A/N - Welcome to this lil dialogue prompt challenge that I've decided to turn into a whole story. Each chapter will fill 1 of 6 different dialogue prompts (provided by witterprompts on Tumblr). I'll have the prompt in bold at the beginning of the every chapter so you can keep an eye out for it as you read. Enjoy!


"I won't say you're wrong, but you're definitely not right either."

When Brittany was younger she often wondered what her life would look like when she grew up. She thought it would involve a career in journalism, a nice house, maybe married to a lovely girl or guy and settle down with a couple kids and live out her life in peace.

You know, really simple stuff; Brittany could get behind that.

However, a simple life wasn't really in the cards for the blonde.

Ever since the car accident, a lot of things changed. Some for the better, some not so much.

Brittany and her parents had been driving home from dinner one night. It had been raining pretty hard, but Brittany's dad was always a really slow driver so it was fine. What they hadn't anticipated was the speed demon in the other lane who hydroplaned into their car. In an instant, the Pierce family was run off the road and plummeted into the Pacific.

Brittany believed she died that night. She didn't remember the impact of the car hitting the water, she didn't remember hearing any screams and she definitely didn't remember drowning.

But when Brittany was pulled from the water that night something happened. Someone, or something, breathed a new life into her but life wasn't the only thing she was gifted with. When she finally came to on the shore, coughing up salt water and tears, she realized her body had changed.

She also realized she was the only one that was pulled from the water, her parents were nowhere in sight. Maybe it was the shellshock, maybe it was the iciness of the cold water settling in but she felt completely numb.

In the blink of an eye, her whole life had changed.

Her senses were heightened in a way that was far from human, her body moved faster than ever before, and she had a strength that she didn't use to possess. She could see watered down blood stains on her shirt but only the faintest of injuries could be found on her skin. It was as if her body had healed itself in matter of minutes or hours, she couldn't tell how long she had been out.

It took her a long time to recover from that night, but she found a way.

She made a vow that she would use her abilities for good. She would prove to her parents who she believed were always looking down on her that they didn't die for nothing, that she wasn't the only one saved for nothing.


Shrill alarms blared in time with red flashing lights as four goons hastily threw bags of money into the back of a blacked out SUV. The one in charge stayed positioned near the trunk with a phone pressed to his ear, glaring up at the sound coming from the speakers.

"You were supposed to take care of that noise!" He snapped angrily, "How long do we have now?"

"Not long." The person on the other end said gravely, "She's near."

"Fuck!" The boss cursed and stuffed his phone away before calling out to his men, "Leave the rest, let's move!"

Suddenly a loud thump came from the roof of the SUV making the man jerk up at the sound; he was too late, she was already here.

"Going somewhere, Anderson?" Bombshell smirked with her hands on her hips eying the boss man.

There was a flash of terror before the goons' guns were drawn and they began firing at the masked blonde.

"Seriously? Why do you guys always resort to shooting?" The woman grumbled as she somersaulted off the SUV and swiftly dodged the bullets.

With her speed, she was able to zip pass the flying bullets and disarm the four men one by one until she held all four pistols in her hands. They all shared the same look of disbelief as she stood before them. She crushed the metal between her palms; super strength always had the same effect on people, especially criminals. They were scared shitless.

"Guns are so stupid and I don't use that word too often." She scoffed as she morphed the metal into a ball like it was playdough.

"Maybe you should focus more on the fight than your views on gun violence?" Anderson admonished followed by the sound of a gunshot.

Once again, her attention was drawn to the wrong place – something she was still sadly working on – and she paid for it.

With her back turned to the boss, she was unable to see him fire and a bullet grazed her bicep. She hissed at the painful sting as her eyes narrowed. With her teeth gritted, she spun around to clock him with her new ball of gun metal.

"Maybe you should work on that aim!" She quipped as it hit him square in the crotch.

Anderson cried out and doubled over. Surprisingly though, he wasn't down for the count just yet and dragged himself towards the driver's seat.

Before Bombshell could apprehend him, the four men attacked all at once like they had been suddenly revived. It was blur of fists and kicks and she did her best to block what she could. She could just barely hear the engine roar to life and knew it was only a matter of time before Anderson took off.

She couldn't do this by herself but the Lima Police Department were nowhere in sight!

"LT? ETA on the backup?" Bombshell asked with the press of fingers to her ear and dodged a goon's jab.

"Roughly 10 minutes."

"What, did they stop for donuts?" Bombshell grumbled in annoyance before jumping up into a spinning kick that had one of the goons falling to the ground.

Another glance in the boss's direction, a brief moment of distraction, and Brittany felt a fist connect with the side of her jaw. She grimaced at the hit, the force of it causing her to fall to her knee.

She was going to feel that one in the morning.

"Ow." Bombshell pouted, blonde hair curtaining her face. She rubbed at her jaw then tightened her fists before flinging her hair back. She whirled in the direction of the one who threw the punch, blue eyes filled with so much rage that they began to glow, "That wasn't cool."

Using her speed again, she jolted upright and threw her fist into the underside of the man's jaw in a clean upper cut but with a lot more force that she anticipated. The goon flew backwards, slamming against the concrete wall of the bank a few feet behind and slumped down unconscious.

Her eyes darted to the tires squealing and Anderson taking off.

Shit, he's getting away!

She had to choose: let him get away or subdue his henchmen? The police were near so Anderson would have a hard time getting anywhere undetected, but who knows what these men could get up to if she went after their boss instead.

Four men vs One Asshole?

Bombshell chuckled at the innuendo before the sound of cracking knuckles caught her attention.

She eyed the men settling back into a fighting stance. She couldn't go after their boss, not with these hulking guys still standing. There was no way Anderson could stay out of trouble for long; they would meet again at some point.

Bombshell rolled her shoulders and held up her fists.

"Alright, let's dance boys." She smirked then with the full use of her powers, she attacked.


When the police finally arrived on the scene, Anderson's henchmen were huddled together near the destroyed vault. Their hands were bound behind their backs and a yellow post-it note was stuck to the forehead of the one man just now regaining consciousness.

"Over here, Detective!" An officer called out upon seeing the criminals.

Detective Quinn Fabray slipped on a plastic glove and pulled the note from the man's forehead and read:

Could you be an slower? -B

Detective Fabray rolled her eyes at the message scrawled in a familiar pink gel pen, glitter shimmering in the dull fluorescents. This wasn't the first note the masked vigilante had left behind for her and although a small part of her was truly grateful for the assist – after all they kind of had similar goals – the other felt a twinge of annoyance.

For the past two years, Bombshell had a way of making her and the force seem completely inadequate and that wasn't great for their image. The people needed to trust that the LPD were capable of doing their jobs and could bring criminals to justice without the help of some…blonde with a hero complex.

The Detective ground her jaw at the thought.

She earned her title, fair and square, without the help of superpowers so forgive her if she's just a little frustrated that Bombshell thinks she can just swoop in and steal her glory. She already dealt with her share of people who believed they lived above the law and those that doubted her as Detective, she didn't need a Super butting in too…not again.

Fabray thought the whole superhero gig had been put to bed ever since the last masked vigilante suddenly disappeared but clearly the universe was testing her patience.

"Get this to Forensics," She called out to a nearby officer and waved her hand for a plastic bag to slip the note into before snapping off her glove. They had tried running tests before, but had no such luck. Somehow Bombshell was untraceable, but she'd continue to try incase she ever slipped up.

The Detective rejoined the officers huddled around the hood of a patrol car and eyed the men, "Any sign of Anderson?"

"No ma'am," One officer spoke up, "Seems he's gone underground."

"How is that possible?" The Detective snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Patrol cars were posted on just about every street!"

"Not every street apparently," The man shrugged casually.

Fabray glared at the comment and the man shuddered, "Find him!"

The Detective stomped off before she let her anger get the best of her; today just wasn't her day.


Brittany was in the bathroom of her apartment hunched over the sink trying to stitch herself up in the mirror which was a lot easier said than done. Apparently, Anderson's bullet hit her a little deeper than she thought, that bastard. A bottle of vodka was perched on the corner of the sink and Brittany reached for it for a second time; first taking a swig before splashing some on her wound.

"Ow, ow, ow," She pouted as the alcohol seeped in. She could actually feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and tried to focus on anything else but the searing pain. She shouldn't have been able to feel much, but judging by the lack of sleep lately she figured her body was drained which took a toll on her abilities.

Most importantly, her ability to feel pain and heal.

The wound was already looking slightly better than before she came home, but the healing process was taking much longer than usual. She really needed to take a day off and replenish, but duty was calling a lot more lately and she couldn't just ignore it.

Suddenly, she heard the telltale sound of keys rattling and the front door open. She pushed away from the sink, trying to keep from dripping on the small rug, as her eyes darted to the digital clock hung in the kitchen.

She's home early. Why is she home early?

Brittany scrambled to clean the mess, but it was too late.

"Hey Britt! I've told you that you don't have to wai – what the hell?" Santana stopped in the doorway of the bathroom they shared, her eyes bouncing from the mess of gauze in the sink, the stitch-up kit, the bottle of vodka. She blinked then looked to Brittany and sighed, "Again? Really?"

"Hey roomie!" Brittany greeted too happily, trying to diffuse the situation, "How was work?"

Santana just crossed her arms and quirked her brow, "It was fine. Do you want to explain why you're getting blood on our new bath mat?"

Brittany's eyes darted to her feet and sure enough, a drop or two had escaped, "Shit. Sorry. I'll get us a new one!"

"Yeah, you better because that one was not cheap." Santana quipped.

"Sorry," Brittany smiled apologetically before going back to cleaning her wound but grimaced at the feel, "I'll just be a minute."

Santana let out a sigh as she tossed her jacket and purse to the side, "Here. Let me help you." She reached for Brittany's arm to get a better look.

When Santana's fingers landed on Brittany's skin, Brittany almost shivered. Not because they were a little cool to the touch, but because it was Santana touching her. She always seemed to react the same way around the girl, she really couldn't help it.

"You really don't have to," Brittany said, already trying to pull her arm out of Santana's grip, "I know how you get with blood."

"Yeah well, I want to shower and I don't see you finishing up in here any time soon at the rate you're going." Santana grumbled as she let go and began washing her hands. There was something in her tone that sounded like annoyance but the crinkle of worry in her brow lessened the effect.

The tough love act, Brittany knew it all too well.

"You know we have actual antibacterial stuff now, right?" Santana said, head tilted towards the bottle of vodka, "You don't have to go wasting my good stuff."

"Oh, no I didn't," Brittany replied guiltily, "I'll replace that too."

Santana just shook her head although a small smile threatened to breakthrough the tired annoyance she was trying so hard to keep up with, "Give me your arm."

Brittany did as she was told and watched Santana's profile as she inspected the wound. She was all full lips and flutter of dark lashes. Santana was beautiful, even at 3am after a 12 hour shift. It was one of the first things Brittany noticed when they had met for a coffee before they started living together a little over two years ago now.

Brittany was new to the city and found Santana's listing in the newspaper of all places. The rent was cheap and the place looked clean, so Brittany put in an offer. At first, Santana was a little rough around the edges, a bit snarkier than Brittany was use to, but the brunette grew on her.

One of the good things about their arrangement was that Santana didn't really ask questions which was great because Brittany was still working on the lying bit when it came to keeping her cover. The amount of times she had to move over the years because she nearly slipped up weren't ideal, but she was getting better. Being in Lima was the longest she ever stayed in one place since gaining her abilities. It was nice and having Santana around wasn't so bad either.

There was a softer side to the brunette that she rarely showed, but Brittany was lucky enough to catch a glimpse every so often like when Santana would bring home takeout for them both on her rare nights off or lay a blanket over Brittany if she fell asleep on the couch (which happened a lot) or offer to help patch up her injuries.

Beneath the leather jackets and sarcasm, there was a type of kindness which Santana would never admit to.

And she had a voice of an angel too! It's probably why she did so well at the lounge she worked at. Santana's voice was sultry and soulful with a warmth like a crackling fire that smoothed over you like molasses. Brittany had the pleasure of seeing her perform once back when they first started getting to know each other, but for some reason Santana put an end to that.

Actually, Brittany was fairly certain she knew why she wasn't allowed back.

It might've had something to do with the amount of alcohol Brittany consumed that night and an accidental make out session that took place in a dark hallway that could've turned into something more if they weren't interrupted which they never brought up afterwards.

Or…it could be something totally different? Brittany had no idea because Santana never wanted to talk about it.

Brittany figured that Santana didn't want their lives to intertwine all that much, after all she was a relatively private person so Brittany didn't pry. In reality, it was probably a good thing because if Brittany would've attended any more of Santana's shows, which could've led to more drunken make out sessions, then she might just fall in love with her.

And maybe that's being a little dramatic, but it was true. If Brittany described her dream girl, she'd be a lot like Santana: effortlessly beautiful, funny, a little fiery, secretly kind-hearted, could probably kick your ass, etc. And making out with her? She never experienced anything hotter and she once went up against a Super who literally shot fireballs from his fists.

But with Brittany's line of work, love wasn't really an option. It was too risky and she couldn't handle the thought of someone she loved ever being in danger because of her. So any relations she had never lasted more than one night but Santana really made her wonder sometimes.

People do a lot for love or so she's been told, she's never actually experienced it for herself.

But Brittany couldn't do that to Santana. She couldn't put Santana in danger by potentially falling in love with her, so she tried her best to keep a friendly distance. Miraculously, they hadn't had another close call since the night at the lounge but that didn't make it any easier to forget. After all, Santana was pretty unforgettable. The way Santana's lips had felt against her own or the feel of Santana's hands in her hair or how Santana had pinned Brittany against the wall and the thigh between her legs-

"Quit fidgeting," Santana warned as she pressed a cloth to Brittany's arm.

Brittany shook away the thoughts and did her best to listen, kind of thankful the pain was so bad that she couldn't possibly think of anything else. The thankfulness didn't last long as her skin felt like it was on fire, "That really fucking hurts!"

"I know, it'll only last a sec," Santana said softly, the tenderness in her tone causing Brittany to freeze more than the pain.

In that moment, Santana was able to begin stitching.

Brittany watched as she moved with a steady hand, pulling the needle through as Santana hummed softly. It wasn't a tune Brittany was familiar with, but the sound eased her shoulders anyway. She let herself focus on the melody instead rather than the overwhelming pain and it actually helped a lot.

While distracted Brittany's heart swelled and something fluttered in the pit of her stomach with every gentle touch and the feel of Santana's hands on her skin. This wasn't the first time Santana had to patch Brittany up, but something felt different. The pull was stronger and Brittany had a hard time fighting it.

Was it because she was feeling so vulnerable at the moment or something else?

The fight had depleted a lot of her energy, but she didn't think that effected her ability to distance herself from Santana. Then again, it was kind of hard to when she was all in Brittany's space like that. And her perfume smelled so nice and she looked so damn pretty.

Brittany's eyes fell to Santana's full lips, watching them part as she inhaled and continued to hum. She knew exactly what those lips were capable of, she could just barely remember how they felt against her-

Brittany needed space; she needed Santana to go before she did something she might regret.

Don't. even. Think. About. It.

"I can do the rest." Brittany suddenly announced then swatted at Santana's hand but Santana didn't waver and slapped hers right back.

"Don't be stubborn." She said sternly, "I'm nearly done."

Brittany sucked in a deep breath; not from the pain, she could barely feel that now, but from the way Santana was making her feel. She needed to get herself under control, why was that so hard for her all of a sudden?

Brittany reached for the edge of the sink, hoping that holding onto something would keep her hands from wandering. She gripped it so hard that it started to crack.

Santana stopped and looked to Brittany with her brows furrowed, "Did you hear that?"

Brittany's grip eased as she shook her head and played aloof, "Hear what?"

Santana just shrugged and went back to work. They fell into silence as she concentrated hard on the stitching and all the while Brittany concentrated hard on her. Santana had moved to a more tender spot on Brittany's arm and Brittany clenched her jaw at the feel, but looking at Santana made it hurt a little less.

She was so caught up in staring that it almost made her jump when Santana began to speak again.

"So when are you going to tell me what you get up to that leaves you looking like this?" Santana asked, tone just as soft as before.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm just really clumsy?" Brittany offered with a nervous grin.

Santana glanced up at her only for a moment and flashed a gleaming smile before turning back to her work. She shook her head as her shoulders bounced.

"I know you're really clumsy," Santana chuckled as she neared the end of the wound, "So I'd almost believe you, but this? This doesn't look like clumsy."

"Clumsy comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes." Brittany joked but Santana didn't laugh this time.

"You know, you can tell me if you're in some kind of danger or something.." Santana mumbled trying to seem casual, "If someone's hurting y-"

"It's not like that," Brittany interrupted upon seeing the deepening concern. She ducked her head to meet Santana's eyes, "Don't worry about me."

Santana's lips parted as she softened but then she quickly covered it with a scoff and said, "I'm not worried. I just want to make sure you don't disappear on me one day and I have to come up with your half of the rent somehow. "

Brittany chuckled but didn't say anything further and just continued to watch Santana work. Better to keep silent than risk getting caught in a lie or worse getting caught in her feelings.

Thankfully, Santana didn't push any further either.

A moment later, Santana clipped the end of the thread and announced, "All done."

Brittany looked down at her work and nodded proudly, "You're getting pretty good at this. Thanks!"

"Bet my dad would be so proud of me now," Santana joked sarcastically as she began to wash her hands again.

Brittany's brows twitched in confusion as she noted the statement; it was the first time Santana had ever mentioned anything about her family in two years. She was intrigued but she knew better than to let her curiosity get the best of her. Santana was guarded – for whatever reason – and Brittany doubted she'd ever open up to her fully. Brittany had never met anyone so closed off, even she wasn't that bad and she had to keep up with a whole secret identity!

Granted, there was this weird tension that seemed to ebb and flow between them over the years that probably had a lot to do with the heated night at the lounge but Brittany wasn't certain. She had a hard time keeping up with where they stood but she knew for a fact that kissing was off the table…or in their case off the wall.

Santana hadn't kicked her out after it happened but she also never brought it up and Brittany didn't dare to either so they remained in this unspoken limbo of friendly banter that sometimes had heavy undertones of sexual tension.

Nevertheless, Brittany generally did a good job with not getting attached to people so why start now? The less she knew about Santana, the better.

However, tonight Santana didn't share the same sentiment.

"You're apart of some Fight Club," Santana challenged with certainty a moment later as she twisted the knobs and reached for a clean towel to dry her hands, "Aren't you?"

Brittany grinned mischievously at the accusation, "I won't say you're wrong, but you're definitely not right either."

Santana moved to rest against the door frame, eyes narrowed on the blonde curiously, "In a gang then? I don't really see it, but I've been wrong before. The barista gig is just a front, right? You probably have brass knuckles or something hidden in your room."

"Wouldn't you like to know," Brittany teased trying to keep up with the playful tone so Santana didn't try to dive deeper.

"Actually, yes I would." Santana laughed, "I can't think of any other explanations. Wait, are you a cop?"

"Definitely not, but I'm flattered you think I'm tough enough to be in a gang," Brittany giggled, moving to busy herself with cleaning so she didn't have to meet Santana's critical eye.

"You're right. I don't think gang members sleep with a stuffed animal when they're well into their 20's," Santana teased behind a proud smirk.

Brittany only shot her a playful glare, "It's not a stuffed animal. It's a pillow pet and it's quite comfortable."

"Right…" Santana drawled out looking like she was about to burst out laughing.

"It's okay to be jealous," Brittany smirked.

"Jealous? Please." Santana rolled her eyes, "How could I possibly be jealous of a glorified throw pillow?"

Brittany just shrugged, "I don't know what you're into."

"Definitely not that," Santana replied, trying to hide her smile.

"Maybe I'll get you one for Christmas?" Brittany hummed, "Actually, your birthday comes first so I'll get it for your birthday! You'll have to act surprised though."

Santana laughed out again then softened, "Don't think I'm not picking up on what you're doing."

Brittany grew a little nervous but did her best to hide it, "And what's that?"

"Deflecting," Santana matched Brittany's smirk then threw the damp towel at Brittany's face, "I'll figure you out one of these days though. Don't you worry."

"Yeah, doubt it," Brittany laughed as she held the towel in her hands although something deep within her felt a twinge of panic. Since when had Santana suddenly become interested in figuring her out? Brittany's heart raced at the possibilities.


"Come in, Detective." Captain Sylvester called from inside her office. The morning sun was shining brightly through the gaps of the blinds, sending streaks on gold across the mahogany desk, "I hear you have a question for me."

Fabray took a calming breath and entered the room. Her features instantly hardened at the sight of the Captain, "Good morning, Captain. Thank you for seeing me. I appreciate-"

"Spit it out, Fabray. I'm a busy woman." Sylvester snapped as she leaned back in her plush chair. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down the Detective.

"I just got word that the four men we arrested yesterday from the McKinley Bank robbery already made bail. I've been trying to understand how that happened when their records weren't exactly squeaky clean."

"Still waiting for the question."

"I want to know why we let them walk. I didn't even get a chance to interrogate any of them. I'm sure they had plenty of valuable intel on Anderson that we could've-"

"That's above your pay grade, Detective." Sylvester replied dismissively.

Fabray gritted her teeth, holding back her words. She respected the chain of command, she really did, but she really didn't understand it or the reasoning behind decisions made. It seemed simple enough; arrest people that broke the law and charge them appropriately.

But there was always more going on behind the scenes it seemed. The justice system wasn't what it use to be and there were so many things that just didn't add up anymore.

Lately, that pile seemed to be growing a lot faster than usual and that made the Detective nervous.

"Anything else of importance or are you just here to waste more of my time?"

Fabray stood a little straighter, "I request to form a taskforce to take down Anderson. The fact that he remains at large after what happened at the McKinley Bank is just unacceptable. He has been involved in countless cases and for whatever reason we can't seem to catch him. It's ridiculous and he's making a mockery out of the LPD!" Fabray answered sternly, "I want to do something about it."

"No." Sylvester said simply and tilted in her chair. Her eyes landed on the bookshelf, "There's already a taskforce aimed at bringing him in."

"Well they're doing a great job." Fabray replied then cleared her tone of any sarcasm, "I request to join the team then."

"Denied." Sylvester cut her off quickly, a finality to her statement.

"What? Why? I can help. I've dealt with him more than anyone else has. I have the experience."

"Yet, he still manages to evade you. I doubt you'll be of any use." Sylvester scoffed and Fabray faltered, "The answer is no."

"But Captain, this man has committed countless-"

"Are you questioning my authority, Fabray?" Sylvester snapped as she spun back around to face the Detective. There was fury in her eyes as she narrowed them on the blonde, "I know what his record looks like! Just because you've got a shiny new title now doesn't mean you can speak to me however you like. I'm your superior and I'm ordering you to leave it. If you can't then I'll have no choice but to chain you to desk duty. Do you want that?"

"No ma'am." Fabray replied, willing her voice to stay even although she was pissed.

"Good. You're an excellent Detective, Fabray, but you need to stick to what I tell you to. Don't try poking your nose job where it doesn't belong." Sylvester told her as she stood from her desk, "I would've assumed you'd learn that by now after being dangled from a roof the last time you tried to go after him."

Fabray pursed her lips at the memory.

It had been years since the incident and she still hated to think about it, refusing to remember how powerless she felt in the masked woman's hand. She rather focus on what led her to that moment of life or death: Anderson. She was tailing him and back up had taken too long so she attempted a pursuit on foot alone before the trail went cold.

Little did she know, Anderson played dirty.

He had somehow taken Fabray by surprise and with a swift kick, the Detective toppled over the edge of the roof. She dangled there while Anderson escaped. Her grip was slipping, she was out of options, but then she felt a hand around her wrist hoisting her up.

Fabray stared into familiar eyes, but they didn't pull her to safety…not just yet.

"Before I save your life," The masked woman said, "I need your word on something first."

Fabray shook away the thoughts and focused back on the Captain, "I understand that, Captain, and I am not trying to undermine you in any way but I vowed to do whatever I can to protect this city. I don't feel like I'm doing that by just standing here on the sidelines."

"Don't think of it that way then, Detective. Your focus is just better utilized elsewhere," Sylvester said, "Leave Anderson to the taskforce. I want you to focus on bigger threats."

Fabray frowned; an overly-confident asshole with way too much money and notable connections to the most dangerous gang in the city? Anderson was the biggest threat. She couldn't understand how Sylvester didn't agree.

"I know," Sylvester announced but there was sarcasm in her tone, "How about you look into bringing in Bombshell? Isn't that what you like to do? Go after Supers?"

Fabray bit her cheek at the jab, but remained calm, "I'm not interested in going after someone who helps protect the people of this city. That seems counter-productive."

"Bombshell is a threat. She plays by her own rules and what's keeping her from breaking them?" Sylvester challenged, "That's your task now, Detective. Find me that Super. Understood?"

Fabray hardened as she grew suspicious. She wasn't Bombshell's number one fan but how could the Super be more of a threat than Anderson? It didn't make any sense!

Something was up, she could feel it in her bones but she was caught between following orders and acting on her instincts. The latter often got her into trouble, but they rarely led her astray.

"Understood." Fabray nodded obediently.

"Great," The Captain huffed, "Now get the hell out of my office."

As Fabray made her way to her own desk, the gears in her mind began to churn. Something wasn't right and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

"Here are those results, Detective."

Fabray didn't even look up as a file dropped onto the stacks of papers already littering her desk. She let out a sigh and thumbed through the file, spotting the familiar post-it collected earlier from the McKinley Bank scene, before reading through the findings.

There were none, Bombshell was yet again untraceable.

The Super was ultimately a ghost, how the hell was she meant to bring her in? Fabray shoved the file aside and dropped her head in her hands, did she even want to bring her in?

Maybe she wasn't cut out for this job after all?