A.N.: Well, so far this story's been very Helga-centric, so I've decided to switch things up a little this chapter and focus on Rhonda and a character I haven't used much but want to develop a bit. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 15

Community Service

Fourth Avenue Homeless Shelter

The Jeep pulled up in front of the old California-style mission building. Its driver, Major Gustav Caudell, glanced aside disapprovingly at his lone passenger, a sullen older teen with a dirty-blond mullet and goatee, clad in faded jeans and a T-shirt advertising local punk band Bloated Sack of Protoplasm.

"Looks like this is the place the judge assigned you to," the Major said. "Remember, I'll be checking with Father Castillo, so you'd better not give him any trouble. Understood?"

-WOLFGANG-

"Aye aye, Major," I replied snapping a sarcastic salute at him.

"Son," the Major continued, ignoring my little shot at him, "you were this close to being tried as an adult. You got lucky the judge decided to go easy on you. Honestly, what were you thinking? Two weeks before you turn eighteen and you decide to rob a convenience store?"

"Look, I didn't know it was gonna be a robbery! We were just there to get some snacks-"

"'Snacks'," he retorted, cutting me off. "I don't think a case of beer qualifies as 'snacks', son."

"Whatever, man, it's not like you care what I do to myself. You're just mad I got caught 'cause it makes you look bad."

His hand moved of its own accord, slapping me across the face. He'd gotten really good over the years at hitting me just hard enough to make it sting, but not hard enough to leave a lasting mark. "You watch your tone, son. You're not in any position to backtalk me. Not after what you just pulled."

I sat there, my stinging face advising me not to test his temper further. I hated to admit it, but he was right…. Things could have gone worse.

As I got out of the Jeep, and walked toward the shelter, my thoughts drifted back to just how I'd gotten into this mess…

One week ago

A bunch of us guys were hitting the Dusk to Dawn on a snack run. We'd scored a bag of the good stuff and we needed lots of salty and cheesy crap to chase it with.

There were five of us there that night… me, Mickey the Weasel, Edmund. Dave, and Mike Brukowski. Mike was a couple of years older than us. He'd been expelled senior year and these days was making bank doing odd jobs for certain less-than-legitimate businessmen, which meant that he pretty much knew how to get anything you could possibly want. He also had a reputation for being a bit less then stable, but it was worth the connection. You needed booze, weed, "discount" electronics, or whatever, he was your guy. And when he wanted to hang, you jumped at the chance.

So, thusly, piles of Chili-Cheese Chippos, barbecue pork rings, nacho tortilla chips and the like were piled on the counter. Mike followed it with a case of Beermeister Lite ("I'm watching my figure," he joked). The cashier looked Mike over… while Mike wasn't quite 21 yet, he could pass for it. Unfortunately, this cashier was a stickler. "Can I see your ID?" he asked.

"Oh, sure," answered Mike. "I got my ID right here." He pulled out a gun and pointed it squarely in the startled clerk's face. "Well?" he asked. "Does it check out? Good. I'll also be taking everything in the register."

"Dude, this is nuts." Edmund whispered to me. "I thought he were just gonna use a fake ID or something."

"Shhh!" I advised. "Just keep quiet and we'll get outta here."

"But he's crazy," Edmund continued. "Look, he didn't even try to cover his face or anything! I didn't sign up for this, man. I don't wanna get in trouble."

"It's okay," I said. "We just keep our heads down, we get out of here, and nothing-"

We were interrupted by the automatic doors opening to admit a new customer. Ordinarily this would just be a normal occurrence, but this particular customer happened to have purple skin, wings, a tail, horns, two sets of arms, and a red-and-blue uniform and black visor. And if you happened to be robbing the place at the time, this was quite possibly the worst customer to drop in. Because this customer just happened to be a superhero named Joule.

"Ohhhh, shit," muttered Dave.

"Seriously?" Joule grumbled to herself. "Now? I was just coming in for coffee!"

"S-stay back," Mike stammered, swinging the gun around to point in her direction. "Don't take a step closer. I'm warning you."

"Are they making criminals dumber or what?" Joule remarked. "You know that thing can't hurt me." She stepped closer. "Now, put it down and this'll be a lot easier for you."

"…I can still hurt him!" Mike declared, swinging the gun back around. I held my breath. This all just started as a (admittedly illegal) beer run, but it had escalated to armed robbery and it was about to spiral into murder.

"Oh, hell no," Joule interrupted, hitting Mike with a stun bolt before he could shoot the clerk. The attempted robber dropped the gun and collapsed to the ground, twitching.

"Shit! Run for it!" Mickey shouted, bolting for the door with Dave close behind.

"So the rest of you are in on it," Joule inferred, quickly snagging the two runaways with her left pair of hands.

"No way!" I said. "We didn't know he was gonna try to rob the place!"

"Yeah, we were just gonna pick up some beer and stuff 'cause he said he had a fake ID," Edmund added.

"Shut up," I whispered, elbowing him. "That's still illegal, you idiot!" Edmund's my bro, but the guy's a moron.

Anyway, the cops had shown up soon after; apparently the clerk had managed to hit the panic button just as soon as he'd spotted the gun. The whole lot of us were hauled downtown; Mike was of course charged with armed robbery, and tried to drag the rest of us down with him by naming us as accessories. Thankfully, after our hearings the judge had seen fit to sentence us to community service instead of trying us as adults, and well… here I was, assigned to a homeless shelter.

Father Castillo was there to meet me in the main entranceway. He was a tall man in his mid-thirties of Mexican descent. "Hello," he said kindly. "You must be Wolfgang Caudell. Judge Lamont informed me you would be here today. Shall we get started, then?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I snarked. "Not if I don't wanna go to jail."

"We always have a choice," he replied. "This is your chance to choose to change your ways."

"I'm just here to get this over with, Padre," I said. "Save the sermons for Sunday."

"It is Sunday."

"Oh, right, yeah." Well, that was embarrassing. "Just show me what I'm supposed to do, okay?"

"All right, but I'm just asking you; please use this opportunity to think about what kind of person you want to be." He led me down the hallway. "Now, you'll be under Rhonda's supervision today."

"Rhonda?" I only knew one Rhonda. "Rhonda Lloyd?"

"Yes. She's been volunteering here for years, so she'll be able to fill you in on how things work here."

Figures. Clearly I was assigned here so she could keep an eye on me. After all, it was her fault I was here in the first place. Yeah, I know all about that whole secret identity of hers. I'd been there that day when all that crazy stuff went down with that weird old scientist guy and the demon. We'd all been made to promise we wouldn't breathe a word of what happened there, under threat of having our minds erased (I didn't know if they could actually do that, but I wasn't taking any chances). Well, whatever. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of reporting my bad attitude. I was going to just serve out my time so I could get out of here and never have to go back.

-RHONDA-

I can't believe they assigned him here.

"Well," Father Castillo said, "I'll leave the two of you to get acquainted.

"Oh, I know him already," I said.

"Even better," he replied. Why don't you get him signed in, then you can get started on the kitchen prep today," With that last suggestion, he left us to our awkwardness.

"So," Wolfgang said, "I guess you decided you needed to watch over me to make sure I stay on the straight and narrow?"

"As though," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Believe me, babysitting you is the last thing I wanted to do with my weekend." Yeah, it had been years since elementary school, but I still had vivid memories of the times he'd tormented my friends and myself, starting with the time he'd pushed me into the mud in first grade, completely ruining my red Caprini jumper. And it had only gone on from there… yeah, I really had very little desire to spend any more time with Wolfgang than was absolutely necessary. It was bad enough that, as a cheerleader, I had to attend every one of his football games and endure his and his friends' crude come-ons. Now he was going to be in close proximity to me for who knows how many weekends. "Let's just get through this and after today, I'll see if the judge can assign you somewhere else. It'll be better for both of us."

"Hey, it's thanks to you I'm here in the first place."

"I know, it's also thanks to me you're here and not rotting in a jail cell."

Five days ago

Hillwood Criminal Court

"Please raise your right hand… either will do…" the bailiff requested. I knew the procedure by now; this wasn't Joule's first time in court, after all. I was often called for testimony in cases I'd been involved in; it was part of the agreement with the Mayor's office that allowed me to do my thing. "Do you so affirm to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?"

"I do," I affirmed, nodding.

The Assistant DA cleared his throat. "Now, Miss Joule, can you please tell the court just what transpired on Sunday morning at 2AM at the Dusk-to-Dawn on Willow Avenue?"

"Certainly," I said. "I had arrived at the store in question during a lull in my night patrol."

"And what did you find upon entering the establishment?"

"I found an armed robbery in progress. A man was pointing a gun at the clerk and I can only assume what his intentions were, but they probably weren't innocent."

"And is that man in this courtroom right now?"

"No, he is not. The man in the courtroom was present, but he was not the man holding the gun."

"Can you tell us what the defendant was doing at the time the robbery was taking place?

"I can. The defendant was cowering behind a "Sir Almond" standee hoping no one would notice him.

"Hey!" interrupted Wolfgang. "I wasn't cowering! I was assessing the situation! I ain't no wuss!"

The judge banged her gavel. "Mr. Caudell, please, no further outbursts. Can the prosecution please continue?"

"Yes. So, if I understand you correctly, your position is that the defendant was not complicit in any crime being committed at the time?"

I could have said something about his mullet being a crime against good taste, but I refrained. That would have been a cheap shot. Funny, but a cheap shot. And ultimately not relevant. "No, not to my knowledge."

"I see… are you aware that the defendant has been confirmed to be personally involved in several counts of petty vandalism committed earlier in the day?"

"Objection!" Wolfgang's defense attorney answered. "Irrelevant to the case."

"I am merely establishing a pattern of criminal behavior…"

"Sustained," the judge said. "We will be addressing the counts of vandalism later, but they are irrelevant to the current charge."

"Very well…. No further questions, your honor…"

"Defense, your witness?"

"The defense rests, your honor."

"Very well… Miss Joule, you are dismissed. Now, as to the three charges of vandalism…"

That was that for me. I was asked to wait in the witness's chamber in case they needed to call me back, but that never occurred. Eventually, the court clerk let me know I was free to go. I found out later that the judge had decided that, due to not participating in the robbery, his sentence was lowered to fifty hours of community service. I thought that would be the end of that, but here he was. And while I was gad he wouldn't be going to jail… while our history together was bad, it was still history… I wasn't exactly excited to be spending my Sunday with him.

"So, what's the plan, rich girl?" he inquired irreverently. "Hose off the bums?"

Oh, lord, give me strength. "First of all… they are not 'bums'. You never know who could wind up here. Lots of people are just one paycheck away from winding up in a place like this." Or one stock market downturn. Yeah… some years back, my family's finances were nearly wiped out by a stock market drop (or so I believed at the time… later on, I found out that what had really happened was that our broker had embezzled our fortune, while lying that the market had crashed. He was caught a week later and our finances were restored, but from then on, daddy kept a much closer eye on what was happening with his money, branching out into more solid investments like real estate). Had Arnold's grandparents not taken us in, we very well could have ended up in a place like this.

"Okay, okay, sheez, just tryin' to lighten the mood, Princess. No need to get all political. What are the royal orders?"

"First, put this on." I tossed him a hairnet.

"Aw, come on…"

"Hey, if I have to wear one, you definitely have to wear one, mullet boy."

"Okay, fine…" He reluctantly put it on. Admittedly, he looked ridiculous and I couldn't help but giggle. "Hey! You told me to put this thing on. This is on you."

"*chuckle* Right, sorry, sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, now what?"

"Now, I need you to peel that box of potatoes."

He took a look. "The whole thing?"

"We have a lot of people to feed today. You do the potatoes, I'll be doing the carrots."

And so it went in silence for a while. About halfway through the box of potatoes, apparently he got bored, because he decided to strike up a conversation. "So, you've been working here a long time, huh…"

"Since sixth grade, yeah,"

"It's kinda surprising."

"Why?"

"I mean… you're Rhonda Lloyd."

"So?"

"So, you know… you kinda got a reputation for being kinda…"

"KInda what?"

"…you know…. Stuck up."

"Is that what your football team pals tell you?" Believe me, I have very little love for the football team. Gerald and Harold are fine, but the rest… not a fan. "Not being interested in being hit on doesn't make me 'stuck up'. Though that's probably the least of what they call me behind my back, isn't it."

He rubbed the back of his head. "Well…"

"…let me guess, it has something to do with me having a taste for a particular floor covering?"

"Hey, I didn't say it…"

"No, but I'm guessing you don't really go out of your way to defend me. Look, I know who I am, but that doesn't mean it's okay to shit on me for it."

"Look… I don't nave a problem with you, if chicks is what you're into, fine. But I don't control what they think."

"So what you're saying is, you don't want to speak up out of fear of offending the majority of the team. Seems, I dunno, kinda…." I smirked. "Wussy."

He bristled at the suggestion. "I am not a wussy."

"I'm not really seeing any evidence to the contrary. C'mon, are you telling me the guy who was practically king of his class is now scared to go against the crowd?"

"Hey… that's just how it is, okay? I bet the cheerleaders trash you behind your back too."

"*shrug* Eh, probably." I was under no impression that they wouldn't… teen girls being catty? Shocker! Of course, head cheerleader Ruth McDougal would have none of that on her watch… she may not have been the brightest bulb in the box, both she was a genuinely good person and wouldn't stand for that sort of thing. Of course, come fall she was gone and I'd have to deal with one of the former Juniors… "I don't hide who I am and who I'm with. If they want to be shitty about it, that's their issue." I turned back to the carrots. "Guess that's the difference between us… I'm who I want to be, you're who they want you to be."

He was silent after that, whether ashamed or offended I could not guess. After we were done, I gave him other tasks, and to his credit he did what was expected of him. No doubt he wanted to get out of there as much as I wanted him to.

Eventually, the time had come to serve dinner. "All right," I said before we started transferring things to the dining hall. "Be kind, be courteous, be respectful. Remember, like I said, we could have easily been these people."

"I'll be good. Trust me, I want to get this crap over with."

Once the buffet was set up, we waited for the residents to line up. Some of them were familiar to me, some weren't. The first was a lanky Caucasian man in, if I had to guess, his late forties, early fifties, with pale blond hair. He looked like the sort of person who had once been formidable, but had been worn down by time or circumstance or possibly both. I smiled… always serve with a smile… and said "Good evening! Welcome to the Fourth Street Mission… what can I get for you? Tonight we have a choice of chicken noodle soup or cauliflower soup, a choice of Salisbury steak or veggie cutlet, with roasted potatoes and mixed veggies."

The man looked at me apologetically "I… you know, I don't really belong here, I'm just sorta down on my luck right n-"

"Hey, hey, you don't need to explain yourself, we're really not interested in your past, just your future. I'm Rhonda, by the way. This is Wolfgang.

"Oh, okay… I'm Bill. I'll uh, I'll have the cauliflower soup. To go with my ears." He snickered. I wasn't going to comment, but his ears were unusually puffy. "And the Salisbury steak."

"Our pleasure," I said, ladling the soup. "Wolfgang, make him a plate." I glanced over, but he was just staring. "Wolfgang," I repeated, gently elbowing him.

"Oh… sorry," he said, snapping back to attention. "Right, uh… he wanted the hamburger-thingy?"

After Bill received his dinner, I took Wolfgang aside. "I know this is your first day, but we do not stare," I whispered.

"Do you know who that was?" he asked.

"Should I?" I replied.

"That was Bloated Bill Bouvier, the Cajun Crusher!" I stared blankly. "The wrestler?"

"I don't really follow wrestling…."

"Well, he was big, trust me, up until a few years ago, when he lost the big steel cage match against the Shrieking Sultan. After that, he kind of disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to him, but here he is!"

Well, I don't really know wrestling, but it was clear: Bill had been a Big Deal, and now he wasn't. "See, this is what I was talking about. Anyone could have a streak of bad luck and wind up someplace they never were."

"Yeah, I'm starting to see that now."

"Well," I said after the day was finally done, "I guess that's it." We'd finished serving dinner, we'd cleaned up afterward, and our shift was done. "I have to say, you did a fine job." I signed his timesheet. "I'll have the Rev sign off on this, and we'll contact the court to request you be assigned somewhere else. That is, of course, if you still want to…"

"Well…" he said, "it wasn't… too bad…"

"Oh?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I mean, don't get me wrong, I probably wouldn't be here if it was my choice, but… it's not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. And… I gotta admit, I thought you were gonna lord it over me, but… you really didn't make a bad boss."

"Yeah?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Well… I too must admit that I expected a bad attitude out of you, but I must say I was pleasantly surprised."

"…yeah, see, when you talk like that, that's why people think you're stuck up," he joked.

"Oh, screw you," I said, whipping a dishrag at him.

He laughed back. "Now that's more like it. I'll get you to loosen up yet."

"Whatever you say, mullet boy. Same time next week?"

"It sure looks that way. Smell ya later Princess."

Huh. Getting along with Wolfgang. Maybe miracles did happen.

A.N.: So, how was that? I thought I'd flesh out Wolfgang a bit and have him bond a bit with Rhonda seeing as how he plays into an arc I have in mind for her.

HumanDictionary: Glad you liked the arc, though you seem to be taking things in a… bit of a different direction to say the least…

Jose: Thanks, yes, Helga isn't always a very empathetic person but sometimes strike close to home.

Veganmama: More with Brainy coming soon!

Princess Hinata: Thanks, glad you're enjoying it!

Next: I haven't decided yet! But when I do, you'll see it!