As the car heads back into the city, Erik sighs.
"This again? I should have known you wouldn't drop it." The blonde sees the old man frown. "...Back then, I wasn't a patrol cop whiling away my nights on the beach until I could retire. I was a detective, and that case was handed to me - or at least it was mine for an hour or so." He looks out the window, as if worried that someone could be spying on them. "We found the body - just like you described: Three golden dildos, and not a scratch on her. Before I could really get my investigation started, that's when
they showed up - the government agents - black helicopters, some sort of SWAT teams, the whole shebang. They pulled rank on me and took the body with them - calling my superiors and telling me I'd be fired if I interfered in their investigation."
He's quiet for a long moment. "One of the agents was a guy I'd known back when I was in the army - a special forces guy named Eddie. He gave me some friendly advice to drop this whole thing - we were dealing with matters 'literally out of this world', he said. I was pretty reckless back in those days, so I ignored his advice, and started following Eddie around. He kept heading to this abandoned bottling plant - with seemingly no reason to do so. I planned to break in and find out what the hell was going on. Turned out that a reporter and a costume named the Blue Streak were interested in what was going on as well, so we all teamed up."
Rain patters against the car's body as Erik turns onto the highway. "The night before our break in was supposed to go down, I was woken up by the sound of a pistol being cocked. When I got my bearings, I saw that my service pistol was in my hand, my finger on the trigger - I couldn't move it away, no matter how hard I tried, it was like there was some force holding it there, right against my temple. Looking around, I saw Eddie sitting across the room, looking at me. He said that the only reason I was still alive was because I'd saved his life during the war - if it had been anyone else but him, I'd have been found dead the next morning - a suicide."
Back in the city proper, he parks the car and turns to face her. "He left me there - pointing my gun at my head for over an hour, before I could break free. When I got free, I called up my partners to warn them, but got nothing. They found the reporter in an alley - a mugging gone wrong, the papers said. The Blue Streak... No one ever saw her patrolling the city's rooftops ever again." Erik grips her hand, expression grave. "You see know why I really didn't want to tell you this? I got told to drop it - I should have listened."