“Last warning!” I shout, letting a basketball-sized fireball float up from my palm.

“Jesus Christ!” a woman’s voice shouts from the line of cars. “Everybody stand down!”

One by one, the agents at the cars lower their weapons. As they do, one of them squeezes between a pair of SUVs and walks towards us, her hands raised in surrender. Through the fog, I recognize her rigid posture and severe ponytail.

“Agent Walker? Is that you?”

Next to me, Nine laughs. “Oh, come on. You going to try arresting us again?”

Walker grimaces as she gets closer, her sharp features more lined than I remember. She’s pale, an alarming streak of gray running through her red hair. I try to remember how badly she was hurt back at Dulce Base. Could she still be feeling the effects of that?

Before she can get too close, Six manifests behind Walker and grabs her by the ponytail. “Not another step,” she snarls.

Walker, eyes wide, obediently stops. Six reaches down and takes the gun off her hip, dropping it into the grass.

“I’m sorry for the commotion,” Walker says, her voice slightly strangled thanks to the angle Six has her head at. “My agents saw that Mogadorian ship land and we thought you might be under attack.”

I let the Lumen in my hands go out, tilting my head at her. “Wait. You came rushing in here because you thought we were under attack?”

“I know you have no reason to believe me,” Walker says, her voice hoarse. “But we’re here to help.”

Next to me, Nine scoffs. I stare hard at Walker, waiting for the punch line, or the secret signal for her men to open fire.

“Please,” she says. “Just hear me out.”

I sigh and motion towards the house. “Bring her in,” I tell Six, then turn to Nine. “If the rest of them try anything even a little suspicious—”

Nine cracks his knuckles. “Oh, I know what to do.”

Six shoves Walker up the broken steps of Adam’s house and through the front door. I follow a few steps behind, leaving the rest of our friends to keep an eye on the small army of government agents.

“Is that a Mogadorian I saw out there?” Walker asks as Six pushes her into the living room. “You have one of them prisoner?”

“He’s an ally,” I say. “Right now, you’re the prisoner.”

“Understood,” Walker says, sounding more tired than anything. Without Six having to push her, Walker sits down heavily on one of the sofas. In the light of the living room, I can see that there’s definitely something off about her. Maybe it’s owing to the odd streak of gray in her hair, but Walker looks drained. She notices the entrance to the Mogadorian tunnels but doesn’t look particularly interested or surprised.

“Ah, a guest,” Malcolm says as he appears in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, his rifle slung over his shoulder. “And she brought lots of friends. Is everything all right?”