A/N: two updates at once!
"Do you think they'll try to get back at us for the game?" Guy asked Vasey, from their vantage point above the fray.
Vasey casually threw a water balloon. It landed smack on someone's head. He sniggered.
"Who cares," he replied.
"I do."
"They're not going to win in the end. What difference does it make if they have a few little victories along the way? If anything it will give them confidence. Making their defeat sweeter, eh?"
"How do you know?" Gisbourne asked, throwing a ballon with as much force as he could. It broke on the ground nowhere near anybody.
Vasey rolled his eyes.
"Do people with power ever lose?" he mused.
Guy didn't respond.
"A clue: no. Just leave them alone and they'll undo themselves," Vasey went on.
"Besides, what are those ninnies gonna do when Robin's not here?" he finished.
The gang was standing in the entryway of the empty fraternity house.
"All right," Robin said. "Will and John, take care of flooding the basement. Allan, you return Vasey's card and pick up his computer. Much, come help me in the living room. And Marian and Djaq—guard duty."
"What's Allan doing with his computer?" Much asked.
Robin grinned.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. We're thiefs!"
"It's not the worst thing in the world to be," Robin replied.
"This isn't some kind of fantasy world where doing bad things with good intentions is excusable. Ever heard of something called a legal code? And prison?" Much squealed.
"Relax. Nothing's gonna happen."
"Famous last words."
"Just help me dump this on the floor, will you?" Robin asked, heaving one of the bags of fertilizer into the living room.
Vasey, Guy, and the rest of the brothers returned in the evening soaking wet and wasted.
"What's that smell?" one of them asked.
"Who put shit all over the floor?!"
"Why are the kegs floating in the basement?"
Guy shot Vasey a look.
"Hey, what's this?" a guy asked, picking up a receipt.
"Hose, fertilizer. . .what the hell, Vasey, that's your name? You did this?"
Before 'the Sheriff' knew what had happened the entire house believed, in their drunken logic, that Vasey had done the job.
"Guy, do something!" he hissed.
Gisbourne stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head.