Tony gasps as he gets up, finding himself in the plain living room of No. 62. His gaze stops at Ivy-Man. If what he thinks is true, then...

He gets up, stumbling when a sharp pain arises in his head. He can't do this, he's too exhausted and hungry. But his future's at stake. His brother is in danger.

He can't lose his only family.

The twelve-year-old takes in a deep breath, focusing on the ivy-wrapped corpse as he heads toward it. He doesn't hesitate to touch the slimy ivy with his bare hands. Tony stops when he sees a mark on Ivy Man's tattered coat. The same one he saw on the cabinet, but black and fading.

"No," he says, stepping away. This is not a Xenoxian murder.

His parents, too, weren't killed by a Xenoxian. The real murderer is still alive and roaming free.

Tony takes in a shallow breath, slowing dropping to the floor. He knows who the murderer is...the insignia here and on the cabinet in his old home, the indigo eyes...he can't be mistaken.

The person who saved him the first time from Milo and his notorious friends. The person he wanted to be like as he grew older.

Tony widens his eyes. The agent who's with his brother.

He glances at the living room window. "Why is this stupid window even here?" he says, not able to see through the murky glass. He races out of the room and down the hallway, reaching the lit dining room. He glances at the window, the orange pink sky now a navy blue. Gosh, how long was I out?

He squints his eyes to see the street, shaking his head when he finds no ice cream truck there. "No." He leans on the window frame, not caring about the dust and mold that comes on his turtleneck sleeves.

Tony turns around, sprinting out of the room, his teeth clattering. "Tom," he calls, hoping he's back. He should be back. He has to be.

Otherwise the memory sync couldn't have been successful.

Minutes fly by as Tony sprints to every mucky corner of the house, leaving the flickering lights on. His brother's not here.

He climbs upstairs to the second floor, his throbbing heart in his throat, sobbing. "T-Tom, where are you!"

He stops when he hears a muffled squeak. A cry for help.

His brother's there.

Tony hurries to the far room at the end of the hallway, a narrow storage room, the source of the muffled cry. He doesn't notice the purple moth from the living room downstairs, perched on his shoulder.

"I'm coming," Tony says, entering the room. He almost skids when he searches for the switchboard.

The light flickers when it switches on, making Tony shade his eyes with his hands. He takes a step forward when he sees his brother laying in front of the cabinet, bruised, tied up with rope. But Tony stops at the next step.

It's not Tom.

The purple moth flutters to the bound person on the floor, resting on the collars of her oversized purple coat. It has completed its task, of summoning someone to rescue its master.

"A-Agent R-Racoon," Tony stammers, racing toward her.

How is she here, that too all tied-up?

"No, don't," Racoon says, through the cloth gagged to her mouth. "These ropes will burn you."

Tony glances at the thick, silver ropes, gasping when he sees blisters on the agent's wrists and neck, where the ropes touch it.

"Call Tom," she says. "He can become a Pyro and untie me."

"I can't," Tony answers, his voice cracking, realizing his brother can't shapeshift even if he is here. "M-Michael took him."

Raccoon's eyes widen. "What the hell?" She winces as she gets up, trying to get out of her bounds. Tony approaches her when he sees the ropes burning her skin and coat.

"Stay away," she cries, screaming when the bounds snap and fly off her. They disintegrate into ashes.

The Covert agent gets up, startling Tony, and marches out. The young boy follows her, noticing the blood trailing from her wrists. "Agent Racoon?"

She races downstairs, the house trembling as she heads to the front door, her eyes wide in fury. She kicks the front door, which collapses with a clattering thud.

"Damn it!" she hisses, seeing the street empty. The psycho left, after zapping her while they were searching the house. Gosh, he's horrifyingly good. But he wouldn't stand a chance in front of Tom.

If the latter's not injured.

She runs her bloodied hand through her hair, wringing it when she ends up pulling several strands off her head. "Damn it!"

"Agent Racoon," she hears Tony say. Right, she has to take care of him. God knows what happened to him while she was unconscious.

She turns around, finding the young boy standing before her, fumbling while opening the plastic cylinder wrapped around his left arm.

"No, I'm fine," she says, realizing what the golden fluid in these vials is. "I don't need the Serum."

"You're bleeding," he says, pulling a corked vial out of the cylinder. "You need to be treated."

Agent Racoon glances at her wrists, cuts and blisters everywhere. No wonder it's stinging like hell. But she deserves it. She's so stupid to notice her partner's suspicious activities.

"Please take it," Tony says. "I need your help in finding Tom."

Racoon takes in a shallow breath, he's right. The look she saw in Michael's eyes when she was sharing her insights on the corpse, its the same one shown in every bloodthirsty criminal. That psycho's definitely going to kill someone today.

Racoon takes the vial, a soft pop as she uncorks it, and gulps down the golden serum in one go. She exhales slowly, letting the cooling effect of the serum take over.

Racoon's eyes widen, not when she sees her wounds disappear, but when realizing her powers have been suppressed by this healing serum. She reaches for one of the pillars of the porch, sighing when she can't break it. The porch doesn't complain when she stomps on it.

It's okay, though. She can still catch that psycho. She glances at Tony, who looks baffled. "What happened? Why did Agent Hornbill take Tom?"

"I called Michael an hour after he left," he says, his gaze wavering. "Because I thought this was a Xenoxian neighborhood. And then Tom wanted to talk to him, and- and Michael brought a message from our guardian," he falters, tears collecting in his eyes. "It's all my fault. I should've sorted it out with Tom, before sending him off with a murderer."

"Murderer?" Racoon says. "How do you know Agent Hornbill- I mean Michael - is a murderer?"

She stops, watching Tony cry. She bends down to him, holding his hands. "Stop crying. It's not over yet. We can still find your brother and bring him back safely."

Tony continues to cry. "How?"

"First look at me, Tony," she says.

Tony glances up, seeing her heterochromatic eyes. He's not scared of them anymore. Instead, those eyes remind him of his mother, not the color, but by the flickering light of concern and care portrayed in them.

"The truth is," Racoon says, exhaling slowly. "I don't know how we can save Tom. But I do know one thing, which is to not give up." She wipes a tear from his face, hopeful that he'll stop crying. "So, stop behaving like everything's over. It's Tom, for God's sake, the world's only shapeshifter who can transform into literally anything."

She frowns when she sees Tony sob. Did she say something wrong? Tom is the only one right?

"He can't do it," Tony manages to say through his sobs. "He's under the Stability Serum's effect till tomorrow."

"What?" she says, her eyes widened. But the second her gaze lands on the weeping boy, she takes in a deep breath. "Okay, don't cry. Tom can still take care of himself without any powers. And he has us too."

Tony stops crying. Yeah, he has powers now.

"We'll figure it out. But right now, breathe," Racoon says.

Tony glances at agent Racoon who strokes his hands. She's a Covert agent. Of course they can take Michael down.

"Thank you, agent Racoon," Tony says. He wouldn't have become calm without her.

"It's Alexa," she says. "My real name's Alexa Barrings."

"Oh," he says. "You're Alexa?" He has met her before, The Barrings have been his parents' close friends, and they would play whenever their parents had to meet. But that was aeons ago, and Alexa had black hair and she was much thinner.

Alexa nods, looking around before moving closer. "How did you find out Michael's a murderer?"

"Um," Tony says, taking a step back. Will she understand? "I saw a mark on the dead man's coat-"

"The Parloc insignia," Alexa says. "Yeah, I saw that too. But, there are a few Electros still out there, if you're going by the logic of the members of Parloc being Electros."

Tony shakes his head. "But the current ones weren't and aren't a part of the House of Parloc. They only accepted the same blood."

Alexa nods. Even her house accepts only family. That's why it's called the House of Barrings, and not House of Hercs. 

"And Michael Olmsted, he's the last heir."

"You mean the boy who died ten years ago?" Alexa says, her brows furrowed. "Don't you think it's far fetched? Nobody could've survived the attack. It was nuclear. "

"It's true," Tony says. "Otherwise, why would he tie you up?"

Alexa bites her lip. The boy has a point. Michael must have escaped somehow.

"Also, the members of the House of Parloc, their eyes glow indigo while they're using their powers," Tony explains, recollecting the shady figure near his home and the blue Mohawk peering out of his hood. "I saw Michael have those."

Alexa's eyes widen. How is the Covert so bad, no, how is the ICJ so bad? The last heir of Parloc is still alive...

She takes in a deep breath, realizing something. "When did you see him like that?"

Tony clears his throat. He has to say it now. "When my-"

"Wow, we didn't expect a Covert agent to sympathize with anyone."

Tony and Alexa turn to see the Serrano siblings crossing the street, masks covering the bottom half of their faces. They look like they're going to wage a war.

"Tony," Chloe says, pulling her mask down while opening the gate. "I want to clear this out before we search for your brother."

"I know you're not a Xenoxian," Tony says, recollecting the Triquetra on his dad's wrist. "You're part of the Fifth Regiment."

Alexa flashes a small smile, clasping her hands together. "Good, we have a soldier here. Now, we need to find-"

"We don't know where Tom is," Milo says, adjusting the watch on his left wrist. He looks at Tony, for the first time portraying no animosity. "The truck disappeared the moment that partner of yours stepped into the truck."

Alexa mutters something under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck. "Um, we can ask your parents, since they have the trackers-"

"You can't," Chloe says. "Whenever you enter our neighborhood, all our devices turn off. It takes us days to get them back on again." She crosses her arms, "Why do you think we couldn't report what you guys did to us these last few years?"

Alexa crinkles her forehead. "What do you mean?"

Chloe scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Don't act as if you don't know."

Tony takes a step forward. "Wait, what happened?" 

"Guys," Milo says. "Shouldn't we be searching for Tom?"

"I want to know first," Alexa intercedes, taking a step closer to Chloe. "What your problem is with us." 

Chloe clenches her jaw. "You guys kidnap and kill one of us every single time you've visited."

"What?" Alexa says. "We didn't kill anyone." She stops. Michael has.

"Guys!" Milo says, making everyone flit their gazes to him. He exhales slowly, "We all know that Tom's in danger. Why don't we find him first and then argue about everything else?" He glances at the young boy. "Right, Tony?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "We're running out of time."

Alexa checks the pockets of her coat, exhaling sharply when she finds them empty. "That psycho stole everything. Even my tracker." She looks at Chloe. "You said some of the residents have been killed...where did you find the bodies?"

"It's different every time," Chloe answers. "The first one-"

"In their own homes," Milo cuts in. "Why?"

Alexa bites her lip. "I thought Tom would be taken to the place where your neighbors have been killed." She looks down. "I'm sorry if I made you remember things."

Tony glances over his shoulder, looking at the empty street. In their own homes... They've never had a "home" these last two years, and Michael's not here.

His eyes widen, they do have a home.

"I know where Michael might have taken Tom," Tony says. "Our old home, before our parents died...it's still there."

"Right?" Alexa says. "Nobody's brought that place, and it's not far from here. It's in Mavis, right?"

Tony nods, recollecting his brother talking about distance while searching for a new home. Tom never wanted to step foot in the Banks Mansion anymore, but he didn't want to go too far from it. "About twenty miles or something?"

"How do we know Michael would take him there?" Milo asks.

"Because the most recent murder," Alexa says, pointing to No. 62. "Like in every case, has the victim trapped in their homes."

Chloe furrows her brows. "What? That house's been vacant for decades."

"No," Milo says. He turns to his sister. "I saw someone visit this house everyday, a bald man."

"Eggface?" Tony asks. He laughs nervously when he realizes he's said it out loud. "I meant to say Pete Berkeley, the real estate agent for Claremond Street."

Milo shakes his head. "Not him. His face is more like a bowling ball, with three big dots on the top of his head."

"Cocohead," Tony mutters, though he doesn't know why he said this. 

"Yes, Tony," Alexa says. "You used to call him Cocohead when he would come."

"Hang on," Chloe says. "What- Who are you?"

"Cocohead..." Tony says, his eyes squinted, forehead creased, trying to remember who Cocohead is.

"Just tell who he is before Tony's brain implodes," Milo says, snickering. He hits his mouth, the fiery encounter with Tony's brother resurfacing. "No offense." 

"He's Steven Fitzburgh," Alexa says. "He was part of the ICJ's Counter Terrorism Task Force before joining the Covert."

Tony's jaw drops, how did he forget his tutor? They played more than studied, at least only him.  Cocohead & Tony vs. the Bandits of Tomobabloo. His brother would pose threats at each level as various animals and people, a better way of practicing shapeshifting.

A small smile appears on his lips. Cocohead often imitated pirates, something which he thought Ivy Man would speak like.

But that smile disappears. Cocohead's dead. 

"Really?" Milo asks. "Well, I saw him go there until a week ago, with a small bag."

"So you went to No. 62 last night to check if he was there?" Chloe asks.

Tony flits his gaze to him. "What? You barged in?"

"Okay," Alexa says, clapping her hands. "So we know that the people who are targeted are found in their own homes. So we need to go to Banks Mansion before it's too late."

Tony nods, his breathing shallow.

"Then we need to call everyone," Chloe says. "We can't do this on our own."

The conversation goes muffled for Tony as he takes a step back. He'll find Tom, right? His gaze falls on Milo, who looks at the street, his eyes squinted.

Tony traces his gaze while taking in a deep breath, his forehead creased when he sees a small white object at the far end of the street.

"Do you see it too?" Milo asks.

Tony nods in response. They both head to the gate, lunging forward to see the object closely.

It's moving.

"Chloe," Milo calls. "You've got to see this." 

Chloe and Alexa stop their argument, turning back to see the two boys near the gate. The former zaps to them, glancing at what their seeing. "What the-"

Tony flits his gaze to her. "What do you see?"

Chloe's eyes widen. "Agachate!"

"She means Duck! " Milo says, crouching down. He pulls an oblivious Tony down.

Alexa furrows her brows. "What did you see there?" She gasps when she sees the object speeding toward them. 

The kids cover their ears as a huge ball of crunched paper shoots a few feet above them, landing on the front yard of No. 64.

Chloe sits up from her knelt-down, self-shielding position, mouth agape when she recognizes the giant crushed object. "Guys!"

A petrified Tony turns back, What was that- "Scrambled cheeseggs!"