Stooped over an easel, Seth was working on a new painting; his mind filled with images of another baby entering into his family. Another baby…Nancy's gynecologist confirmed the pregnancy and had announced that she was 10 weeks along. Nothing that Seth didn't already know, to be fair. The time frame corresponded with that night he and Nancy had to themselves. The confirmation, though, just made it all the more real.

They wouldn't know the gender for another eight weeks. Not that it really mattered, but both Seth and Nancy had their own predictions. Nancy believed that it'd had to be a boy since they already had a girl, however, due to the Romani fortune teller spirit from his youth, Seth wasn't so sure about that. According to her, Seth and his friends would each have female heirs and it had proven to be pretty accurate thus far.

In the outline of his soon-to-be painting, he was composing his growing family. He was holding Nancy as his equal — 'as it should be', he knew she'd concur. Nancy herself was noticeably pregnant in her depiction and was wearing a black dress and jewelry fit for a dark queen or a goddess — 'as she should be', he insisted. He knew that, when he would begin painting, Nancy's emerald green eyes and dark red hair would leap off the canvas, metaphorically speaking. Little Raven would be the picture of youth and innocence, with a flowing, white gown and flowers like at that wedding she'd performed in and hugging onto her mother's pregnant belly. As for himself, he wasn't planning much; just a plain, average image of himself to make sure all the spotlight would be on the most important women in his life.

He was so engrossed with his work that he didn't hear his wife come in or approach him.

"Hey, I'm not that pregnant yet!" she joked, leaning over his shoulder to look at the drawing.

He turned and saw her wearing her faded 'Lilith Fair' concert tee and black sweatpants, looking as sexy in her casual 'I've been cleaning, cooking, and running after a small child all day' look as she did in the painting.

"You weren't supposed to see it til it was done," he replied with a sheepish smile and a small laugh, which soon faded as he changed the subject, "Do you need help with Raven? I've got some time before I have to head out this afternoon."

"Yes, please," Nancy nodded, "I hate to tear you away from your magnum opus, but Raven's been particularly hyperactive today. She keeps trying to get Thor out of his cage so that he and Binxly can play together. I keep telling her no, but she's a determined little spitfire."

Setting his charcoal pencil down, he wiped his hands, smiling humorously; "She's gonna be a handful in a few years, huh?"

"You mean she isn't yet?" Nancy retorted, "My mother keeps telling me that Raven is payback for all of the years she spent raising me, because she's 'so much like I was at that age'. Personally, I don't see it."

"Oh, I see it," Seth stated with mirth. A thought occurred to him, which he realized would be good to bring up now. "By the way, Huong's wife called him back home unexpectedly. Apparently, his son caught strep throat. Turns out ol' Uncle Roy is also a grandpa with a ten year-old grandson. Who woulda thought?" He shook his head a bit. "Anyway, Huong said that he'll visit with his whole family for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"I'll have to make extra this year then," Nancy stated, looking pleasantly surprised, "Oh! You should make the barbecue smokies and finger foods! And Raven will help me make the desserts and main dishes."

"Are you sure she's old enough to help out with Thanksgiving this year?" Seth asked.

"Oh, please," Nancy laughed with a shrug, "The most she'll be doing is stirring mashed potatoes and then the homemade pie filling. Cooking 101 and her introduction into being self-sufficient."

Seth nodded; "Makes sense. Well, if she's got that much energy to keep trying to get Thor out of the cage, she can use it to play outside. It's unusually warm for November."

There was a pause as he began rubbing at a sore spot that had begun to make itself known on his neck. Yeah, getting up and having a little mini-workout watching Raven will do him some good. After a moment, though, he noticed Nancy looking at him pensively before finally speaking again.

"Is everything alright?" she asked suddenly.

Taken aback, he sat up a little straighter; "Why do you ask?"

"Seth, don't think I haven't noticed you acting a kinda different for a while now," she pointed out, "And after eight years together, I can tell when something's wrong." Seth grimaced at that, the sore spot on his neck becoming more fascinating all of a sudden. "Did something happen?"

He thought long and hard about his response, wondering if he should tell her about his plans to torture a pedophile. Would she care? She was a feminist and viewed pedophiles as lower than scum. Surely she'd be on his side and maybe even willing to cover for him should the need arise. However, he also didn't need her involved. He didn't need her to worry anymore than she already was. Mulling it over, he instead decided to focus on what he was going to tell her regarding his upcoming leave of absence that he'd need to torture Ted. It'd take three days away from his family, and that was three days he'd need a good excuse to get away for.

"No," he replied after finally coming to a decision, "I'm just…overwhelmed with how much is on my plate, I guess."

"Well…" Nancy shifted on her feet, "I can put in a couple job applications. Something part time and second shift — that way I can watch Raven while you work." Nancy gave him a careful look. "You won't be a piece of shit if I also get a job, you know? I just can't have you getting overwhelmed with financial responsibility before the baby comes without me helping to contribute to our household. It's my family too and I'm just as capable as you of bringing home a paycheck."

"Yeah," Seth mused with a chuckle, "I can see you working at a small underground café or an independently-owned bookstore. Somethin' like that would suit you well."

"Naturally," she replied coyly before giggling a bit as she gave him a squeeze.

Bowing his head a little, Seth licked his lips in thought before relaying the lie he'd carefully decided upon; "So…I'm gonna be gone for a few days soon for a camping trip with Lucas and Matthew. I don't know when exactly, but it's important to us. We're aimin' to celebrate Lucas's birthday, if possible."

"Okay," Nancy shrugged back, granting her unspoken blessing, "just make sure you call everyday and take plenty of food, alright?"

As he nodded in assurance, Seth felt the knot tightening in his stomach. He hated lying to her. Hated that she would be so supportive of this falsehood he'd fed her.

If she only knew…

Ababababababa

Matthew and Seth were just about to enter what they assumed to be Lucas' exercise room when they heard music coming from inside that Matthew identified with a groan as the song 'Self Control' by Laura Branigan. He'd recognize that annoying 80's trash anywhere after that weird music video Lucas had made him watch a million times.

Once he opened the door, however, he saw something very unexpected. Lucas was twirling around a stripper pole, wearing just his 3-striped workout pants. Matthew's jaw dropped in a mixture of disgust and shock. Motherfucker was pole-dancing like a seasoned stripper! Who the hell teaches rich kids to pole-dance like that anyway? Suddenly, the memories of catching Lucas dancing around in his underwear when they were both tweens weren't so bad in comparison to what he was witnessing at the moment.

He turned to Seth to see if he was as shocked as he was, only to find that motherfucker looking as if all was normal. Was he in the fucking Twilight Zone?! With a grimace, he turned back to Lucas and finally spoke up.

"Jesus Christ!" he snapped, startling him, "Who the fuck teaches rich snobs like you to pole-dance like that? Did daddy-o shell out the money so that his only son could work the pole like a seasoned Chippendale dancer?"

His focus broken, Lucas lost his grip and fell to the floor, cursing in Russian as he hit all the wrong spots.

"Fucking asshole!" he swore, "Knock next time, would ya?!"

They approached Lucas, and Seth helped him up without much hassle. Matthew, however, did not let the matter slide.

"Motherfucker, why the hell were you 'pole-dancing'?" he demanded, "You knew we were coming over to look at the machine — the fuck did you expect?!"

"I was doing it as a form of exercise," Lucas explained, grabbing a water bottle from the floor and taking a sip, "That's what pole-dancing is, you know. It's both exercise and art. Also, it's none of your damn business where I learned to do it." He stopped to take another drink, before shooting Matthew a glare. "As for why I was doing it now? It's because I wasn't expecting you two for another hour! Since when are you early for anything?"

Matthew struggled to come up with a proper response, still caught up on the whole idea of Lucas pole-dancing at all.

"That's such a bullshit excuse!" he sputtered after a minute, "Chicks pole-dance to titillate men into throwing money at them at strip clubs. I mean, hell, Seth's wife could tell ya. She did the same thing before she became a pregnant housewife with stretch marks and a C-section scar from carrying Seth's oldest crotch goblin."

"Shut the fuck up," Seth grumbled, glaring at him.

"Titillate?" Lucas scoffed, "You better watch those five dollar words there. They actually make you look like more of a simpleton than you are."

Ignoring that jab, Matthew suddenly got a perverse idea, which drew the grin back to his face.

"You don't give lessons, do you?" he asked, stroking his goatee, "I know of a certain stuck-up princess that could use a few lessons on the matter. You'd be doing me a huge favor."

"Go to hell," Lucas snarled defiantly, "I'm not teaching that traitorous, machine-ruining snake how to sexually please you."

Before Matthew could retort and easily spark an unnecessary, knock-out fight, Seth spoke up; "So how far have you come with the machine, anyway?"

Rolling his eyes, Lucas gestured for them to follow him and led them back out into the hallway. As he walked ahead, Lucas grabbed his laptop from one of the tables that Matthew and Seth had passed by on their way to the exercise room. Matthew assumed Lucas had grabbed it to show them some blueprints, only to realize, as he peeked over his shoulder, that he was mistaken.

Instead of a detailed set of blueprints for their vital endeavor, it was some chatroom post that Lucas was nearly finished typing up. It appeared to consist mostly of Lucas' belief that Morrissey is 'cuntbag' and that The Smiths's music is for 'pretentious assholes who believe themselves to be a modern-day Oscar Wilde'." Lucas then clicked 'send' and closed the laptop.

"So, lemme get this straight," Matthew snarled, making Lucas tense, "Instead of working on that machine like I fuckin' told you to, you've been pole-dancing and getting into internet fights with randos over stupid bullshit? Do I have that right?"

Lucas flinched as Matthew raised his voice and shielded himself with the laptop; resembling an abused housewife that was cowering before her husband. Frankly, Matthew had a half a mind to do to Lucas what such a domestic abuser would do to their spouse in that moment. To say that Lucas was lazy was an understatement. No, Lucas was borderline slothful. However, lighting a fire under his ass by beating the shit of him would only serve to delay his plans by another couple of weeks; one week where Lucas would be in actual pain and another week where Lucas would milk his injuries for all they were worth.

Thus, Matthew decided to instead aim for insidious emotional abuse.

"So you can pole-dance, speak several different languages, and other shit I don't care to name, but you can't fix a machine of your own design on time?" he summed-up venomously before scoffing, "God, you're lazy as fuck. No wonder you dropped out of college. A fucking monkey would be more useful than you."

Lucas shot him a hateful sneer and looked like he was about to bring up Edd's meddling as the reason he was behind schedule, but ultimately decided against it after a moment. He likely knew what Matthew might do to him were he to try it, after all. He sighed in defeat.

"If…you just give me a moment," he replied in a forced tone, "I'll show you my progress. You'll be happy to know that I'm almost done with it, actually."

"Ugh," Matthew spat as he sensed tears in his voice, "If you're gonna cry, then save it for after I leave. I'm not in the mood to deal with blubbering, lazy babies that suck on mommy look-a-like titties."

"I am not going to cry!" Lucas protested weakly.

"Matthew, chillax," Seth spoke up wearily, "It's not like we're super behind on our plans anyway. Just let him show us before you do anything rash. Alright?"

As they came to a stop in the secured room, Matthew gave an exasperated snort, but folded his arms and waited for Lucas' attempt to wow him. He wasn't expecting much from the snotty rich douche whose idea of meeting deadlines ended when he dropped out of college and abandoned his Business major, but he couldn't deny he was curious anyway.

Taking a breath to collect himself, Lucas set his laptop aside before lifting up the tarp to reveal the fruits of his labor. Matthew quickly ate his words; the son-of-a-bitch really was almost finished with it. For finesse, Lucas turned on his old stereo system and started to groove as he explained the functions of the torture device.

"It's a standard system reminiscent of the infamous medieval torture device; 'The Rack'," he began as he picked up a device of some sort, "This remote controls the machine and can stretch the body in ghastly ways. I tried it out on a few of my workers to see how effective it'd be." When Seth gave him a disgusted look, he grew more defensive. "What?! It's their fault, really, for complaining about working for minimum wage. I mean, they have health insurance working for me, what more do they want?"

Tuning out the capitalist debate, Matthew focused on watching the handlebar with shackles raise way above what he imagined would be comfortable. The wicked grin that was so comfortable on his face widened in perverse glee.

"So, it stretches a person like taffy," he commented, practically drooling.

"Oh, that's not even the best part," Lucas chirped, happy to change the subject from his employees, "There are strategically placed spikes in various parts of the machine aimed for very specific body parts. Several where Ted's calves will be, one that stabs him in his child-molesting crotch, and two in his back. As he gets stretched, his body will get closer to the spikes, thus, causing both psychological fear and physical pain once they connect."

"Congratulations, Lucas," Seth noted plainly, "I think you just broke the Geneva Convention…and the Occupational Safety and Health Act."

"Man up, Seth," Matthew chided coldly, "I ain't losin' sleep over that damn pedophile…or whatever illegals are employed here. And since when does anyone actually pay any attention to that Geneva shit? Once everything is said and done, Lucas can probably sell the blueprints to the military to really put the fear of God in our enemies. But, if they wanna be pussies about it like you're talkin' about, he could always sell it to a bondage shop."

Seth rolled his eyes, but chose to leave it at that as Lucas turned and began wringing his hands wickedly.

"Gentlemen," he began enthusiastically, "we couldn't get it done for my birthday, but next week, my late-birthday wish is to watch Ted Luster's slimy face as he's being tortured. I've even put together the perfect playlist to pair with his screams."

Matthew grinned; "Just keep up the good work, Lucas, and we'll make sure you get that wish."