At Police Headquarters

Detective Stillwater held out a photo. "Another couple for the list, John. Call themselves Fightin' Flyer and Air Scout."

Police Chief Thomson put his face in his palm. It had been bad enough when that self-styled vigilante Mister Justice was around; now he was gone and other Mystery Men, or rather Mystery Women, were taking his place. There had been over a dozen so far, most of them criminals. The only one with any sense of civic responsibility called herself MPH and her tight leather bodysuit looked like something out of a blue film.

"Two more then, Andy? At least the Flyer is a man. What did they rob?"

"They didn't rob anything, Chief; the Flyer smashed a couple of bank robbers' getaway car by throwing a fire hydrant at it and the Scout swooped down and took out the one that tried to run. If you ask me the guy looks a lot like Mister Justice." Detective Stillwater looked hopeful. "Do you think maybe...?"

"Maybe, Andy. And God forgive me for saying it, but I actually hope so." He couldn't forgive Mister Justice for what the so-called hero had done to his daughter, even though Jane had bounced back from it in the last couple of months. Even so, the city needed somebody who could help with this crime wave of freakish dames - girls who were bulletproof or created dark clouds or vanished into thin air with the loot. It was total chaos out there.

"Me too, Chief; I hope the tide is starting to turn in our favour."

Jane walked in with two take-out mugs of coffee. She wore a modest green skirt and a blouse covering what looked like a pair of howitzer shells. Sure dames were getting bolder, but couldn't she find something decent to wear? She was almost as bad as that MPH broad.

"Well Daddy, any more sightings of the Parahumans?"

"Yeah baby girl, and one of them's a man, finally."

"Really? What's he like?"

"I think he's married, doll. He calls himself Fightin' Flyer and works with a woman called Air Scout. Take a look."

Jane looked at the picture. "Mister Justice?"

"We think so, Jane."

"I know so. It's hard to forget pecs like those."

John Thomson didn't like his daughter's expression. Too much lip-licking and not enough admiring from a distance.

"Don't worry, baby girl; the police are going to keep their eye on him."

"Good idea, Daddy. I think that boy needs a good hard talking to, and fast."