Chapter 10: Cinderella Story

Unable to grasp that he'd been arrested – arrested! He was eighteen! This would go on his record! His parents would flip and go all evil, he just knew it. Worst yet, there was a battle going on, the KND Supreme Leader was en route to it right now, and if he didn't get out of here fast, how the heck was he going to take Nigel on a date? - Chad dropped weakly onto the rack along one side of the holding cell, overwhelmed by circumstances. He'd had no idea until this moment that DexLabs even had holding cells. Looks like he was learning the hard way . . .

With a groan he held his head into his hands. He knew without looking that despite his skills and training, he was stuck. It would be a wasted effort even to try escaping. There were too many adults and too many layers of security between him and freedom and his date tonight. After missing the battle, that was the worst part of this. He really, really, really wanted to go on this date, too. There was so much he wanted to say to Nigel, so much he was desperate to put straight. Would he ever get the chance? Would they let him contact anyone? Who would he call? Not the Teen Ninjas. God, not his parents. Ben. He'd call Tennyson. If nothing else, Ben might vouch for him. What a mess.

It felt like as many years, but perhaps fifteen minutes had passed since Sgt. Morton, who was about as emotional and communicative as a brick, had locked him in here. Chad was too upset and inexperienced to realize he had not been processed or charged in any way, just detained. Only his helmet and weapons had been taken - he was still wearing his armor. In his mind, it was all one and the same, and he fought to keep his misery in check as the door to the cell block opened. He steeled his features, fully prepared to be squared off against the security chief again, and faltered when he found himself face-to-face with a short kid in thick glasses studying him through the barred wall.

Chad stared, hardly able to believe his eyes. This was quite possibly the last person he'd ever expected to see in person, let alone meet. Slowly, mechanically he rose to his feet, too astonished even to push the hair out of his eyes.

"You . . . you're Dexter."

A shrewd look answered, and when the boy spoke, that accent confirmed his identity as much as his words.

"I am."

"Did you have me arrested?"

"I did."

"Why? What do you want?"

In a matter-of-fact tone, looking as if this was a regular event for him, Dexter said, "I want to threaten you."

"Oh . . . kay," Chad said slowly, frowning in confusion. He mulled on this development a moment, knowing better than to dismiss a threat from the likes Dexter. "Um . . . why?"

Dexter clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin, subconsciously letting Chad know who was in charge here. "I have very few friends, Mr. Dickson. I have neither the disposition nor opportunity to meet many people who don't want something from me. The few friends I do have are of great importance to me. I will go to any length to ensure their well-being and happiness, so know this, Chad: your perceived betrayal hurt Nigel deeply. Hurt him again and you will regret it."

Now he understood. He could even appreciate Dexter's desire (and capacity) to threaten him, and Chad harbored no doubt that he'd be as good as his word. He had also opened himself up, and Chad got the sense that was something he did only very, very rarely. Such brutal honesty deserved to be matched. "Nigel is my friend too, Dexter, or he was. And I hope he will be again."

Cold eyes in a cool expression regarded him. Chad felt as if he was at the business end of a microscope as Dexter said, "I read your application. You expressed a great deal of concern and insight into Nigel's health."

"I worry about him. I know what it's like to be Supreme Leader. I've been there. It's hard. And lonely. And I could have used a friend. It's too easy to get lost in the job." He paused, catching himself, and got back on point. "Nigel needs to rest and unwind more. I know he doesn't eat as much as he should."

"How do you know this?"

"I've been watching over him and Sector V for years. I know they tease him. It's become a habit. They don't see the toll it takes on him."

"And what would you do to rectify the damage done by his closest friends?"

"Let him know how much I care. Tell him how awesome he is, just as he is." When Dexter didn't respond, he quickly added, "And get him to sit down and eat every day, even if I'm not there."

"As bodyguard to the Supreme Leader, wouldn't an intimate relationship with him compromise both of you?"

This kid pulled no punches. Chad blinked, surprised at Dexter's directness. He approached the situation like a scientist, which was pretty fitting, all in all. It was at once embarrassing and a relief - there was no time to beat around the bush with a battle raging.

"Not if we do it right," he said aloud.

Silence. Dexter stared at him, the light glinting off his glasses. After a long moment the inventor challenged, "Do you even know what that would entail?"

"No," Chad confessed, and then added, "But I'm a fast learner."

"Indeed," was the thoughtful reply.

He stepped forward, gripping the bars of the cell. "Please, let me out of here."

"Where will you go if I do?"

"Reunion Station. Number One is on his way there right now. I've got to keep him safe. It's my job and . . ." It seemed the right point to come totally clean. "And I've really been looking forward to this date since Ben told me I'm the one he picked. I've just got to get there . . . now. Before it's too late."

"How? Surely all the transports have left."

"I don't know. I'll walk if I have to. If you care about Nigel so much, let me go."

Dexter was still for a few heartbeats. Time seemed to have slowed to a stop for Chad, and he could not help but let his desperation show a bit. He had absolutely no idea of what Dexter might do or say. All he knew was that he had to get to that battle and make sure that the Supreme Leader made it out unharmed. It made no difference what he had to do to get Dexter to let him go, so long as he did. He heard himself quietly beg, "Please."

The redhead stirred and glanced over his shoulder, ordering, "Sergeant, open the doors."

For the first time Chad noticed Chip Morton standing by the door to the cell block. He gestured, and some guard in the command center monitoring the cell block opened the cell. By the time the bars lowered into the floor and walls, Morton was standing directly behind his boss.

"You said you were a fast learner," Dexter said. "How fast is fast?"

He had no idea of what was being offered, but he nonetheless jumped on it. "However fast you can get me there."

()()()()()()()()()()

"Whoa."

Chad fell back a step and almost bounced off of Sgt. Morton as he realized exactly where he was. Dexter's underground laboratory. It was too fantastic to be believed, and if he had a week to look around it wouldn't be enough.

"Better catch up, sir," warned Morton. "Trust me - you don't want to get lost in here."

He jogged to reach the white lab coat as it moved through the shadows, catching up with Dexter as the scientist punched in a code on a storage unit. Chad could not help but stare with awe at the towering Megabots lined up against the wall behind them, the faint light of the lab equipment gleaming off their metallic armor. They were elegant and deadly and Dexter caught the longing in Chad's eyes.

"Not even you're that quick a study," Dexter said with a knowing smirk, putting the kibosh on Chad's lust. He pulled a case about the size of a backpack out of the unit. "However, this will get you to where you're going almost as quickly and with a lot less potential for collateral damage upon landing."

"What is it?" he asked eagerly.

"The Mark IV military grade hover board prototype." Dexter set the case on the ground and opened it, revealing a compact roll of segments held together by cables. As Chad watched in fascination, Dexter set it on the floor and in one hard swipe, unrolled it. The plastic segments clattered against the floor, looking almost like a fish bone.

Glancing up to make sure Dickson was attending, Dexter it a button on one end of the board. "Power. Lock."

With a quiet hum the segments drew tight along the cables, knitting together seamlessly and locking into place. It was a little larger than a snowboard, broader at the ends, and about two inches thick. The top surface was textured, the bottom surface smooth and glowing faintly.

"How does it work?" he demanded, as anxious to try it out as he was to be away.

"Stand on it."

Chad clapped his helmet on his head and stepped onto the board. Immediately it rose a foot in the air.

"Lean forward to make it move, back to slow. It needs weight upon it to work, so if you fall off, it will land."

He couldn't help the little sound of awe and delight that escaped him as he tried it out.

"How fast can it go?" he called, zipping around the open area. It banked and cornered like a dream, the textured surface giving his booted feet a firm hold.

"Very!" Dexter called. "I need it back! It's a prototype. And I'll need to debrief you on it after your date. Return it to Security or Commander Tennyson."

He came to an awkward stop in front of Dexter. "Thank you," he said earnestly, knowing this level of trust and respect was not easily gained. He held out his hand, anxious to share how much this meant to him and wondering if it was ever possible that they might be friends some day.

Dexter stared at his hand as if he'd never seen one before and it might bite, and Chad had the sinking feeling he'd misstepped. He was about to drop his hand, not sure of what else to do to express the depth of his gratitude. Struggling for a brave front, Dexter braced himself and hesitantly shook his hand. For all he was completely uncomfortable with the gesture, his grip was strong, and Chad felt a wave of relief at the contact.

"I'll get it back to you."

"I know," said the redhead sharply, stepping away. "Now get going. Sergeant, see that his weapons are returned and then please show Mr. Dickson out."

Chad grinned as he picked up the board, never so happy to be thrown out of a place in his whole life.