Disclaimer: if you haven't figured out by this stage of the game that I don't own Victorious, I weep for you. I truly do.

For those who are curious, there'll be three more chapters after this one (or, more precisely, two chapters and an epilogue). Oh, and that whole "No more skipping back and forth in time" bit that I mentioned earlier? In the immortal words of the Cyber-Leader from DoctorWho, "That was designated: a lie."

Two hours earlier – Leighton House

Tori Vega was well and truly trapped. To her rear, a welded door; before her, one of the obelisk-things Trina had so vividly described, advancing with obviously homicidal intent. There was no way André could come to her aid in time – if he was still alive. Certainly the howl of pain she had just heard didn't bode well in that regard.

She shook her head violently. No. Mustn't think like that. Mustn't allow myself to lose hope.

Okay, energy monster from Mars or whatever you are – let's find out whether you're bulletproof, shall we?

She fired one barrel into the dead center of the thing. The recoil thrust her violently backwards and the bang stung her eardrums, but she managed to stay on her feet. The buckshot scattered behind the creature and struck the far wall, sending down a shower of plaster.

A hole appeared in the obelisk, of a much lighter and paler shade than the jade coloring that dominated its surface. Within the hole, waves of light rippled outward from center to edge, like a pond when a stone is dropped into it.

Did I do it? Did I kill it?

The hole began to solidify and darken.

Shit. It's already healing.

But I've bought myself some time.

Her only hope was the second floor. Without power, the elevator was useless, so that meant the stairs. It was not a prospect she relished. Clutching the banister with her left hand so tightly that the blood drained from her knuckles, the gun tucked under her right arm, she began pulling herself up step by agonizing step.

When she was halfway to the landing, the creature finished repairing itself and began to pursue again. She was stunned to see that, rather than simply following her up the stairs, it levitated, vanished from sight, then reappeared in the air six inches higher, over and over again – as if it were climbing its own, invisible staircase, with calm implacability.

Her panic told her to keep going to the top of the stairs, but her rational mind realized that she would never outrace the thing. There was only one option. She stopped, spun, and fired the other barrel.

Her aim was off this time, and she only grazed the creature's flank; but it was enough to halt the thing once more. She dropped the shotgun and resumed her flight, half-walking, half-dragging herself onto the landing.

Okay, I'm out of firepower now – but I'm not out of options. Not yet.

The creature materialized behind her. Without thinking, she seized a painting of an elderly man from the wall of the small antechamber she had entered and hurled it at the thing, then hobbled into the studio and slammed the door shut.

That was a Tintoretto I just used as a discus, wasn't it? Oops.

Lord Leighton's studio was a long, sparsely furnished hall that during the daytime enjoyed bright sunlight through a row of windows on the north wall; now, it was lit only by a few candles, which scarcely sufficed to illuminate the stacks of cans and bags of flour that Jade and Beck had piled all around the room. In the days before the Vanishing, it had still been used by artists from time to time, with the special dispensation of the house's managing committee; the only signs of this now were an incongruously modern glass enclosure at the far end, and a great turquoise-painted metal screen adjacent to it behind which models could change in privacy. She stumbled toward this and concealed herself.

A scythe of purple energy sliced the door in two, and the creature entered. Why did it need to do that? She wondered. Couldn't it just teleport in?

Unless…unless it's trying to intimidate me.

Well, if so, it's sure as hell working.

Her trembling hand went to the taser in her pocket. She doubted it would do much, given that two rounds of buckshot at point-blank range had proved only a minor inconvenience to the creature; but it was her last hope – and she couldn't hide forever.

She could see the creature's reflection in the glass wall behind her. It hovered six feet away, unmoving – waiting.

Yep. It's definitely trying to mess with my head. It's just going to wait there until I finally crack and come crawling out, begging for death.

She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. I'm coming out, all right – but I won't be on my knees. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die fighting.

She eased herself to her feet, still hidden by the screen.

One.

Two.

Three.

With a scream that would do a banshee proud, she whirled around the edge of the screen and fired the taser.

The twin probes buried themselves in the midsection of the obelisk and discharged their crippling voltage. To her amazement, the entire body of the creature promptly began to shudder and waver. The purple lightning arcs that had been circling it vanished; its lethal front tendril, which had just begun to emerge, shrank to a stub, then was completely absorbed into its bulk.

She kept up the voltage. The obelisk was becoming unstable, cracks appearing in its jade façade…

With a blinding burst of white light, the creature vanished entirely.

For a moment, Tori simply gaped at the empty space where the thing had been, not even lowering the taser. A slow smile crept onto her lips; then at last she threw restraint to the winds and gave a joyous whoop.

"YES!"

As if in answer, a shout came from outside. She looked down into the moonlit garden.

André was pinned against a row of hedges by another creature. His left arm hung limply at his side, blood dripping from a horrific gash that ran the entire length of his bicep and halfway down his forearm; but he still clutched the baseball bat in his right hand, and he was whipping it from side to side with reckless abandon.

"You want a piece of me, you alien son of a bitch? Come and get it!"

There was no time to find a way out of the house. Not hesitating even for a moment, she pulled off her shawl, wrapped it around her right hand several times, and punched the window glass, shattering it. André looked up, startled.

"Use this!" Tori cried, and tossed the taser to him through the broken window. In one smooth, graceful motion, he dropped the bat, caught the taser one-handed, turned, and fired. Like its partner, the creature shuddered, fissured, and exploded into light.

"Holy shit! I think you've found their Achilles' heel, Tori!" cried a jubilant André. He raced for the back door to the house.

By the time he entered the studio, Tori had managed to hobble back to the other end of the room. Her leg throbbed more violently than ever, her hand had not escaped several cuts from the glass, and her sternum still ached from the shotgun recoil.

But dammit, I'm alive.

They locked eyes.

"You're hurt pretty badly, 'Dré," said Tori.

"You too, muchacha."

"We need to get you some bandages."

"And you need to lie down ASAP."

A pause.

He seized her with his right arm and pulled her close; she wrapped her arms around his muscular torso. Their lips joined.

It was nearly fifteen seconds before they could bring themselves to pull apart.

"Okay, what's our next step?" she asked.

"We need to get to the nearest police station and stock up on as many tasers and stun guns as we can," he answered. "Then I'll go find the others."

"You mean, we'll go find the others."

His jaw dropped. "You have got to be freakin' kidding me. You're not in any condition to-"

She placed her finger on his lips. "Sorry, babe, but this is one item that's not up for debate."

She could sense the internal debate raging in his mind. "…All right, fine. But you stick close to me at all times. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." She gave him a mock salute.

He chuckled. "Okay, then. First, we get bandaged up. Then, it's time to go be heroes."