“Lieutenant,” says McQueen, watching as terrified residents are dragged across the sky against their will. “Deploy the H.P.U.”

“Yes sir,” says Jess, tapping on the Shadow Fist’s control console. 

With a loud, heavy click, a door in the Shadow Fist’s underbelly slides open. Out drops a large cube shaped cage, surrounded by an electromagnetic defence grid. It slows as it nears the ground, coming to a stop with a mild thud. Hass and McQueen approach the cube, kneeling down beside it.

“Mira,” says McQueen, “We need your help.”

Inside the cage, crouched in the centre, a young girl opens her eyes. Dressed in her own bespoke anti-static suit, her long hair hangs over her face and reaches down to the floor. Mira turns around. She peers through her thick black hair at McQueen who looks back at her with stoic indignation.

“This one’s too strong,” says McQueen, “But we can hurt it. If there’s any chance you can bring it down, I know we can finish it off.”

Mira turns her head and peers through the cage, glaring at the huge spectre as it continues to tear through the museum.

“You sure she still can?” asks Hass, flinching as Mira turns sharply, her eyes glowing a deep orange as she scowls at him.

“Sorry… I’m-sorry,” says Hass, raising both hands in front of his face.

“Let’s go,” says McQueen, before they each grab a handle on the sides of the cage and carry Mira towards the museum.

“What is that? What are they carrying?” asks Helen, leaning towards the TV.

“It’s an H.P.U,” says Laird, “A Hyper Paranormal Unit. I’ve never seen one in person, but, they’re supposed to be powerful ghosts who can do things no other ghosts can.”

“Well…” says Helen inhaling deeply and sipping her drink, “I’m glad it’s on our side.”

McQueens glove crackles and sparks as the cage’s defence grid phases with his own. He glances down at Mira, then looks across to meet the concerned gaze of Hass.

“Me too,” says Laird, “Although, everything I’ve learned in training tells me… They don’t really take sides.”

Hass and McQueen set the cage down at the foot of the museum steps. McQueen nods at Hass who raises his brow before taking three steps back. Scrolling through his heads up display, McQueen enters his access code. He also steps back, bracing himself before he deactivates the cage’s defence grid. Mira reaches forward through the inner shell and wraps her hand around the outer bars. Realising her cage is no longer protected, a wide, sinister smile reaches across Mira’s face.

“We could be making a huge mistake,” says Mirsal, raising her voice over the hiss of wind and rain. “Please Bayo, I want to make it back… to my son.”

Abayo slows his strides until, gradually, he comes to a stop. “We would all like to see our children one more time,” says Abayo.

Mirsal hangs her head, burdened by the weight of Abayo’s words. Catching her breath, she lifts her head skyward, closing her eyes as the rain washes the sweat from her face.

Mirsal is joined by seven others, five men and two women, each of them wearing the same worn out, brown robes.

“Fallen,” says Abayo. “Must I remind you, our purpose far outweighs our desires.”

“Captain,” says Hatich, the smallest of the men. “I must agree with Mirsal. We should go back… consult the General… explain what we’ve found.”

“To return with word of all we haven’t found would be a mistake,” says Abayo.

“Agreed,” says Cohe, the largest of them all. “The captain is right. How would we serve our purpose if we return empty handed?”

“We’re not,” says Mirsal, “We know at least two of the holds are empty, that can only mean one thing.”

“I’m not so sure,” says Hatich, “I’d say it could mean two things. Either they’re keeping them somewhere else, or, they’re not keeping them at all.

“Either way,” says Cohe. “Our mission is to find them.”

“But this isn’t the answer,” says Mirsal, “We don’t even know if we can get inside.”

Before anyone can weigh in on the debate, all eyes turn towards a figure up ahead who rushes through the grasslands towards them. The figure slows down and stops before Abayo, leaning over and catching his breath. Abayo looks down expectantly at Mako, his most trusted scout.

“Captain,” says Mako, still breathing heavily, “It is not as we foresaw.”

“What do you mean?” asks Abayo.

“Something really guts-up is going on here!” says Mako as Mirsal turns to Cohe, a look of ominous despair in her eyes.