POWER – PSIA FIELD AGENT, NORTH AFRICA
Under a blazing North African sun, a dusty compound smoldered from the aftermath of a fierce skirmish. Power strode out from a blown-out doorway, dragging a cowering thug by the collar with one hand and clutching a very pleased orange tabby cat in the other. "Anyone else want to try me?!" she shouted, flashing a manic grin around the courtyard. A half-dozen other gunmen lay incapacitated on the ground, groaning in pain as local soldiers rounded them up.
Power's white-blonde hair was tied in a high, messy ponytail streaked with soot, and her desert camo field shirt was splattered with grime – and a fair bit of someone else's blood. Not that she cared. She was riding the high of victory. With a triumphant laugh, she tossed the thug aside into the arms of an approaching soldier. "Take that, you smelly camels!" she crowed, planting her boot on a fallen rebel's AK-47 and striking a pose as if she were on the cover of a comic book.
One of the local military officers – a stern man who had initially balked at taking orders from a brash young woman code-named "Power" – approached her, shaking his head in equal parts disbelief and admiration. "Miss Power, the compound is secure. We've retrieved the stolen technology and... uh... all the Pokémon too," he reported, eyeing the content cat now purring in Power's arms. The soldiers had indeed recovered cages of illegally modified Pokémon from the warlord's stash; a few curious creatures peeked out from their crates at the commotion.
"Of course it's secure!" Power boasted loudly, giving the officer a sharp-toothed grin. "It was easy-peasy. Those fools never stood a chance against me!" She scratched the cat under its chin, her tone softening oddly. "Meowy here scared 'em good too, didn't you, fearless warrior?" The cat – freshly rescued from the compound – meowed in agreement (or perhaps just for more chin scratches).
Power strutted across the courtyard, the adrenaline of battle still pulsing through her veins. Honestly, she was a bit disappointed it had ended so quickly. These so-called elite smugglers and mercenaries had been no fun at all. Barely a scratch on her. She'd have to embellish the story later – maybe tell Denji that she took down fifty men single-handedly (who'd contradict her, anyway?).
As she contemplated how many imaginary foes to add to her tally, a satellite phone began ringing from her discarded gear pile near a sandbag wall. The ringtone – a loud, obnoxious rock anthem – was impossible to ignore. "Huh? What now?" Power muttered. She scooped up the phone, still cradling the cat in one arm.
On the screen flashed Makima's caller ID. Power's eyes narrowed slightly. Makima rarely called her directly – usually it was some handler or Aki giving her missions to avoid Makima's wrath. A call from Makima herself meant something serious.
Power jabbed the answer button and barked, "What? I'm busy celebrating my glorious victory!" The officer nearby winced at her lack of decorum.
Makima's cool voice flowed through the phone, undeterred. "Power. Drop whatever you're doing. It's time to come home. All agents are being recalled to Tokyo immediately."
Power blinked, momentarily speechless (a rare event in itself). She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it as if it might elaborate on those terse words. The cat in her other arm yawned, unimpressed by the drama.
Makima's voice, still on the line, added, "This is an order. Confirm you understand."
Power huffed, bringing the phone back. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you! Geez," she grumbled. She waved a hand dismissively even though Makima couldn't see it. "I ain't deaf. So you really need me back? Finally realized you can't do anything without the great Power, huh?" There was a hint of smug satisfaction in her tone.
On the other end, Makima allowed a brief sigh. "Just get on the next transport, Power. And… good work today." The line clicked off, leaving Power standing there with an open mouth – whether from the abrupt hang-up or the unexpected praise, even she wasn't sure.
"Ha! Of course it was good work," Power proclaimed to no one in particular, recovering quickly. She tucked the phone away and looked down at Meowy the cat. "Hear that? They're begging me to come back. Probably scared without me." The cat simply blinked lazily.
The local officer approached cautiously. "Miss Power, was that... a recall from your headquarters?" he ventured, having caught snippets. "We can arrange a helicopter to the airfield. But what about the remaining intel analysis here?"
Power shrugged, already marching off to retrieve her discarded blood-spattered jacket. "Not my problem anymore! Big boss calls, I answer. Besides," she added with a devilish grin, "I've already done the fun part. Paperwork is for losers like Aki."
She gently deposited Meowy into the arms of a bewildered young soldier. "Take care of my fierce beast until I get back!" she ordered. The soldier nodded dumbly as the cat curled up purring against his chest.
Power stretched her arms above her head, feeling the pops in her shoulders. Honestly, a part of her was thrilled. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she'd started to miss Tokyo – the neon lights, the convenience store fried chicken, yelling at Denji over trivial things, even Aki's constant nagging. And if everyone was being recalled, that meant all her favorite people (and sparring partners) would be gathered in one place again.
As she hopped into the back of an awaiting military jeep, Power pulled out her phone one more time. Her thumb hovered as she considered texting Denji some outrageous lie ("I fought a thousand terrorists!" perhaps) but decided against it – she'd much rather brag in person and see his face.
Instead, she fired off a quick confirmation to Makima's directive: "Power – Fine, I'm coming!" (No one told Power her confirmations had to be formal). Almost immediately, an acknowledgment ping came back from HQ.
The jeep's engine revved and sped out of the compound, kicking up a cloud of golden sand. Power stood tall in the back, one hand gripping the roll bar, hair whipping in the desert wind. She whooped at a few villagers cheering the departure – in their eyes, she was probably some kind of action hero.
"Heh, damn right!" Power hollered, basking in the adulation real or imagined. "Make way for the almighty Power, savior of cats and crusher of evil!"
As the convoy headed toward the horizon, Power felt a surge of anticipation she hadn't felt in a long time. A homecoming usually meant boring debriefs, but this… this was different. The air itself felt charged with the promise of a showdown. She could practically smell the trouble brewing (or maybe that was just the lingering gunpowder).
Either way, she was ready. Tokyo wouldn't know what hit it when Power returned – and woe betide any enemy foolish enough to stand in their way.