wide they looked like they might fall out, and he scratched the back of his neck with his lips in a tight line. His eyes were turned up toward the ceiling. Polly chuckled to herself.

He had good reason to be nervous around her. The other dog in her apartment was none other than Taptap Raft; he and Underdog had recently realized they were long-lost brothers, and the two of them liked to spend some of their evenings catching up with eachother. Underdog was reasonably leery about going to the Raff Gang Hideout to converse, and Taptap was reasonably leery about discussing such personal matters in any public places. Thus, Polly's apartment was where they went. Usually they were good about Taptap getting up and out before Polly came home from work—oftentimes Polly would bump into him just as he was getting out the door, and he would become just as nervous as he was now.

The more important reason that Taptap Raft would be nervous around Polly was the fact he tried to kill her. Twice, if you counted the initial robbery of the Hopeless Diamond where Riff Raff and Mooch Kodiak totaled her car—though personally, Polly didn't.

Luckily for Taptap, Polly had gotten over that whole bombing thing he tried. Enough people had tried to kill her that if she kept grudges, she'd never get anything done. Even if that try had shaken her to her very core. Even if the thought of seeing Taptap's face—Underdog's, nearly—made her want to rip her guts out with her bare hands for the first few months afterward.

Happened all the time, she sighed, and picked herself up again.

Not that she would ever tell him she was over it. It was too funny to watch him squirm.

Taptap had turned to Underdog, muttering something and speaking mostly with his hands. Polly was too caught up in her own thoughts to turn her ears on. Despite everything, she couldn't help the dreamy little sigh that came out of her nose.

Riff Raff was right about one thing, and only one: Taptap was pretty. So pretty, that seeing him everyday in her apartment made Polly realize that she did actually like men.

Or… rather… she liked cream-colored men with black ears. Rather, her freckled, stout, red-wearing, joint-smoking man, who often rescued her from the other one. Often rescued her from all of the city's villains.

Her nose made that dreamy little sigh again, and it snapped her out of that line of thought. Fine! Fine, she gulped to herself. In the safety of her home, she could say it: her mom, and Miss Valentine, and her coworkers were right:

Sweet Polly Purebred had a crush on Underdog!

And she had for a while, unfortunately. She didn't know when it started, she only knew that one day, Underdog was rescuing her from criminals as nothing but a friend, and the next, Polly thought about kissing him when he did.

Taptap's smooth voice finally pierced through. Polly glanced up at him, jumping slightly. He was staring at his phone screen, less tense now. "...well," he concluded, "it's already 8:30. Riff is probably wondering where I am, and I'm sure the Gang will want me to get dinner."

"You should get Windy's," Underdog nodded, the joint between his fingers.

"I said my Gang," Taptap countered, "Not you. You'll turn into a Windy's."

"I really hope so," Underdog laughed. Polly glanced at the gap between his incisors.

Both of them started to head out, quickly swapping farewells, before Taptap disappeared. Underdog finally closed the door. Polly untensed her shoulders in the silence. Underdog scratched the back of his neck and made his way toward her.

"Sorry," he muttered in his natural voice. Polly always thought it was surreal to experience: hearing her friend Shoeshine's voice coming out of Underdog's body. He continued, "We started talking about our old high school." He went to offer Polly his joint again. "You really can have this."

Polly chuckled dryly, but accepted. "I probably shouldn't," she said, but brought it up to her mouth regardless, "I have work to do."

Underdog's head tilted slightly to the left. The warm spikes of smoke filled Polly's innards, feeling like they were being coated by mint. Then she swallowed back a cough and sighed it out. Her face heated up slightly.

"...I got a new boss," she muttered, her voice a little deeper.

Underdog's ears pricked, his eyebrows flying up. "What happened to OJ?"

"He's still there," Polly cleared her throat, "It's his higher-up."

Underdog's head tilted further. Voice high-pitched with confusion, he asked, "I thought he was the owner?"

Polly's hands shot out from her sides. "That's what I thought too!" she exclaimed, "It only says he's president on the door!" She brought her arms back and took another drag. Coughing, she continued, "She's… I don't know. She wants me to make a write-up on all the criminals here."

"That's a bit odd," Underdog hummed. He looked down to his feet and shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. It was a hoodie he'd designed with his agent—the large U in the front was surrounded by stars, and the hood itself was patterned like his cape.

"That's what I thought too," Polly said behind her teeth. She slumped against her bedroom door, turning up toward the ceiling. "But I kinda get it, you know? My boss isn't from here, so I think it's mostly for herself."

Underdog hummed again. "That makes sense," he concluded, "Not that it will be much trouble for you. And if it is, well, you know where to find me," he smiled.

Polly couldn't help but smile back. But she couldn't look at him for much longer, the weed might explode her heart that way. Instead, she turned down to her feet and took another drag. Telling her friend about her boss only made her remember what Miss Valentine had said.

Polly Purebred, lover of the great hero Underdog.

Damn it.