Despite the props I gave out, I couldn't help but notice that there were very few of reviews. While I do graciuously thank those that did review, I yell and scream at those who didn't. I know some of you are busy and have that funny little thing called a "life," but five minutes is all it would take! So, I deem this to be a good punishment: a short chapter. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Right. So, here it is.

Holly left after she found Foaly's disk. He had muttered some very creative cuss words, and said farewell by way of stuck-out tongue. Holly recognized the signs that meant that he would be sullen for the rest of the afternoon, so she left the Ops booth, considering her break over.

It was one of the days in Police Plaza where nothing important occurs. But then, why should anything? The Mud Boy was safely (or the closest approximate) above ground and monitored constantly, and nothing showed that he was up to anything. Then again, looks can be deceiving.

But nothing could currently snag the attention of the LEP. Holly bopped back to her cubicle and parked herself in front of her computer, resorting to one of the ultimate evils: checking her email, it being one of the ultimate evils because she hadn't had time to check it. She was always either running errands or going above-ground for routine flybys, which resulted in the other ultimate evils: paperwork.

Most of it was deleted, but what she saved required her to go around the building, picking up something that claimed to need her attention but clearly didn't.

Holly passed by Chay Whitfield's cubicle, in which he and Grub were pouring over something on the screen. Her natural curiosity over taking her, she popped her head into the cubicle.

"What are you guys looking at?" Holly asked, making the two inhabitants jump.

"Porn," said Grub, while Chay gave his excuse of, "Case files." They looked at each other, then immediately switched excuses.

"Ah. A case file on underage pornography and prostitution? I didn't know you guys were on the same case," Holly mused. "Can I take a look?"

"Sure," Chay said.

"No," Grub said.

Holly looked from Chay to Grub, Grub to Chay, and asked, "Which is it?"

"Sure," Chay repeated quickly, before Grub could speak.

"Scooch," Holly muttered, pushing Grub (in his rolling chair) out of the way.

(Author's Note: "Scooch" is pronounced "sch-OO-ch." It's relatively nicer than saying, "shove over.")

Her eyes ran left to right over the monitor, reading quickly. Every now and again, she would say something like, "Wow, this grammar is awful," or "What a nerdy name."

Eventually, however, she looked up, and smiled.

"This isn't a case file, is it?" she asked slyly.

"Uh…no," Grub admitted.

"This guy's in the LEP. This is gossip!" Holly said cheerfully. Not normally one for gossip, she would take amusement in any of its forms, today.

She continued reading. Chay came over and tapped her.

"Uh, Holly? Could we have the monitor back?"

"Hang on, I just saw my name mentioned. I wanna see what the office is saying about me."

"Really, Holly, I think you should--"

As many things tend to be, Chay was too little, too late. Holly's jaw dropped and one could almost hear the gears in her brain working as she fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

A Brief Interlude: the Ops Booth
Foaly had looked up at one of his camera monitors precisely at that moment. His brow furrowing, he zoomed in on a cubicle that was looking rather full. His camera caught Holly, jaw agape, and Whitfield and Kelp, looking worried for their skins. On the monitor, Foaly could just make out the name "Foalonious Rydier."

He turned deathly pale. Hacking as quickly as he could, Foaly furiously crashed the computer in Chay's cubicle. Then, he tried to prepare his constitution for the fireworks.

We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming
The computer made a bewerrrreoooop sound and the monitor went black. Holly turned toward Chay and Grub.

"I was never here," she said in a slow, quiet, and very dangerous tone. "You never saw anything." Gesturing in the general direction of the camera, which hung on the ceiling a few cubes over, she said, "That goes for you, too, Foalonious."

Holly walked out of the cubical.

"We're dead," Grub said. "If Holly doesn't kill us…"

"…Foaly will," Chay finished.

As a finally insult, the computer turned back on briefly, just long enough for but fairies to see that Chay's desktop wallpaper had been replaced with the words, "Damn straight." Then, the computer blinked back off.

My witty shtick: If you don't review, I will send flying apricots to kill you in your sleep.

Don't laugh. Good relationship with apricots I have.

BE AFRAID!

...oh, yeah. And please review!