Rath donned the unconscious riot cop's uniform and all its accoutrements in a small office he'd found in a quiet corner of the warehouse. The uniform and body armor fit a little snugly, but a judicious application of his nearly depleted powers quickly fixed the problem.

Remember the cop's face, Rath thought before exiting the office and hiding his own features… as well as his decidedly uncoplike haircut… beneath the black riot helmet. Running through the warehouse to catch up to the other members of the SWAT team, he tried to hang on to a mental picture of the slumbering cop's face. Might need to copy that mug in a hurry if anybody decides to take a peek under this Darth Vader mask.

But Rath sincerely hoped his limited morphing abilities wouldn't be put to that sort of test. His shapeshifting talents had so far been limited to superficial surface characteristics, such as facial features, hair, and clothing. He was glad he'd been able to steal a disguise, because in his present condition he doubted he could muster enough energy to morph his body for very long.

Rath soon found himself standing in the weed-strewn parking lot that bounded one side of the abandoned warehouse building, in the midst of more than a dozen riot cops. Under the bright summer sun, he saw immediately that Lonnie and Ava were there as well, their arms handcuffed behind their backs. Low-flying helicopters maneuvered overhead, as though searching for something or someone, churning the air into a stiff wind. Every nerve ending in Rath's body screamed, Danger! He wanted to make a run for the girls, but restrained himself. He knew he hadn't had enough time yet to recover from the battle against the freaks, and the girls must have been similarly depleted to have been caught so fiat-footed. Rath knew that if their powers had been at their peak, Ava could probably have Jedi Knighted the cops into letting the three of them slip away unnoticed, just another trio of nameless, faceless rats bound for the sewers they called home.

Talk about wandering right into the freaking lion's den, Rath thought, his throat going dry.

Keeping himself motionless with an extreme effort of will, Rath watched as the cops hauled the girls, none too gently, toward an official transport vehicle that was idling a short distance away It looked like an armored Humvee, the type of ride that the Army might use in special operations. One of the helicopters, its body painted black, grew suddenly louder, attracting Raths attention. He watched as it touched down in the parking lot, just a few dozen yards from the Humvee.

It was only then that Rath noticed the men and women in olive-drab military uniforms, and the hard- looking, crew-cut men wearing tailored black suits. The Men in Black and Green Army Men quickly began running back and forth between the chopper and the armored vehicle. The eyes of the MiBs were hidden behind impenetrable shades, their ears connected to some vast, unseen communications network by slender white coils of wire.

This is definitely no ordinary cop-shop op, Rath thought, his pulse thundering so loudly in his ears that he thought the helicopter pilots must be able to hear it. Some of these guys could understudy for Tommy Lee Jones. He wondered if they used a talking pug as a hunting dog.

The reason for the presence of these army guys and MiBs was fairly clear: They must have caught a whiff of something alien here. But Rath had to wonder exactly which aliens they were tracking. It was possible that their entire purpose here was to track the alien-possessed derelicts who'd just tried to kill the Royal Three. After all, those freaks weren't very big on subtlety. The way they used ordnance and chewed up their human hosts, they might as well have mailed engraved invitations straight to the Office of Homeland Security.

But if the Feds wanted the freaks, then why would they take Lonnie and Ava instead of leaving them to New York 's Finest? Rath watched as some of the Feds carried small satchels into the warehouse. Within minutes, a pair of agents emerged into the parking lot, carrying what appeared to be body bags… very small ones, which could only have contained the dusty remains of some of the freaks' human hosts.

They've gotta be wondering not just who the freaks are, but also who they were shooting at… and who killed them.

His face still concealed beneath his riot helmet and gas mask, Rath spared a glance at the riot cops who were milling about nearby. Now clear of the clouds of tear gas that still permeated the interior of the warehouse, they had begun removing their gas masks and helmets.

Uh-oh, Rath thought. Pretty soon they're gonna start wondering why I'm so overdressed for this party.

He recalled the time a few years earlier when he and Lonnie had sneaked into a baseball game at Yankee Stadium. They hadn't used any of their alien powers to get past the turnstiles that day. Instead, they had simply walked in, carrying clipboards and wearing the workman's overalls they'd created by rearranging the molecules of their own clothing. "The key to getting into places you're not supposed to be," Lonnie had told him then, "is to just act like you belong. “

Unable to think of anything else to do, Rath walked purposefully toward the Humvee just as one of the MiBs placed a hand on Lonnie's shoulder. A riot-suited cop, apparently a high-ranking one, stood with a hand on Ava's shoulder. A gray-haired, obviously high-ranking military officer also stood by, glaring at the policeman.

The MiB and the top riot cop appeared to be arguing pretty heatedly about something, but their words were lost in the noisy propwash of the helicopter, whose engine was still idling nearby, as if its pilot expected to receive evacuation orders at any moment.

Rath knew he had to risk walking right into the center of things if he was going to have a prayer of learning what was going on… and if there was to be any chance of keeping Lonnie and Ava out of the hands of the Feds.

"… not a very smart move, Sergeant Orman," the MiB was saying.

"I'm not the one making the moves," the cop said, an edge of anger in his voice. He tightened his grip on the wincing Ava's shoulder. "These two don't look like threats to national security to me. They were probably just squatters who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I intend to take them downtown to sort all that out. “

"That's not gonna happen, sir," the MiB said. He appeared to be listening to another simultaneous conversation over his earpiece, which trailed a coil of wire down into his stiff white collar. Rath realized he was now close enough to grab that wire and strangle him with it. Somehow, he resisted the temptation.

Orman fumed. "Listen, you Feds can't just horn in on a police bust without at least offering some kind of explanation. “

The military officer, whom Rath guessed was a major or a colonel, spoke up then. "Oh, I'm afraid we can, Sergeant. You have to defer to the chain of command, just as we do. “

Orman's eyes widened as though the military guy had just sprouted a second head. "I do defer to the chain of command, Colonel. It's called the NYPD. “

"That's pony-league stuff, Sergeant," said the colonel, his eyes flinty, dangerous. "I, on the other hand, answer directly to the Joint Chiefs and the president. “

"President of what?" Orman said, not backing down a bit. Rath couldn't help but admire the man's courage.

"Watch yourself, Orman. “

Orman was apparently just warming up. "Don't try to threaten me, Colonel. I patrol neighborhoods that make Mogadishu look like Disney World. Now, my guys and I saw some pretty weird stuff go down in that warehouse, and so did these two kids. People don't just… crumble away into ash like that. What's really going on here? Terrorist attack? Bioweapon? Alien invasion? “