Chapter One Hundred and Forty One
...
"Today's issue of Labyrinth is the trashiest I've seen from them in ages. Did you know they're accusing the Strongholds of stealing stationery from their own business?" Craig snickered.
"We stole their stationery from their house," Ethan pointed out.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Well, the headline's still vague and misleading as hell. It just says 'Strongholds steal from themselves'. The IRS could get involved. No one wants that."
Adam snorted. "I do. If the IRS showed up, they'd shit themselves."
"Who's shitting themselves? Can we see it from a non-smellable distance?" Zach asked, wrapping an arm around Ethan's shoulders.
"Non-smellable distance? Really, Zach?"
"I couldn't think of the proper word. Non-scentable? No, that's not right, either."
"You could've just said 'from a distance where we can't smell them,'" Craig mused.
"Too long-winded," Zach said, shaking his head.
"I don't even think a word exists for that."
"Can we stop talking about this? What else did the article about the Strongholds say, Craig?" Adam asked.
Curious, Zach looked at Craig's phone as he read the article.
"They just said they stole stationery, and had photos of them sneaking out with boxes of folders and pens, stuff like that. The Strongholds were contacted for comment but did not respond. Aww, shame," Craig snickered.
"Huh, you recognise that folder, Eth? Will's been carrying it around, hasn't he?" Zach asked, tapping Craig's shoulder so he'd show Ethan the photo.
Ethan looked closely and nodded. "Yes, I believe so. The blue stripe is in the same spot, and there's a tear on the plastic, too. Nice observation, Zach."
"Thanks!"
"So, they stole from their office to give Will supplies for school? Why was this reported as news?" Adam asked, rolling his eyes.
Craig shrugged. "Like you said, if the IRS showed up, they'd shit themselves. The article says they stole stationery, but if they'd steal that, then what else are they capable of stealing?"
...
Layla knocked on the Yolanda residence's front door, waiting until the door opened. She smiled at Cyan, who looked back at her with a frown. "Hi, Cyan. Is Magenta home? I brought her homework."
"Oh. Right. I thought you were selling cookies or something. Kayla, right?" Cyan asked, scratching his overgrown hair as he stepped back for her to enter the house.
"Layla," she corrected. "You were close though. Also, your mother's selling cookies for me," Layla added with a laugh.
"They're yours? Fuck, they're good! I was gonna eat them but my own mother made me buy them from her," Cyan said, shaking his head. "The boxes are cute; my girlfriend loved hers, at least."
"Thanks, I made them myself. So, can I take this up to Magenta or... "
"Oh. She's at church. Repenting for her sins, according to Mama. She's not the one who should be repenting, if you ask me," Cyan muttered.
"Oh... Who should?" Layla asked curiously.
"Her idiot boyfriend. That little shit tried to threaten me, though Maj doesn't know that, of course. He's lucky he's dating my little sister or I would've ripped his fucking head off. You just don't go up against lion shifters and live, y'know?" Cyan snapped.
"Will threatened you? When?" Layla asked incredulously.
"Oh, a couple of months ago. He came here to take Maj away on our family board game night without even telling her first, and was a shitbag then for flirting with that reporter, but I couldn't do anything in front of Cer, yeah?
"Anyway, the next day, Maj has a spa day thing and Will just so happens to run into me and my girlfriend in Westville. He claims we were disturbing the peace or some bullshit. We were laughing at memes, for fuck's sakes. That little prick is so damn lucky my girlfriend calmed me down, or he would've been lion meat."
"Shame," Layla said before she thought about it, wincing and blushing when Cyan looked at her in surprise.
"You're not his friend?"
"Um, no. He's my ex. In fact... y'know what, never mind. I'll just leave this and go," Layla said quickly.
"No, tell me. C'mon, if it's dirt against him, it'll really help my case to get him kicked out by Papi. He won't do anything to hurt Maj, but he might if it's bad enough. It took a lot to calm him after the shit that happened at the barbecue; Maj was covered in bruises for two weeks."
"Well... I was still dating Will when he and Magenta started dating. I don't blame her, but I worry about what Will might do to Magenta. He's not exactly known for being faithful; one of my friends even has a super restraining order against him," Layla said, her voice hesitant.
"What the fuck?" Cyan snapped, whiskers sprouting from his face.
"I know. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry, Cyan, just ignore me. I'm the crazy ex, right? That's what all guys say about their exes, isn't it? I'm sure Will won't cheat on Magenta, too."
Cyan swallowed hard and forced his shift away, even as he felt his eyes flicker to gold. He was going to hunt that little bastard down and tear him in half.
A roar echoed through the house and Cyan's shift faded immediately at the sound. "Papa!" he said, sinking back onto his seat, golden eyes wide.
"Cyan, calm down and put your claws away. Now." Layla tried to look inconspicuous as Mr. Yolanda walked into the room, a commanding presence despite his thin frame. Mr. Yolanda turned to her once Cyan had settled and smiled gently, concern clear in his eyes. "Are you okay, señorita?"
She nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
"Good. I am glad, señorita. Please, let me walk you to the door. Do not run, his hold on his shift is temperamental, like the weather," Mr. Yolanda said.
Layla laughed weakly and held out the envelope. "It's Magenta's homework."
"Thank you, señorita. I will give it to her myself. Please, come," Mr. Yolanda said, holding out a hand to guide Layla to the front door and out to the gate. "Thank you for understanding, señorita. My Cyan is a good boy, but his control is not so good. He is better now, but he can be set off easily when emotional. He thinks his girlfriend might break up with him, so he is extra emotional lately."
"Oh, that's a shame. I hope he'll be okay."
"He will be, just as we all are after such a thing. Thank you for being brave, señorita."
"Of course. Can you tell Magenta I said hello? I'd text her, but she's still grounded."
"Yes, I will tell her. Ciao, señorita."
"Bye, Mr. Yolanda," Layla said, leaving and wondering if Honey would tell her if she'd just done something good, or even better, something permanent.
...
"It's defamation! Where's my phone? I'm calling our lawyer," Josie snapped.
"You're holding your phone, Josie," Steve said hesitantly.
"Right. Of course. I'm stressed. This whole thing is ridiculous!"
"It took Will out of the news though, isn't that a good thing?"
Josie bit the inside of her cheek and didn't reply. They'd been waiting for the whole Will reveals himself as a super in public debacle to blow over, of course, but that didn't mean they should be the media's next victims.
They'd only used the stationery as a temporary measure, anyway! She'd just been too busy to replace anything and by the time she remembered, the stores were usually closed.
The ringing tone finally ended. "Hello - "
"Ah, good, you are there, David. This is Jetstream; the Commander and I need your services."
"I know who you are; I do have caller ID," the District Attorney replied, hurrying to continue, "I'm assuming it's about the article in the Labyrinth? I've already drawn up the cease and desist form; you just need to sign. Do you want to come to my office or do you have a pen there?"
Josie glared - Steve wondered what the coffee machine had done to deserve such a scathing look - and she forced herself to breathe. They paid their lawyer by the hour and this phone call was already costing so much money. "Of course we have pens here, David!"
"Of course, Jetstream. I'll email the form through shortly."
"Thank you, David."
...
Larry was going to be in so much shit if his parents ever found out where he was. It wasn't late, he wasn't out after his curfew, he wasn't sneaking out to meet a girl (unfortunately), and he'd finished all of his homework for that night; in fact, he'd even finished an essay due that Friday just to cover his bases. None of that would matter to his parents if they knew he was in Westville.
His red hair drew just as much attention as the fact that he was walking alone during peak hour. People glanced at him as he headed down the path, trying to avoid being hit by larger and taller people, mostly unsuccessfully. It didn't take long for the first pickpocket to go for his wallet. The chain attached to it was tugged and Larry turned around, pulling his wallet back with a fierce grip. The pickpocket glared at him and Larry turned, using his smaller stature to run and duck and weave through the crowd.
The pickpocket obviously didn't try to follow, but his frantic movements drew more attention still. Larry took one turn too many, away from the crowd and into an alley. He stared at the brick wall ahead and swallowed hard as shadows darkened his view. Turning abruptly, Larry's eyes widened behind his glasses when he saw three figures armed with abused and bloodied knuckle dusters. He took his glasses off and wiped at the sweat starting to gather on his forehead, tucking his glasses into his vest's pocket.
The heroes on TV always made this look so easy. Why didn't they mention how terrifying it was?
He held his fists up, clenching his jaw when they laughed. "Leave me alone!" His voice was as weak as a newborn kitten's and just as effective.
They laughed harder and moved further into the alley, intending on crowding him and beating him senseless, it seemed.
"All right, kid. We'll leave you alone. Right after you hand over your wallet."
"And your phone."
"C'mon, kid. This'll be quick and painless if you do as we say."
Larry swallowed hard, then held his fists by his side and let out a roar, shifting to his rocky form. The buildings on either side were damaged with his shift - he knew he shouldn't have gone into an alley - but he could still move. Letting out another roar, one definitely not like a kitten's this time, Larry stepped forward.
The three muggers screamed and ran out of the alley immediately, Larry taking one giant step and capturing all three in his stone fist. People screamed in surprise and possibly fear at the sight of him. Larry tried to be careful as he stepped around and over people and between cars and trucks. When he saw what he was looking for, Larry set the three people in his fist down in front of the police officers, both of whom were staring, their faces pale and coffees on the floor.
"There you go, officers," he prompted, hoping for thanks if not applause.
"Uh... Right. Of course," one officer said, taking their cuffs off to arrest the three unconscious muggers; whether they'd simply fainted or suffocated in the brief stone tomb would be determined at the station later.
"What's your name?" the other officer asked, still staring up at Larry.
Larry had thought about this and researched and practiced. He made himself smile; he was friendly and non-threatening, just your regular everyday rock person! "My name is Earth and Stone," he said, coughing on the 'and' when a bug flew into his mouth.
"Earthstone?" the officer clarified.
Close enough, Larry thought even as he nodded in response.
...
"I can't believe you went into Westville! That's my territory!" Will snapped, glaring at Larry.
"Well, you weren't there. Besides, Westville is more than big enough for two heroes," Larry replied confidently, surrounded by awed admirers and girls.
"How did it feel? Was it amazing? It looked amazing!"
"Becky, calm the fuck down," Hayley hissed at her friend.
"No, it was amazing, and I won't calm down!" she replied, glaring over her shoulder, and turning her attention back to Larry with a pretty smile. "You'll sign an autograph for me, won't you?"
"Uh, yeah. Of course. Did you get a photo?" Larry asked.
Will's jaw dropped. People were asking Larry for photos and autographs?! He'd actually fought a villain; all Larry had done was knock out a couple of thugs! He'd done that a hundred times over!
Becky smiled again and whispered in Larry's ear, Larry turning bright red.
"I don't want to know. I'm leaving, Becky," Hayley called over her shoulder.
"Bye!" Becky called back.
Larry was pretty sure he had an erection in the hallway, but he didn't even care. Becky had just asked him to sign her boobs. Being a hero was the best thing in the world.
...
Principal Powers rubbed her temples, wondering if this was a new headache or if it had simply continued from the last student disaster she'd dealt with. Lowering her hands, she inhaled and exhaled, then called Larry into her office. He sat across from her looking proud and she wanted to shake him for the audacity. "You realise there are reasons why we don't allow students to be active heroes, don't you? It is a role for university graduates, not high school students. You have not only taken away an employment opportunity from a university student, you've also put yourself at risk of not being employed later. You still don't have all of the required skills of a hero. You can't drive, you don't know how to deal with police protocol, you haven't passed Communication for Heroes at the junior level, let alone the senior one. How will you deal with the next emergency in Westville?"
Larry felt nauseous. Being berated by Principal Powers was not the best thing in the world and he didn't know how to answer her questions, which made him realise that he definitely hadn't thought this through like he thought he had. "I... I... I don't know."
"You can't just wander the streets and power up when you feel like it, Larry. I understand these were extenuating circumstances, but there were other ways to deal with the thugs. Things like this are exactly the reason you are taught negotiation and communication skills."
Larry fought back his tears and tried not to sound whiny as he replied. "They had knuckle dusters, Principal Powers. I don't think they were going to listen to me."
"They certainly wouldn't if you didn't try to talk to them first!"
Larry looked distraught already, but she knew he'd never learn unless she truly drove the point home.
"The Mayor of Westville is seeking compensation for the destroyed buildings. They were Heritage listed, Larry, so it is not a simple nor cheap fix."
"I didn't know."
"I know; you haven't been instructed in understanding building composition and age yet. It's something that is taught in Hero Basics 101 at the University of Maxville: another reason we don't allow teenagers to become heroes!"
"Will is," Larry said, his final retort and not a good one.
Principal Powers pursed her lips. "Yes, I am aware of that. The circumstances for that decision are far beyond my control, but it is also not the focus of this meeting, is it?"
Larry shook his head. "No, Principal Powers."
"You will have detention for the rest of the week, starting today; this is your first strike, Mr. Levinsky."
...
"Love the outfit, Milo. That skirt really suits you," Zach said with a grin as Milo entered the classroom shyly.
"Thanks," Milo replied, surprised by his genuine tone.
Ethan indicated to the empty table beside him. "Why don't you sit with us? You get a better view of the board," he added.
The seats on either side of the two boys were usually empty, as no one wanted to sit with the two that fraternised with Warren Peace and had betrayed Will Stronghold. Not even Magenta sat with them and she was kind of their friend. Despite the seclusion and ostracising, Zach and Ethan were good students and still dating and in love. The latter was a guess on Milo's part since they didn't show PDA like others dating, but they held hands every so often and Zach glowed red or pink just from looking at Ethan sometimes.
Taking a seat next to Zach, Milo ensured his skirt was sitting properly before taking his things out for class. Ethan had a specific way of setting out his pens, pencil, eraser, ruler, and whiteboard markers that made Milo's fistful of stationery look like a mess. Even Zach had his stationery set out neatly - more coloured pens and highlighters than Ethan - and a fidget cube on the other side.
"What's with the cube?" Milo asked.
"Keeps me focused," Zach said, picking it up and rolling the ball bearing with his thumb. "I prefer the clicking buttons but the noise is distracting for others," he said, demonstrating a few buttons.
Milo nodded, thankful that Zach wasn't using that. He'd probably throw the fidget cube out the window if he heard that noise incessantly in class.
"Good morning, class," Mr. Boy said with a bright smile as he entered the classroom.
"Good morning, Mr. Boy."
"Today we'll be doing a practical exercise on how to handle your Hero's weapons. If there's ever a chance your Hero is fallen or unable to fire, you need to know how to use their weapons successfully. If you're lucky, your Hero may even allow you your own weapon. It will, of course, be small and unobtrusive, which often translates to difficult to handle," he admitted with a frown. "We have the gym booked this morning, so pack your things and follow me."
Everyone was ready in under thirty seconds - teaching them how to change outfits super fast translated to other areas of their lives - and Mr. Boy led the way to the gym.
"Where are you going to hold any of this crap, Milo? In your girly skirt?" one guy snickered, Milo turning red.
Ethan didn't even turn around to answer. "Milo's skirt is far more practical than your painted-on shorts, Brandon. You'll be lucky to still have your genitals at the end of this class."
"At least Milo can wear a thigh holster without telling the world he's packing. You couldn't even get a piece of string in your pocket without someone noticing. Also, how can you still feel your balls in that getup? Aren't you sore?" Zach added, wincing.
"I can feel my balls fine!" Brandon snapped.
"Eww!" several girls said, stepping away from him with a disgusted expression.
"What's going on back there?" Mr. Boy called.
Brandon clenched his jaw, and Zach and Ethan looked to Milo to give him the decision.
"Nothing, sir."
Mr. Boy stopped at the gym door and opened it wide for them to go inside. He didn't look as though he believed Milo's answer, but relented when no one else said anything. "You need to tell me if something is happening; I don't have eyes in the back of my head and I can't see everything that happens, even if I wish I could."
"That doesn't sound very practical, sir. If your eyes are in the back of your head, then you would receive conflicting visual information from the eyes in the front of your head. Better to have eyes like animals that allow them to see around them in a wider scope," Ethan mused.
"But those animals are considered prey because of their eye position; chameleons can see at 360 degrees, but they have a lot of predators and are usually considered to be at the bottom of the food chain," Zach mused.
"Did you see David Attenborough's Life documentary? There was a section about chameleons in there," Mr. Boy said eagerly. "They're quite formidable, despite their size. Some of them were so tiny," he added, choking up at the thought.
"We watched Blue Planet; we'll have to watch Life, soon," Zach said to Ethan, who nodded in response.
"I'll add it to our timetable."
"Thanks, Eth. Now, Mr. Boy, which one of these weapons will cause the most damage? To other people, not me. My fingers are still not tweezers," Zach added, looking over to the long table with a range of weapons.
"Well, out of these weapons, none. They're not loaded; we wouldn't do that. There was a time when we did, but... there was so much blood," Mr. Boy said, shuddering. "Instead, you get to learn how to operate them as if they were loaded."
"How are ninja throwing stars not going to cause damage? They're ninja throwing stars," Milo said.
"They've been blunted, just like the arrows and crossbow weapons. There are extra corks to add to sharper objects; you're right about the throwing stars," Mr. Boy said, revealing a bag of corks, and adding them to the rounded ends of the four-sided stars. "Now, I will demonstrate each of these weapons individually and you will have your turns once I am finished. Stand back, everyone," he called, nodding to where several target boards were set up at the other end of the gym.
"You're throwing them from here? You can't - "
Mr. Boy ignored the comments, throwing stars in his hands, and then they weren't. Four solid thuds sounded and everyone looked at the target boards in disbelief, throwing stars embedded on the boards despite the corks. Silence descended, the students too stunned to do anything more than stare. Mr. Boy grabbed the next weapon - crossbow and a quiver of blunt arrows - and fired shot after shot. The ray guns were next, the target boards expanding, shrinking, or freezing over. A heat gun followed, the ice thawing into a pool below the target. A bat'leth, sword, and foil followed, three of the four target boards cut clean in half. A length of rope was on the table, which Mr. Boy quickly tied into a lasso, swinging above his head with a fierce determination, and letting go, pulling tight as it looped around the fourth target.
"Any questions?" Mr. Boy asked, turning to see the stunned group.
"What the fuck?"
"Language, Mr. Brighton."
"What the fudge sticks?"
"I believe Zach is trying to ask when and where did you learn all of that?"
"Well, most of it I learned right here at Sky High. Of course, we were still on land then, so the flying in the atmosphere part makes this a little more difficult. A lot more I learnt at University of Maxville with their initial Hero Degree, and then, of course, there was my time as the Commander's sidekick. His father... well, I had to prove my worth against other hero support to get the job, which was difficult, but I did it."
He glossed over the homophobia and elitist comments he'd had to endure, all for employment and the Commander.
"Teach us everything you know, sensei!" Zach said with a dramatic bow.
...
"Are you all right, Zona?" Honey asked, frowning at Sorcha and wondering if she'd managed to get drunk again.
"I can't get drunk."
"Okay. That's bad because?"
"Because I was getting drunk for a damn reason, Honey. Whatever you and your... friend did to me, I can't get drunk anymore, which means I can't forget. So, I'm annoyed at you."
Honey rolled her eyes. "And I'm annoyed at you, yet the world still turns."
"What?"
"The world turns on - "
"Not that, Honey. Why are you annoyed at me? What did I do to you? Make you sober against your will?" Sorcha asked, glaring.
"You missed my Welcome to Maxville party," Honey replied.
"Why would I go to a welcome party for a town I've lived in for fifteen damn years?"
"That's not the point, Sorcha. The point is now I have to try to set you up in a different way."
"Set me up? What for?" Sorcha asked, wondering if she was going to be framed for something.
"It was going to be such a cute-meet story, too. He was going to spill a drink on you, you were going to spend three minutes swearing at him in Ancient Sumerian, and he was going to correct your pronunciation on one of the words, and you'd fall for each other right there and then. Now, I'll be lucky if I even get a mention at your wedding reception. I put a lot of work into that and you didn't even show up."
"What the fuck?"
"Well, never mind all that. You're sober and pissed at me?" Honey asked, waiting for Sorcha to continue.
"Now I'm doubly pissed. You know how long I've been trying to find a decent date, and you found a guy who speaks Ancient Sumerian and didn't tell me?! Set up a meeting with my mystery guy and I'll forgive you for the sobriety."
There was a knock at Honey's door and she grinned, calling for the person to enter the room.
Hagen walked into the room, confused at Honey's message. "Honey, why do you want me to translate this? I thought you already had someone who could translate ancient texts?"
"Yes, and here she is. Sorcha, meet Hagen. Hagen, this is Sorcha. You two work on that, say, over lunch? Quickly, before your classes start."
"Classes?" Sorcha asked, trying not to blush too hard at the cute guy with silver and purple hair.
"Post-grad looking at Tolstoy. In the original Russian," Hagen said, waiting for the laughter or confusion - the most often responses, especially with his siblings.
Sorcha smiled. "Zdravstvuyte, mogu li ya chem to pomoch' Vam? I think I pronounced it right, it's been a while since I did European Languages. I focused on Ancient Sumerian." (Hello, can I help you? Russian)
"Really? Have you read the Epic of Gilgamesh in Sumerian?" Hagen asked eagerly.
"Of course."
"All right, you two; get out of my office and go on your lunch date. You're welcome," Honey added quietly, grinning at Sorcha.
"Shed," Sorcha cursed under her breath, knowing she'd owe Honey for this. (Shit. Ancient Sumerian)
It didn't stop her from standing and following Hagen out of Honey's office, glad she was sober for the first time in a long time.
...
"We need throwing stars, Eth. Please?" Zach asked as they left the gym, Milo walking with them, all three looking excited after their weapons class.
"You need to improve your aim first. You almost hit the window."
"I know. I need to do maths for trajectory and stuff, so I internally freaked out and just chucked it. Milo did so much better, are you good at maths?" Zach asked him curiously.
"Not really. Bubbles are difficult to control, so I know how to use them to hit things. I guess the skill transferred to throwing stars."
"And arrows, and bat'leth, and that giant-ass sword."
"Zach," Ethan said, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry, the sword," Zach corrected.
"Thank you. You know giant-ass isn't a proper term of measurement and can cause confusion."
"I got it," Milo said, shrugging.
"And if one day Zach asks you for a giant-ass vat instead of a thousand litres, and you return with a forty-litre tub?"
Milo thought about it for a moment. "Maybe giant-ass could be more than nine-hundred, and giant could be between five-hundred and nine-hundred, that sort of thing."
"Oh, I like you. But Eth's right: it'd be too difficult to create a new measurement system based on the random crap I say," Zach said with a grin.
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.
"We could make one."
"Would shitton be more than giant-ass?" Zach asked curiously.
Ethan groaned and shook his head. "I refuse to use that system unless it's a last resort."
"That's all right, Eth. We need to make a list. You'll help, won't you?" Zach asked.
Ethan sighed. "Fine. But we're being specific with the measurements."
"Of course," Milo said, grinning.
Despite everything else he'd done and participated in, Ethan couldn't help but wonder what he'd just agreed to do.
...
"Larry, over here!" his mother called, smiling and waving.
Larry immediately wanted to turn around and go back inside. Maybe he could pay someone to stuff him in his locker. He was still small, it wouldn't be that uncomfortable for a night. It sure wouldn't be as uncomfortable as this ride home was sure to be. His mother was smiling, which was never a good start. He sighed as he headed to the car - the only one in the parking lot - and tried to smile at his mother. "Hi, Mum."
"Get in the car."
Larry nodded and slid into the backseat, his mother's smile fading as she sat in the driver's seat and started the car. He could almost see the thoughts going through her head as she drove out of the parking lot, waiting until the bus had left. No one could know that her precious son had detention or see them driving from the school this late.
"Now, let's talk about what you've done, Earthstone," she said, Larry gulping. "And while we're at it, you can tell me where you spent last night, and why the Strongholds have sent us a cease and desist. If you've jeopardised our future with the Strongholds, detention will be the least of your worries, young man."
It didn't matter why he was in trouble or what he'd done, only that he might ruin their future with the Strongholds. Of course, why would anything else matter? Their family had been trailing after the Strongholds for generations, desperate for praise or attention or fame. He got that for them, Larry, not anyone else in the family, and it wasn't because of a goddamn Stronghold!
"They don't even know we exist, Ma! They don't care and we're not going to get anywhere near the Strongholds unless they get their heads out of their asses," Larry snapped.
His mother gripped the steering wheel as her mouth fell open at Larry's tone and words. "Lazarus Levinsky, how dare you! Just wait until we get home and I tell your father about your behaviour."
Shit.
...
End of the hundred and forty-first chapter.
