When Erin glanced at Detective Grant, the other backdrop stood ramrod straight, her jaw set. Erin suspected she might have gotten Puppeted, and didn’t have to wait long for confirmation. 

As the car door flung open, Detective Grant’s harsh voice called out, “Ma’am, I am going to have to ask you to leave. This is a crime scene.” No one in their own mind yelled at a Protagonist.

Before Protagonists started to show up in the world, movies featured incredibly attractive women who would play the role of mousy librarians, or stodgy secretaries, or meek teachers. There was usually a bare minimum needed to disguise their obvious stunning beauty. Blocky glasses, hair done up in some bun, and ugly, ill-fitting outfits were all that was necessary to turn a perfect actress into a ‘normal’, or so Hollywood seemed to think. It was usually laughably bad at hiding the loveliness of the women, so that the third act reveal could show them as transformed, perfect, and ready to receive the male main character’s affection.

Since the Protagonists arrived, backdrop Hollywood had gotten better, hiring less ‘conventionally’ attractive women to play big roles, to try and cut down on the risk of kidnappings or Plot interruptions. 

Protagonists, however, never kept up with the times, and still tried to pass off stunningly beautiful women as average women. Most big movies in the end didn’t change either; Los Angeles was rotten with Protagonists.

“Erin! Thank goodness I found you,” said the kindly-but-slightly-frazzled-looking woman who stepped out in a bright blue pantsuit, barely sized to fit her. She offered an exaggerated wink at Erin, telegraphing that Erin should play along with her. “Tyson called me and I swear, I came down as soon as I could. You doing alright? Why are you still here?” 

Her heels clacked on the concrete as she approached, ignoring Detective Grant during the first bit until she looked down at Erin’s hands. “Hell’s Bells, why the heck do they have you in manacles!?” She gestured wildly and spoke loudly; her voice was not very hard-edged, and her ill-fitting pantsuit looked rather silly on her.

The ‘plain’ but excitable lawyer turned to Detective Grant, who was now just a glassy-eyed Puppet. “Detective… whatever your name is!” The lawyer read the nametag, before continuing, “What is the meaning of this! I am Erin Razor’s lawyer- Mistel Mason!” Her large, packed purse swung at her side as she planted her feet.

Mistel Mason was The Ferret. Chipper and slightly clumsy lawyer by day; hyper-competent and dangerous detective by night.

Mistel Mason’s penetrating eyes, ‘hidden’ behind thick gold-rimmed glasses, looked to Erin. Either Mistel was examining her closely, or signaling to her to not protest. Probably both.

Erin still had to try to stop this Protagonist from interfering further in her life and leave the cop to her agency. “I don’t-”

“No, Erin, let me handle this. It’s what you pay me for.” Misty made a vague gesture, pushing a lock of hair back, for it to fall back in front of her face again.

Erin didn’t argue further, mostly because she felt the Plot buzz against her skin again. Erin had been able to fight it before, but she thought defying two Protagonists in one day would be more than the Plot would tolerate.

Detective Grant, no less surly as a Puppet as she was a human being, stated quietly, “I’ve heard about you Ms. Mason. I am Detective Grant. Erin is being questioned about the night’s events.”

“Then why is she in handcuffs! Are you charging or detaining her? She has a right to counsel before being interrogated!” A few locks of perfectly black hair that escaped from her severe bun bounced as she talked.

Detective Grant grated out mechanically, though with more emotion than most temporary puppets, “We have a credible report that there was a domestic dispute between two people. Under city code, we have the right to hold the available parties until all have been found.”

“That statute only applies if you can only discern that a dispute was one-sided. How can you even be certain that Erin was the attacker?” 

“We don’t have any evidence that Erin Razor wasn’t the attacker, Ms. Mason. Our other officers are searching for the other party - Rex Magnum - right now.”

Mistel Mason clicked her tongue. “You just need evidence that this wasn’t a one-sided fight? Fine. Where did the fight happen, Erin?” Erin gestured towards her bike, afraid to say anymore. “Over there?” Grandly, Mistel Mason spun on one heel and looked towards the corner of the parking garage where Erin’s bike was. 

As Mistel Mason stalked away, Erin could see Detective Grant relax and shoot a venomous glance at Erin. Erin couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she watched Mistel.

Half-way between being the goofy, good-natured lawyer, and the Ferret, Mistel finally stood still for a moment, and Erin could get a good gauge for just how ill-fitting the clothing was.

Erin had seen The Ferret in action, in both high definition television as well as security camera footage. The woman was built like an Olympian. Not those skinny runners, but the women who compete in shot put, or the javelin. The clothing was tailor-made to make her look almost dumpy, but Erin could see that the woman could have almost certainly snapped the handcuffs with just her hands.

Mistel Mason turned to the where she’d been attacked, hands on her hips, head turned as if considering the now brightened corner of the garage. 

“This is Erin’s bike, I presume from her leather jacket and calloused hands of someone who rides without gloves all the time.” Erin and Grant looked down at Erin’s hands, but The Ferret didn’t look back. And this was most certainly The Ferret. “The stairwell is behind us, so Rex would have approached from this direction. He-” Mistel glanced across the corner, “Must have stood right around here.” She gestured, pointing to where Max’s sunglasses had fallen off the top of his head. 

The Ferret stared at the wall with the brushed steel slats. Erin hoped she didn’t see the weird score across the metal, where the laser from Rex’s eyes must have reflected. It was quiet for several beats. Erin was afraid that Mistel might ask about it. 

Then the Ferret asked, “Does anyone some gloves? I’d like to-” She started to rummage in her purse, which was large enough to store whole case portfolios.

“Miss Mason, you are not to touch anything at a potential crime scene.”

“I would never do such a-” Mistel Mason’s vociferous protest was cut short when she pulled her hand out of her purse to gesture wildly, which seemed to dislodge some item from her purse. It clattered and rolled across the ground, hitting the garage wall just below the hairline gouge in the steel, massive and unmistakable in Erin’s mind. 

“Oh, whoops!” Mistel’s shoes clacked after the item, which she picked up. With a clicking noise, it was revealed to be a small flashlight, shining even more light into the already well-lit garage. “Well, well!” Mistel motioned at the wall where the light bloomed. “And there-” Mistel motioned where there was a small dark stain, almost black in the harsh light, “Erin must have been pushed back into the wall. She’s got a cut on the back of her head, doesn’t she?” 

Detective Grant looked over at Erin as Mistel looked back at them. The detective, stiff again, said, “Erin neglected to mention that she’d been hurt by the other party.”

Erin opened her mouth to apologize, but Mistel cut her off. “She clearly is the victim here and without a second party to dispute it, Detective, state statute twenty-eight dash fifteen, subsection bee takes precedence over city code.” Detective Grant mumbled something but didn’t argue. “Take the cuffs off, and I will thank you not to bother her further with this without my involvement? I wouldn’t want to- Whoa!” Mistel had begun to walk back, but had stepped on the sunglasses and slipped, wobbling a few clacking steps forward as she tried to recover her balance. She froze, arms thrown out dramatically. 

Erin instinctively took a step forward to try to catch her, forgetting that this was just another Invader putting on a show.

Mistel stood up straight and pushed the loose strands of black hair that ended up in her face out of the way. “Well. You get my point.”

Detective Grant grunted, and pulled a key out to work the handcuffs. Once Erin was free, she grimaced tightly at the Puppeted detective, trying to apologize without words. 

“Okay. So. Erin, let me take you home. I know you probably feel like you can drive, but I doubt you even bothered to check her for a concussion-”

“She hadn’t told us she’d been hurt,” the Detective growled. 

“And it's not safe to drive after an incident like that. Your bike will be fine here until morning, I promise.”

Erin felt the Plot rise on her skin as she started a protest, sighed, and said, “Sure. Thank you for your help. Goodbye, Detective Grant.”

The detective didn’t say anything as Erin followed meekly behind Mistel Mason, who was nearly bouncing as she’d beaten the little puzzle the Plot set up for her. 

Erin got into the passenger seat of the two seat convertible and Mistel brought the car to life. As Mistel looked out the back window to reverse out of the parking garage, Erin saw the livid glare from Detective Grant, sharp enough to cut through steel. It made Erin feel almost as bad as finding a Villain Protagonist.

At what point did Erin go wrong? When did she screw up? 

Was it when she showed up at dinner? She could have called Janey about feeling sick.

Was it when Erin said she’d go to dinner with Rex, at that lunch? If Erin had said no, maybe the Plot would have given up, and let Erin slink away from Janey and Tyson.

Did Erin damn herself when she simply gave a few jewelry suggestions to Tyson?

Or was ending up in Mistel Mason’s car what the Plot had wanted all this time? She half believed that the worst option - that she had no choice all along - was the correct one. Fate, or something twisted enough to resemble it. 

But there was something about the awkward silence in Mistel’s car hanging between them, like the Protagonist had no idea what to say. Like Mistel was just as much at a loss as Erin was. 

“So.” Erin couldn’t let the silence stand. She should have just let it be, but the anticipation was greater than she could manage. “How much do I owe you?” Erin had remained quiet during the whole show with Detective Grant, as requested. She was attacked by a Protagonist, and now she was hostage to another one. She sounded calm, quiet and meek, in spite of all that. She felt angry, but was more afraid of repercussions than to let that get through.

“What? Oh, no, Erin. You don’t owe me anything. If I hadn’t said I was your attorney, they wouldn’t have let me act as your counsel.”

“You kept me from being taken to the police station for being attacked. How could I not owe you?” The Plot pulsed against her skin suddenly, and she wondered if she could be passive aggressive enough to be Pawned.

“Don’t even worry about it. This was nothing. I’m a friend of Tyson’s and he was worried you might be hurt. He had no idea the cops had found and arrested you. One second.” Mistel had taken her a little further out of the city proper, and had pulled into a grocery store parking lot. She stopped the car in a pool of bright light, and began fishing through her purse. 

Erin wasn’t sure what was happening, but didn’t know how better to protest any of this. Erin tensed up, noting that they parked in a small pool of light, seemingly isolated. 

Mistel fish into her purse, pulling out what looked like a pen. “Would you mind if I checked you for a concussion really quick? You seem fine, but if I don’t take you to a hospital it could get worse.” She pulled out the flashlight and clicked it on. Mistel was kind enough to wait for Erin to gesture agreement. The Protagonist went through the generic motions of flashing the light in Erin’s eyes and some questions and basic pokes and prods to make sure Erin could see and feel things appropriately. 

“I’m sorry to ask this Erin, but do you remember what happened, exactly?”

Erin had tolerated the basic questions about herself and daily life to check her memory, but paused at this. 

There was a silence and Erin almost broke it herself when Mistel Mason finally said, “I’m sorry, Erin. It is part of the usual questions, but always the most insensitive to victims.”

“I got to my bike and was getting ready to ride it home. I heard Rex call out to me. I’d left him behind at the lobby of the building where Tyson and Janey had invited us out for dinner. He must have followed me.” Erin didn’t feel anything trying to seize her limbs or lips. The Plot was quiet again. Erin decided to paraphrase.

“He said he… hadn’t wanted dinner to end that way. I told him to get lost. He… was angry and when he got close and tried to get at me, I hit him with my - ah fuck.”

“What is it?” Mistel asked worriedly.

“Nothing, I… my bike helmet. I don’t know where it…-” Erin saw the look of sudden relief on Mistel’s face as she clarified. “Not important. I hit him with it, then he shoved me back. I must have hit my head then, because I then remembered Tyson standing over me, saying something about how he’d get help, before running away.” 

Erin did not want to say anything about anything special Rex might have done. She was stupid enough to try to socialize with Protagonists, but revealing that she had enough pieces of information to link Rex to Spectacular and then potentially Spectacular to the Cavalry… 

“Oh. Hm. Do you remember anything else?” Mistel had put her purse away again and was watching Erin closely, a facade of concern on her face, but something seemed off. Mistel was very curious. As one of those worlds-best-detective types, The Ferret had to be. 

Erin shifted a little further away, nervous, but nodded. “No, not really.”

“Did you notice that he was bleeding before you blacked out?”

Erin lied quickly, having already considered how she’d answer this. “I hit him in the face with my helmet, it might have been from that.”

Mistel didn’t say anything at first, watching Erin’s face. Erin realized now that Mistel was trying to go all The Ferret on her. The Ferret was worried Erin might blow the lid on Rex being Spectacular, after having been assaulted by him using his powers.

This Protagonist was trying to find out if Erin was going to blow the cover on them. It was funny if it weren’t so fucking infuriating.