Faster than a truck

We were close to Brockton Bay, and a part of me had hoped we'd run into Senior Trooper Littlejohn again. I'd at least established some rapport with him.

Police cars had been stopped around the site, and though the sirens were off, the lights did flash. The scattered parts were lit up with the stark glare of headlights from one side and strobing red and blue from another.

It was only thanks to Vista that the truck could keep pace with Crystal and I. We'd arrived on the scene as a group. I was out of costume, because I hadn't really planned to get into any trouble. I floated, so I was an obvious cape, but that was it. The others had changed.

- Polarize 10.10