Chapter One Hundred and Forty Five
...
"Fisher, what were you expecting? You know these places don't keep their footage if nothing was stolen. We were lucky two of them kept a visitor's log," Mia added with a sigh.
Fisher was pacing back and forth in front of his desk, muttering under his breath. "They had four break ins between July and now; why didn't they report that to us?"
"None of it relates to Greta Auden's death or her storage units, Fisher. They said the footage showed it was for three other storage units," Mia said.
"What about the fourth place? They had a break in just last week!"
Mia sighed. "The access code was used, but nothing was damaged or stolen, Fisher. Are you expecting them to report every break-in that doesn't result in anything stolen? Not one of the storage units had any signs of damage or forced entry."
"But Auden's units were empty. Who has four storage units with nothing in them?"
"Rich people?"
Fisher snorted in amusement despite himself and shook his head. "She was rich but that's because she hoarded her wealth, kid. There's no way Auden would pay for four storage units if she didn't have to. It just doesn't make sense."
Mia hoped that one day a detective in the future would look into her death with this focused detail before the insurance company paid out her millions. Well, with her salary, thousands at best.
"Did she buy any big ticket items recently? Maybe she was going to fill them up. Three of them were newly leased, after all," she added.
Fisher grabbed his folder of printed documents for the victim and started to thumb through the pages. Mia rolled her eyes and turned to her computer, bringing the record up in thirty seconds, and coughing politely.
"Don't trust that thing," Fisher muttered, still flipping through pages of financial records.
Mia amended her earlier hope to include that the detective wouldn't be a technophobe. Looking to her screen, she scrolled through to the most recent three months worth of purchases, starting to read. It didn't take long and most of it was repetitive. Greta used her card to withdraw large amounts of cash once a week, and used her card for grocery shopping, and that was it.
"Ha, found it," Fisher said in triumph, scanning through the pages of Greta's bank records and stopping abruptly. "September last year, see that on the 21st?"
A feeling of anticipation and excitement stirred in Mia's gut as she scrolled up. The 21st of September was a considerably large payment to SH. "Who is SH?"
"Sky High. She'd just taken her great niece in after her niece had died unexpectedly. I'd say that's the tuition payment for Bettendorf."
Mia frowned. "And you think that's related to Auden's death somehow? It has nothing to do with her storage units," she added dubiously.
Fisher flipped to a different section of his folder. "Her emails from December are to one Linda Powers, demanding a refund. I believe the language she used about her niece made that threatening email to the storage unit owner look as sweet as cherry pie. They didn't separate on good terms. She got the refund and withdrew it as cash. We can't follow cash payments," Fisher said, sounding triumphant, as though his argument wasn't being held together by week-old chewing gum.
Mia switched to the email records and scrolled to December. She felt nauseous at reading Greta's words about her own family, and Mia made a mental note to call her mother later and make sure she never ended up as hated as this poor girl. "Well that was months ago. I thought you already looked into Bettendorf? She had alibis, didn't she?"
Fisher swallowed hard at the reminder of Frieda, her eyes darkening, his first name, and shook his head. "I hit a snag and didn't finish the interviews."
"How many people did you interview? There were ten in total, right?" Mia asked, navigating through her screen to check.
"Two," Fisher admitted. "It was right around that flu, and I wasn't well. I wanted to try other angles before finishing the interviews," he lied.
Fisher just didn't want to be the one to look into these people, not after Frieda, not after everything that had happened with the precinct and that mysterious flu, and especially not after finding a victim's relative in his notebook with no recollection of her.
Mia rubbed her temples. "I'll do them. Who did you interview?"
"Well, it wasn't so much an interview as it was telling her that Auden was dead," Fisher admitted, wondering what Frieda would say or do when faced with his partner.
"You want me to do all ten? Jesus Christ, Fisher. I could've done that while you looked at the storage units," Mia said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Sorry, kid."
Mia muttered under her breath and grabbed her things to go start the interviews herself. Fisher grabbed his hat and followed after her, picking up her travel mug of coffee along the way. Maybe it would convince her to write everything by hand instead of relying on the recording.
...
Adam was going to kill his best friend. Then he was going to find the Necromancer, bring Craig back to life, and kill him all over again. Dialling Craig's number again, Adam narrowed his eyes as he heard the familiar ringtone but didn't see his soon to be former best friend.
I like big butts and I can't deny...
"Craig, get your ass down here before I spit on you!"
Coach Boomer was looking at his watch impatiently, and if Craig didn't get his ass in the arena in the next five seconds, they would lose their reigning championship for Save the Citizen.
The noise of Craig's ringtone got louder and then Penny came out of the stands in a cheer uniform.
"Craig and Adam, reigning champs!
If they can't do it, no one can!"
"Change into your own body or I will kill you."
Penny pouted, four of her copies disappearing. "I had a full song and cheer routine worked out. I worked very hard on it."
Adam didn't reply, simply glared. Penny sighed and Craig was there a moment later, in his protective gear.
"Hiya, Coach!"
"You're lucky, carbon copy kid. Now hurry it up!"
Craig rocked on his feet at the sonic blast and shook his head to stop his ears from ringing. "Sure thing, Coach."
"We'll play villains. We choose Corvin and Ryuu," Adam said.
A small group of people clapped as the two heroes went to the arena. Corvin and Ry changed into their protective gear quickly, not wanting to upset Coach Boomer further than the delay already had. Ryuu looked to Corvin once they were both changed. He'd noticed the boy in class, but he was always very quiet and rarely drew anyone's attention. Ry didn't even know what his power was.
"What can you do?" Corvin asked Ry curiously, making Ry realise that Corvin didn't know his power either.
"Fight. What about you?" Ry asked, not wanting to explain further.
"Flight," Corvin said, sounding as cagey as Ry felt.
"Okay. Can you carry the citizen while flying?"
Corvin shook his head. "No, but I can get it down from that chain."
"Okay. Can you do that while avoiding acid spit?" Ry asked with a grin.
Corvin thought about it for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, I think I can."
Ry looked over to Craig and Adam, catching Craig's eye. Craig grinned and waved broadly. Ry rolled his eyes and turned his back on his friend, Craig's scandalised gasp behind him echoing in the quiet arena.
"Rude!"
"All right; I've got Craig's attention, you keep with Adam and draw him away from the citizen. I can annoy Craig into shifting into me, and he'll probably try to use that to split us up. Can you actually fly or just float?" Ry asked curiously.
"Fly. What are you thinking?" Corvin asked, impressed at how he'd already started to influence the game before they'd even started.
"Not much, honestly. Craig likes practising with people's internal powers. Can you compartmentalise your thoughts?"
"Uh, yes, actually, I can. Why?"
"Good. Think about something that has nothing to do with Save the Citizen for as long as you can," Ry said.
Corvin was still impressed, but also confused. He just nodded and thought about something else instead. "Okay, what else?"
"I think we're almost out of time; we'll just have to split them up and hope we can save the citizen before our time's up. If we can get the citizen down, I'll try to hide it... behind a building, I guess," Ry said, not enthused about the lack of real-life options around them.
"Why not in the dumpster?"
"Say what now?"
Corvin grinned at Ry's expression. "In the dumpster. The citizen'll stink and be dirty, but they'll be safe from the villains. If I can get the attention of both of them away from you and the citizen, can you do it?"
"That's a good idea. If you can do it, then I can do it," Ry said with a grin, just as the buzzer rang for the fight to start.
Corvin and Ry turned to face Adam and Craig. Without a word of warning, Corvin powered up.
In the next heartbeat, a raven flew into the air and flapped straight toward the citizen that was already crying out for help. Craig and Adam's eyes widened and they started to run after him and stop him from saving the citizen; Adam spitting acid and Craig shifting to Lash to reach out after Corvin.
Well, that explained the flying without being able to carry a citizen, Ry mused, running at Craig!Lash and fully knocking into him so he shifted back.
"Ow, fuck. Dude," Craig groaned, breathless for a second.
Ry jumped up and held a hand out. "Good?"
"You winded me for a second. I'm good now," Craig said, taking his offered hand and standing.
A murmur of whispers came from the stands, the students surprised to see the villain and hero fraternising. Ry waited until Craig was on his feet before he took a swing, Craig stepping back and rolling his shoulders, bringing his fists up to protect his face.
"Thumb out, dude. Don't wanna break your hand on the first hit," Ry prompted.
"Ah yeah, shit. Thanks, Ry."
Ry nodded and threw another punch, catching Craig against his forearm, then moved with a swinging motion to bring his foot up to kick against his side. Craig cursed and stumbled back as Ry's foot connected with his body - much lighter than their usual training sessions, but real enough to hurt - and moved back again, dodging another fist. On the defensive, but with enough space around them to manoeuvre, Craig tried to control where they were heading. It was difficult with Ry herding him one way when he wanted to go in the other, and he was finding it difficult to keep eyes in the back of his head while stopping Ry's fists and kicks from connecting. Craig aimed a left hook at Ry, but Ry was too fast and he stepped back nimbly to avoid being hit.
A loud caw was heard from the other side of the gym and they both looked over. Ry's eyes widened when he saw Corvin pinned against the citizen, desperately trying to avoid being hit by Adam's acidic spit. Slipping around Craig, he ran towards the metal teeth and Adam. Ry ducked low as Adam turned and spat at him, the acid landing on the gym floor behind him, and he slid on the shiny wooden floor, grabbing Adam's legs to bring him down.
Corvin flew off the citizen dummy when they were distracted, even as Craig and Adam stood up and ganged up on Ry. Figuring their plan could be adapted, Corvin landed on the edge of the metal teeth machine and shifted back to his human form. The citizen was getting closer and he was tall enough that his fingers could brush against the dummy's braids. A few more seconds and he'd be able to wrench that pain in the ass dummy off its chain and hide it. Three, two, one...
Corvin grabbed the low-hanging braid, wrenching the citizen closer with a small vicious tug. He risked an extra two seconds to find the dummy's voice switch and turn it off, before he turned around and nimbly jumped down from the edge of the machine.
"Shit, he's got the citizen!" Craig called to Adam.
Corvin swore he heard Adam mutter something about championships before he gathered up a mouthful of spit and hawked it at him. Raising the citizen up to protect himself from the acid spit, Corvin realised his mistake a second too late, even as acid ate away at the dummy.
"Ah, fuck," he muttered, dropping the dummy as the buzzer sounded to signify Adam and Craig as the winners - they were meant to save the citizen, not use them as a human shield and get them killed by acidic spit, after all.
"Dude, you got some acid on your shirt," Ry said quickly, nodding to his shirt.
Corvin ripped off his protective gear and shirt super fast, mourning the loss of his shirt; he liked that one, damn it.
"Dude, you are jacked," Craig said, eyes wide.
Corvin felt self-conscious and just shrugged, trying to cross his arms over his chest and not look weak at the action.
"Dude, shut up and give the man a shirt," Adam said.
Craig shifted to the Creator and handed Corvin a Henley. "That's his way of apologising."
"I can say the words," Adam said, rolling his eyes. "Sorry about your shirt. We good?"
Corvin slipped the Henley on - far nicer and softer than most clothes he owned - and nodded. "Yeah, we're good, Adam. Thanks, Craig."
"No problem. And with our win... we've officially beaten Lash and Speed's record!" Craig called out loudly, starting an even louder and off-key rendition of Queen's We Are The Champions.
Adam laughed and sang along, not even caring. On the referee seat above them, Boomer hummed along while Medulla sang and Mr. Boy put his hand over his heart at the school-wide song.
In the stands, Layla and Warren held hands tightly, thorns sharp as they watched Corvin ascend the arena steps, talking with Ryuu.
A few stands away, Will stared at Corvin and Ryuu, his eyes narrowed at his possible competition. It didn't matter how many abs and back muscles Corvin had, it wouldn't stop him from claiming Ryuu as his. He just needed an ingenious plan to get Ry's attention and affection back and away from that... bird boy.
...
Babel had spent over thirty years dealing with UN representatives, and other stakeholders both internal and external. Even with modesty, she thought she had done a pretty good job of handling the day to day of petty squabbles and outright dramas, avoiding political minefields with determination and self-preservation skills. The fact that her role still existed after thirty years was a testament to that.
Babel, however, was woefully unprepared for the dramas that would ensue from training one hundred and ninety three people who didn't have the same political subtlety that the UN citizen representatives did. She had ensured to hire people with passion and determination, which had resulted in no fewer than thirty arguments on the first day.
France kept flirting with Belgium, Iraq and Iran glared at each other and tried to physically fight when they caught the other glaring, the United Kingdom kept trying to teach others how to speak proper English, and the United States of America turned up five minutes late with Starbucks in hand. At least Italy had brought enough food to feed everyone, no matter their dietary restrictions. The Hawaiian pizza was gone before Babel even reached the table and she forced herself not to glare at Australia.
Her phone rang and Babs almost cried in relief on seeing that it was Honey. "Hello, this is Babel."
"Mum is bringing lunch for you; she'll get them settled if you can get to her before Security does," Honey added.
"I'll be right back," Babs called over her shoulder, already halfway through the door.
She swore that she heard several countries egging Iran and Iraq to fight again, and hurried that bit faster to get to Security and Frieda.
What was she thinking, walking into the UN with her power? Frieda would be taken and used if anyone found out what she could do. Not even Babs was sure if she had enough pull with representatives and politicians to get Frieda out of the depths they were sure to throw her in.
She made it to Security just as Frieda stepped forward to put her bag on the conveyor belt. Babs sprinted forward and hugged Frieda tightly, Frieda dropping her bag. Babs didn't care, just so long as she stopped Frieda before she walked through the metal and power detector.
"Babel? Are you all right, dearest?" Frieda asked, feeling the pounding of her heart through their shirts.
"It's a power detector," she whispered.
"Oh, my. Really?" Frieda asked curiously, her voice quiet, too.
Murmurs had started to gather around them, Security uncertain as to whether Frieda was a threat or not.
Babs sighed and moved to kiss her firmly. "You should really call before surprising me at work, dearest," she said, her voice loud enough for Security to hear.
"It wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?" Frieda asked, smiling and picking up her bag. Her expression fell. "The cinnamon buns are flat; I'd hate to think what's become of the soufflé."
"You brought me soufflé? Oh, I love you."
Frieda smiled warmly. "I love you too, Babel. Now, where can we go eat? I don't want to disturb your work; you are on a lunch break, aren't you?"
"Yes. Why don't you meet the new recruits? They could do with a friendly face instead of me and the hundreds of politicians they've met."
Hearing the tinge of desperation in Babs' words, Frieda simply nodded.
Babel guided her around security, waving the guards off after they checked Frieda's destroyed bag, and through the building until they were in the recruit room.
Babel stopped short when she saw Delattre bound and gagged to a chair, the UN representative looking murderous.
"He said he wanted food, but he kept whispering to those three about oil," Panama said, indicating to Russia, USA, and Iraq.
Super hearing, Babel remembered from their file.
"Don't attempt stupid shit in a room with supers," Rwanda said, their ropes holding Delattre in place.
"Italy, stop flirting with Mexico," Babel said. "Delattre, you are in violation of the training rules that the UN have set up specifically for these recruits. You have two options: be punished by them," she said, indicating to the super recruits, "or be punished by me," she said firmly.
The gag around his mouth disappeared. "Them. Dear God, not you, you... " he broke off into French, insulting not only Babel's mother, but possibly a few deities in the process.
"Hey, that's no way to speak to a lady!" France snapped, stalking over to their UN representative.
Australia let out a laugh reminiscent of a kookaburra. As though that was a cue for the rest of them, they all descended on Delattre.
"This is a lovely building, dear. Did everyone bring lunch in, like a foreign potluck?" Frieda asked, even as Delattre screamed.
"No, but that's a good idea. It would be better if the US and Australia didn't argue over pies, or Australia and New Zealand argues over pavlova and lamingtons, or Australia and anyone, really. They get very defensive about things they believe they've done. Italy made all of this."
Delattre's screams cut off with a sharp whining moan. Babs forced herself not to look over; they could surprise her. It was a novelty to be surprised these days.
Frieda laughed in delight, taking a spoonful of Italy's spaghetti, slurping with relish. "I must get the dear's recipe. And don't you worry about them, dearest; I've got them already," she said, tapping her temple and passing the baked potatoes to Babs.
"Thank you, dearest."
As soon as this training was done, they both needed a well-deserved holiday.
Babel burst out laughing when she saw Delattre. What was left of his hair was sticking up in a hundred different directions, several dicks drawn on his face in what she truly hoped wasn't a permanent marker, his expensive shirt had holes cut over the nipples, and his suit whittled to a vest and shorts.
"How wonderful. I do believe that style suits you, Delattre. Let's get him out onto the floor, shall we?" Babel asked, grinning broadly.
Rwanda loosed their ropes and with a sonic shout from Russia, Delattre stumbled out of the doorway and into the hall.
Babel organised for his aide to take him straight to the UN floor, extracting a promise to ensure he wouldn't stop by a bathroom along the way. His aide just nodded, new to the job and still more terrified of Babel than Delattre. Babel watched as the aide led Delattre towards the floor before turning back to her room of recruits.
"Now, everyone. Allow me to introduce my girlfriend... " Babel trailed off, not certain if Frieda wanted to use her real name with them.
"Frieda," she said with a warm smile, her eyes darkening as she looked at the group with interest.
The recruits murmured to each other, uncertain and, truth be told, a little scared. They all knew what Babel was like by now, and for this unassuming lady to be looking at them like that, they couldn't help but wonder who on earth Frieda was.
...
"Why do you look so happy, hippie? Not even you usually look this happy at eight on a Saturday morning," Warren muttered, drinking his coffee from his caffeine consciousness mug.
"Two reasons: one, you're using the mug I made you, and two, Daisy sold Greta's house already!" Layla said.
"Seriously? How long was it on the market for?"
"Like, two and a half weeks. The buyers loved the new kitchen Greta installed," Layla said, grinning. "I mean it has to pass a building and pest inspection, which is scheduled for Monday, but I don't have to wait for them to be approved by the bank since they're rich and paying without a loan!"
"Very nice, hippie. Want to celebrate together?" he asked, setting his mug down on the bench and holding out a hand for her to join him.
"Always. What were you thinking?" Layla asked, kissing Warren gently.
"Lots of that, maybe some of this," he murmured, tugging her against his chest abruptly and grabbing her ass with firm hands, Layla laughing in his arms.
"You're trying to distract me so you won't have to go to firefighter cadet training, aren't you?" she asked.
"Mmm, caught me," he murmured, pressing hot kisses against her neck and lips.
"It's not that bad, is it?" Layla asked, pulling away to look at Warren with worry in her eyes and on his wrist.
He sighed reluctantly. "It's fine, hippie. I just... " He sighed, shook his head, then tried again, "Some of them have been there for forty years and they've spent all this time saving people. I'm starting to feel a little guilty about our plan for the firefighter thing."
"We're not killing everyone, Warren. You can still rescue plenty of people, okay? And if you want to rescue everyone, then you can do that. I'm not going to stop you from being good or bad. It's subjective, anyway: one person's hero is another person's villain," Layla said, shrugging. "If you want to stop being permanent, you can stop, okay?"
Warren's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Whoa, hippie, no. I was just feeling guilty about taking advantage of the firefighters; they're really good guys, for citizens. I'm still planning on being permanent," he said, kissing her.
"Oh, thank fuck," Layla said with a sigh of relief. "So, you want to be a heroic firefighter while being a villain?"
"I don't know. I'm still a cadet and haven't even tried to save someone; maybe when that time comes, I'll be ready to set the building alight myself," Warren admitted.
Layla laughed and kissed him again. "Well, you have to go to the cadet training to become a real firefighter, so you'd better go now."
"Meet you at the Hive afterwards?" Warren asked, drinking down the last of his coffee.
"I'll be in our oasis," she said, smiling.
"Love you, hippie."
"Love you, hottie."
Warren was at the door when Layla called out, "Send me a photo of you in your firefighter's outfit!" and he almost tripped over the door frame when unadulterated lust spiked on his wrist.
Taking that final step over the door frame was the hardest step he'd taken in a long time.
...
"I don't want to talk about her."
"Why is that?" Mia asked, her voice gentle, in case they were still grieving.
"Because Greta was a cow and I don't want her negative energy in here. I've already exorcised the place twice; I think the third time is free," Rhonda mused.
Mia wondered if it was going to be a common theme at her precinct: anyone who died was an asshole and no one liked them, not even enough to respect the dead. First Mr. Hamm and now Ms. Auden. Come to think of it, her first case had involved five people who weren't well-liked, either. Maybe it was a curse.
"I can ask questions without mentioning her name, if you'd prefer?" Mia offered.
Rhonda thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "All right. I'll have to call my crystal healer to take a look around anyway."
"Of course," Mia replied, hoping she didn't sound as condescending as she felt. "Now, how did you know her?"
"We go way back. Everyone thought Frieda was her best friend, but it was really me. You can hate your best friend," Rhonda added at Mia's expression.
"Of course. How long is way back?"
"Oh. Well... last year of high school, oh, or did we meet in college? She always seemed to be around, one of those types, you know? It must have been college because that's where I met Frieda. I was friends with Frieda first, of course; everyone who knew her knew dear Frieda first. She just came along as a package deal, mostly. Like an angel and devil on your shoulders."
Mia wrote shorthand notes, trying to keep up with Rhonda's fast paced talking. Fisher had better start remembering her name for this.
...
"Trixie's Realtor Service just had a big win today in selling a whole skyscraper for an undisclosed figure," Brian Anderson said with a broad smile. "The buyer, also undisclosed, must be super rich to afford to pay off all of the investors and stakeholders. Let's hope there are grand plans for this building; the last one - opened by Maxville's very own Jetstream and the Commander - was opened to great fanfare, but has since fallen flat with more than half of the building still sitting empty, six months later."
Josie fumed as she turned off the TV, glaring at the black screen for a moment before turning sharply on her heel and stalking to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Stupid Trixie and her stupid win.
Stupid Steve and his stupid thoughts that the potential buyer was another test from Mr. Veers.
Stupid Realtor Service Award that was going to be out of her reach for yet another year.
She would just have to make a bigger sale and get on TV and be a better realtor than Trixie ever was. She needed to prove that she was better because she was better and everyone needed to know that. She deserved the praise and acclaim and Trixie sure as hell didn't.
Steve, hearing his wife chopping carrots even from the Secret Sanctum, winced and contemplated sneaking out to get pizza instead. Unfortunately, Josie had removed the tape indicating which brick he had to press to get out of the sanctum, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember.
Sighing, Steve sat on the couch and returned his attention to the Xbox. Weirdly enough, it had been unplugged when he'd come down here.
...
Layla worked on her exam, trying to remember everything from the last month, and answer the questions before she ran out of...
"Time. Pencils down."
"Ah, no! I just need, like, three more minutes!" Craig cried, turning pleading eyes to Ethan.
"No. You get marked on what you've completed, just like a real exam," Ethan said firmly.
"Aw, fine. Who thought this was a good idea anyway?" Craig muttered.
"We all did, or we wouldn't be here, Cee," Ry said, gathering the exam papers from everyone to hand to Ethan.
"It's a good way to see how much we remember, and to get used to writing so much in a short time," Robin said.
"Yeah, my wrist is killing me," Justina muttered.
"Where did you get these past exam papers anyway, Eth?" Terrence asked.
"More importantly, is anyone going to get Donny? He could be cheating," Craig added with a snicker, Wendy shooting downstairs a second later.
"I put them together. Some were based on other universities. Adam found the past high school papers for me, I just rearranged the questions. All right, you all go train while I mark these for you."
"Aren't you going to do a practice exam?" Terrence asked.
Zach grinned. "He does one at the end of every week. It's how he knows how small he has to write to fit three lines on one lined space."
"Three? No one can read that!"
Ethan pushed his glasses up his nose. "I write a warning at the start of every exam stating I write small and to use a magnifying glass at the long answer questions. I used to fit four, but the academic board told me to stop."
"Thanks for doing this, Eth. Come on, guys. Stop stalling and go train. No one's finished the obstacle course yet," Warren prompted.
Craig and Ry looked at each other, grinned, and ran downstairs as fast as possible.
"Hey, stop shifting! No fair!" Ry called.
Robin rolled their eyes and a hole opened up beneath them, dropping straight down into the training arena. "Ow, shit. Fuck."
"Oh, you found the cacti pit!" Layla said, looking into the hole.
Robin groaned and clawed their way out of the pit, cursing Layla the whole time. Warren glared, and the hole in his kitchen closed quickly.
Zach winced and decided to go the normal route at a decidedly slower pace. The others joined him, taking tactics and how to defeat certain sections of the arena.
"Are you two going to do it?" Justina asked Layla and Warren as they arrived in the training arena.
Terrence laughed.
"Oh, shut up. I mean, are you two going to do the course? I mean, you have an unfair advantage since you made it, but I want to see how it can be done."
Layla looked to Warren, who nodded. "All right. Race you!" she called over her shoulder, already running for the tree line.
Robin staggered out of the forest, cacti spines still on their body, and gripped Justina's arms. "These are fucking painful. Help me get them out?"
"Aw, I wanted to watch them do the course. Can you ask Terrence?"
Terrence was already looking queasy at the small drops of blood he could see from Robin and shook his head. He set up the projector screen and sent a camera drone into the sky so everyone could see what Layla and Warren were doing.
"Good idea, Terrence," Adam said, even as Zach and Craig rushed to get popcorn from the entertainment room.
Terrence grinned. "Thanks, Ace."
"Ow, ow! Be gentle, would you?" Robin snapped at Justina.
"No. It's your own damn fault you fell into a pit with cacti, so you get to suffer the consequences," Justina muttered, yanking another spine out and glancing up to the screen.
...
End of the hundred and forty-fifth chapter.
