Chapter Ninety Nine

...

"Thank you for the email, Honey. If you hadn't sent it to me..." Babs trailed off, shaking her head as she didn't dare think of the consequences for too long; Donny wasn't the only mind-reader in the super world, after all.

"I know, it would've been bad. Unfortunately, it won't last for long. It needs more public involvement if anything will stop it, and I can't get Brian Anderson to host another super panel this year - it's bad for ratings to repeat a story, especially with similar panelists - so I'm planning on using Zona."

"The diva?" Babel asked, frowning in confusion.

"She's only a diva when she's drunk, and she's sober now," Honey said, grinning.

"So what does she do when she's sober?"

"She's a singer with a university major in Political Science and a minor in Anthropology."

"Oh. That's unexpected. I'll be interested to hear her view on the topic."

"I'll let you know when we air the show," Honey promised. "If I plan it right, the public outcry will be epic."

Babs laughed. "I have a feeling you'll plan it right."

Honey just grinned.

...

Layla looked at the group chat surreptitiously on her phone while she was waiting for the printer to finish printing the forms she needed the Mayor to sign. At five-thirty, she was the only one left in the office besides Dave, and she'd already finished replying to emails, managing the Mayor's diary, and had organised his upcoming travel from Maxville to New York for the Super Convention with Jetstream and the Commander. She'd let the others know about the convention dates and that Maxville would be vulnerable during those days, and was waiting for a response since she could see several of her friends typing.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Layla looked up at the question, immediately frozen at the sight of the female police officer she'd seen at the Paper Lantern. She forced herself to smile and act as though she wasn't gripping her phone tightly on her lap. Attempting to type out SOS on the group chat without looking, she was glad her phone was on silent so the accompanying noise wouldn't be heard. Pressing the off button to turn her screen off, she loosened her grip and smiled at the police officer. "Hello, can I help you? The Mayor's finished for the day, but I can arrange an appointment, if you'd like?" Layla offered, pretending she had no idea who the woman was.

"I'm actually here to talk to you, not the Mayor. I'm Detective Mia Jordan. I saw you at the Paper Lantern the day, well, the day all of this happened," Mia said, gesturing to her brace and sling with a grimace.

"Oh, you did? What happened? Are you okay? I'll get you a seat," Layla said quickly, setting her phone on her desk and moving to drag the seat from Jillian's cubicle over before Mia could argue.

"Thank you," Mia said, wishing she'd taken a bit longer so she could see the girl's phone screen.

Layla reddened as her phone lit up with an incoming message from the group chat. "Ah, sorry. I'm not meant to have my phone out while I'm working. It's a bad habit of mine, especially when I don't have any work left to do for the day," she said, taking her phone and shoving it in her bag.

Mia smiled. "Of course. Now, to answer your questions. Yes, I saw you at the Paper Lantern; you were ordering a cake for a party, I believe? I was in a car crash shortly afterwards, so I suppose the events earlier in the day just stuck in my mind," she added when Layla looked surprised at her knowledge of the cake and party. "I'm not great, honestly, but I'll get there."

"I'm glad to hear it. So, are you here to ask about the party and cake?" Layla asked curiously.

"Not quite. I'm here to talk to you about your boyfriend."

"Warren?"

"If you have nothing else to do, that is," Mia said with a smile, knowing she already had nothing else to do for the day - Layla had said as much.

"Uh, okay. What do you want to know?"

"When did you start dating?"

"Last October. The 29th, in fact. Why do you want to know?" Layla asked.

"Just curious. You're not being interrogated, Layla," Mia promised with a smile.

Layla smiled back at her wanly, not believing her.

"Where did you meet?"

"At the Paper Lantern, though we'd probably seen each other at school before that," Layla said, shrugging.

"You're a regular there, aren't you? And you'd never seen Warren before?"

"I don't think so; Warren's kind of memorable, so I think I'd remember seeing him. He usually works in the kitchen, not out in the dining area. He was covering for Mei Ling the night we met."

"That was kind of him. Are you friends with Mei Ling?"

"I don't think I'm best friends with her, but I like her and we talk while we're folding napkins for Mrs. Woo. She's nice," Layla said, smiling.

"Folding napkins?"

"Yeah, swans, hats, fans, that sort of thing. I'm there so often that I figured I might as well do something to help out. They can get so busy and it's nice to be able to contribute."

"What about the other staff there? Are you friends with all of them?"

"I don't think I've met all of them, so I can't say if I'm friends with them all or not. Mrs. Woo is really nice and I think Kim just wants everyone to think he's mean, but he's really - "

"Nice?" Mia suggested when Layla floundered for a word.

Realising that she was using the word far too often, Layla just nodded.

"Do you recognise any of these people?"

"They were on the news, weren't they?" Layla asked, seeing the photos of Deidre and her friends, and Mr. Hamm as Mia flicked through the images on her phone.

"They were. Have you seen them before? Has Warren mentioned them before?"

"Not that I recall. I - Excuse me," Layla said as her phone started ringing. "Good afternoon, the Mayor's office. Hello, Dave. Oh... Another police officer? Two? Uh, okay. Send them up. Thank you," she said with a smile, setting the phone down. "I must be popular today; two of your colleagues are coming to talk to me as well."

Mia tried not to show her surprise. Monty and Tyrone must have come to the same conclusion as Fisher, she realised, standing and brushing off her shirt. She wasn't meant to be following up on cases, and Tyrone would report her to the Chief, even if she tried to argue that it was off the record. Shit.

"I won't overwhelm you along with them. If you remember anything, please call me. My mobile number's on there, too," Mia said, offering Layla her business card.

"Thank you. Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Layla asked.

"No, no. It's fine. I'll talk to you another time, Miss Bettendorf," Mia said, heading over to the elevator, pressing the down button and hoping one would arrive before Monty and Tyrone did. She wasn't meant to be working on cases, on or off the record, after all.

Her relief was almost palpable as an empty elevator arrived. Stepping in, she pressed the button for ground level just as the elevator across the way opened, Monty and Tyrone stepping out as her doors closed. Her heart racing, Mia just hoped that Layla would keep them preoccupied long enough for her to leave without either police officer knowing. Of course, it would be all for naught if Layla told them she'd been visited by a police officer already, Mia realised, cursing internally.

Layla watched as the two police officers made their way from the elevators over to her, and wished she hadn't put her phone away; she could have sent a proper SOS by now.

"Are you Layla Williams?" one man asked. He looked like the adult version of a frat boy and Layla tried not to grimace at the realisation.

"Yes, I am, Officer."

"Detective. Detective Tyrone Smith," he added, as though she would know who he was.

"I'm Detective Eyal Montgomery. Call me Monty," he said with a smile, looking somewhat exasperated by his partner.

"How can I help you, Detectives?" Layla asked, looking between them curiously.

"We received an SOS," Monty said, winking at her.

"Well, technically, it was a DPD, but Eth worked it out," Tyrone said, grinning.

"Honey sent us here; she knew we'd get rid of Detective Mia Jordan quickly. She'll be back another time, but it gives everyone time to prepare," Monty added.

"Right. You're doing this quite well. I wouldn't have known it was you if you hadn't said anything," Layla said, looking between Craig's copies.

"Thanks! I've been practising. Now, how long do you think Dave'll be looking at the cameras?"

"Probably until you leave. He'll want to know why I had three police officers here. Anything you can think of?"

"Investigating the Mayor?" Tyrone suggested.

"I'm fairly sure Dave would tell the Mayor that. He's very loyal," Layla said.

"Investigating one of the Mayor's mistresses," Monty said.

"That could work. Dave might still tell the Mayor, but without any more information than that, it's not going to do much good," Layla mused. "Is there anything else I can help with?" she asked, Monty scribbling in his notebook.

"That should be enough information for now. Thank you for your assistance, Miss Williams."

"Wait, what did you call me?"

"Miss Williams; your name?" Tyrone said, frowning.

"Detective Jordan called me Miss Bettendorf, not Williams. I never told her my full name, and I only have Frieda's surname on my adoption file. That must mean she's been looking into me as well, not just Warren," Layla mused, trying to think of where else her adopted surname was held. "Sky High. What name is listed on the records there? The police can access those records, can't they?"

"And if they have probable cause, they can find out your power from the school's records," Monty said.

Tyrone was on his phone in a second. "You get that, Ace?"

"Yeah, I'm already checking. A power request has been sent through to the school for Miss Bettendorf. That's Layla's name on the records since Principal Powers updated the file."

"Can you lose the request?" Tyrone asked.

Adam was silent for a long moment, noise from typing on the keyboard the only sound. "It's been seen by Principal Powers already. She's sent it back requesting further information, since Honey and Layla's files both have that name."

"Can you - "

"I can't lose it, no. But I can answer it," Adam replied. "Honey, you don't mind?"

"Go ahead, Acidic. It will take a few days before anyone realises they've been given the wrong person's power information, and it will be put down to a computer error that my information was provided instead of Layla's. It gives us a few weeks."

"Is that enough time?" Adam asked, even as he sent a response to Principal Power's request.

"It will have to be."

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Layla asked, her gaze flicking to the office camera's where this was being recorded and most likely watched by Dave.

"I'll tell you on the way down. We'll escort you out so you don't have to worry about Dave."

"Dave's probably watching this - can he hear it?"

"No, the cameras don't have the ability for sound. We're fine. It just looks like we're verifying information that you've told us and we're going to take you to the station to provide a statement," Monty said.

"All right. Let me grab my things. Can we stop by Super Burger on the way home? I'm starving and could eat two whole veggie burgers."

"Sure. Warren drove us, so I don't think he'll mind a detour on the way back to the Hive. Text your orders, people," Tyrone said, ending the call.

"This is mostly a precaution so no one says the wrong thing that can be used against us later. Honey's being vague and cryptic about it," Monty said as they headed over to the elevator.

"Hmm, I suppose that will have to be enough. The elevators can record sound, can't they?"

"Yeah," Monty replied as the elevator doors opened, the two police officers and Layla stepping inside, quiet but for the elevator music on the way down.

Dave watched with wide eyes as Layla was escorted out of the Council building by two police officers. He couldn't get the external cameras to move fast enough to see Layla going to the parking lot and over to the black Turbine where Warren was waiting impatiently in the driver's seat.

"Back seat, Miss," Monty said before she could get in the passenger side.

"You're still keeping up the charade?"

"Yep. D'you reckon we can get served first as cops instead of waiting in line?" Tyrone asked, snickering as he sat in the passenger seat.

"Don't be a dick. You okay, hippie?" Warren asked, looking to Layla in the rear view mirror.

"I'm okay, just hungry. Can we stop by Super Burger?"

"Sure. I suppose we're doing a mass order for everyone?" Warren asked as his group chat went off for the eighth time in as many minutes.

"Yeah. C'mon, before Dave gets the cameras under control again," Craig said.

Warren nodded, turned on the ignition, and drove out of the parking lot towards Super Burger.

...

"Hurry up, we're going to miss the show!" Ethan called out as the Hive's front door opened, heading into the library and down into the lower Hive.

"What show?" Zach asked curiously as he followed him.

"Mythbusters."

"You hate Mythbusters; you say it's not real science," Zach said, frowning at his boyfriend.

"It's as close to real science as an entertainment show can get, and this week's episode is a special on superheroes. They're doing a segment on how to defeat the Commander and Jetstream separately and together, and they took viewers' requests to do tests on other super powers. I sent in a flying fire-powered hero; I want to see their results," Ethan said, thanking Craig as he passed his burger and fries order.

"Oh, c'mon, you can't know they're going to do yours," Wendy called incredulously around a mouthful of fries.

"We changed the email address and only sent through emails that were good," Ethan replied, taking a large bite of his burger.

Adam snorted. "Most of them were about Jetstream and the Commander anyway; they're already doing the damn program on them."

"You still can't know they'll do yours," Jewel said pointedly.

"Yeah, well, I sent another forty similarly-worded requests to really drive the point home," Adam said, eating a small handful of fries.

"Bey goo - "

"Babe, swallow first," Grant said, shaking his head at Craig.

"That's what she said," Zach said, grinning when Craig pointed at him.

"I'd high-five you if you weren't across the room," Craig said when he'd swallowed his mouthful.

"Air five?" Zach suggested.

"Air five!" Craig said, slapping his hand into the air, Zach mirroring the motion.

"What were you going to say while you had a mouth full of food?" Jewel asked.

"They should do the request with the majority, right?" Craig asked.

"We don't know; the marketing team obviously wanted it to be a surprise - " Adam said.

"Or they knew Jetstream and the Commander would get more ratings," Ethan added, wiping his hand on a napkin before pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Or that," Adam conceded with a nod. "So none of the ads are showing what they actually chose. We'll find out when it starts," he added, taking another large bite of his burger.

"Are we on the right channel?" Ry asked, frowning. "I swear it's on channel six, not five," he said, setting his food aside to check his phone.

"Ah, shit."

"Today's show will be looking at the Commander and Jetstream, and just which power could defeat either of them separately or together!"

"Later in the show, we'll be investigating whether a fire-powered super could use their flames to fly."

"And the final part of the show will, as always, involve something blowing up."

"See; it's just two grown men using their time slot as an excuse to blow things up," Ethan muttered.

"You wouldn't use a TV station's time and resources to blow shit up?" Robin asked curiously.

"Of course not. There's far more educational uses for - "

"Are we watching the show or not?" Terrence asked, rolling his eyes.

"Right, shutting up," Robin said, biting into their burger.

...

"Come on, Warren. You saw the show; if they can make their dummy fly, then you can fly, too!"

"Are you calling me a dummy, Wendy?" Warren muttered, trying hard not to lose his concentration.

"Their dummy used jet-powered fire, not an actual super-born power. They have more control over the temperature and positioning with the joystick," Ethan pointed out.

"Everyone, shut up!" Warren snapped, his hands and feet flaring with a bright stream of flames. "Shit!" he cursed, falling towards the ground as his flames spluttered out with his distraction. Flames cushioned him, making Warren float rather than fall.

"Hey, that's better! Try that again," Ry called.

"What, falling?"

"Yes, sorta. With the flames," he added.

Warren sighed and propelled himself back up into the air. That was the easy part. It was difficult to not only keep himself in mid-air, but also try to use his flames to move and go in the right direction. This was in a controlled environment, so he doubted he'd be able to even attempt it outside with the wind and various factors that would impact his power. Letting his flames disappear, Warren's heart beat rapidly as he dropped down towards the ground. Without thinking, he powered up once more, the flames surrounding his calves and feet, forearms and hands, and keeping him aloft.

"Yeah, like that! Nice," Ry said, grinning.

Warren couldn't help but grin back. "Awesome. Craig, you gonna try?"

"Not today; I'm working on that thing with Forcefield. They must've filmed it before Forcefield took on Jetstream and the Commander," he mused.

"They tend to film their shows months in advance; I doubt Forcefield was even known when they determined their power would be enough to defeat both the Commander and Jetstream," Ethan added.

"Yeah, but Jetstream's still gonna be pissed," Terrence snorted.

"I think anyone or any power they chose would have pissed her off," Layla said. "Do you think they'd do another super special? I want to see what they'd do with flora," she said, grinning.

"I can get it trending on Twitter in, like, fifteen minutes?" Adam offered.

"Ooh, yes, please! Thank you, Adam," Layla said with a broad smile.

"No problem. If it's not enough to get another super special, I'll bombard their production studio so hard they won't even know what hit them," he snickered.

"Want to try it with a gentle breeze, Warren?" Wendy offered.

Feeling confident in his ability, Warren agreed. Less than a minute later, Warren was lying flat on his back on the training arena's floor, groaning in pain.

"That was gentle? Fuck," he groaned.

"You got cocky," Ethan pointed out, offering his hand to his Villain.

"I wasn't... fine, I got cocky. It always works for the heroes. Fuck," Warren muttered, standing with Ethan's help. "Thanks. Try again, Wendy?"

"Sure. I don't think I can keep it smaller than that. It wouldn't even push a leaf, otherwise," Wendy said, somewhat apologetically.

"It's all right; I have to get used to it. Hey, do you think Jetstream could handle a hurricane?" he asked, powering up and flying up into the air.

"We can find out," Craig said from his Jetstream shift that was attempting to fight against Forcefield.

"No," Grant, Jewel, and Adam said at once.

"We're not wrecking the Hive or the training arena," Layla said sternly.

"Nah, outside," said Craig's carbon copy of the Commander. "But, uh, not today. Summer hurricanes aren't a thing in Maxville."

"Left, no, your other left!" Robin called to Warren. "You've got to go with it, not against it."

"That only works if the wind's going the way I want to go!"

"Can I join you?" Layla asked, smiling from where she had fashioned leaves into wings.

"What the - hippie, how?"

"I wanted to try it. Whoa!" she said, steadying herself as the wind changed direction. "Wendy!"

"That wasn't me!"

"Craig!"

"My bad. Forcefield's power is difficult to control," he called, wincing. "Also, Lay, you totally look like a fairy."

"The Fae are usually shown as ethereal beings but mischievous to the point of a mortal's death, for some of the more fatal and elder ones. I would consider it a good thing," Ethan said when Layla didn't look entirely pleased by Craig's comment.

"Hmm. Okay, I can live with that."

"Call me a fairy, and I'm setting you on fire," Warren called.

"That's the spirit!" Ry said, laughing as Warren scowled at him.

"There are male fairies, y'know," Zach said. "Usually shirtless or androgynous - is that the right word, Eth?"

Ethan nodded, then adjusted his glasses.

"I vote shirtless!" Jewel called, laughing.

"I second that vote," Craig called.

"Stop objectifying me, you creeps."

"Yes, Mr. Fireman."

"Ugh, hippie, make them stop."

Layla grinned, concentrated hard for a moment to move closer, and kissed him heatedly.

"My innocence!"

"What innocence?" Ry asked Craig, even as Adam groaned and made puking sounds in the background.

"I've got plenty of innocence. I just left it somewhere."

"Craig, keep practising. Your Jetstream form is slipping," Grant called.

"Ah, shit. You're sure she doesn't have freckles?" Craig asked, fixing his Jetstream carbon copy quickly.

In Forcefield's form, Craig worked on broadening and honing the gravitational field until he could pinpoint individuals in a group, cover the whole group, or fixate the power on one person alone.

"Hey, Craig? D'you think Forcefield's power works the opposite way on gravity?" Terrence asked curiously, even as he was pressed against the training arena's floor.

Craig frowned and looked at Forcefield's gloved hands. "Maybe. Let's see," he said, concentrating on removing gravity entirely from the arena.

He laughed incredulously when his friends started to float off the ground and up into the air.

"Oxygen, Craig!" Grant said, cancelling Forcefield's power abruptly, everyone falling to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry! Are you guys okay?"

"Oww," was the general consensus.

"We've only got so much oxygen down here; removing gravity removes oxygen's ability to stay in the arena with us. Next time, oxygen masks first," Donny said as they all checked on each other, Wendy trembling in his arms.

"Next time?!" Robin asked incredulously.

"Yeah, next time. You didn't stop the first time you made a hole in the backyard, did you?"

"Well... no, but I fixed that."

"And Craig fixed this. Well, Grant did," Donny amended.

"Thanks for that, Grant," Warren said, swallowing hard and unpleasantly reminded of his fight against Speed and choking to death without air in his lungs, unable to breathe.

Grant nodded. "It's all right. We'll work on it, okay, babe?" he said, turning to Craig.

"Okay. I'll buy the oxygen masks," Craig promised.

...

"I can't believe that... that show! How dare they air that episode about us! What if a super-villain sees it? Forcefield's not the only super with the ability to control gravity!" Josie seethed.

"I'm already calling our lawyer, dear," Steve said, sounding proud of his initiative.

Josie blinked in surprise. "You are? That's... that's a good idea, Steve. You talk to our lawyer; make sure no one ever sees that episode again, understood?"

"Of course, dear," Steve said. "Forcefield could have a child; they could hurt us or Will by the time they're of age, after all. Just like Lance's child," he added.

Josie felt a chill run along her spine at the thought. "You're right. That can't be allowed to happen," she murmured, looking from Steve to her phone. "I have to make a call. I'll be right back. Call if you need me to talk to our lawyers," she added, taking her phone and heading to the Secret Sanctum to make an important call.

...

"Good evening, this is Tasha of Maxville's News Tonight. Tonight's top headlines are: the Commander and Jetstream's latest fight with Egghead is over-easy for the beloved superheroes. Maxville's Father Coward has been imprisoned for embezzling from the church, with locals coming forward regarding abuse they suffered as children by the priest. A local tattoo artist and his wife are missing with fears for their safety - "

"And a heroic woman's daring escape from her evil captor using the technology she fears the most," Cara murmured to herself, switching off the TV and wondering if anyone would believe that she had been forced to do these evil deeds by Greta. "Maybe if I pay someone to create a story for me, they'll sell it. I could be on Dateline."

"I'm leaving for my poker game now, Cara. Who were you talking to?" Greta asked, frowning. "You didn't have the TV on, did you?"

"No, I was talking to myself. Just wondering if Plan C is enough to get what we want," Cara replied.

"Of course it is; we've been over it a hundred times."

"Not the execution, the money," she said.

Greta shook her head. "Don't get greedy, girl. Although, if you think they'll pay more, we can always add an extra million."

"I'll look at the finances again. You're sure they're right?"

"Positive; I've got friends in high places who're desperate to get higher... Well, you know the type, don't you?" Greta sneered, turning on her heel and leaving.

Cara bit her cheek so she wouldn't say anything; she needed Greta to be out of the house if she was going to get her own plan to work.

The front door closed and locked, and a moment later, Greta's car was pulling out of the driveway. Waiting until she could no longer see the tail lights, Cara took her phone from its hiding spot and turned it on, wincing at how loud the cheery jingle was. "Stupid girl couldn't even get a silent phone, for fuck's sakes," she muttered, any goodwill or gratitude long gone.

It took a moment for the phone to turn on and get reception. When it did, Cara carefully typed in the number for Maxville's police station and hoped the concierge at the mall had written it down correctly.

"Good evening, Maxville Police. How may I direct your call?"

The relief that Cara felt made her legs weak and she sat on the floor as her legs gave way. "Hello, I'd like to talk to my father. He's a prisoner at the moment. I'm calling from interstate and am unable to visit the station," she added quickly.

"One moment, directing your call."

Cara didn't even care that she was put on hold with shitty music that dropped in and out of reception several times. She didn't dare move in case she lost reception on her phone.

"Maxville's prisoner's division, what'cha want?"

Cara repeated her spiel, her heart in her throat as she waited for the answer.

"Prisoners are asleep; call in the mornin'."

"No, wait! I can't. It's... it's his wife. My mother... She, uh... died."

There was a long moment of silence, so long that Cara actually checked that the phone call was connected.

"Dead, huh? How'd she cark it?"

"Boating accident," Cara said.

Another moment of silence, and Cara held her breath, hoping the nasal-sounding person would believe her.

"I'll get 'im. What's 'is - "

"Harland."

"Good for 'im. What's 'is prisoner number?"

Cara rattled off the number she remembered from her father's bright orange jumpsuit, and waited impatiently.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Daddy. It's so good to hear your voice."

"The guard said you have some news for me?" Mr. Harland asked.

"Oh. Well, I lied to him and said that Mother died, but I needed to talk to you, Daddy. I'm stuck. Greta's got me working for her and she's awful, but if her plan works, I'll have you out of prison soon, Daddy."

Mr. Harland frowned. "Why are you only calling to tell me about this now, Cara?"

"She wouldn't let me have a phone. I had to get one... Well, it's a long story, but I have a phone now, so I can talk to you. Greta doesn't like technology; she's, like, super paranoid. It would be funny if it wasn't so sad," Cara said, shaking her head.

"Time's up, Harland."

"No, wait. Please, I - " Cara was cut off by the dial tone. "Ah, fuck."

She knew that Greta would be out all night with her poker game, but there was no point trying to call the police station again tonight. Cara wondered if she could get the old cow away in the morning, so she could talk to her father about their plan when they were both more coherent and awake. He would have a great insight into their plan and probably even work out how to get more money out of it, too.

Eventually, Greta would realise that it was for the best that Cara had a phone and had contacted her father. He could even solve the problem they had that was causing delays. If only she'd had more time to talk to him!

Wondering if she could drug the old bag's coffee to keep her occupied - or perhaps add a few laxative tablets - Cara turned the phone off, put it back in its hiding place, and settled down to sleep.

In her dreams, both she and her father were on Dateline, discussing how they'd been wronged and villainised and were obviously the victims. In her dreams, everyone agreed with her, and then gave her a giant-sized cheque for ten billion dollars.

...

"We've just received another two nominations; urgent requests," one man in a white lab coat said to his colleague.

"After that Mythbusters episode, are you honestly surprised?" his colleague said with a scoff.

"What episode?"

"Ah, don't worry about it; it's not online anymore and I'm pretty sure at least eight citizens have received cease and desists over it. The show's getting sued, too," his colleague said.

"Uh huh," the man replied, obviously preoccupied and not interested. "Do you think they know what the nominations mean?" he asked, looking from the data on the screen in front of him to the two-sided mirror in front of them.

"Jetstream might, but it's a stretch. The Commander wouldn't, even if Jetstream told him about it."

"So, no."

"Nah. They just provide names, they don't know what it means," his colleague said confidently.

"Do you think they'd care, if they knew?"

His colleague shook his head. "Probably not. Keeps them on top, after all."

The man conceded with a nod. "That's all that matters in the end."

"Not like you'll be able to publish your research or findings, so there's gotta be something else in it for you, yeah?"

"Well... The money's pretty good."

His colleague snorted. "Understatement of the year. I've already paid off my mortgage and my student debt."

"Huh, nice work," he said, vaguely impressed, but not caring beyond that. "All right, we're done here. Contact the team on the ground to get the new nominations in; we're waiting on results from this batch, so we might as well get some new data going."

"Sure thing."

...

End of the ninety-ninth chapter.