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A haze hung over the dim bulbs in the diner, as outside the trademark fog of San Maria had rolled in off the bay. It reminded the older man sitting at the counter of the days before smoking had been banned in the states in public places. He cursed the nanny state. Those were the days. Could light up whenever he damn well pleased. Now he had to find an underpass to hide under if he wanted to smoke. Fucking Americans.

The younger man next to him pushed his pancake remnants around his plate. The boy, no older than seventeen, had a dark olive complexion and curly black hair. He was agitated, though he that wasn't anything new.

"We should move in now, sir," he looked up at the older man. The boy was talented, for sure. But he was impetuous. He was too eager, which led to sloppy mistakes. But that's what happens when you're a kid. Patience would come with more experience. "What's the point in waiting? We know where she is."

The older man sighed and rubbed his creased, bearded face with a leathery hand the size of a catcher's mitt, "Because we're not here to make waves. Why do you insist on making things harder than they need to be."

"I do not. I like making things as quick as they can be," the boy responded. "We know we don't have much time. We know what failure means."

"We're not gonna fail," the man rolled his brown eyes. "We've prepared for this for a long time."

"No, you did," the boy shot back. "I was indoctrinated into it."

The man winced at that. He often forgot how little time had passed since he found the boy and taken him under his wing.

"You're right," he admitted. "But you've still got the skills."

"That I do, sir," the boy nodded. "Shall we put them to use?"

"We shall."

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Clara found herself wedged between the floor the metal tank of the bunker's water purifier as she fiddled with it. It had been letting in a little too much grit for her liking, and she wanted to head of a possible clog before it became a real problem. 

"Can you hand me that ratchet?" she asked her brother who sat a few feet away by the toolbox. 

"Sure thing," he picked it up and tossed it over to her. "So how mad are you at Art and Lud right now?"

She should have expected this conversation to come up sooner rather than later with Bach there. He wasn't one to let things simmer. It probably came from being the youngest in the family. He always needed to know anything and everything as quickly as possible.

Clara didn't want to talk about it, if she was being honest. One of the reasons she came to the utility room was to get her mind off of things. She often found that letting her arguments with her brothers peter out was more effective than brooding on them. They never listened to her as-is. What use was it to dwell on it?

This one was a bit different though, she had to admit.

"Mad? I'm not mad," she responded after a few moments of silence. "But I am annoyed. Believing this silly superstitious crap. It's ridiculous. We're not some holy chosen warriors. We're a bunch of science experiments trying to survive. Putting our neck out severely decreases those chances."

That was the gist of it. She knew they were special. She knew they were gifted. But she also knew that they were being hunted at all times. If they weren't careful it would mean the end of all of them, and that was the last thing she wanted to happen.

"Yea, but like, if we don't help what if other people die?" Bach asked, twirling a screwdriver in his hands. "I don't want that to happen."

He was right, of course. Bach loved the humans. He was fascinated by them. He spend more time watching them than doing anything else, especially his chores. 

"I know, B," she pushed herself from under the tank. She looked into her brother's eyes, and saw nothing but sincerity there. He was so pure and innocent, she almost had to laugh. Somehow the hell they lived through at IDRG hadn't taken that from him. For that, Clara was thankful. "We'll help where we can. But we need to be smart."

"I'm, like, always smart," Bach winked at her. 

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Angel couldn't get the past few days out of her head. Granted, that was to be expected when you had come across four giant, talking frogs who your boss said were alien invaders. Still, there was something about the way that Dyer talked about the frogs that made her question his motives. While they were obviously naturally off putting, there didn't seem to be anything outwardly malicious about them.

She had ran over the events of that night over and over in her mind, trying to remember anything that may have been threatening. Nothing came to mind however. They wanted her keycard, and returned it. Other than that they were being apologetic, almost.

She rolled her desk chair in her room over to a map of San Maria hanging on the wall. The young woman took a pack of pushpins along with her and sighed, "What the hell are you doing here, girl?"

Her hand hovered over where she had run into the frogs before, and she pushed a pin in before running a string to the IDRG Pyramid, marking the two places she had known the frogs had been.

"I'm going to find you," she nodded to herself and pushed the chair back, admiring her simple work. "I don't know what you are, or where you came from, but I'm going to find you. And I'm definitely going to make sure you don't knock me out next time."

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The IDRG building sat in the distance like a beacon cutting through the fog, taunting Mozart with its omniprescence in San Maria. It was the kind of building that you could see no matter where you were in the city. After they had initially escaped, it represented nothing to him outside of the chance of them being recaptured. now, however, it was the reminder that there were more like them being held in that place. More poor creatures that never asked to be made and unmade into living weapons, these ones without the ability to free themselves like he and his siblings had. 

Now the Pyramid no longer brought fear to his heard. Instead it filled him with a silent rage.

"You can stare at it all you want," Lud croaked as he took a seat next to his brother and handed him some sushi. "You're not gonna bring it down with your mind. Unless you got some power you haven't been telling me about."

"No, no psychic powers that I know of," Art shook his head and picked up his chopsticks. "If I did I'd be making you or Bach do my chore days. I have a lot of Star Trek to catch up on."

"Why not Clara too?" he asked, popping a roll into his gaping bullfrog mouth.

"Easy," Art shrugged and took another bite of his own, elbowing his brother in the side, "telepathy only works on the weak minded."

"Oh, very funny Obi-Wan," the largest frog groaned. "Almost like you've practiced that one."

"Hey, you walked into it," Art finished off his sushi. "Where do you get this stuff anyway?"

Lud winked at his brother, "Blind chef a few blocks down. Smelled good when I was exploring the city. He came out and found me in the alley. Offered me some. And now we have a hook up."

Ludwig and Bach had been exploring the city more than he and Clara had. Art had wandered to the redwoods forest a few times. But Lud and Bach were fascinated by the city. They loved watching the people and the energy flow through it. But Lud had been the one to notice everything wrong with it. The Bayside Bandits had moved into San Maria and were beginning to set up shop, consolidating their power in a city not prepared for their onslaught.

"Well, I am not sorry about that."

The two brothers sat there quietly and enjoyed the views of the city. Other than the one building that rose above the rest, Art already considered this his home. It was beautiful in its own right, and it was mostly full of good people. Well, he figured it was full of good people. He wasn't sure, of course. The only person he had ever met that wasn't trying to capture him he had knocked out with his own bodily poison. So maybe not the best start at making friends, but he wanted to protect the people of San Maria none the less. Who knows what else IDRG was doing in their labs. The whole city may have been in danger.

"So about that dream...," Lud broke the contemplative silence.

"Hey I thought you were on my side?" Art turned to Lud.

"I mean, I am," he shrugged. "At least when it comes to helping to stop IDRG. We've already seen what they can do. We can't sit around. That ain't in my blood. If there's a fight, I'm gonna fight. But being 'chosen' or whatever? You've been looking for a purpose ever since we escaped IDRG. Maybe the dream isn't necessarily it. Maybe it's just helping where we can. Look around at this world we were born into. Clearly it needs all the help it can get. We can do that."

Art looked down at the street. Thanks to the fog the brothers were completely obscured from the people walking below. His brother had a point. They could be the heroes of this city. They had all the requisite skills. They could just focus on that and he could forget about the dream.

But he couldn't. Yes he wanted to help the people of San Maria. But what they were chosen for...he felt it was too important to throw to the side. Until they figured out what the dream meant, helping here would do.

"Yea, I think we can," Art patted Lud on the shoulder. "This place...we'll keep it safe."

"Good," Lud smiled broadly. "I know just where to start."