The neon-drenched skyline of Neon City rippled like a mirage, buildings flickering in and out of existence. In the retrofitted police precinct, alarms blared with a sound somewhere between an '80s synthesizer and a dial-up modem.


Retro Cop Max Power burst into the control room, his aviators reflecting the chaos of flashing screens and panicked officers. "Talk to me, Hack Attack! What's going on?"


The teen tech prodigy's fingers flew over his holographic keyboard, his face illuminated by scrolling data. "It's crazy, boss! We're detecting massive temporal anomalies. It's like... like history is being erased!"


Joe Monday, looking as unflappable as ever in his monochrome suit, calmly flipped through a notepad.


"Observe: the Statue of Liberty has been replaced by a giant lava lamp. The Lincoln Memorial now features Abraham Lincoln riding a T-Rex."


"Great Scott!" Max exclaimed, peering at the screens. "It's like someone's rewriting reality!"


Suddenly, the room shook as Commissioner Bertha "Bullhorn" Kurnatowski stormed in, her ever-present cigar leaving a trail of smoke. "POWER! MONDAY! We've got a situation that's gone from bad to totally bogus!"


A holographic display flickered to life, showing a timeline of Earth's history. Entire epochs were blinking out of existence, replaced by static.


"Someone or something is traveling through time, erasing key moments in history," Bullhorn growled. "The Declaration of Independence? Gone. The Renaissance? Kaput. The invention of the spork? Like it never happened!"


"But who could have that kind of power?" Max wondered aloud.


As if in answer, the largest screen crackled, and a figure appeared – a menacing silhouette with a featureless black bar for a face.


"Greetings, Neon City Police Department," the figure's modulated voice boomed. "I am The Censor, and I'm here to clean up history. Too long has the past been cluttered with 'facts' and 'events' that don't meet our standards. It's time for a more... streamlined approach to reality."


"You can't do this!" Max shouted at the screen. "You'll destroy everything!"


The Censor's emotionless voice somehow managed to convey amusement. "Oh, but I can. And I will. Unless, of course, you think you can stop me?"


The transmission cut off, leaving the room in stunned silence.

Bullhorn was the first to recover. "Well, you heard the creep! Power, Monday – you're going back in time to stop this maniac!"


"But Commissioner," Dottie Doyle chimed in, her beehive hairdo quivering with concern, "we don't have time travel technology!"


Max grinned, his teeth gleaming under the neon lights. "Maybe not yet, Dottie. But I know a certain teen genius and a talking monster truck who might have something to say about that."


As if on cue, RIP's engine roared from the garage below. "Did someone say road trip through time? Count me in, boss!"


Max turned to his partner. "What do you say, Monday? Ready to make history by saving it?"


Monday adjusted his tie, his expression unchanging. "I suppose irregular temporal patrol could be filed under our current job description."


"Then it's settled," Max declared, cracking his knuckles. "Team, let's go back... to the future!"


As the core team rushed to prepare for their temporal mission, the very fabric of reality seemed to hold its breath. In Neon City, where the past and future collided on a daily basis, the ultimate clash of eras was about to begin.