Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Seven

...

"Good morning, students. Please, sit down quickly and quietly," Principal Powers reminded them as the students filtered into the gymnasium, the teachers directing their homegroup students inside.

Coach Boomer glared at several students, pointing at his eyes before pointing at them: I'm watching you.

Layla smiled at him as she edged past. Slipping her phone out of her pocket, she typed a quick message, hiding her phone in the folds of her skirt as she took her seat.

Layla: Donny, Adam, any idea what's going on?

Donny: It's not bad, just sit through one assembly, would you?

Adam: no

Craig: tellllll ussssss!

Ethan: My precious?

Zach: XD

Craig: who uses XD anymore?

"Ow, shit!" Craig hissed, a flash of light making his eyes hurt.

"Mr. Forge, that language is not necessary. Put your phone away," Mr. Medulla added sternly.

"Good morning, Mr. Medulla. I just wanted to say thank you for last night's Advanced Science lesson on death rays; it was informative and so much better than just reading through Wikipedia," Ry said, sounding so genuine that even Mr. Medulla looked surprised.

Mr. Medulla's surprised expression faded as he smiled. "Thank you for saying so, Mr. Kemp. It's nice to know that someone appreciates the extra time I put in. Now, hurry and take your seats."

"Yes, Mr. Medulla," Adam, Craig, and Ry chorused, hurrying down the aisle to sit down with their friends.

"Dude, I owe you one," Craig muttered.

Ry snorted. "You owe me, like, three. Now put your phone away; I can only do so much."

Craig kissed his cheek and slung his arm around Ry's shoulder, snickering when several girls looked disappointed. "I think I'm cockblocking you for all of high school, dude."

Ry bit his tongue so he wouldn't laugh - Principal Powers was finally starting to address the assembly - and just shrugged in response. Anyone who couldn't handle Craig being a very tactile friend wasn't going to be someone that Ry would be interested in.

"Thank you for your attendance this morning, everyone," Principal Powers said, as though attending a mandatory assembly wasn't mandatory. "This assembly has two important points, so I hope you will listen closely. The first item to discuss is one that should have been in the school since its inception. However, I... the founder of Sky High, believed that it would not be necessary because all students would realise that we are a smaller contingency of the human race and therefore need to band together, not hurt one another," she said, obviously confusing most of the students due to the silence and expressions that were aimed at her. "Bullying is unacceptable whether you are a citizen or super, and due to events that have happened as recently as this week, Sky High will now enforce a 100% no bullying initiative. This means that anyone found to be bullying other students, whether at school or elsewhere, will face punishment. As per the PTA vote, this is a three-strike system - "

"I wanted one-strike," Boomer muttered to Mr. Boy, who looked scandalised.

"They need a chance, Boom."

"Yeah, a chance to get their bag before they're kicked off the school at ten-thousand feet."

" - with the first strike resulting in detention, the second in suspension, and the third in expulsion. Yes, this will be enforced and is not negotiable," Principal Powers said sternly, looking around.

When the older students realised that Principal Powers was serious about the expulsion and losing the offending students' tuition payments, soft whispers started, all incredulous and disbelieving. The younger students still didn't know that Principal Powers would often go out of her way to avoid losing or jeopardising any income for the school.

Of course, the students didn't realise that Sky High's government funding had been cut due to "budget constraints" yet again. Linda seriously doubted that there was any problem with the budget - unless the Mayor's new car was a taxpayer's concern - but there were new textbooks to buy for both Maths and Science, and she'd already rewired a significant amount of the library's budget to replace the fuel tanks for the buses to ensure they couldn't be tampered with again. The librarian was not happy, and neither were the PTA parents who had been asked to help by buying extra school supplies this year. Then again, most of the PTA parents were never happy.

"No one deserves to be bullied; what everyone does deserve is the chance to experience their school life without being harassed or being in a toxic environment due to others' actions or words against them," Principal Powers said, looking out among the crowd and hoping that all of the students would take her words to heart. "Everyone is unique and we need to celebrate that uniqueness, not squash it."

Behind her, Mr. Boy pulled a string and a large banner was revealed with EVERYONE IS UNIQUE! written in large and colourful writing. She had told him to leave the banner until the end of the assembly, she was sure of it.

Trying to ignore the bright rainbow reflection she could see in the gym windows, Principal Powers continued talking, driving the point home once more. "We must be united as supers. If we stand divided, then we will fall," she said firmly. Realising that a few of the older students were curious at her phrasing, and not wanting to bring up anti-super groups when she still had the students' attention, she hurried on, "The anti-bullying initiative includes all staff and guests at Sky High; bullying is not acceptable, no matter who you are. If you are being bullied, it is imperative that you tell someone as soon as possible, whether a teacher or parent, or an older student. The school counsellor will continue to take appointments for all students, of course. If you have any questions about this initiative, please see me after the assembly. If the information needs to be heard by the whole student population, then I will inform everyone over the PA system during the recess break."

Looking at the crowd of students once more, Principal Powers truly hoped they would listen and take her words to heart. With that hope settling heavy in her chest, she continued to the second agenda item for the assembly.

"The second item refers to the University of Maxville's Hero Curriculum. As many of you know, the University of Maxville has been running the Hero Curriculum for students who have graduated Sky High. Of course, Sky High isn't the only super-school in the world, and some of the supers that are attending the University of Maxville need to complement their education with units that we run right here at Sky High. Therefore, it has been agreed between myself and the Dean of the University of Maxville that these students will attend Sky High every Friday to obtain their required grades. They will join the seniors and I hope that everyone will welcome the students warmly. Please remember that you represent Sky High and ensure you behave accordingly."

The deal did have a small monetary fee attached, of course, but it was to cover the costs of the extra rocket fuel required for the bus trips, the extra food at the cafeteria, the extra resources, and a small amount set aside for any super-accidents. Save the Citizen was on Friday afternoons, after all.

"There is also the opportunity for senior students to start their pathway program into the University of Maxville at the same time, with Advanced Math, Mad Science, Super Art and Design, and Super Communication among some of the available subjects. A list will be posted outside the gymnasium during the recess break; please see Mr. Medulla if you would like to begin your pathway to... super tertiary education," Principal Powers said, trying hard not to show her distaste for the University of Maxville's tacky tagline.

"There's going to be college boys here?!"

"Becky, sit down."

Principal Powers winced when Becky's friend tugged her back down onto her seat. She'd forgotten how lust-driven some students could be. She would have to keep a close eye on the seniors and the college students.

"Thank you again for your attention, students. Enjoy your day of learning!" Principal Powers said, shifting and flying out of the gymnasium in her comet form, the students talking excitedly behind her exit.

...

Josie had spent two days baking and cooking, perfecting recipes and ensuring every single item was flawless. Okay, the cookies crumbled a little too easily and the icing had turned to solid rock after she'd spread it on the cookies, but that just meant it evened out! The cookies looked perfect and that's all that mattered.

Josie didn't dare to attempt to master the art of basket weaving, especially not with such a tight deadline, so she bought a new basket instead. Josie had then packed it full of her home-baked goodies - no photographs included - and cleaned herself up to return to Morton Holdings.

Walking towards the receptionist's desk, Josie held her basket just as firm as the smile she held on her face. Mrs. Morton was going to love these cookies and she would like Josie and call her a friend and all would be right in her world once more.

"Ma'am, put the basket down."

Josie had been so focused on the receptionist's desk that she hadn't even noticed Security. A large man with shoulders broader than her husband's stepped in front of her to stop Josie and pointed to the ground.

"It's just some cookies. A cake, muffins, some other goodies. I baked them myself. They're a present for Mrs. Morton," Josie stammered her explanation, trying to keep her smile in place.

Security raised an eyebrow, which was odd considering he was completely bald and hair-free. Josie set the basket down and held her hands clasped innocently in front of her. She had nothing to hide or be apologetic for. Mrs. Morton was going to get the thank you basket if it was the last thing she did.

Security took a device off his belt and held it towards the basket. As Josie was contemplating his lack of eyebrows, she watched as those non-eyebrows climbed very high.

"What? What's wrong?" Josie asked, alarmed by the expression on Security's face.

"Security Two, this is Security One. Protect the personnel immediately and call the police."

"Wh-What? What is that thing? Did you poison my food? I swear it's just baked goods!" Josie said, even as Security One grabbed her and stalked towards the front of the building.

An alarm went off in the building that she swore all of Maxville could hear, and Josie's eyes widened as she saw reporters gathering outside. Behind the security guard, steel reinforced doors lowered to close off the personnel from the hazard in the foyer.

"Security One, what the hell is going on?" Mrs. Morton's voice came from the radio.

"It's just a misunderstanding!" Josie called, hoping desperately that Mrs. Morton would hear her.

Security cuffed Josie and put her in the waiting police car - the police always ensured to respond as soon as possible for Mrs. Morton, as she had donated jet-powered cars to their precinct - and Josie was in a police station within five minutes of arriving at Morton Holdings.

"Security One, do not make me repeat myself," Mrs. Morton said sternly.

Taking the radio and pressing the talk button, Security answered, "Sorry, Ellie. Josie returned; it's another gift basket. This one reacted to the counter."

"Which one?"

"The radioactive one."

"Super bloody Jesus, save us all," Ellie muttered.

"Don't worry, Ellie. I've got someone who can handle it; specialises in biohazards, such a dear," Honey promised, smiling.

"Do I have an address to send it to? Or should it go straight into an incinerator instead?" Ellie asked, rolling her eyes.

"I've sent someone to pick it up. They'll be there about... now."

"Security Two, this is Security One. Someone has arrived for the basket?"

Ellie waved a hand at Security Two. "It's fine. Get the bloody thing out of my hair."

Confirming with Security One, Security Two watched on the monitor as someone in a hazmat suit left the building, carrying the basket in its own fortified container. The reporters outside practically fell over each other to get photos.

"Undo those steel doors, would you? Oh, and tell Tess she owes me a hundred; Josie came back, after all," Ellie said with a grin.

"But ma'am - " Security Two protested.

"Don't you but ma'am me!"

"But Ellie," Security Two protested. "What if it leaked?"

"You honestly think Hourglass would let something dangerous like that into Maxville?"

Security Two shrugged. "I don't know her; I know you'd be pissed if something happened and Morton Holdings is blamed, though."

Ellie sighed. "Damn it. Get one of those reporters up here; I'll release a statement about Josie bringing a biohazard and threatening my staff."

"You realise I'm still here, Ellie?" Honey asked, sounding amused from the computer speakers.

"Bloody hell, lass! Have you got someone for that, too?" Ellie asked the hourglass icon.

"Actually, yes. Sarah will be up soon."

"And the contamination?"

"The basket wasn't left in the foyer long enough for contamination to occur. Tell Security One to relax," she said, grinning.

"Security One, calm down, your balls won't drop off. Hourglass said so," Security Two added, grinning.

There was a beat of silence. "What about my hair?"

Ellie laughed so loud that Security Two almost dropped his radio.

...

"You've got forty seconds to get from the end of the lockers into the Detention Room. I'll open the doors again in an hour; call out if you need them open sooner. Do not be heroes about this and try to take on more than you should, got it?" Adam said sternly.

"Got it. We won't be heroes," Layla said with a bright smile, squeezing his shirt-covered shoulder gently. "We'll be all right, Adam. I promise we'll call if we're not."

"Good. Now go; you've got fifteen seconds to get to the lockers."

"Fifteen? For fuck - " Warren trailed off and grabbed Layla's hand, leading her out of the study hall and to the lockers briskly.

"Slower, Warren. Too fast and we'll attract attention," Layla said, squeezing his hand.

"Too slow and we miss our window. I want this over with, hippie," Warren muttered, already loathing the feeling of the cuff on his wrist. His only solace was the fact that he could feel his power through Layla's brand, the warmth so near and yet so damn far.

Layla nodded in response, not enjoying the feeling of the cuff herself. Making it to the end of the lockers with mere seconds to spare, Warren and Layla saw the door to the Detention Room already open. Not daring to look at the cameras and trusting that Adam had moved them out of the lens' sight, Warren and Layla slipped into the Detention Room. Holding their breath until the door closed behind them, and their hearts pounding from that simple act, it took them both a moment to feel the impact of the suppressor beams around them.

Warren wanted to call out for Adam immediately, reminded of his father and Maxville Super Penitentiary far too viscerally with both the cuff and beams. Reaching out to Layla, Warren held her close, his hand clutching at the brand around her wrist.

"It's okay, Warren. We're all right. We're safe and I won't let anyone hurt you," Layla murmured, stroking his back with her free hand and watching as emotions flickered across his face, far too fast and brief for her to discern. Continuing with soft soothing words and a firm touch, Layla guided Warren over to the seats so he could sit down.

Warren came back to himself slowly, feeling like he was putting together a jigsaw puzzle with half of the pieces upside down. He felt exceptionally raw, and took a deep shuddering breath as the pieces all settled into place.

Opening his eyes, Warren swallowed hard at the sight of pure white around him, so similar to his father's meeting room. Fuck, he hated this room. He had no idea how he'd survived being in this room within a metre of Stronghold without trying to choke the bastard. Wait, no, that was a lie. He'd been so consumed by thoughts of his mother and worrying about her that he'd barely spared a thought for himself, and especially not one for the self-righteous little shit that had been sitting next to him.

Looking to the seat beside him now, Warren was exceptionally glad that Layla was with him this time instead. He didn't have to hide behind a tough façade or pretend that he wasn't affected by this damn room.

She smiled at him, sweet and worried. "Are you okay, Warren?"

He wasn't lying when he nodded, loosening his grip on her. Warren glanced down at their hands, his eyes widening when he saw the red mark he'd left on Layla's wrist from the tight hold. "Fuck. Hippie, I didn't... I'm sorry."

"Hmm? Oh, I didn't even notice. It doesn't hurt; I'm all right, Warren."

"But... fuck, is this how it starts?"

"How what starts?" Layla asked, frowning. Realisation dawned a moment later and she shook her head adamantly, her ponytail escaping its confines. "Warren, no. You didn't hurt me on purpose or with any intent. It wasn't a way to prove your manliness or that you're better than me. You're not an abuser, do you understand me?"

Warren didn't look entirely convinced.

"It's all right, Warren. I'm fine, see?" Layla said, turning and twisting her wrist without a wince of pain. "Are you all right?"

Forcing himself to look away from the reddened skin on her wrist, Warren nodded. "I'm not great. I'll be okay, though. I'm glad you're here with me," he admitted, leaning across the desks to kiss her.

Layla smiled against his lips, pulling away slowly. "Do you want to try straight away or just relax first?"

"Let's see what we can do. I'd rather relax once we know if we can or can't," Warren admitted.

"We can," Layla said firmly.

Warren couldn't help but believe her.

"All right. Can you feel me?" Layla asked.

Warren snorted at Layla's wording. "Setting yourself up for that, hippie."

She grinned and kissed him. "Can you feel me on your wrist?"

Warren licked his lips and felt for the emotions, felt for the heat and warmth, the thorns. He shook his head. "There's nothing."

"Try again," Layla said, trying a different emotion herself.

There was a brief spark of lust but it was gone too soon for Warren to take hold of it. He shook his head again.

"Okay. I'll try grief. It should be strong enough to get through."

"That will incapacitate us, then. Let me try an emotion instead," Warren suggested.

"All right," Layla said, settling back on her chair and concentrating.

Lust and desire spiked before disappearing just as suddenly. Layla shook her head. Warren tried concern and worry and shame, his gaze falling to the bruising skin around Layla's wrist. She shook her head again and took his hand in her own.

"I can feel it for a fraction of a second, but then it's gone," Layla said.

Warren wondered if even his love would be enough and was suddenly hesitant to try. What if it was just as fleeting as the other emotions? What if love wasn't enough? What if he wasn't enough for Layla? What if he turned out no better than his father? Worse, what if he became his father, stuck in prison with no access to his power, stuck within endless white rooms, and no one visiting him year after year?

"Warren? Talk to me, what's wrong?" Layla asked, squeezing his hand and trying to get him to open his eyes and look at her. "Warren?"

He was eight years old again, forced to visit his father in prison, his legs too short to reach the floor, his father an imposing and hollowed creature in front of him. Warren remembered his father laughing joyously only weeks before, how full of life he'd been and how loving. Now, in this pristine white room with his white prisoner's outfit and the white cuffs stark around his wrists, it felt like the white place had washed his father out and drained him of his life and love. Warren had started to cry then, big wet tears that the cameras had focused on immediately. His father had looked disgusted - by him or the cameras? Warren still didn't know - and told him to control his emotions so they wouldn't control him.

Layla moved so she was directly across from Warren, clutching his hands and wishing for her power, for their brand tattoos, for something to help him recover. In this room, all she had was herself. She would have to be enough.

"Look at me."

The demand came and Warren couldn't resist it. He opened his eyes and instead of white he saw red. Relief flooded him, the emotion strong enough to alert Layla, and she smiled gently.

"That's it. Welcome back, Warren. What happened?"

Warren shook his head, needing a moment longer to recover from his memories. Layla waited patiently, watching as Warren inhaled and exhaled, controlling his emotions. "Being in here reminds me of visiting my dad. Don't like it," he said, barely a mutter.

"You don't like white spaces, do you?" Layla asked as she looked around them, white on all sides.

He'd had a panic attack at ten years old at the hospital, the white walls closing in on him, and the doctors and nurses had put it down to the shock of a broken arm. He had calmed down in the kids area because there was colour again. He didn't care about the cartoon animals or the babyish depictions on the walls, he just needed the colour. Warren had forgotten about that.

"It's all right, Warren. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Layla said as he clutched her hand again.

Licking his lips, he swallowed hard and nodded. "I know. Thank you, Layla."

She smiled brightly and leaned forward to kiss him gently.

Love washed through Warren at the simple act, the way she understood and even if she didn't understand then she at least didn't judge him. He loved her for that and for every other thing, even when she tossed and turned in her sleep and knocked his face, or when she teased and called him hottie. He loved that he didn't have to pretend, to be someone other than who he was, he even loved that she'd filled his lonely life with warmth and love and laughter with their friends. He loved Layla and her ability to make him feel loved with nothing more than a bright smile and a simple kiss. He loved that she loved him. She didn't dismiss his worries or concerns or fears, instead, Layla helped him recognise them and confront them. She let him rage and cry, and she did the same. She had built an oasis just for them to protect and hide them if necessary and while they both knew they wouldn't leave their friends to be caught or hurt, the fact that Layla had thought of him while creating it meant she knew just how important it was for Warren to stay safe and out of prison. He loved Layla so fucking much and he'd never be able to find the words to properly convey just how much she meant to him. Looking at her, a red halo of frizzy hair around her head, Warren couldn't help but love her even more than he already did.

"I felt that."

"Hmm?"

Layla grinned and leaned over to kiss him again, harder this time. "I felt your love for me. Through my wrist," she added.

Warren's eyes widened at the realisation. "You did?"

"Kind of hard to ignore," Layla admitted, a blush on her cheeks.

Warren stood up abruptly and tugged Layla against his chest, kissing her senseless and trying to convey his love and relief wordlessly. They pulled away, Layla's lips shiny and plump with her eyes half closed and a deeper blush on her face. Warren didn't know what he'd done to deserve her.

"Okay, I need to test mine and then we're making out. I don't care if Royal Pain herself comes back, no one is stopping me from loving you," Layla said, fierce determination sparking on his wrist and echoed in her eyes.

"Anything you want, hippie."

Layla kissed him one more time, pulling away before she could get too lost in their emotions and forget why they were here.

Focusing on her love for the man in front of her, Layla let it build up: Warren telling her he loved her, smiling at her with that warm and broad smile he only had for her, the way he'd helped her no matter what she asked for (homework, Will, Greta, their permanent plans for the future). She loved him even when he snored, loved that he could be vulnerable and scared in front of her, loved that he held her through her grief for her mother, that he was always there for her and always would be. His pride in her for accomplishing tasks and creating things, for the support he gave even when he hadn't understood the why or how. Layla loved Warren for talking with her and listening to her rants, even if he was amused by them most of the time. She loved him for the way he loved her, too; for the way her heart skipped a beat when he looked for her across a crowded room and the loving expression on his face when he did see her. She loved him for the way he was happy with their friends, how he was no longer lonely and no longer let himself be lonely. She loved how Warren was trying so hard to be better than his father even though she knew he already was just by being himself. She loved the small, scared child he'd been - and in some ways, still was - and how he was working through those emotions and memories for himself as much as her. She loved how he could make her laugh and smile, how he could make her feel safe just by holding her hand, how she knew she could always count on him, even if they argued or disagreed.

"Fuck," Warren breathed at the onslaught of emotion he could feel, the overwhelming love that Layla felt for him.

Layla blinked, smiling slowly at the wondrous expression on Warren's face, like he wasn't worthy of her love. She kissed him, trying to convey how he was worthy of this and so much more than she could ever give.

Warren felt a vine wrap around his wrist as Layla practically launched herself at him, their lips meeting with no resistance. He kissed her back, holding Layla up even as he let a flame lose around her wrist. Falling back against a desk, Warren ignored the sharp pain on his legs, fumbling to sit down.

As soon as they were sitting, the desk creaking dangerously at their combined weight, Layla straddled Warren's waist properly, his hands slipping to her ribs under her shirt. Caressing his thumbs against her skin and along the silky material of her bra, Warren pulled away from their kiss so he could press warm lips against her torso.

The desk creaked again, metal making an awful sound as it bent, and they were both on the ground, Warren landing flat on his ass with Layla's weight on top of him. Leaves cushioned their fall, and Warren held Layla so her knees wouldn't smash into the floor. He barely had time to check that she was all right before Layla was kissing him again, her hands under his shirt.

"Hippie. Our hour's almost up," Warren said, his lips against hers.

Layla hummed a noise in response, and apparently humming with his tongue in her mouth was a very good thing, because Warren's mind went blank for a few seconds.

"I'll be back when you're - whoa!"

Cassie's voice had Layla and Warren pulling apart, and they looked over to see Cassie, Fantasia, and Atlantis standing at the door, staring.

"I've got to go to chess club; I'll see you on the bus, Fan," Atlantis said, leaving without a word.

"On second thought, maybe I should stay here," Cassie said, smirking as Layla and Warren tried to rearrange themselves and stand up, the desk behind them bent out of shape.

"Ugh, why would you make out here?" Fantasia asked with a grimace of disgust.

"Privacy," Layla said, rearranging her shirt and taking the hair tie that Warren took off his wrist and offered to her, tying up her hair.

Cassie laughed. "There's plenty of private spaces around here that aren't the detention room."

"And how do you know that?" Warren teased, Cassie turning pink.

Fantasia heard Cassie call goodbye, but she was too distracted to respond. Sitting on the pristine floor of the detention room were three bright green leaves. Looking to the door before it closed, Fantasia saw white cuffs on Warren and Layla's wrists to replace his leather cuff and join her bangles.

How had leaves been created in the room when they were surrounded by power suppressors and wearing cuffs? It wasn't possible, was it?

Fantasia had another thought as the door closed: if they can access their power in here, then I can access mine.

...

Deadly competition: Josie Stronghold tries to poison a more successful businesswoman! by Sarah Bowman.

"I'm really proud of that article," Sarah said with a grin.

"It's got a hundred thousand hits online; that's a new record for Labyrinth," Honey said, hugging her friend. "I'll buy you Chinese to celebrate."

Sarah pulled away from the hug and narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Are you using me to talk to Warren and Layla? You have their phone numbers! And you're on their group chat," she added at her friend's guilty expression.

"I know, but this needs a face to face conversation. Besides, I've been craving Chinese food all week."

"It's Wednesday, Honey."

"Not the point. Do you want Chinese or not?"

"What if I say no?"

"We'll celebrate early with Indian and still stop by the Paper Lantern."

"That's on the opposite side of town from Indian. You made them buy that building in 1996! You didn't do it just for this, did you?"

Honey was silent for a long moment. "No?"

"Oh my god, you suck at lying."

"That's why I have you. Come on, I'll buy you spring rolls and splash out for prawn crackers."

"The prawn crackers are free! Goddamn it, Honey," Sarah groaned as Honey giggled on her way out. Grabbing her bag and following after her friend, Sarah couldn't stop from smiling at how genuinely happy Honey sounded.

...

"Is... is everything all right, dear?" Steve asked warily, feeling like he was stepping on eggshells with each word that fell from his lips.

Josie was banging and clashing the pots and pans, muttering to herself, and she had the telltale bruises from handcuffs on her wrists. Determining that his wife hadn't heard him, Steve took his escape to the living room to watch the news; Maxville's Evening News was about to start, and it was important for a superhero to keep abreast of local events. Speaking of breasts...

Tasha smiled at the camera, her pink lips matching her pink low cut shirt. "Good evening, Maxville, and welcome to Maxville's Evening News. I'm Tasha and here are tonight's headlines: Josie Stronghold, local realtor, attempts to poison Maxville's most prominent businesswoman, Eleanor Morton."

Steve's jaw dropped at the headline, his shock making him miss the rest of the headlines.

"Tonight's top news story: Josie Stronghold delivered what she claimed to be home baked goods to Morton Holdings this afternoon. They registered on the Geiger scale, testing positive for radiation. Security's quick thinking stopped any contamination from spreading, and the goods were taken to be tested at a special facility. Insider sources state that they are still trying to determine the cause of the contamination, and are investigating a concrete-like substance on one of the baked goods.

"Security cuffed Mrs. Stronghold and the police whisked her away to be interrogated. From what we can gather here at the station, Mrs. Stronghold paid her own bail and will have to do community service. Nowhere near Morton Holdings," Tasha added with a giggle.

"Steve! Dinner's ready!" Josie called loudly.

He slammed a hand on the remote quickly, not caring what station the TV landed on, so long as it wasn't the news. The remote cracked under his hand and Steve winced as plastic and rubber buttons fell to the ground. Seeing that it was their home security system, Steve figured he could explain that if Josie came in. The broken remote would be easier to replace, or better yet, he could blame Will since he was studying at Magenta's.

The banging and clanging was still coming from the kitchen, so he stood and left the lounge room calling, "Coming, dear!"

"Don't yell in the house!"

...

End of the hundred and twenty-seventh chapter.

Thanks for reading; hope you liked it!