"Happy birthday!"

Spender squealed and reached a hand to his chest, clutching the white cloth of his business shirt tightly in his pale fingers. It'd been an awfully long day at work, what with final exams approaching faster than he'd seen them coming, and he'd been less than prepared to have a long grueling talk with his older master. The call had been last minute- very normal for Master Guerra. Spender was anticipating an hour-long conversation at least, more than likely regarding the older man's upcoming retirement. The teacher had no reason to expect shining lights with streamers or banners with the same old traditional mantra of "Happy Birthday" that he'd heard every year. With a grimace, he ran his other hand down the skin of his face, feeling his own hot air when he groaned. "I hate surprises."

A familiar laugh came from behind one of the training dummies- dummies that were becoming increasingly worn with every year that passed. Guerra still hadn't replaced them, though the time would come soon judging by the holes in the hay and the fading bullseye marks. It was just a matter of where the money was, and money was certainly tight. "Which is exactly why we threw you a surprise party!"

"Isabel…"

She flashed him a smile as she made her way over. She was a woman, now, turning eighteen in less than a month after the day. She wore it on her face- confidence, power, and experience. When she walked she strode. Isabel wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him. As much as he wanted to stay irritated, his frown was falling fast. "Isabel, your hair is in my face. You need to cut it."

"Oh shut it, old man."

That ponytail she'd always worn as a child had become something of her default look. Even with the height of her chosen style, it reached the entire length of her lower back. She'd been refusing to cut it for some reason- and when asked about it she wouldn't say. Isabel's typical response was "noses belong on your face, not in other people's business", so they'd all chosen to leave it at that. That didn't stop Max from teasing her about becoming an amazon. He wasn't wrong, after all. She was a brick house that nobody could hope to knock over- well, she was becoming one.

"Old man?"

"Well, you're thirty-two, now!"

"That doesn't mean I'm old!"

"Sure it does!" Spender jumped at the heavy hand on his back, startled by the weight even though he was well aware of the strength in Ed's arms. He hated himself for being so shocked every time Ed laid a hand on him. He should have been used to it. "You're a regular elderly civilian now!" While Ed was still lean compared to Grandpa Guerra, he was by no means unfit. It wasn't the most visible strength but, under the normal scrawniness of the teenage boy he was, there was a trained power in him- a force to be reckoned with behind his spirited appearance. His rounded face had hardened into a firmer jawline where he had a shadow growing that Isabel hated. The boy still loved to make jokes nobody understood at inopportune moments, and he lived to make fun of Isaac, but there was no question that he was a man at heart. When the moment called, Ed was perhaps one of the most productive agents the consortium had. He had a record of finished jobs that made eighteen-year-old Spender's record look embarrassing. Of course, he still hadn't shaken the habit of skipping out on training and Spender doubted he ever would.

"Perhaps in comparison to you…"

Behind his glasses, Ed's eyes lit up. He flashed a large white smile at the acknowledgement that yes, he was still young! He'd forever be young compared to Spender! Infinite old man jokes! Gazing upon his sudden giddiness was akin to watching a puppy's eyes follow the bone waving above its face.

"Happy birthday, sir."

"Hah hah, bet that mid-life crisis is coming up soon. Plan on purchasing then destroying any exceptionally expensive vehicles? Give Suzy a huge scoop? Bet she needs it."

As Isabel stepped back and Spender could finally see outside of his peripheral vision, Isaac and Max came into view. Isaac clutched a neatly-wrapped box in his arms- presumably a gift if Spender wasn't too audacious. The red-head had become tall enough, but stopped growing at around his sophomore year. He wasn't as lean as Ed was, but he wasn't particularly large- just a little thicker at his waist. Max had a good inch on Isaac, and was broader than him in the shoulders. The beginnings of muscles were forming on his arms, and Spender felt confident in assuming it was his training with Master Guerra. He'd only just started a few years back, but the results were evident in battle. "Very funny, Max." Spender smiled sardonically, for which Max gave a bow.

"Really? Ya know, it's all just natural. It just comes to me, ya know?"

"That's the only thing that does, I bet."

Max stuck his tongue in his cheek, head turning to Isaac, who wore a smug, shit-eating grin that stretched from one ear to the other. Isabel and Ed broke into nasally, obnoxious laughter. In such a situation, Spender couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable. He'd watched the kids grow and become competent adults- and he had faith in them- but if he looked their way he'd never see anything but the same group of giggly, dramatic twelve-year-olds they once were.

"Children, please refrain from making such inappropriate jokes in my presence. While you are well old enough to have knowledge of such activities I" he pulled at the collar of his shirt and coughed "would prefer to pretend you didn't."

Isabel snickered and wrapped an arm around Spender's shoulders, squeezing him. "Yeah guys, respect your elders! Censoring ourselves is important! He's from a different time, you know?" It was her way of letting him know they were messing with him, and he'd grown to accept that as a form of apology over the years. Spender rolled his head to the side and made a show of groaning.

"Isabel…"

"I can't believe he's already in his thirties."

Max snorted. "He's been in his thirties for two years now, Ed." Ed ignored him and held his red cup to his lips, savoring the taste of the grape soda that flooded his tongue. It was the last few drops of his cup and it would have been sacrilege to waste something so beautiful; he hardly understood why god would grace their simple race with its taste. "What happened to you, man? You stuck a few years behind? I knew you hit your head when you fell down that staircase last week."

"Shut up, dude." Max only laughed and dodged the punch that flew at his arm to the best of his limited seated ability. Something had been up with Max for most of the night, and it wasn't hard to tell. He kept glancing around the room with his eyes in some sort of deep trance, enough to creep Ed out. It was rare to see Max look so serious, let alone serious in a crowd full of people he could tease and snark at. Ed was happy to have had his attention for a few seconds, even if his friend fell back into the daze sooner than he would have liked. Max's deep brown eyes narrowed as they gazed over fellow dojo students, some spectrals from out-of-town (now that the train was finally in working condition- after five years of it being out of commission), and their friends.

Isaac was in the kitchen attempting to make sense of the organization of the utensils and the like. Little did the poor medium know there was no such organization and he would never manage to find a ladle for the punch bowl unless he wanted to dig through five different cabinets, a drawer and one shelf of the fridge. Isabel was off to the side, making conversation with Spender and Zarei by the training dummies. Her hands were moving faster than her lips as she avidly retold a story. From the looks of it, it was an embarrassing one, because Zarei's eyes lit up. The corner of her lips gave the slightest sign of tugging upward. Spender looked pale and ready to leave the conversation, and continued to make attempts to mingle with other people. Isabel would reach out, grab his arm, and ask him to stay. He always folded to her, something Ed was starting to refer to as the 'Isabel Effect'. "I guess it's weird, you know? I mean, we're eighteen now."

"Yeah… it's been a good six years, hasn't it?!" Ed sat up in his seat and lightly punched Max's shoulder, a little payback for the bruise he already felt on his skin. "I mean, in just the time that we were in middle school we took down, like, two big baddies! Isn't that awesome?!"

"If by awesome you mean terrifying and life-scarring, then sure."

Max rolled his eyes and knocked back the rest of his soda. He was leaning so far into his seat that the back of his neck almost touched the bottom cushion. It wasn't the most comfortable spot to be in, but Ed could tell there was most certainly a reason for his bad attitude. His trademark cynical frown curved downward, more-so than usual. It was both exasperation-inducing and food for curiosity. Ed was interested in a bite of the mystery fruit.

"Yeah! It was terrifying and life-scarring and you loved every minute of it."

Even with the coldness and stubbornness of Max Puckett, there was a glint behind his eyes that anybody who cared enough could see. It was always there, hiding in the corners of his eyes, and it never failed to give Max away. The batter glowered and glanced into the waves of spectrals lost in conversation. It could have been about anything, really- past adventures and complaints about coworkers and family members. "Whatever. Changing the subject."

Of course Max would, Ed mumbled to himself. It was just like him to desperately pile bricks back up on a wall already shattered. It was amusing to see him flustered and trying to pretend like he hadn't just been read in five seconds. It was, what Ed considered, Max's most endearing trait; it was the need to save face for the sake of others, no matter if everyone could tell he was being a martyr.

"What are your plans for after we graduate? You going to college or what?"

Ooooh boy. That was the one conversation Ed was not ready to have yet. He chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck, choosing to stare at the ground rather than Max's eyes. There was a lot going on in his head whenever that word came up. 'College'. It was a given for anybody who wanted to do anything. It was a buzzword. Kids threw it around all the time with no real plans, and Ed hadn't realized he was one of them until it was too late. "I mean, Isabel's going to college, so by default…"

"Mayview Community?"

"Pfft… we couldn't get into Mayview University! Those students are freaking insane." Mayview University was as close as any of them were getting to an Ivy League school. Well, it was as close as kids who wanted to stay home would come to one. The kids that got in, those who weren't rich anyway, were the kids that spent hours at night typing up the perfect essays. They were the kids that skipped lunch to go to tutoring, even though they really didn't need it. Basically, they were the kids with no life. Mayview Community was the easier, simpler, kinder choice for those who didn't want to be walking zombies that feasted on outdated books.

Max nodded in understanding. He finally sat up, and Ed took that as a good sign he was ready to be involved in a conversation. Even if you really don't like the conversation. "Any idea what you're majoring in?" Ed sucked on his cheeks and shrugged, to which Max snickered and patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, buddy. You'll figure out what you wanna do in college. That's what the first few years are for, ya know?"

"Yeah…" Ed rolled his empty cup around on the table, watching as it bent and conformed to his will. "Izzy's going in for literature. You?" If there was one thing about Eightfold that stuck with Isabel, it was an interest in books. Isabel never said a word about it to anyone outside of the club, but she did more reading than one would have expected. Sometimes he stayed up all night to greet the sun, only to pass by her room and find he hadn't been the only one. She was always there, a cute little ponytail on her head that she couldn't get out of her face, curled up against the headboard. There was always a book in her lap and an idle bookmark at her hip. The sun always came in just so from her window, enough to see one side of her face light up. She always had bags under her eyes on those mornings, but Ed hardly ever noticed it when she was focused on her reading. She never noticed him standing there. Sometimes he watched her until the sunrise had well passed, leaning against her door as blatantly as could be. Eventually he'd retreat to bed and leave her to read in peace.

"Eh, engineering, but I'm doing some parkour videos on the side." Of course, parkour exploits. They were Max's one true passion. Max always seemed to have a surplus of coins and the like on him, and it was, no question, because he made his money in tips. He spent any time away from the club performing on his bike, riding down staircase railings and skateboarding over public works of art. It was just what he did. On occasion he and the others worried about him and questioned if he had much of a will to live, but Max had shown them time and time again that he knew what he was doing. He did hurt himself on the rare event, but Isaac and Isabel were always there to patch him up. Isabel always offered jokes and fun but did little in the ways of working around hurting him. Isaac was much gentler, but his services came with a hefty lecture. Either way, Ed enjoyed watching Max get patched up.

"Sweet." Ed went to go take another sip of his soda, but realized when he tipped the cup above his lips there was no sweet artificial grape nectar. He'd forgotten completely that he'd been out, lost in conversation and contemplative thought. Bashfully, he raised his cup to Max's face, nodded to the kitchen, offering his best grin.

Max's eyes darted back and forth between Ed and the kitchen door before he swiped the cup out of Ed's hands ungraciously and parted with a "fine, you lazy ass."

"Yes, finally!" Isaac triumphantly held a black plastic ladle in the air, giddy that he'd found it all on his own in the mess that was the dojo's kitchen. How they managed to get by day-to-day with no means of telling this-from-that was beyond him. He prayed for Isabel's and Ed's future roommates. That was a hell he was glad he'd never know. He'd always understood his friends were disorganized, lazy human beings, but he hadn't thought them uncivilized- not until tonight. "Now to get this to the punchbowl before somebody decides to put their entire face in it." He was joking to himself, but he was ninety to eighty percent sure that he'd heard a story about one of the dojo's students doing just that. He was lucky if somebody hadn't already desecrated the punch bowl by the time he got back. Isaac backed away from the drawer that'd he'd had to dig through for a good five minutes, and was turning on his heel to make an escape when he crashed into another partygoer. With a shrill screech, Isaac dropped the ladle and slipped on his own feet, reaching for anything to catch himself. "Hah, finally found the ladle, huh?" What Isaac found under his hands was the warm cloth of a hoodie, a hoodie that belonged to a familiar face.

"Shut up, Max."

As much as Isaac tried to stand on his own, he found it an almost impossible task. His hands were clinging snugly to Max's neck, arms wrapped over his friend's shoulders as he tried desperately to straighten himself out. Max was laughing at him. He could feel it in the vibrations of his chest, a very well-toned chest if Isaac's latest memory of the public pool served. In fact, that was what he was concentrating on as much as he possibly could, because if he were to focus on anything else…

He jerked when Max laid his hands on his sides, pulling him up so that they were on eye-level.

"You can open your eyes, now."

Isaac peeked one eye open at Max, who was smirking at him from under the beak of his cap. "You know, for a guy who calls himself a man of justice, you're pretty slimy."

"Can you not make puns for one second? I swear, I can't go one second without you throwing shade at me."

Max tossed his head back and laughed, taking one hand off of Isaac's side to hold it against his stomach. Isaac swallowed heavily, fingers tapping where they sat at Max's neck. There it was again. Time after time he'd tried desperately to squash the feeling in his stomach, and when that didn't work he resorted to telling himself that he was just annoyed. Max was irritating. It was normal. He never let himself think- not for one second- that what he was feeling was anything else. It got tiring after a while, keeping up that conviction. It was like he was slowly losing hope of ever feeling anything different when Max laughed or smiled or snarked or basically did anything to exist.

His hands fell from Max's neck, sliding slowly and torturously down his friend's shoulders until he felt Max's chest against the palms of his hands. Isaac couldn't really tell if it was Max's heart or his own he was feeling, beating rapidly like it was beckoning him. There was, of course, the option that it was both. It wasn't the first time he'd felt their heartbeats fall in time. Most moments where he was sleeping close to Max or had fallen into him felt like that. Every time it was the same beckoning call, a sound Isaac could listen to for hours. It didn't mean anything, not necessarily. He and Max were best friends, after all.

Still, he recalled the feeling every time Max was near- holding his hand, the look in Max's eyes when they'd have only inches separating them, and more than anything the kinda-was-but-wasn't-really-but-it-kind-of-was kiss. Max could so much as whisper a joke in his ear and it'd make some pit in his stomach do flips, and sometimes it was harder to breath.

It was stupid. There was no way- no way. He'd made it very clear to Max that they were just friends and only friends at the end of their stay on the beach. Max, albeit reacted strangely, was ultimately unfazed, so Max wasn't interested either! What happened on the beach had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. He hadn't considered kissing him again, just to see how it felt, but he had done small things like spend time with him every chance he got and made borderline flirtatious jokes. He'd seen lots of movies where friends were like that, though. It was funny because it was true. It didn't mean Isaac was interested. It just meant he and Max were that close. Two friends act kind of flirty when they're that close because there were less walls.

That's what he told himself when he'd stare just a little too long at Max, who'd usually already turned away. That's what he told himself when Max would run a hand through his hair while he napped in his lap, and he'd almost nestle in if it wouldn't give away that he were awake. That's what he told himself when Max would make just the mildest suggestive joke and his heart would go skyrocketing. Max was just his friend. That was it. There was nothing else between them and there never would be. Isaac repeated the mantra to himself, even as he clenched Max's shirt between his fingers and pulled Max just a little closer, the top of his shoe nudging lightly against one of Max's. His lips tingled in curiosity, skin burning under his shirt where Max's hand still laid at his side. Max's name stung in his throat, fell at the edge of his tongue. He pulled Max a little closer still, trying to get his attention. As much as he loved Max's laugh (when it wasn't directed at him- which he supposed it was this time), he wanted Max to be doing something very different with his mouth right then.

Max blinked and sobered at the second tug. "You know, shade is a word used by people who know when to use it, Isaac. I hate to break it to you, but you are not one of those people." He pulled away from Isaac's grip without so much as blinking at the redness of his friend's cheeks and the proximity they'd had. Max picked up the ladle that lay dormant on the cold tile of the kitchen and held it out to Isaac, eyes still bright and full of humor. Isaac looked from Max to the ladle several times, blinking. When he didn't reach out to retrieve the ladle, Max snickered and pressed it against Isaac's nose. "You might wanna clean it before you go and put it in the punch bowl- fair warning."

Max pulled away with Isaac's head following him, the medium's mouth agape at the obliviousness of his friend. The reality of what he'd been contemplating came crashing down upon his sanity. If Isaac had been red in the face before, he was sunburnt by then. Max opened the fridge and took a grape soda out of the three twelve-packs inside, then turned around and walked straight out of the kitchen with only a "see ya" as parting words.

Isaac smacked himself in the face. Of all the stupid things he could have even considered doing-!

"And then he says he's glad that nobody was hurt, then- five seconds later-!"

"The spirit bit him."

"The spirit like just chomped on his shoulder and he was on the ground screaming. At the time it was kinda like 'oh well this may as well happen', but looking back, that was a really bad situation. Our old math teacher Miss Baxter walked in on us and everything."

"Did she, now?"

"Yep. And I've got my foot just going at this thing and Max has his bat out and we're just wailing on this spirit but to her it looks like, you know, we're beating Spender senseless. So she walks in and she freaks out and Spender" Isabel choked on her laughter, putting a finger up to signal for Zarei to wait "Spender just screams: 'I CAN EXPLAIN! THEY'RE HELPING ME! I WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN!' and Miss Baxter just bolts out the door, she's like, freaked out."

Zarei, reserved in nature, laughed as silently as she could. The chuckle was so silent, in fact, that Spender almost thought she was mocking him. "She wouldn't look Max in the eye for a week!" The party he'd assumed was a 'surprise party' was slowly turning into a roast- a roast he certainly didn't ask for. Isabel dug up some of the oldest and most embarrassing stories in the book to fling around.

Part of him was begging for any audience but Zarei, and another part of him was infinitely thankful that it was Zarei and only Zarei. That was better than Agent Walker or some of his other coworkers, he supposed. After all, he had appearances to keep, and his student feeling comfortable enough to share stories like that would not have looked good.

"My, Isabel," Zarei placed a graceful hand on her chest, playing with the necklace she'd decided to wear for the night "you have a lot of memories with Spender, don't you? Though I suppose that's only to be expected. You were his student for so many years."

Isabel nodded and straightened up, shoulders back. "Oh I have way more where that came from!" She said that, but her eyes were scanning the room. Spender wondered what she was looking for, but he answered his own question when he followed her gaze to Ed and Max. "But, I should probably leave him alone to go and mingle with other people. He still has to deal with me every day, so…"

Spender smiled and patted the hand that Isabel set on his shoulder affectionately. "I understand. Go talk to the rest of the club. We'll probably chat again later." He was beside himself with how close his students had gotten over the years. In the time he'd been their mentor he'd watched them grow out of their boxes and reach for each-other in ways he hadn't been quite expecting. Isaac smiled more often than he frowned, and Ed was more than ready to jump at anything he wasn't sure he could take on. When he couldn't, Isabel was confident enough to have his back. Max himself seemed to soften when in the company of his dear friends; he snarked less and felt more. Anyone else would have never seen a change, but there was something about the club that had Max at peace. Pride welled in Spender every time he thought about it. He considered himself a proud parent. The club was, after all, his creation. That made each of those kids his children, and they would never stop being his children.

"Thanks." Isabel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Happy birthday! Don't get too drunk, you've still gotta drive yourself home."

"I would never drink so much, Isabel!" He called after her retreating back. "I'm not seventeen anymore!"

"Oooh, you drank at seventeen? And here I thought you were a goody-two-shoes." Zarei smiled up at him, eyelashes batting sardonically, as if to say her accusation was completely innocent and devoid of ulterior motive. Spender rolled his eyes, but offered Zarei his best smile. He was, after all, in a good mood.

"I had wine with dinner at most. Champagne on New Year's Eve. I was making a generalization about people who are seventeen. I, of course, was not one of those people at seventeen."

"Of course." Zarei raised her glass and took a sip of the red wine that just seemed to fit her. Dark and edgy and pretentious- but a ordinarily loved drink. "That's not to say you haven't passed that stage quite yet."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're thirty-two years old, Richard. I bet by next year you'll be jumping into a mid-life crisis."

"A mid-life crisis? That's not- that doesn't sound like me!" He was only thirty-two! People didn't go jumping into risky scenarios simply because another year passed! Though he supposed that was the part that made it a joke. She was joking. "That's not funny."

"Funny is subjective, Rick."

He grumbled.

Zarei's smile dropped, and whatever playfulness she'd had seeped away, out of his hands. "Rick, look at me."

He glanced her way, noting that it was worry in her eyes, not poison as he'd originally been expecting. Zarei did that often, beat his expectations into the ground. She was a woman of mystery, somebody he'd never been able to read, even in all the years that he'd known her. He could read her faces, sure. He could tell if she tried keep a secret, but he had no way of knowing what else she'd do. "It's seemed like something's been worrying you all night. Is there something wrong?" He thought about saying no, there wasn't anything wrong- and that was partly the truth. He was worrying about nothing, nothing that would matter for a long time, at least. It was silly. He was silly. Especially as a spectral, it was plain ridiculous to spend time questioning. It was Zarei, though, and any lie he tried to pass as truth would be transparent as glass. Spender frowned and gestured to the front door.

"I need some air. Care to accompany me?"

"So, now that we've been standing here in silence for a good fifteen minutes, do you mind telling me exactly what's on your mind?"

Zarei leaned opposite of Spender against the wooden wall of the dojo. She was bored enough to play with her drink, swaying her cup in circles just to watch the wine move within its den. She hadn't sipped from it in quite some time. She was trying to devote her attention to him, and he was wasting her time. "How do you know it's been fifteen minutes?"

"Your watch, Rick."

"Oh, right…" He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of just the right way to word his thoughts. It was something that went undiscussed in the shows on the television. People didn't want to think about it, and he could see why. The pondering he was left with, when he knew there were no real answers. It wasn't just frustrating- it was devastating. "Speaking of time, well" he paused and turned his eyes away from her blazing ones. Judgement eyes. That's what he'd called it when they were newbies. She'd always get that look, the look that made him talk even when he didn't want to. It was the twitch of her lips and the cock of her eyebrow. Zarei was an intimidating woman. "I've been thinking a lot."

"That's nothing new."

"Sort of- I've been thinking about death."

Zarei's eyes widened, the circles she turned her glass in slowed. "Death? Richard, you're thirty-two, not seventy."

"I know that."

"Then why is this something that's bothering you?" She paused, then continued. "We were joking about a mid-life crisis. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that!" He turned away from her to watch the empty fields of the training yard. The stars were out and bright, so bright they were almost a comfort. "It's just that death has been around every corner lately, Zarei. We're always in danger. My students are constantly in danger! Death isn't a distant concept. Of course I'm worried about my life- the lives of my students! Your life! The life of my child- if I live to have one! Dammit!" Rarely did Spender curse. It was a one-in-a-million chance that he would toss so much as the phrase 'gosh dang' on an off day. Zarei would need to be the calmer of the two, and they both knew it.

"This isn't about your line of work. This is about Conall's allies."

And there lied the center of it all. It'd been a question he'd always had, but it'd grown more persistent. After they'd returned from the beach, it was something in the back of his mind that he could think about while he brushed his teeth and waited to fall asleep. As the years passed, it became more of a hobby- sitting at his desk and mulling over where that illusive third ally was. Lately, it'd been on his mind constantly. He misspoke while teaching class, he wrote their name on history papers. It was getting to be too much. "We've still got one missing. There's still one out there, nowhere to be found, and we have no clue what they want."

"Conall and Velda made it very clear their motive was revenge, from what you've told me."

"I mean what else. It's been six years and they still haven't shown up. How are they planning to exact revenge? Who are they targeting first?"

He forced himself to take deep breaths. It was nice to take advantage of the winter air. A soothing hand found his shoulder and squeezed. The eyes of judgement were probably long gone, lost behind a familiar air of empathy. He couldn't bear to see those eyes casted at him. Usually he wasn't so damn pathetic. Well, it was a matter of time, he supposed. The fear had been wearing him down for years. It was all he could do to not snap with every lost train of thought and every answer at the tip of his tongue. It was weakness; it was submission to the unknown.

Death.

"We'll deal with them when they come around, Richard. Your students are strong- you are strong. When the time comes, we will win."

He nodded and set a hand on the one that squeezed his shoulder, pressing against it and leaning into the support.