Prudence awoke on a park bench as the first light of dawn filtered through the trees. Her mind was a blank slate, her thoughts a muddled haze. She sat up slowly, her vision blurry and head spinning, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of morning dew and the distant sounds of the city coming to life.

As she struggled to regain her bearings, a familiar voice pierced through the fog in her mind. "Prudence, where have you been?!" Her mother, a woman of stern demeanor and sharp eyes, approached with a mixture of concern and frustration etched on her face. She had been searching for Prudence all night, worried sick about her whereabouts.

"Your father and I have been worried sick, unbelievable! He was on the phone with the police at 7 am! Where have you been?" Her mother scolded, her voice a blend of relief and anger. Prudence, her head still spinning, grumbled in defiance. "Oh, shut up, Mother." Her mother's eyes blazed with anger. "Watch your mouth, young lady!" she snapped, grabbing Prudence by the ear. "Is that alcohol I smell on your breath, Prudence? Right!" Prudence winced but didn't resist. Instead, she muttered under her breath, her tone sullen and defiant.

Her mother, a woman in her mid-forties, had an air of authority that demanded respect. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her sharp features were softened only slightly by the worry lines etched across her forehead. She wore a tailored suit that spoke of her no-nonsense attitude, and her eyes, usually piercing and focused, now held a mixture of frustration and concern. As they made their way out of the park, Prudence, still feeling the effects of her memory wipe, began to spout on about hippie liberation. "You don't understand, Mother! Bong-Water's plan is revolutionary! Revelade will free everyone's minds! We are the change this world needs!"

Her mother tightened her grip on Prudence's ear, dragging her with a determined stride. "You're coming home right now," she said, her voice steely. "And tomorrow morning, you are coming into work with me because I have had it up to here with you, young lady. We need to talk about this when we get there. And don't think for a second that you're getting out of this with a simple apology!" Prudence, undeterred by her mother's stern tone, continued to ramble. "Bong-Water's crew is leading us into an era of enlightenment and freedom! Together, we'll overthrow the oppressive systems that keep us down! You just don't get it!"

Her mother rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. "Oh, I get it, all right. I get that you've been brainwashed by that so-called revolutionary. And you are never seeing that creep, Bong-Water, again! A man in his 30s dating my 22-year-old daughter? Well, no more! Now march!" Despite her stern exterior, there was a hint of tenderness in her touch, a mother's love shining through the frustration. As they made their way out of the park, Prudence glanced back at the bench, a lingering sense of unease in the back of her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling that something important had been taken from her, something that she couldn't quite grasp.

From afar, both Crypto and Praxis watched from the rooftop, ensuring they remained out of sight. Praxis's yellow eyes narrowed as he observed the scene below, his mind racing with thoughts of their next move. His stern expression remained unyielding, a testament to his unwavering focus. "No wonder she wasn't scared of you, Praxis," Crypto teased, his tone dripping with amusement. "With a mother like that, to her, you're just an aggressive old cat!"

Praxis's eyes flashed with irritation as he turned to glare at Crypto. His posture stiffened, and his muscular frame tensed, signaling his growing frustration. Without a word, he swiftly elbowed Crypto in the ribs, the force of the strike causing the larger Yautja to grunt in pain. Crypto grumbled, rubbing his ribs as he cast a sideways glance at Praxis. "I liked you better back when you were a hologram projector!" he muttered, his irritation evident.

Praxis's stern expression remained unchanged as he returned his gaze to the scene below. "Now that you're finished making a fool of yourself, Crypto," he lectured, his tone sharp and authoritative, "we need to head towards the docks. I've finished working on some new weapons. We need total silence on this mission, so we need more stealth weapons. How are you with a crossbow and a bow-and-arrow launcher?" Crypto's mandibles twitched with interest, and he nodded. "I'm good. Been a while since I used them, but I'm good," he replied, his tone more serious. Praxis nodded in approval. "Good. We'll need to utilize every advantage we have. Stealth and precision are key. Let's move out and make sure we're fully equipped for this mission."

As they made their way back to their base, Praxis explained the details of the new silent long-range weapons. The crossbow was an advanced piece of Yautja technology, designed for maximum stealth and accuracy. Its sleek frame was made of a lightweight but durable alloy, allowing for easy maneuverability. The crossbow bolts were tipped with a special alloy that could penetrate even the toughest armor, and they were equipped with a sound-dampening system that ensured a silent shot.

The bow-and-arrow launcher, on the other hand, was a more traditional weapon with a modern twist. The bow itself was crafted from a composite material that provided both flexibility and strength. The arrows were designed for silent flight, with fletchings that minimized noise and vibration. Each arrow was tipped with a precision-engineered head that could deliver a lethal blow with pinpoint accuracy. Praxis handed the weapons to Crypto, who examined them with a keen eye. "These are impressive," Crypto admitted, his tone respectful. "You've outdone yourself, Praxis."

"Just make sure you use them wisely," Praxis responded, his tone serious. "We can't afford any mistakes on this mission. Stealth and precision are our best allies." With their new weapons in hand, the two Yautja prepared to leave the rooftop, their minds focused on the task ahead.

Blending in with the civilians, Natalya Ivanova sat at a hair salon, her keen eyes surveying the scene. Her stylish yet unassuming attire allowed her to blend in seamlessly with the other patrons. She wore a casual blouse and jeans, her long blonde hair styled in loose waves that framed her face. The salon's atmosphere was relaxed, filled with the hum of chatter, the occasional snip of scissors, and the faint scent of hairspray.

The salon itself was a vibrant and colorful place, adorned with posters of popular hairstyles and celebrities. Brightly colored chairs lined the walls, and the large mirrors reflected the lively energy of the room. The hairdressers moved with practiced ease as they attended to their clients. As Natalya pretended to read a fashion magazine, her mind was focused on the task at hand. The magazine was filled with glossy pages showcasing the latest trends, celebrity interviews, and beauty tips. One article highlighted a new hairstyle that was gaining popularity, complete with step-by-step instructions and photographs of glamorous models. Another feature delved into the lives of Sunnywood stars, offering a glimpse into their luxurious lifestyles and fashion choices.

From her seat, she discreetly observed the other patrons, listening for any snippets of conversation that might provide her with clues. The chatter about mundane topics occasionally revealed hints of the unusual activity near the docks. A group of women nearby discussed the sounds they'd heard late at night, their voices filled with curiosity and concern. The first woman was a middle-aged lady with short, curly hair dyed a vibrant red. She wore a floral dress and a pair of cat-eye glasses, giving her a slightly retro look. She spoke with a sense of urgency, her hands gesturing animatedly as she described the strange noises. "I heard it again last night," she said, her tone hushed. "Those strange noises coming from the docks. It sounded like machinery or something being moved around."

The second woman, who nodded in agreement, was younger and sported a chic bob haircut. Her attire was more modern, consisting of a sleek black blouse and fitted trousers. She had a confident air about her, and her voice carried a tone of authority. "Yeah, I've heard it too. My old man works down there, and he said there's been a lot of activity lately. They're bringing in all sorts of cargo, but no one knows what it is." Natalya's ears perked up at this information. She made a mental note to investigate further, her thoughts already formulating a plan. The strange noises and increased activity at the docks could be connected to the KGB's operations, and she needed to get closer to find out more.

As her hairdresser continued to style her hair, she couldn't help but strike up a conversation. "You have such beautiful hair, doll," the hairstylist said, her voice friendly and admiring. "It's so silky and smooth. Do you use any special products, darling?" Natalya smiled, grateful for the distraction that allowed her to blend in further. "Thank you," she replied. "I try to take good care of it. Mostly just a good conditioner and some occasional treatments."

The hairstylist nodded, clearly impressed. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working wonders, doll. You have the kind of hair people envy, darling." Natalya thanked her again, but her mind remained focused on her mission. As the hairstylist finished up, Natalya paid for the service and left the salon, her mind set on her next move. She would head to the docks and conduct her own surveillance, determined to uncover the secrets hidden in the shadows. The fate of her mission, and possibly more, depended on what she discovered.