Chapter Eighty Eight

...

"Hi, Mrs. Woo. How are you?" Layla asked, smiling.

"Good, good. Busy," Mrs. Woo said. "We need napkins folded," she added, guiding Layla over to an empty booth where a pile of napkins were laid out.

"Fan or swan?"

"Hat," Mrs. Woo said, sitting across from Layla and showing her how to fold and manipulate the napkin into a two-pronged hat.

Layla started to fold, getting Mrs. Woo's feedback on the first few attempts before feeling confident enough to continue on her own. She hardly noticed when Mrs. Woo left, but smiled and thanked her when she returned with a pot of tea, three cups, and Warren in tow.

"I'm not folding napkins, Mrs. Woo. I've still got food to cook," Warren said.

Mrs. Woo glowered, then called out to Kim in Cantonese, Layla looking between her and Warren in a mix of confusion and amusement.

"Kim's going to be pissed, Mrs. Woo," Warren said pointedly, but he still sat beside Layla and poured the tea into the three cups carefully.

Layla grinned and continued folding the napkin, placing it to the side once it was complete. Warren kissed her on the cheek chastely, reddening when he saw Mrs. Woo looking at them.

Kim called out from the kitchen and Warren looked to Mrs. Woo. "Told you."

She muttered something under her breath, then headed to the kitchen herself, berating Kim loudly along the way. Warren winced at what she was saying, his nose scrunching up.

Layla kissed him on the cheek and took his hand, threading their fingers together. "What did she say?"

Warren sighed. "She's trying to give us time together so she can have babies to spoil."

Layla laughed, loud and bright. On the tables around them, the flowers brightened in response. Warren shook his head and grabbed his tea with his free hand, sipping and trying not to blush at how damn adorable his girlfriend was.

...

"Zona, welcome back to Labyrinth. Please, come in and have a seat. Honey will be right with you," Sarah said, guiding the diva into the office and leaving before the woman could try to engage her in conversation.

It wouldn't have been much of a conversation anyway, considering how she could smell the stench of sweat and alcohol coming from the diva; she'd obviously spent the night out on the town, drinking and dancing.

"Honey? Zona's in your office," Sarah said, sticking her head into the editing room to see Ethan and Honey talking about the final edits for the Sky High senior yearbook.

"Thanks, Sarah. I'll give her a minute. I think I'll need a new wastepaper basket," Honey said, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, gross," Ethan said, realising what she was implying.

"Again?" Sarah asked, sighing.

At least Honey had specified a solid basket rather than a wire one this time.

Honey nodded, then stopped. "Oh. Excellent," she said, grinning as she answered her phone just as it started ringing. "Hey, I'll get her on the line. Just give me a minute," she said, heading out of the editing room to go to her office.

"How's the yearbook going?" Sarah asked Ethan.

"Good. Principal Powers liked the edits and new layout, but wanted a few things changed," he said, indicating to the individual pages of the yearbook laid out on the table that was lit up beneath the glass top. "You're welcome to look."

"Thanks," Sarah said, walking over to see the yearbook and changes that Principal Powers had requested. While she wouldn't have added the shadows to the images herself, Sarah could see how they would work with the rest of the yearbook.

"There's only another two-hundred images to go," Ethan said.

"Oh, geez. Good luck. Do you want me to get Honey back? I can interrupt her interview with Zona as Labyrinth's owner," Sarah offered.

Ethan shook his head. "I'll be all right, I'm pacing myself. Thank you for the offer though."

"All right. Just let me know if you change your mind," Sarah said, heading for the door.

"Thanks, Sarah."

In her office, Honey saw that Zona was draped over her desk, the wastebasket beside her and tissues stuffed on top of the mess. She sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and walked over to Zona, offering the phone to her. "It's for you, Zona."

The diva frowned at the phone blearily, but took it after a moment longer of contemplation. "Who's this?"

"Your conscience," Donny replied, rolling his eyes before getting to work.

...

"Hi, I'm here to see Mr. Gilman. He's got a bike for me," Warren said to the receptionist at the car dealership.

The receptionist's smile froze in place. "Oh. Uh. Warren?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded, wary and confused.

The receptionist's smile returned, albeit weakly, and she licked her lips nervously. "Sorry, but Mr. Gilman has just stepped out of the office and he won't be back all afternoon," she said, as though reciting lines from a play.

Warren frowned now, knowing that she was lying even without the badly-written script. Between them, the phone rang, and the receptionist grabbed it like a lifeline.

"Good morning, Maxville's Secondhand Cars," she said brightly. Her expression fell and she looked to Warren again. "Uh, yes. No. Yes. Yes, Mr. Gil... -lyweed."

Warren looked from the receptionist to Mr. Gilman's office, then headed from the front desk to the office, opening the door to find Mr. Gilman sitting in his chair and on the phone. Mr. Gilman went from red to white in such a quick succession that Warren was almost afraid the man was having a heart attack.

"That will be all," Mr. Gilman said, ending the call. "Warren, it's great to see you. Uh, why don't you come back tomorrow? The bike was, uh, damaged by a customer, y'see, and it's just being fixed up."

Warren raised an eyebrow. If the bike had been damaged, then the receptionist would've said that rather than trying to get him to leave.

Mr. Gilman fidgeted under Warren's withering gaze, but told himself that he'd dealt with men twice his age without flinching, and forced himself to stay silent.

Warren could be patient and silent. Visiting his father in prison every year had made him master both at a young age, and Warren could wait silently for hours if necessary.

Mr. Gilman swallowed hard and started to crack. He hadn't had a good ol' stare-down since he worked on the floor of the car dealership and he'd been the manager of Maxville's Secondhand Cars for longer than he'd care to admit. "I sold the bike. Someone came in a few days ago, cash in hand, and the sales were down for the day, so it was either sell the bike or lose out on my commission."

Warren clenched his jaw. "You promised to sell the bike to me."

"Yes, yes, I did. And I feel real awful about that. Which is why I'm getting another bike in, so my promise will still be kept, just a little late," Mr. Gilman said with a quick smile, as though a friendly tone would fix the broken promise.

"You mean so you'll still have your commission," Warren replied flatly.

Mr. Gilman tried to stammer a response to that, but Warren ignored him, turned on his heel and walked out of the car dealership before he set the cars alight.

"What happened?" Jewel asked, frowning when Warren returned to the car, his body shimmering with heat.

"He sold the bike to someone else."

"What? That asshole! I'll teach him - "

"Don't, Jewel. Let's just get out of here," Warren said, sighing.

Jewel frowned. "You sure?"

"Yeah. He's not worth it," he muttered. "Besides, Ethan'd be pissed if we killed him."

Jewel laughed. "Yeah, probably. C'mon, I'll take you to where I bought my car. They might have something even better than a bike."

"Like what?" Warren asked with a frown.

Jewel grinned and started the ignition. "Let's see, shall we?"

...

Layla frowned at her phone when it went off with a text message alert rather than a group message chat tone.

"Go on, it might be important," Nina said quietly beside her.

Glancing over to the Mayor - who was still ranting about the latest polls and why he hadn't even been featured - Layla grabbed her phone and looked at the text message she'd received from Jewel.

Car dealership sold Warren's bike & totally screwed him over. Warren won't let me kill the guy. Any ideas?

Layla tried not to get too emotional about Warren's bike being sold; he'd spent months saving up for the bike and had visited the car dealership nearly every week since summer started to see the bike he had planned on buying.

Now, the salesman had sold it without even informing Warren first?!

He could have at least told Warren that he had another customer interested in the bike so he could make a counteroffer, or even buy the bike right then and there. Warren had had the money for a week now, he just hadn't had the time to go to the dealership with his extra shifts at the Paper Lantern.

A few ideas. None of them end with that man alive though.

"Mr. Mayor, the poll was about the worst Mayor the town has ever seen; it's a good thing you weren't on it," Nina said when there was a lull in the Mayor's rant.

The Mayor frowned and blinked. "Oh. Well, why didn't anyone say anything sooner?"

A small groan went through the gathered employees, but no one dared to reply verbally and start the Mayor on a different rant instead.

"Layla, how is everything going with villain appointments for Jetstream and the Commander?" the Mayor asked.

Layla smiled as his question gave her the solution to Warren's problem. "Very well, Mr. Mayor. There's actually another appointment I need to set up now; very urgent and irate villain, it seems. If you don't mind my leaving the meeting, that is?"

"Oh. Well, yes, of course. Tell the Commander I said hello, would you? Oh, Jetstream, too," the Mayor added quickly.

"Of course, Mr. Mayor. Thank you," Layla said, grabbing her phone and notebook and leaving the meeting room as quickly as she could.

...

Josie finally had a day off. She was going to relax and catch up on her favourite TV show, and maybe even read a book. Steve was dealing with things in the office, though it wasn't exactly difficult now that they'd lost a significant number of their clients to both Trixie and Daisy.

Josie was positive that they were both plotting to steal her clients from under her nose. Sure, she'd missed a few open houses and appointments here and there, but she was Jetstream, it was to be expected.

Besides, her clients were being completely unreasonable about rescheduling both appointments and open houses. Apparently, they could only take a certain amount of time off work, and having the appointment rescheduled half an hour before it was scheduled to take place was simply not good enough.

If the rest of summer went like this, then they wouldn't even have any clients by the time school started again. Which reminded her...

"Will! I've organised a tutor for you; they'll be here on Saturday!" Josie called out.

"What?" Will called back.

"Don't yell in the house!"

Will flew downstairs in a second flat, stopping short of his mother. "I didn't hear what you said."

"I've organised a tutor for you. They'll be here on Saturday," Josie replied. "Now, I've got the day off. Do you want to do something together? We could watch a movie or bake something? I haven't baked with you since you were a child," she said, reaching out to pinch his cheek.

Will grimaced and stepped back. "No. I've got to go to Westville. Maybe next time," he said, flying off before Josie could say or do anything more.

Josie grinned as the front door slammed shut behind him. Now she had the day off and the house to herself.

The phone started ringing loudly, as if it was just waiting for her to relax, and Josie considered taking it off the hook completely. Realising that it was the red phone, Josie sighed and mourned the loss of her day of relaxation, then flipped the phone open. "This is Jetstream."

"Good morning, Jetstream. A villain has challenged yourself and the Commander this Saturday. Are you available?"

Relieved that she wouldn't be losing her day of peace, Josie agreed immediately, not even caring that she had an open house to deal with at the same time.

...

"Please tell me you didn't pay a grand for that?" Adam asked, wincing at the sight of Warren's so-called car sitting in the Hive's parking lot.

"Don't worry, I got it for less than that. The saleswoman and I both knew that the car was a total bomb. But she didn't know it had this," Warren said, opening the door and flipping up the centre console to reveal a shiny chrome button.

"A useless button?" Terrence asked, frowning.

"A jet propulsion button," Warren corrected, grinning broadly. "It's not working at the moment, but it will be," he added at his friends' expressions of disbelief and skepticism.

"I haven't seen a car with jet propulsion since the late '90's," Wendy said.

"Oh, do you remember the ads for jet propulsion cars?" Grant asked, grinning.

"Jet propulsion: it'll jet you there!"

Warren sighed. "If none of you guys are going to help, then just go and train or something, would you?"

"Hey, I never said I wasn't going to help," Wendy said, pulling her gloves on. "Jet propulsion's heavier than the newer hybrid propulsion engines, so we'll need to upgrade it if you don't want to fuck up the ozone layer further."

"Oh. Uh, how much is a hybrid propulsion engine then?"

Adam snorted. "Way too much to spend on this bomb. C'mon, Terrence, let's get a look under the hood," he said, heading to the front of the car as the hood unlocked with a burst of Terrence's power.

"Do you know what make or model the car is?" Ethan asked, flipping through his tablet and waiting expectantly. "I can find the manual and see what sort of capabilities it has, even as a regular car," he added.

"Oh, nice idea, Eth. Have you thought of colours, Warren?" Zach asked.

"It's a Chrysler Turbine with an A831 engine, and no, I haven't thought of colours. I'll probably paint it black," Warren said, shrugging.

"A Turbine? This thing should be in a museum," Terrence muttered.

"That definitely means the jet propulsion's a new addition. Your car's older than my parents, Warren," Wendy said, tying her hair back and sitting on the creeper board, waiting impatiently for the engine to be removed.

There was a loud screech of metal on metal, everyone looking to Terrence.

"It's all right! There was just a lot of rust, so it was stuck. Battery's empty, Wendy, so you can start on the transmission," Terrence said raising the car slightly off the ground.

"Great, thanks," Wendy said, lying back on the creeper and sliding under the car.

"Do you want some light?" Zach offered, glowing and sticking his legs under the car when Wendy agreed.

"Pass me a wrench," Wendy said.

"Uh, sure. Which one's that?" Zach asked, looking to the toolbox with a frown.

"The one that looks like a two-pronged spork."

"Ah, got it. This one?" Zach asked, handing what he hoped was the wrench to her.

"That's it. Thanks, Z."

Zach smiled and glowed brighter, hurrying to tone it down when Wendy hissed in pain at the brightness. "Sorry."

"I found the original manual, as well as the ad. Looks like it was an orange-red colour," Ethan said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Though, black would suit it as well, I'm sure," he added, showing his tablet to Warren.

"It's nice, but not exactly inconspicuous," he murmured.

"Maybe the interior can be red instead," Zach mused.

"Phillips screwdriver," Wendy said, holding her hand out.

"Oh, I know that one," Zach said, handing her the screwdriver proudly.

"Thanks."

"Don't worry, Warren. When Wendy and Terrence are finished, you'll need to use a blowtorch to get the doors and the rest of the car frame dismantled; you won't be left out of rebuilding your own car," Ethan added with a smile, setting his tablet aside and watching as the others worked on Warren's car.

"I know," Warren said, nodding briefly. "I just... I don't know what a Phillips screwdriver is," he admitted, frowning.

"Created in the 1930's by Henry Phillips. It has four ridges in the shape of an X, instead of a single-ridge like a flathead screwdriver," Ethan said, taking the two screwdrivers from Wendy's toolbox to show Warren the difference.

"Huh. Why's that one so small? Screws aren't that tiny, are they?"

"They are for computers; they've got tiny screws that're far too easy to lose," Adam groused.

"Eth has one to fix stapler number three," Zach added.

"Why have you numbered your staplers?" Wendy asked, sliding out from under the car with a screwdriver in one hand and part of the exhaust in the other. "I mean, I'm not surprised, but why?"

"They're numbered from zero to five in relation to how many pages they can staple. Zero can staple ten pages, five can handle two hundred pages. Three is electronic and terrifying," Zach said seriously, shuddering.

"Okay. How many pages can that staple?" Wendy asked, setting the exhaust aside and sliding back under the car.

"Seventy," Ethan replied. "It's not that terrifying, you just have to expect the sound that comes with it."

"It sounds like the dentist's drill, y'know, that whirring thing?"

"A dental burr," Ethan said. "Consists of the head, neck, and shank."

"Yeah, and an actual shank would probably cause less pain!"

Their phones all chimed with a message on the group chat, and Warren frowned at Jewel's message.

Jewel: Turn to Channel Five.

Warren: You're meant to be working.

Jewel: I am working, but my boss is a total Jetstream fangirl.

"What's going on?" Terrence asked, frowning as they all looked to their phones.

"They've got a live feed on their website," Ethan said, turning the sound on his tablet.

"What's going on guys?" Terrence asked again, surprised when even Wendy slid out from under the car to look at Ethan's tablet. He let the car drop back to the gravel carefully before joining the small crowd.

"For those of you just joining the special news broadcast: Jetstream and the Commander are fighting a villain in the middle of Maxville. The Commander is throwing cars at the villain to stop them, but they're bouncing straight off Tyre-one. Tyre-one's ability seems to be rather rubbery," Brian Anderson said, laughing.

"I'm rubber, you're glue; whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you," a sports reporter said with a laugh, going quiet when Brian Anderson glared.

Tyre-one winced as the Commander picked up a large SUV from the car dealership. He really should've checked Google Maps before agreeing to fight the superhero duo here. This was the tenth car that the Commander was going to throw at him, despite the first nine not doing a lick of damage to anyone other than owner of the car dealership. Still, he wasn't entirely looking forward to being flattened by a SUV.

Tyre-one wondered how far he'd get if he just ran for it. He'd be branded a coward, but that was better than dead, surely?

The Commander hefted up the SUV easily, grinning and waving to the cameras while he held the vehicle in one hand.

"The villain, dear," Josie hissed at him.

Seeing that Tyre-one was starting to run down the street, the Commander held the SUV with both hands and threw it at the villain. Throwing himself forward, Tyre-one almost couldn't believe it when the SUV skidded over him harmlessly. He was up and running again before the Commander could respond. Jetstream, however, was faster both mentally and physically. She flew forward, arms outstretched, and grabbed Tyre-one's cape in her hands.

Tyre-one continued to run. On Ethan's screen, the video feed showed his body stretching out almost like a cartoon, as Jetstream held onto his cape.

"Commander!" Jetstream called, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hold onto Tyre-one for much longer. His cape was already slipping in her gloved grip, and he was managing to get quite a long distance away as his cape and clothes were stretching along with him.

"Right here, Jetstream," the Commander said, wrapping his arms around Jetstream and holding the cape tightly.

Despite the fight he knew he needed to concentrate on, the Commander couldn't stop himself from appreciating the fact that the position they were standing in was almost sexual in nature, his body pressed right up against Jetstream's. He had a scandalous thought about taking Jetstream just as they were: here and now, in front of the cameras with the rest of the world watching. The thought took hold and while he knew that his grip on Tyre-one's cape would stay steady and firm, the Commander allowed himself to imagine and dream.

"Almost there," Jetstream muttered, unaware of her husband's thoughts, reaching to grab more of Tyre-one's cape and pressing her ass up against his groin. Her eyes widened at the feel of her husband's growing erection. "Focus, Commander," she hissed, hoping that her cheeks weren't bright red on TV.

"It seems Tyre-one is caught, folks. The Commander and Jetstream are really drawing this one out," Brian Anderson added.

Tyre-one was getting exhausted. He honestly thought the damn cape would've broken by now, or that the Commander would've jerked him back, or even that Jetstream would've left him in the Commander's hold and flown ahead to capture him. They weren't doing any of that, it seemed, and Tyre-one wondered if he should just give himself up. Then, just as he had that thought, he heard the most wonderful sound: his cape was ripping.

Spurred on by the sound of the material fraying and ripping at the thin material around his neck, Tyre-one put more effort into his steps. It felt like hours passed and yet Jetstream and the Commander didn't seem to realise that his cape was stretched to its limit. Then, as the final strand broke, Tyre-one was propelled forward as Jetstream and the Commander were thrown backwards. He was exhausted and his legs were killing him, but Tyre-one refused to stop for anyone or anything, and ran as fast and as far away from the superhero duo as he could.

Jetstream wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. She'd been trying to keep Steve away from the cameras because god only knew what the headlines would say if any of the journalists had seen the Commander popping a boner in the middle of a fight. Then Tyre-one's cape had torn and she and the Commander were thrown backwards, heads over heels, and straight into a car. Thankfully, Steve had cushioned her and she was all right and on her feet in a second, throwing Tyre-one's cape to the side and flying ahead to try to find where the villain had gone, and to draw the cameras away from her husband. She flew and scanned the area for any sign of the yellow-clad villain, only to come to the conclusion after a good ten minutes that he'd disappeared entirely.

A villain had escaped. All because Steve couldn't control his libido, Josie thought in pure and unadulterated rage, flying back to Maxville's Secondhand Cars to pick up her idiotic husband.

"It seems that a villain has... escaped, viewers. We're not quite sure what will happen now, but we wait with bated breath for a response from the Commander and Jetstream.

"While we're waiting, don't forget tonight's special interview panel on the UN's views regarding supers. Among the super guests will be Babel herself. We'll also be calling Maxville Super Penitentiary to try to get an opinion from those already incarcerated. There's a poll on our website for the top villain to interview, and it looks as though Baron Battle's in the lead!" Brian Anderson said with a broad smile.

Warren lit up in a blaze of blue flames, everyone yelping and moving away from the intense heat they could feel radiating from him. "Adam, change that poll."

"Sure thing. Who'll result in a less-flaming response?" Adam asked, flicking to the website on his phone and seeing the entries. "Oh, hey; Grant's sister's on here. They called her jazz hands, too," he snickered. "Royal Pain, jazz hands, Forcefield, or the Spinner Sisters?" Adam asked, receiving a message just as he finished asking the question. "Never mind; Honey just gave me the answer."

Terrence looked from Warren's still-burning body, to Adam typing away on his phone, and ran a hand through his unruly curly hair. "Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?"

...

Tyrone sighed, only relaxing when he heard the whoosh of Jetstream flying away. He looked to his saviour in the darkness, the only light coming from pinpricks of light from the manhole cover overhead. As he was about to say something to that effect, his saviour turned on a lamp, light flooding the tunnel and chasing the darkness away.

"Save your thanks, Tyrone. You need to get out of the city sooner rather than later; your style and power will be too well-recognised now that you've escaped from the Commander and Jetstream."

"What about my movie deal? I want Donald Glover to play me," Tyrone said, grinning.

"If you stay, the most you'll get is a cartoon character, Wile E. Coyote style."

"Ah, shit. What about a book deal then?"

"Jetstream and the Commander will boycott it and they've got enough fans that it won't be well received. Seriously, Tyrone, just listen to me for once and go to California. I've got a friend there who'll help you."

Tyrone sighed, the idea of instant fame and fortune dropping away like a dream. "All right, Hourglass. I'll go to Cali. At least there's beaches, yeah?"

Honey shook her head. "My friend lives on a farm, and she could use a hand."

Tyrone sighed again and took the outfit and train ticket that were offered to him. "Wait, she?" he asked, brightening up.

Honey laughed. "Don't worry, Tyrone, you'll love her."

...

"You didn't have to set the Commander on that car salesman, hippie," Warren said in greeting, kissing her lips.

Layla grinned against his mouth. "Yes, I did. Besides, it's not the only thing I did."

"What else did you do?" Warren asked as he pulled away, his arm wrapped around her waist.

Layla tugged him inside and closed the front door behind him. "Adam and I left several scathing reviews about how he sold us lemons and we totally destroyed his online customer rating," she said with a laugh, kissing him with burning hot lips.

"Oh, my. Perhaps you two should have the house to yourselves, hmm?" Frieda offered, grinning when they pulled apart. "I think I'll go to Hyacinth's. She and Edith have the twins for the day, and we were planning to watch Babs on TV anyway. I might have a glass of wine or two, so I'll be home tomorrow. Be safe," she called over her shoulder, grabbing her handbag and heading to the garage.

"What just happened, hippie?"

"I don't really know. But why don't we order pizza and invite the others over? I want to watch Babs' interview too," Layla said.

"We could record it," Warren said, keeping his hands on Layla's hips and kissing her again.

She kissed him back eagerly. "You said Terrence wanted an explanation; we'll have hundreds of other nights alone together, won't we? I don't want to lose out on getting a permanent technopath, do you?"

Warren kissed Layla a few more times, then sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "We'd better invite Robin too; they might help Terrence decide. You saw how angry Robin was at how Anita was treated at the chess match; they'll probably be easier than Terrence."

"I love the way you think," Layla said, kissing him deeply once more. "I'll organise the pizza, you organise our friends."

"Fine, but it's not a sleepover. I plan on spooning and cuddling you, and I don't want anyone to witness that, hippie," Warren muttered, taking out his phone.

"I don't know, that could be fun, too," Layla whispered in his ear, biting his lobe.

Warren burst into flames immediately, not even mourning the loss of his phone. "Fuck me, hippie."

"Considering what we bought at the Sweet Spot, we could do that too," Layla said, biting her lip when she saw the lust burning bright in Warren's eyes. "Babs' interview starts at 7pm, so invite everyone over for 6pm; I'll get the pizza ordered for quarter past. That means we'll have at least two hours together. Do you think it'll be enough time?" she asked, even as she ordered the pizza through the store's app.

"It's never enough time, hippie," Warren murmured, his cheeks burning red at the admission.

When she was done, he stole her phone and sent a message through their group chat to invite their friends to Frieda's, and asked Adam to bring him a new phone. When he'd received confirmation from their friends, Warren sent a text to Robin and Terrence to invite them as well before handing Layla her phone.

She smiled, pressed a kiss to his red cheek and tied her hair up with a vine before taking his hand to lead him upstairs.

...

End of the eighty-eighth chapter