Cindy had never really been in the dating scene as a young adult. She neither had the time or patience to truly commit herself in a long-lasting relationship. Her mother had wanted her to have the classic traditional family with the hard-working husband who would be the breadwinner, her to drop everything to become the stay at home mother and dote on the little ones while the dog ran around the white picket fence. Yeah, no thanks. The friends she had growing up all moved on with their lives and tried having that dream with half of them up to their head in child support, student loans, and bills from their lawyers. They stopped talking to her as they all took their own paths in life.

Still, Cindy had tried to make her mother happy. She went on a couple dates with the men she knew on the force and the local cops she had gotten acquainted with while on the job. Brought them home for Thanksgiving, each holiday marking a visit from a new man before she completely gave up. There was no attraction between her and any of her 'suitors.' Hell, it was more of an agreement between them to show up, force themselves to put up with her family for a few hours, get a free meal, and then hopefully never talk about it again when it was all over.

It gave Mom the illusion that maybe she would settle down and give her the grandchildren she had always wanted. It made Cindy finally realize it wasn't her having to find the 'right' man that was the problem. All this time, it was the comfort of women that she was after all along. None of her partners stayed around for long, though.

In the end, they'd always be second to her job.

All the men she had briefly went out with were all the same. Mostly rookies in their respective unit who thought they were the hot shit. Wannabe John McClain's who thought they were starring in their own summer blockbuster. That was her own fault, she supposed. All of them thought their jobs were the hardest and most draining. They could be working a desk job filing paperwork or a meter maid, but, without them, the city wouldn't be able to function. Of course, not all of them were so easy. Cindy could admit that were plenty of times where cops and agents put their lives on the line, especially when working in the cities.

K-9, Cyber, Drug, Counterfeit, SWAT, of all her dates, none ever considered how she, in fact, had the most difficult position of them all. She wasn't diffusing bombs, no. She wasn't negotiating hostage situations or going undercover on a drug bust, either.

But, you never, ever forget that first little body. It stays with you for the rest of your life, makes sure you never forget no matter how hard you try. Every computer brought in to be searched for evidence destroys more and more of your faith in humanity, revealing the unspeakable. The ones who were supposed to love and protect you become your executors. The world was monstrous, and while most could keep up that illusion that there were no boogeymen, Cindy stared them down more times than she ever wished. She had since she was six-years-old.

Most of her peers didn't last long. Every child crime unit she had been on had a turn over rate of about six months to a year. CARD was no different. Rookies, who come in so cocky and sure of themselves, break down after their case and move on to another unit or resign altogether. The rare old timers who stay around are so jaded and scarred that turning the gun on themselves is a nearly monthly occurrence. In their minds, it's the only way they'll ever be free from the horrors they've seen.

Cindy would say she was pretty desensitized after thirty years on the job. There were always those rough, sleepless nights where her only relief was a bottle of gin as she cried until she had no more tears to shed. She cared. She cared about each and every child, got invested in the hundreds of cases that came her way. To last as long as she had, though, at some point you had no choice but to know your limits and step back. To take those vacation days, to give a case to someone else, to stop before you get to your breaking point.

Cindy, however, was not going to stop now. Not when, at this point, she was the only one who could save these girls. It was just…

Interviewing the parents was the hardest part of all. The corpses, the disgusting, revolting evidence sick fucks would leave behind, nothing could compare to having to sit down and face the loved ones. It was personal. Too personal for Cindy's liking.

Standing outside of the Paxton-Lang home filled her with dread. Her stomach twisted into knots as she walked up the pathway, past the reporters that crowd around police barricades placed on the street and the officers who circle around the front lawn, scanning every blade of grass for evidence. When they notice her, she is swarmed by both parties for answers. They can hound her with as many questions as they please but she gives them nothing.

She has nothing.

The police chief is standing on the front porch and greets her with a hand outstretched when she is near enough. He's shaken up. As stoic as he appears to be, from the sheen of sweat on his forehead to the gnawing of his lip every minute or so, Cindy can tell he's barely holding it together. It's a shock, of course. No one in a million years thought this would happen- not here.

"This is pretty personal," he begins awkwardly, wiping his upper lip with his sleeve. "Girl's step-father is one of our own."

Cindy hummed in agreement as she examined the toys that laid scattered on the table: a water-gun, a box of sidewalk chalk, and a little pink and purple bicycle helmet. Cassie had been running out here less than twenty-four hours ago, riding her bike and drawing on the driveway. Seeing her belongings, Cindy could get a glimpse at who the girl was, and it made her all the more real. Not just a name and a face.

"Not to say that we're caring more about this case because of that," he said after a moment. "Of course, we're putting in the same effort we would for any other child. It's just…"

"You know her," she interrupted. "There's going to be a bias towards her, don't try convincing me otherwise. You're all emotionally involved in some way." She understood the almost frat like mentality cops had. It wasn't so different from the FBI. You go after one, you go after them all. In the cases she had been involved in before involving cops and their children, the police always had the same reaction of putting them as a top priority. It was just the way things were.

Hell, she would be a hypocrite to say Cassie wasn't one of her biggest concerns right now, either.

He sighed. "She comes to the functions every once in a while, Paxton brings her to the station sometimes. I met her twice, maybe? A couple of the guys he's buddies with know her real well, like his partner, Gale." The chief put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground in disbelief. "They're good people, you know? Jim's one of our best and Maggie's such a nice lady and everyone who knows Cassie loves her. She's a good little kid." He's rambling now, beginning to come undone.

"Why does it happen to anyone?" Cindy replied.

"Good luck trying to talk to the mother." He opened the door and motioned her inside the house after regaining his composure. "She's… She's upset."

"I'd be concerned if she wasn't."

He nods and seems ready to reply when the reporters outside grow more and more disruptive. Now beginning to harass officers coming in and out of the home and breeching dangerously closer and closer into the crime scene. They shouldn't be here. The last thing grieving parents need is to have dozens of microphones and cameras shoved into their faces while their misery is exploited for views and profit. The police chief is just as aggravated as she is at the sheer audacity of it all and waved her off before shutting the door, going out to confront them.

She was no stranger to the media. She had worked some pretty high profile cases before and, sadly, anything involving children drew them in like moths to a flame. People cared more, tuned in for updates, and that meant higher ratings and higher ratings meant more money for executives. And a phenomenon such as this? A wet dream for every journalist. A story like this doesn't come around often, but when it does, they're going to milk that cow until it's dust. Shape a gripping narrative of horror, suspense, and tragedy that will keep viewers tuning in hour after hour for more. Whatever, a person has to put food on the table, but seemingly none of these newshounds had any human decency and were a pain in the ass to the law enforcement trying to work the case and the families trying to cope with the unthinkable. The know-it-all, so-called 'experts' that the major networks had on right now spouting bullshit theories on an issue they knew nothing about just made her job all the more difficult.

She walks by the forensic teams, who have completely taken over the kitchen and dining room with their equipment, as she makes her way to the living room. Officers bustle about, so focused on their own matters that they don't even notice her.

God, she did not want to be here. She'd rather be anywhere but here. Hell, even the beach was preferable to this. In a perfect world, she'd be without a job. The world wouldn't need her. She wouldn't have to come to these now broken homes and more often than not be a bad omen. A grim reaper who's presence foreboded only pain and heartbreak.

Seeing the mother in person and the terror in her eyes, hearing her anguished wailing, her husband trying his best to comfort her and remain strong for her sake, but barely holding it together, Cindy's heart broke. Not just for them, though. As she watched them from the archway, it was like as if she stepped into a time machine and was brought back to 1967. To her mother. To her father. She wasn't there, of course, when they discovered her missing from her bed, but yet she can still see them vividly through this poor couple.

The officers that had responded all those years ago were callous. They had no stake in this. Going through the motions was all they did. They didn't know. They didn't believe in monsters that were under the sea, and when her father tried to tell them the truth, he was labeled a mad man and locked away into a padded room. After a few weeks, everyone but him gave up on her and all moved on with their lives.

There was always one thing that stuck with her over the past thirty years, and though she may have changed for better or worse, her stance on this never wavered: to always treat the parents the way she wished hers were.

She's noticed not by the family but instead another officer. who stood guard over them. A close friend, no doubt. He made his way over and shook her hand solemnly. "You from CARD?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied with a nod, pulling out her badge. "And you?"

"I'm Gale." He paused to stare back at the couple sitting on the couch. "I'm Jim's partner."

"I assume you know them well, then?"

There's a moment of silence between the two as he puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shakes his head in disbelief. "Y-Yeah, I do," he stammers. "Jesus Christ, I saw her just last night… I stopped by real quick after dinner to drop off something and everything was fine. She was laying right there," he said, pointing to the carpet, "and playing the PlayStation."

"Anything else you remember?"

"I talked to her a bit, you know? She was telling me how she was going to try to beat the game tonight. Some real weird one with Disney characters and a big ass key? I didn't know what the hell she was talking about but she was all into it." He sighed. "Sorry, this probably isn't helping you much."

Cindy's brows raised at the console resting on the TV stand and the games neatly organized on the shelf beside it. She noted mentally the titles, the numerous stickers on the PlayStation, building on more to the profile she already had of the girl. Knowing her likes and her personality will make it easier to interview the parents. Hopefully, it will get them to open up more.

She knew enough about them, though. Possibly better than they knew themselves.

"Jim, she's the one the FBI sent over."

She's brought out of her thoughts by Gale, who is now conversing with Jim. He's completely frazzled. It had been less than twelve hours, yet he resembled a man who hadn't slept in days with his unkempt hair and dark, heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes. His wife is even worse for wear.

"I'm Agent Meltzer." She smiled softly as she introduced herself. "But, I'd prefer if you just called me Cindy."

He eyed her with unease. "Jim Paxton."

"I think everything is going to go smoother if we all go by a first name basis, that's all," she said to clear up his confusion.

"Uh… okay…" He replied before going back to the couch to comfort his wife. "Maggie, honey," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed soothing circles on her back. "This is Cindy from the FBI. You mind talking to her?"

The blonde nodded slowly, blowing her nose in a drenched tissue. "Y-Yeah," she mumbled. "O-Okay."

"Listen, if you begin to feel overwhelmed let me know." Cindy pulled over a chair and sat down across from them. "I want you, though, to go back to yesterday and tell me everything. If you're comfortable, of course." She reached into the pocket of her blazer and took out her notepad and pen. "From when you put Cassie to bed to the moment you knew she was gone."

The younger woman hesitates. Her lip quivers as her eyes well up with tears once more.

"Take your time," Cindy stresses, resting her hand gently on the other's leg. "Begin only when you're ready."

"Okay…"

"You alright, man? You just ran off and I was getting nervous cause we're boarding, like, now and if you didn't come back I would have had to go on without you and-"

"We're back."

"What do you mean 'we're back?'" Luis asked exasperatingly. "Dude, we haven't even gotten on the plane!"

Scott had run off an ashen, frantic mess just a good twenty minutes ago, yet here he was now, walking back like he owned the fucking place. A far cry of how he was before. At least, how he should have been. Luis was just a teensy-tiny bit concerned. What did he do in the bathroom to get, like, an adrenaline high?

Oh, yep, he got a blow job. That was it. You know, his cousin Ignacio, was on his way to Florida once for spring break a few years back and when he was taking a shit some dude from the stall offered a free BJ. He took it. He later said it was the best one of his life.

You gotta cope, you know? Do what you gotta do, Luis wasn't going to judge.

He winked and gave a thumbs up. "I see. Yeah, I see what you did! Good for you, Scotty!"

The other blinked. "I didn't tell you yet. What did I do?"

"You know, you got… services."

Scott rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him so close to him Luis' nose was practically touching his chest. A teenage boy walking by with his parents stopped to stare at the two men, cringing slightly. Scott quickly unzipped his sweatshirt as discreetly as possible, showing off the Ant-Man suit that was under it.

"Oh, Scotty!" Luis cried before being shushed harshly. "Oh, Scotty, dude, what the hell?" He smiled wide. "How the fuck?"

"Hank," Scott replied, slightly grinning himself. "It was in the stall."

"How did he manage to pull this off?" Luis poked his chest in awe, his eyes like saucers. "You can't leave that in the bathroom!" He paused. "Wait, how did he even know we were here?"

Scott said, "Listen, when I first went in, there was no one else in that room but me." He glanced back at the bathroom doors. "But, then this guy just popped out of no where. Came out of the stall in the very back. Where the suit was."

"How'd he get in there, though?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he replied. "There was no one in there but me, I'm sure of that. But, I would have heard him come in."

Luis rubbed his chin before holding his index finger up in the air. A lightbulb going on in his head. "What if, like, he was wearing the suit, right? And was already in there, but he changed out real quick and grew back-"

"You need to be normal sized to get out of the suit."

"Oh," the younger man frowns, his shoulders slumping. "What he'd look like?"

"Like he walked right out of those old Coca Cola tins your cousin has."

"That's funny, dude, that you mention that because there was this lady standing outside the door, right?" Luis began. "And, she was all fancy. Like, crazy dapper." He grinned and stared down at the floor. "And crazy, stupid fine…"

Scott rubs his temples with a sigh.

"What? Listen, you know that well-dressed women get me weak. And she was British. British accents boost that hotness score up, like, a thousand percent for me-"

"He was British."

"With a voice as smooth as molasses?"

"Yeah, actually."

Luis threw his arms up. "Damn it! I can't compete with that suave motherfucker!"

There's an awkward silence between the three adults in the living room, the only sound being the scribbling of Cindy's pen on the small notepad. She writes everything they say. Even the most unimportant details such as what and when little Cassie had breakfast could become useful at a later time. Thirty years of doing this taught her to never underestimate or leave anything out. Once Maggie started, she never stopped, though, and the only break her aching hand got was when the younger woman got out of breath from going a mile a minute.

Sometimes, she was unintelligible from breaking down once more, but she never needed a moment to recollect herself. Wouldn't take that moment given. She had a story and damn did she want it to be told. Great for Cindy, not so great for her poor husband who tried to calm her.

"And your ex-husband?" Cindy asked. "Is he in the picture at all?"

She shook her head. "No. Well, you know, he got jammed up again in the system and-"

"We're trying to help him, though," Paxton interrupted. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, but he's not a bad guy," Maggie said. "People have been throwing dirt on his name but they're all wrong. He's really a good man and father."

The older woman put her hand up. "I don't care what Scott did, believe me. All this drama with The Avengers, I don't care. I have no opinion on it." The couple relaxed slightly. "I just wanted to know if he knew about this, that's all."

"I'm sure he does," Paxton said, "it's all over the news."

Maggie's eyes widened and her grip on her husband's hand tightened. "You're not going to arrest him, are you? He's got a warrant and if he comes back here-"

"No! God, no!" Cindy cried. "I'm not some hack. I just wanted to know because maybe I can get in contact with him."

"We don't know where he is," Maggie replied abruptly, still on edge. "None of us have had any contact with him for two years now."

"Listen, I'm not trying to talk down to you. I understand you're upset. This has been the worst day of your life, and given who I am, you have every right to be suspicious of me, but I promise I only have your daughter's best interest in mind."

"Upset?" Maggie asked. Her doleful face going briefly completely expressionless before beginning to shift into a glowering scowl. "Upset?"

"Maggie, honey, please-"

She bolted up, pointing at the FBI agent accusingly. "I am more than upset, okay? My heart is broken, I am furious, and everyone has been treating me as if I'm some kind of fucking china that's about to break at any moment!" Maggie snapped. "My daughter has been kidnapped by some fucking monster that killed god knows how many people last night, every fucking idiot and their mother is on TV right now, exploiting my little girl, and I'm supposed to be- what- okay with that?"

"Of course not."

"My phone has been getting spammed by tabloids and reporters from all over the goddamn place before the police even arrived, ready to make me some kind of fucking poster child!" she continued, seemingly never taking a breath and not stopping for anyone. "I'm wondering what the hell we did to deserve this? Who the hell took my Cassie? And where are they? Because so help me I will hunt them down myself and blow their fucking head off if it is the last thing I do!"

Jim put a hand on her shoulder. "Honey, please, calm down."

"I'm not calming down until my baby is home and that- whatever the hell it is- is back rotting in the bottom of the ocean. Them and their little sicko buddies." She ran a hand through her hair. "Mom can't get here soon enough." she muttered to her husband.

It was a sudden mood swing, no doubt, and if anybody else had been sitting there, they would have been taken back by an outburst that could only be compared to Mount Vesuvius erupting. Not Cindy, however. When it came to the loss of a child, parents were irrational. Emotions were high. Just a few hours ago, Maggie's daughter was sleeping in her bed. Now, she was gone. Cindy took it all with a smile and made sure to never make it seem that it was the mother that was in the wrong. That she was 'unstable' or 'losing it.'

Thirty years of doing this gave her the patience of a saint.

"I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure your daughter is home," Cindy assured her. "I promise."

"You know how many people have told me that today?" Maggie asked. "And I could tell they were all full of shit."

"Do you think I'm full of shit?"

The blonde hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with the older woman briefly before turning her head away. She took a breath before saying, "No."

"I took this case because, let me tell you, the guy who was supposed to be coming? He was drowning in bullshit," Cindy said. "I care, believe me. I care."

She slowly stood up and stared at the bottom of the steps. The couple watches as she motions her head upwards, her eyes narrowing. "I want to see her bedroom."

Boarding is normal. At least, as normal as it is supposed to be, which somehow makes Scott more anxious. It's funny, even with his suit back and on him, it hasn't done much to quell his anxiety. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach that is only getting stronger with every passing second the plane is still. The tension in the air is so thick it's nearly suffocating. Not even Luis can ignore it, and his normally jovial self is silent, nervously playing games on his phone in an attempt to remain calm.

It wasn't a coincidence that Hank gave him the suit, no. Something was about to go down. He knew.

The passengers around them are aware as well. After waiting for over forty-five minutes now, they're murmuring to each other and voicing complaints to the flight attendants, wondering if or when they were going to take off.

"We'll be taking off shortly," Scott can hear a flight attendant say to a rather frustrated older man. They're faint given the amount of noise at this point, but he can make her out. "We have to remove a passenger, that's all."

"For what? Nobody's causing any problems here."

"For you and everyone else's safety I cannot disclose that information at this moment."

Well, fuck. The jig was up.

Goddamn it, Scott knew this was going to happen. The moment they pulled up, he knew they were going to get caught, but no, he was being "paranoid." Poor Scotty, he had no idea what he was talking about! Everything's fine! TSA are the dumbest motherfuckers alive!

And now they were cornered on an airplane.

His once cocky companion isn't so sure anymore. Long are the ramblings of how stupid airport security is. Instead, he's hunched over and quiet, desperate to sink into the seat. There's a hint of fear in his eyes.

While escaping a confined space such as an airplane would be nigh impossible for anyone else without a few casualties, with the Ant-Man suit, he can easily hide himself into every nook and cranny, smuggle himself on someone else's luggage, or even call on an ant and fly out the door with none the wiser.

Luis didn't have such luck. Gazing out the window and seeing the sheer amount of cop cars and FBI trucks surrounding the plane, Scott's heart dropped to the floor. There was no way to escape. He had led his best friend to his end. Luis remained loyal by his side through the worst- caused by Scott's own doing- and this was the thanks he would get. A cold cell, for his sake, in federal prison.

He wouldn't last a day in that hellhole underwater.

"Looks like our luck has run out, huh?"

The younger man, however, has seemingly accepted his fate now. His fear washes away back to overconfidence and inextinguishable positivity. He leaned back in his chair with his hands on the back of his head, completely relaxed. "Not your luck, Scotty," he says with his eyes closed.

"I'm not leaving you," Scott snapped.

"Listen," he began, "you got a daughter you gotta bring home and you can't do that in a Guantanamo on the bottom of the ocean, can you?" He shrugged. "I can take the fall for you, don't worry about it."

"Are you insane?" Scott hissed.

"You'd be for staying."

"We're going home together. Come on, don't become a fucking martyr on me, you hear?"

Luis pouted. "I'm not the martyr! You're the martyr!" He crossed his arms. "I'm giving you an opening. You come on! Get the hell out of here!"

"No, you were a free man! You served your time and could've done anything you wanted, but you dropped everything to become a fucking war criminal with me! Jesus Christ, why?"

Luis frowned. "To be honest, after my mom died, and my girlfriend left me, and my dad got deported, you getting out of prison was the only thing I had looking forward to," he replied sadly, twiddling his thumbs. "I had the van, you know, but, like, what's the point of having it if I don't have my best friend to enjoy the drives with me, you know? A-And, you know, without you I'd still be stuck still robbing smoothie machines at 7-11's, but you gave my life meaning Scott!"

Scott stared at him as he continued, his lip a straight, thin line.

"We did that heist at Pym Technologies! We stopped Cross! I can say my best friend is a superhero! Name one other person you can say that, you know? I can't!" he continued. "My best friend fought Tony Stark and kicked his ass! But, the best part of it all, was that you allowed me to be a part of your family." He grinned. "And, sure, Hank and Hope and Paxton and Maggie don't like me but you know what? Cassie does and that's all that matters. I'm her honorary uncle, and as her honorary uncle, I would go to jail with a smile for her!"

"Luis, come on…"

"What I'm trying to say," he finishes, "is that I would ride or die with you. That's what brothers do, you know? For Cassie!"

A sweet heart to heart moment for sure and Scott appreciated the sentiment from his "brother," but if Luis thought it was going to sway him to leave the other behind, he was sadly mistaken. If anything, it just made Scott more determined to get them both out of this. No way was he going to throw him to the wolves. He was right; he was family, and what would Cassie do without her Uncle Luis?

Luis was so proud of himself, too. He's beaming with his hands on his hips as he puffs his chest out triumphantly as if he gave a pep-talk worthy of Steve Rogers. How unfortunate for him that his attempted heroic sacrifice was not going to work out the way he hoped it would.

Oh well, he'd thank him later.

Scott couldn't just plant a Pym Particles Disk on him and ride off on an ant together into the sunset. Without the helmet of the Ant-Man Suit, shrinking to that level would give him permanent brain damage. However, the only other way out would be through one of the emergency exits, but that was completely surrounded by the feds.

There had to be a way, though. As he always used to tell Cassie, never panic until all options have been exhausted. His poor little girl. The only comfort he had was that she gave that fucking thing hell to the very end. She wouldn't have gone down without a fight, and boy, could she put up one.

"Refreshments, sir?"

A woman's voice- velvety with a British accent- draw the two friends out of their plans. When Scott looks up, he sees a familiar face. Yet, at the same time, she was not. Piercing blue eyes, a sharp, freckled face shaped by auburn hair put up in a loose bun. He knew her, but, at the same time never met her before. She stares down at them, her expression stern and cold as she grips onto the refreshment cart.

A small, bright orange glass bottle rests on a plate with a cup beside it. It had an intricate design, something that none of them had ever seen before. The cap was a highly detailed, sculpted cowboy riding a wild stallion.

Luis is giggling like a school girl with her first middle school crush, and when the woman notices him, she exhales slowly with closed eyes. "Hey, beautiful," he begins, "I remember you, baby. Damn, girl," he continues looking over at her flight attendant uniform, "I didn't know you were working on here."

"Do… Do you want a beverage, sir," she says through gritted teeth. It's as if she's being coached. "I suggest our newest drink. If you're able to handle it, that is."

Luis leaned back on the seat with his arm hanging down in the saddest attempt of being suave that Scott had ever seen. "Please, baby girl, look at me! You think I can't hold my liquor? I'm a wine connoisseur! This is my passion!"

The older man had to turn his head. The second hand embarrassment was too much at this point. Here they were, about to get swarmed by the feds at any moment, and he was hitting on a stewardess.

"Well, then," she replied, trying to hide her irritation, "I suppose you will enjoy this, then. I'd… love to hear your opinion on it."

"Y'know, I'm thinking maybe- if you're interested, of course- I can take you wine tasting." Luis smirked, either not noticing her chagrin or truly desperate. "Cause, like, I don't want to brag, but I'm pretty big in the tasting community and we can get a nice dinner and it'll be-"

The British woman glanced by the bathrooms in the back, seemingly waiting for her next cue, before smiling awkwardly. "Oh, you!" She put a hand over her mouth and giggled, though to Scott it sounded more like sobs. "You are so charming!"

Luis' eyes widened as his lips pursed. He couldn't believe it. Maybe, he would manage to seduce the woman of his dreams after all. Hey, if he was going to jail, he might as well go out with a bang.

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" she exclaims. It sounds physically pained. "I l-love a man with a taste for the finer things in life."

"I mean, like, I'm into the arts, too," he stammered before regaining his Casanova act. "You know what painting you look like, baby?"

"No, tell me."

"The Birth of Venus because, baby girl, you're a goddess."

Scott swore she saw her eye twitch from the view he got through his hands, which at this point, were ready to be fused into his face. Was this really how they were going to go down? With his best friend trying to get some before a life sentence at underwater Guantanamo.

"Come to the back with me," the stewardess says, playing with the helm of her skirt obnoxiously. "I," and there's a long pause in which she has to force the words out, "I want to get to know you better."

Luis looks as if he's ready to have a stroke right there in the seat. He turns his head to Scott like a deer in headlights, waiting for an answer from the other, and when he gets a groan in reply, he stares back at the British woman. He gasps over and over again, reminiscent to a fish out of water.

"Baby girl," he whispers, taking her in. "Girl, don't you gotta do your job?"

"Plane's delayed," she said, motioning towards the bathroom. "They just have to remove a passenger, but that will take a while. I was thinking until then we could… you know." She picked up the glass bottle with a smirk. "I'll bring this to the back," she whispered, "I'll close the curtain, we'll go to the bathroom, drink, and-"

"Oh, baby girl, say no more!" Luis cried, jumping out of his seat. "Let me tell you what, this is the best day of my life, for real," he began as he grabbed her by the waist and walked with her down the aisle. "Not a great day for my friend, Scotty, though. Kinda makes me feel bad that I'm having such a good time and he's not right now-"

"Aw," she said, her voice growing faint as they went further and further away from Scott's hearing range. "You're such a good friend."

"You're too sweet, honey bunny. Hey, anyway, what's your name?"

Scott is ready to go back there himself and end this before it gets them both locked up, but from the corner of his eye, he can see another familiar face. That of his savior from the airport bathroom. The one who gave him his suit. Scott has no choice but to let him and his twin work their seeming magic because, without them, the two friends weren't getting out of this; possibly even alive.

He's curious now, though, about the contents of the ornate, orange bottle that was taken to the back with them. Scott could only get a glimpse of the name of it from the tag that hung around the neck of the sculpted horse, written in cursive so precise and intricate that it was outdated. In a world where cursive wasn't even taught in schools and hadn't been for the past decade, it was ancient.

Bucking Bronco.

"So, this is her room?"

Cindy doesn't need an answer, and she doesn't get one from either Maggie or Jim, but before even approaching the room she knows. The door- whatever isn't covered in police tape- is decorated with flowers, cartoon animals with freakishly large, googly eyes, and Disney characters. Hanging on the knob is a custom-made, pink sign with her name neatly printed out in bold, black ink and read "Cassie's Corner."

It's such a little girl's room. If she was six again, Cindy would have been green with envy at Cassie's setup. Of course, she only imagined what it looked like because it didn't resemble a child's bedroom anymore. Instead, a war zone. The lamp, which was supposed to rest on the nightstand, laid broken a few feet away. She could see exactly how the girl tried to escape with the way the blankets dragged on the left side of the bed, up to the door.

Every crime scene tells a story, this was no different, and you didn't have to be a rocket scientist or veteran investigator to put two and two together on what happened just a few hours ago. If the scattered Thomas the Tank Engines, lamp, tossed furniture, and the baseball bat on the ground meant anything, it meant that the nine-year-old gave her abductor hell. Everything in that room had been a potential weapon to Cassie.

You can't fight a Big Sister, though. And as much as Cindy had to applaud her for her bravery, the scene by the window was like every other case she had seen. The nail marks on the window sill, the pool of dried blood on the pink carpet leading out, the leather and stained cloth resting in the middle of it-

Wait.

"I don't know how I couldn't have heard it," Jim muttered as the older woman stepped inside, ignoring the forensic scientists and photographers. "How the fuck did I not hear?"

Cindy grabbed a pair of disposable gloves from one of the scientists and knelt down by the blood pile. She picked up what had been a leather buckle, now shred to pieces, the already dirty, cream cloth stuck to it was almost entirely brown with dried, crusty blood. The shards of metal that she had to push away with her finger once made up a leg brace.

"Do you have a dog?" She asked.

Maggie blinked for a moment before rubbing her arm. "Oh, yeah," she stammered, "Georgie. My ex-husband gave him to her a couple years ago, and they've been inseparable ever since. Wherever she goes, Georgie's right behind her."

"Does he sleep with her?"

"He's got a spot under the bed."

"Is he big?"

"I'd say bigger than most dogs," she replied, biting her lip. "He's in the basement right now. He'd get nervous with all these strangers in the house right now."

Cindy nodded before turning her head back to stare at her hands. "They don't call them man's best friend for nothing," she said. "Good news is, this isn't Cassie's blood," she continued as the parents breathed a sigh of relief. "Your dog's got a hell of a jaw."

The younger woman ran a hand through her hair, tearing up again. "Oh God, I was so scared it was my baby's-"

"You're saying the dog attacked whatever the hell took Cassie?" Paxton asked in disbelief, staring down at the aftermath of Georgie's attempt to save his beloved friend. It was as if he couldn't believe it himself. That the being who turned Coney Island to rubble a few hours before, murdered dozens, Spider-Man nearly among them, could be brought down by nothing more than a dog.

Cassie can see something in the cop shift. A fire in his eyes. His anxiety is becoming replaced with anger, and worse of all, confidence.

"Your dog was able to get a good grip on their leg," Cindy answered, unsure whether or not to continue and fuel him. "Bit right through the armor here." She moved the pieces and showed them off. "Look at that…"

"He's getting treats for the rest of his life. I just wish he bit their fucking head off," Maggie said with a scowl.

Inspecting the damage more, though, Cindy didn't see it resembling a dog's bite. The crushed metal would have been impossible for even a pit bull. There were no indentations from teeth on the leather and cloth, either. If anything, the Sister seemingly got her leg crushed by giant sheers. Mandibles.

But, that was ridiculous.

"Georgie bit them while they were ready to get Cassie out the window here," she said, moving back to the window sill to point out the scratches and marks. "Given where they were bitten and Cassie's grip, they were dragging her out. Georgie must have gotten the jump on them while they were distracted."

It's not just Cassie's scrapes she can see anymore. Right by the edge of the window itself is a long, thin line that ended abruptly. There was nothing else it could be but a needle. Just as Cassie had, the Sister had tried to grip on for dear life but must have tumbled out after getting attacked, taking the little girl down with her.

Maggie and Jim join her, staring and muttering under their breaths together. Cindy can almost see the thoughts in his mind swirling, the fire in his eyes sparked a few minutes before was on its way to becoming uncontrollable. He's not scared anymore, and that terrifies her. He's thinking he could possibly take them on and finish the job.

What terrifies her even more is that her father thought the same thing.

A/N: A bit of a slow start but the next chapter is going to be absolutely wild. Especially for Scott and Luis, oh my God. We'll start to move away from Scott to go back to Peter and how he's dealing. Poor baby needs a break.

Who'd win? A Big Sister, who has destroyed Coney Island, can break Rapture's glass, killed dozens and nearly murdered Peter Parker vs. Big Ant Boi. Georgie is apparently a bullet ant, and it's stinger is the most painful thing you will ever feel in your life, no joke. Now, imagine an ant that size stinging you. That Sister is so fucking lucky.

Also, is Paxton stupid enough to hunt down the Sister who took Cassie? Who knows.