Chapter Two Hundred and Five
...
"Dad! There's a scary man at the door!"
Declan facepalmed with his good hand, and hurried through the house to where his youngest had answered the front door a moment ago. He wished his wife hadn't left to do grocery shopping ten minutes ago, just to avoid what was sure to be an irate neighbour or a charity person looking for donations or something.
Reaching the front door, Declan started off with an immediate, "I'm so sorry, kids say the... oh. Mr. A. I wasn't expecting you," he said, wishing he wasn't in his 'world's best security guard' shirt and Sesame Street pyjama pants.
Mr. A looked at him like the gaudy attire was the least of his concerns. "You weren't at work."
Declan fought the urge to look down at his splinted hand, obvious and right there in front of them with a neon green sling to boot. "Uh, no. I broke my finger, so I stayed home to let it rest. Corey and Carl said it would be okay. Is everything all right, sir?" he asked. Then he realised they were standing in the door with all six of his children staring at the scary man with wide eyes. "Would you like to come in? My wife made sweet tea."
"No. There was an incident at the facility, and it has been destroyed. As such, your services are no longer required. You will be sent official confirmation on Monday morning, along with a monetary stipend for your continued silence."
"Wait, what? Sir, I don't understand. I'm being fired?"
Mr. A looked at him, and any further protest or questions died in Declan's throat. "Better fired than dead, don't you think?"
Declan couldn't help but take a step back, every part of his brain and body recognising the threat for what it was, and instinctively kept his own body between Mr. A and his children. "Y-Yes, sir."
Mr. A turned on his heel, frustrated that the security guard had obviously been telling the truth and hadn't orchestrated the attack from the inside, and returned to the waiting car.
Declan closed the front door quietly, waited until he was certain Mr. A had left before he turned around to look down at his wide-eyed kids, and forced himself to smile. "Well, I didn't like working for the scary man anyway. Who wants to help their dad find a better job? Best job idea gets a bowl of ice cream after lunch," he promised.
He would have to text his wife to bring ice cream home, but knew it would be best to let her know of his unexpected unemployment in person. Hopefully the bribery money for his silence would be enough to get by until he could get a new job.
His kids' expressions turned from wide-eyed horror to wide-eyed happiness and Declan was bombarded by ideas as he led them through to the kitchen where his phone was waiting.
...
"Agent B? Uh, sorry, Bill, is that really you?"
Bill turned at the familiar voice, trying not to show his surprise or suspicion on seeing Agent M in one of the beds. M's face had damage from an explosion of some sort, scratches and welts on their arms, along with several bruises in the shape of people's hands as though they'd been grabbed and pulled through a doorway. Agent T and Scientist Thirteen were in the next two beds in similar states, though apparently too rapt in their conversation to notice his presence.
M saw Bill's glance towards them and grinned. "They haven't stopped swooning or talking since they realised they were right next to each other. There was some mention of fate, despite the fact there's two seers in the building," they said with an eye roll.
Bill couldn't stop his soft laugh. "Leave them to their fun, M; it's not going to hurt anyone."
M glowered at their blanket. "You say that now, but after three hours, I'm tempted to throw a pillow at them. Maybe after I've filled it with bricks."
"Have you asked to move beds?"
M shook their head. "There's no other beds in here, and I doubt I've got first priority over anything considering where they found me, sir." Then they blinked and frowned. "How are you here, Bill? You weren't at Montana."
"No, I wasn't." Bill hesitated, not entirely sure what to say. "I... I'm, well, that is... "
M held up a hand. "It's all right, you don't have to explain. I'm just glad you're all right, sir. I've heard some of what went on out in Maxville and it sounded dangerous."
Bill nodded. "It was. Several buildings were blown over, and I was almost in one of 'em. I don't know the newest updates, but several hundred people were injured or killed, last I heard."
M shifted on the bed uncomfortably. "And... what about work, sir? Do we need to go back?" they asked, their voice almost a whisper.
Thirteen and T had finally realised Bill was there and heard M's question, both quiet as they waited for the answer.
"Everyone who was at Montana is presumed dead, and it'd be worse if you proved them wrong 'bout that, believe you me," Bill said, glad to finally have good news to share.
M practically sagged back against the mattress in relief. "Yes, sir."
Sarah touched Bill's forearm gently. "Time to go, Bill."
Wondering if he'd ever see any of them again, Bill forced himself to keep his expression neutral as he nodded. "Right then, lead the way."
Sarah nodded and led him back to the elevator and down to Erin to take him back to his car.
...
A buzzing sound woke Morana from her sleep. It was just loud enough and out of place that it took her a moment to realise that the sound was coming from her room. Looking over at the child, she saw that Zero was still sleeping soundly, as he'd promised. Adjusting her dress and the blanket, Morana yawned widely as she headed to the room to find out what the noise was, turn it off, and hopefully return back to sleep.
There was nothing obvious in the room itself and as she stood stock still to determine where the noise was coming from, Morana realised that it was in her carry-on luggage. Hurrying to unzip her bag, Morana saw her phone screen dimming as the notification time ran out. Remembering how much she'd used her phone on her flights, so certain that she'd be going to work and could charge it there, Morana doubted that it had much battery left and was proven right as she took her phone out of her bag.
Two percent left - that could get a phone call to the police, or her work, or Jetstream and the Commander themselves! If, y'know, she knew their number.
Curious about why someone had been messaging or calling her at this ridiculous time of the night, Morana unlocked her phone and saw she'd missed several text messages and phone calls from one of her neighbours. It wasn't that she didn't like Mrs. Beets, but the woman had made it her business to know everything about everyone, and was positive that everyone needed to know that information as well. Wondering what on earth Mrs. Beets was calling her about at ... three o'clock in the morning?! - Super Jesus, the woman needed a new hobby, Morana thought, even as she navigated to her messages - she opened the string of messages, scrolling up to the last message she'd sent to Mrs. Beets so she could start from the top.
An awkwardly taken photo made her pause her scrolling. The woman was blurry, but had a familiar shade of red hair and a white, red, and blue outfit that could only be one person, especially since Jetstream and the Commander had copyrighted their outfit colours years ago.
Maybe it was a really late Halloween trick or treater? Or someone pulling a prank? Morana thought, even as she read through the messages properly to see that it was indeed Jetstream flying outside her apartment window.
What in Super Hell was going on? Maybe Jetstream really was a Peeping Tom after all! Morana's next thought almost came unbidden, like a lightning strike in her mind: should she tell her captors about this? As she wondered what to do or say, her phone died.
Sighing and exhausted all over again, Morana headed back out to the lounge to find that Zero had left. Curious but not so much it overtook her exhaustion, Morana curled up on the lounge and went back to sleep with her phone in her hand.
At that same time, hovering in front of the reanimator's apartment, Jetstream was trying to determine whether the reanimator was asleep and not answering her doorbell because of ear plugs, or whether something worse had happened and if she had probable cause to break a window to get in.
There was no movement inside the apartment, but if the reanimator - Mariana, Mirena, Maria, something like that - had gone to sleep, then she might not be moving around.
Or she was being held hostage by some nefarious group to keep her from reanimating Baron Battle for reasons unknown to Jetstream - or Judge Pepper.
At least villains weren't known for being quiet, so Jetstream hovered and listened with all her might, listening for instructions being called out, for information being demanded, for threats being... threatened.
The apartment was silent.
Where in the name of Captain Stronghold had that Super Goddamn woman gone?!
...
"Hey, Exxie?"
"Mm?"
"You said you had a surprise for us earlier. Do we get to know what it is now?" Baby asked.
Ex gave a soft hum in thought.
Gemma looked between them with a frown. "What surprise?"
Baby shrugged and nodded to Ex. "He wouldn't tell me, but he said it was for both of us."
"I have to get something; I'll be right back," Ex said suddenly, kissing Gemma and Baby in quick succession before climbing over Baby to get out of the bed.
"Any ideas?" Gemma asked Baby curiously.
"Could be sex related," Baby mused.
"Not everything is about sex with Ex, Baby."
"Oh, I know. Maybe I was hoping," Baby said with a grin, drawing Gemma in to kiss her, his hands slipping beneath her thighs to pull her close.
"I leave for two minutes and you start without me," Ex tutted, a noise making both of them look over to see a tray table with three glasses of wine, each with a giraffe cocktail stirrer standing in them proudly.
"What's this, Exxie?" Baby asked, his heart in his throat.
He knew exactly what it was, knew what he hoped it was, but he didn't know whether Ex knew what it was or meant. Ex gave a hesitant smile, so far from his normal cocksure and certain smile that it made Baby's heart beat wildly in his chest as hope filled him.
"I remember."
Gemma fell off Baby's lap, both Baby and Ex scrambling to catch her and help her to her feet. "Ex... you... "
Ex kissed her hands, squeezing gently. "I know, sunshine. I remember what happened seven years ago, and... well, I want to apologise, but there's still a lot going on in my head, and I'm not entirely sure I remember all of the pieces, let alone everything I should be apologising for. But I remember this," he said, nodding to the bottle of wine and giraffe cocktail stirrers. "You wanted the green one 'cause it looked like an alien, and then you went on a wonderful exposition about several superpowers having extraterrestrial similarities, which I believe resulted in you comparing the Commander to a green-skinned alien with big eyes?"
Gemma laughed, the sound wet through her tears and choked throat. "Ex."
He grinned and kissed the back of her hands again before turning his attention to Baby. "And I made you swap the blue giraffe with me 'cause they matched your baby blues, which you pouted about for, like, ten whole minutes 'til I kissed you better."
"Exxie... Ex. I... I need a minute," Baby said, those blue eyes wide as he hurried past Ex and Gemma to leave the apartment, apparently not noticing the fact he was naked.
Gemma winced. "Clothes, Baby!"
"Fuck. Okay, clothes, then I need a minute," he muttered, hurrying back to grab a pair of sweats off the floor - Baby was pretty sure they were Ex's - and pulling them on.
"You can stay here if you want me to go, Baby? I'm still dressed," Ex added.
Baby held a shirt in his hand - definitely not his, and possibly Gemma's, now that he saw it properly - and sighed into it. "It's been seven fucking years, Ex. Seven years of watching you not remember this, us, me, and it's a lot to take in. I just need to process my feelings, okay? I'm very happy that you remember, but... it's not all I'm feeling, and I need to take it out in the gym for a while."
"That's more than a minute, Baby," Gemma pointed out.
"Yeah, I know. I'll be back later, okay?" Baby said, dropping the shirt and heading out in sweats that weren't his and bare-chested.
Ex sighed at his exit. "I'd be worried if I didn't know him so well. He'll be good in the morning. Or a few days. Possibly a week... The longest he's ever been pissed at me was a month, and that was... around when I got out of hospital after we rescued Gramps. Huh, actually, that makes more sense now. Maybe I should apologise."
"He asked for time, Ex, so give it to him, okay? Now, why don't we sit and you can tell me what you do remember? I might be able to fill in the gaps, if you want that?"
Ex grinned, broad and lust-filled, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh, you can fill my gaps anytime, sunshine."
Gemma rolled her eyes. "Sit down and talk, Ex, or I'll be leaving next."
His grin faded to a softer smile and Ex led Gemma over to the lounge, tugging her down onto his lap and curving his arms around her waist. "Now, the first thing I remembered was waking up in the dark to a phone call saying they'd found Gramps... "
...
Magenta was falling. She could see the ground rising up to meet her as she fell, and she wanted to scream, to call for help, but all that came out were squeaks. She was a guinea pig and falling towards concrete and sharp spikes. Magenta desperately tried to shift back to human, but she couldn't. She was stuck as a guinea pig and realised in that same instant that a power repressing cuff was clipped around her body, stopping her ability to shift or talk.
She continued to squeak, hoping someone would save her. She couldn't save herself and could barely squeak. Something else was wrong, it wasn't just the cuff. Her throat was killing her, like she'd spent hours screaming in distress rather than the last few seconds.
Before she could process it, she felt a warm grip around her body, fingers squeezing her before she was brought to a warm chest. The wind flew past her and Will, a familiar feeling and sensation, and Magenta almost relaxed. Then she saw that there was a cuff on his wrist too; Will wasn't flying - like her, he was falling.
"You've gotta throw it up, Maj! I need the key!" Will called over the rush of wind.
She had swallowed a key, that was why her throat hurt. Of course, it made perfect sense and she didn't even question how or why.
She coughed and hacked and tried to produce the key, unsuccessful each time. Will even tried to help, their descent suddenly taking forever as he tried to pump her stomach over the cuff wrapped around her. It was too tight to budge and with his super strength gone they had no way of taking it off. Failure met them each time and this time the ground was closer than ever before.
Magenta squeaked and squealed for help, to be saved, and she felt Will's hands cupping her body like he was hugging her, then he wasn't hugging her at all.
"I'm sorry, Maj."
Her body tore in two with a sickening crunch of skin and bone. Will produced the key with red bloodied fingers, uncuffing his wrist and Magenta could only watch as he flew off with her blood coating his hands, the two parts of her torn body falling, falling, and then finally connecting with the ground.
Magenta woke up with a jolt, her heart slamming in her chest and her FitBit flashing in excitement as her heart rate hit more than 120 beats per minute. The dream had felt so vivid and so real that she lifted her shirt to check her stomach was still intact. Breathing a sigh of relief, Magenta curled back up on her mattress, wrinkling her nose at the sweat-drenched sheets and quilt.
Well, fine; it's not like she wanted to go back to sleep anyway, she thought, getting up to strip her bed and run in her wheel until she forgot about that stupid damn nightmare.
...
"Jesus, it's chaos in here," Connor muttered as he stepped into the planning room to find people in various states of training, arguing, and preparing for their evening.
"Nah, they're out doing something else," Craig called with a laugh.
Connor stopped in surprise. "Oh, where are they? I thought Layla and Warren would be here for this?"
"They were, but then Zero came running, then Honey said something about a thing, and they had to leave," Craig said with a shrug.
"Something about a thing? That's not a very helpful explanation," Connor pointed out as he looked around for someone else who might have a more coherent answer.
"I know, but we were busy listing new nightmares for Magenta. Grant picked tonight's - uh, last night's, that is, and we're drawing straws for tonight's one."
"Is that really a priority?"
"Hell, yes. We've gotta throw her off her game or she might be of use to Airborne. We can't have that, can we?" Craig asked with a snicker.
"I suppose not. Oh, Ethan, where are Layla and Warren? Craig said something about a thing."
"That's not an accurate explanation, Craig," Ethan admonished, receiving a shrug from Craig in response. "Honey took them to meet with Jester. Zero planned on going with them, but I believe he and Honey were arguing about that on the way out."
Well, that explained why he'd seen Zero sulking in a white room down the hall, Connor mused.
"All right. Who's in charge of this evening's break out in the meantime?" he asked.
"I am, since it's my plan. Would you like to assist?" Ethan asked.
"Yes, I would. Ryuu's not happy about sitting this one out, so I promised I'd go in his stead."
Connor wasn't entirely happy about the promise Ryuu had extracted from him, as he wanted to stay in the Sanctuary to keep an eye on his son. Admittedly, Alex was doing that enough for the both of them, and Connor could tell that Ry was trying to get him to leave so he'd have time with Alex on his own. Connor planned on teasing him about it mercilessly once Ryuu was better and no longer in a hospital bed.
"Adam and Terrence will be recording the whole thing so we can ensure Ryuu has a direct monitor feed. Let me take you over the plan so we can see where your skills are best suited," Ethan said, guiding Connor over to the whiteboard wall.
...
Layla could feel the sharp pain of thorns before she even walked into the home Jester used as their base of operations. Beside her, Warren shifted like he could feel the phantom pain as well.
"All right, just a moment and let me knock. There's a code that only certain people know," Honey said, then knocked in a particular sequence, pausing and then adding two sharp raps at the end, and waited on the front step patiently.
The front door opened a moment later, an older man looking out expectantly, and his expression falling as he saw Hourglass instead.
"Nice to see you, too, Paolo," Honey said with a smile.
"Sorry, sorry. The knock is usually for our... friends. I thought someone might have gotten away. Come in, we'll talk. Who are your friends?" Paolo asked as he stepped aside to let them inside.
"They're here to meet Jester."
"Ah, then you have found them," Paolo said with a sweeping bow.
Layla frowned. "You're not who I talked to on the phone."
Paolo straightened and sighed. "Well, I am making a fool of myself several times today, eh? Jester, you have visitors! Honey's here with guests," he called.
There was some muffled cursing from a room further back in the house, the sound of something fragile crashing to the ground, and then another muffled curse. "Be right there!"
"Would you like tea, coffee, something stronger?" Paolo asked.
"I'd be happy with water, if you have ice?" Layla asked.
"Si, of course. And for you?" Paolo asked Honey and Warren.
"Ice water for us too, thank you, Paolo," Honey added.
"I will return shortly," Paolo said with a nod as Jeslyn finally arrived.
Jeslyn stepped into the room, her heart racing with nerves for the first time in far too long. She was good at her job as boss of the Mafia and weakness or nerves were rarely useful, especially in meetings with gangsters - real or wannabe - but it was always different when supers were involved. She swallowed hard, took on Jester's persona and mannerisms, then gave a brief smile to the seer they hadn't seen in person since they were a teenager in a hospital bed.
"Good morning, Hourglass. I'm Jester, they/she," they said, holding out a hand to shake.
"Poison, she/her," Layla responded, a gloved hand shaking Jester's.
"Fire, he/him. Together, we're Chaos," Warren added, shaking Jester's offered hand as well.
"We spoke on the phone earlier this morning," Layla said with a brief smile and nod of recognition.
"Good morning, Jester. Before we go any further, I would like to point out that your vest is inside out," Honey said, smiling briefly.
Jester glanced down to see that Hourglass was right: their tag was sticking out from their side. Sighing, they stepped out of the room to fix their wardrobe mishap, returning as Paolo returned.
"You look very similar to each other. Oh. Sorry, I didn't realise it until now when you were standing side by side like this," Layla said, looking between them curiously as she noticed similar features in very different bodies: their hair was cut in a similar fashion, Paolo was clean-shaven and his jawline matched Jester's, a slight upturn to Jester's nose wasn't in Paolo's, but the shape was still there, and their postures were similar in a way that might have taken hours or maybe even years of practice and was now second nature to both.
"It's on purpose, despite my many protests," Jester admitted with a half-hearted and far too fond glare at Paolo.
"I am getting old and do not hear the protests as much," Paolo said with a smile and wink.
Jester rolled their eyes, then moved to sit down across from their guests. "So, after our early morning conversation, I must admit that I'm surprised to see you here. Is something wrong with the plan?" they asked, straightening and suddenly overcome with concern.
Honey shook her head. "No, no, not at all. I just needed everyone to meet in person. Paolo's presence will be important."
Paolo seemed surprised by both the mention of an early morning conversation and his own importance. "Me? Why? Or is it a secret?" he asked, frowning.
"No, it's not a secret. You're going to be mistaken for Jester, and Poison will be a crucial witness in the investigation. She needed to know who you both were to pick you out of a lineup."
Paolo's knees gave way and he slowly lowered himself onto the lounge beside his niece. "Oh. Well... I did all of this to keep you safe, picola, and I will continue to do so," he said firmly, gripping Jeslyn's hand and squeezing tightly.
Jeslyn swallowed hard, squeezed her uncle's hand in return, then Jester looked back to the seer and Chaos. "Which police station will take him? I'll break him out. I'm not leaving you alone in prison, Paolo. Don't argue with me, I will win," they said firmly.
Paolo held up his free hand in a gesture of surrender. "Si, picola, I know."
"Unfortunately, it depends on where your fight ends up: the threads are split fairly evenly between Maxville and Westville prisons. Well, what's left of Westville prison," Honey admitted.
"I can make sure it's destroyed so nothing's left. Would that reduce the risk of him being incarcerated?" Jester asked.
Honey shook her head. "It just increases Maxville's likelihood. I'm sorry, Jester. This is the best solution I can think of."
"It is all right. I am sure you have tried looking at everything, or else you would not be here, hmm?" Paolo said with a smile, though it was forced and soon fell. "Now, I am sure there is plenty more to discuss, and it cannot just be about an old man like me. Let's talk about the prison break and getting our Suite back home, shall we?"
Jeslyn knew her uncle was trying to focus on something other than his impending incarceration, and wondered if he too was thinking of the Commander turning her father's face into a crater when he'd resisted arrest.
Jester nodded and turned their attention back to Chaos. "Excellent idea."
...
Mia walked into the Maxville Police precinct like she was walking on air. Determined to be seen as a professional and not as an emotionally-led woman in a male-dominated workforce, she fought the urge to smile and seem overly pleasant. The police precinct wasn't the kind of place where people smiled on a semi-regular basis, let alone a regular one. Still, she'd had a wonderful date with Ollie the night before, they'd had breakfast together this morning, and it was difficult for Mia to curb her desire to smile at the thoughts and memories when they were oh so very pleasant. Thankfully she'd come into work early to finish her reports, so even if she did slip here or there (or for the entire ride up the elevator), there weren't as many people to see her happy and smitten expression.
Setting her bag on her desk, Mia looked over the partition between hers and Fisher's desks as a reflex, and all thought of her night and pleasant memories fled her mind as she saw the state of her partner. Fisher was usually pretty clean, though he joked that some water/dirt/dust/whatever else hadn't killed anyone in centuries. Considering he was almost covered in head to toe with whatever else right now, Mia had to wonder if he might be the first in a century.
"What the hell happened to you, Fisher?" she asked, the words out before she could stop them.
Fisher startled awake, bleary eyed and matted tail, and squinted a few times, looking around as though he wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten here, then saw Mia. "Coffee?" he rasped.
"I'll get you coffee if you take a shower; deal?" Mia asked.
Fisher frowned, looked down at his hands and clothes, both covered in a collection of dust, spider webs, and other things that had been in the abandoned property that he hadn't wanted to think about then or now, then took a sniff of his shirt and body odour, and winced. "Deal."
Mia waited until Fisher had stood up on his feet unsteadily and headed towards the employees' restroom. It wasn't entirely unusual for people to shower at work, especially if a case took them overnight or woke them in the wee hours of the morning, but all they'd had to do were the reports for the escaped supervillains. Looking at the task log, she saw that nothing had been received overnight - definitely nothing to get Fisher to that state - and determined to question what the hell had happened to her partner. Once she'd organised coffee for both of them, of course.
By the time Fisher returned to their desks, washed, dried, and in a fresh set of clothes, Mia had finished both her reports and her coffee. She nodded to the mug at his desk. "Black, one sugar, just how you like it."
"Thanks, Mia," Fisher said, his voice not as raspy, but certainly not hiding his exhaustion. He sat in his chair, ran a hand through his damp hair, and sipped at his coffee.
"To repeat my earlier question: what the hell happened to you, Fisher?" Mia asked.
Fisher sighed. "Got an anonymous tip. I spent too long on it."
"What? What was the tip about? Why didn't you call me in?"
"It was an address; I checked it out on the way home," he lied - it was on the opposite side of town to his home, and he hadn't gone home either way - "and spent too long investigating. It's a four-storey building and I combed over that place for hours. I came back here for... something, I don't remember now." Fisher shook his head. "I was going to go back out, but I sat down, and must've fallen asleep."
Mia wasn't quite sure how to respond, but wouldn't have been able to even if she did know, because Monty and Tyrone walked in. Monty gave a brief nod of acknowledgement as he passed by, but Tyrone glanced over and came to a complete stop.
"Jesus, Fisher, what the hell dragged you into work this morning?" Tyrone asked, laughter in his tone.
"Fuck off, Tyrone."
"Whoa, no need for that! I was asking a legit question," Tyrone snapped.
Monty turned and looked between them, his eyes widening at the sight of Fisher. "Are you all right, Fisher?"
"Bloody hell. I'm fine! Go to your damn desks and leave me the fuck alone."
Mia glanced between the three men, wondering if she should attempt to keep the peace and step between them, or if she should go get another coffee and a bowl of popcorn while she was at it.
"Is there a problem here?"
All three men had identical looks of 'oh fuck' expressions on their face and Mia would have laughed if she wasn't certain she had the exact same expression on her own face as well. Turning around to look at Chief, silence fell awkwardly and landed painfully.
"Well?"
"I was just worried about Fisher, sir; he doesn't look well and I was enquiring about his welfare. After that flu we all had last season, we can't be too careful," Tyrone said.
Chief had been sick along with the rest of the precinct and remembered the body aches, the lingering cough, the running nose, the sore throat, all of it bearing down on him like a hundred influenza at once. He looked at Fisher and saw his state - clean, like usual, but ragged and with bags under his eyes that he didn't usually feature this bad - and resisted the urge to take a step back and cover his mouth, just in case. "Go home and rest, Fisher. That's an order," Chief added firmly, knowing the old man wouldn't listen otherwise.
Hell, since it was Fisher, he probably wouldn't listen either way, but Chief had to believe he held some sort of authority over the man who'd been in the precinct longer than he had.
"I'm fine, sir, really. I just - "
"Fisher, if you don't leave in the next minute, you'll be in mandatory emotional intelligence and anger management workshops for the rest of the week!"
That threat certainly worked better than whatever perceived authority Chief had, and Fisher was donning his leather duster and bag in a matter of seconds.
"I'll follow after him and make sure Fisher goes straight home to rest, sir. I've already finished my reports, Chief," Mia added, grabbing her bag and hurrying after her partner with a brief nod to Chief on the way.
She was positive that Fisher would be going to the anonymous tip's address, no matter the Chief's threats, and figured she could go in his stead so he could go home to sleep and recover. She just needed to convince Fisher first.
"Have you finished your reports?" Chief asked, looking between Monty and Tyrone.
"On our way to finish them now, Chief," Monty said, guiding Tyrone away before Chief decided to put them into emotional intelligence and anger management workshops instead.
In the holding cells, Old Walter watched as Layer tried to calm Hercules down.
"They said a few days, it's been longer than that!" Hercules sobbed, rocking as he pressed up against the cell doors.
"Herc, you lost time 'cause you were unconscious. It's only been three days, I promise. Look, Lash is alive, see? You think I'd let that shitstain live longer than four days if we were out?"
Hercules hiccuped through his sobs and looked down at the other side of the cells where Lash was very much alive and glaring at Layer. "So... you're gonna kill him tomorrow?"
"Well, that depends on whether we get out of here, doesn't it?"
Hercules seemed confused by Layer's logic and Old Walter couldn't blame him. He sighed and sat forward, reaching out to pat Herc's hands. "We're getting out of here, Hercules. If you did what was necessary, at least. Did you pledge?" he asked quietly.
Hercules nodded adamantly, his eyes innocent and wide. "I did! Before we even made it to Maxville, I promise! If they could get us outta the Pen, then that means they're strong enough for here too, right?"
"Of course. This is bricks and mortar, nothing more. They even pacified Royal Pain and Limbo, you saw that, didn't you?"
Hercules nodded again, though he seemed less certain of Old Walter's logic now.
"Then that means they not only got through their cell doors, but also through their cuffs. Not even the guards could get through those."
Hercules swallowed hard. "Not without killing them."
Old Water gave a nod of acknowledgement and regret. "Baron Battle's death left a lasting impact on everyone who saw it happen. It's unfortunate you were sitting right next to him when it happened."
Hercules shuddered and tucked his head down between his knees, as though to block out the sound of a skull crunching and breaking beneath a baton.
Old Walter knew the memory was especially bad for Hercules and hoped he wouldn't focus on it too much. Hercules had been sedated, sent to solitary confinement when he wouldn't, couldn't, and outright refused to go back into the cafeteria again, and had spent weeks in solitary alternating between crying and screaming until he'd retreated fully into silence. When he'd finally been let out, the poor boy had never been the same since, quieter and far more anxious than when he'd first arrived. Hercules always took care to sit as close to any room's door as possible so he could leave the second anything bad started to happen, so it was no wonder that he'd been one of the first out of the cafeteria when Chaos had descended, though Old Walter was a little surprised to hear that he had pledged so early in the day.
"It's all right, Herc. We'll be outta here soon, yeah? Just think about the first meal you're gonna eat when we're out and free, hey? You still like fried chicken and waffles, what about that?"
Herc lifted his head slowly at Layer's attempt to redirect his thoughts and conversation, and gnawed his bottom lip. "With gravy?"
"Yeah, of course! Can't have chicken and waffles without gravy! Now, what about dessert?"
Hercules perked up - a sweet tooth was never satiated in prison - and grinned outright. "Chocolate mousse? Oh, or those cinnamon things... Rolls?"
"Excellent choice, Herc. I bet there's even more desserts to try since we've been locked up, hey? We could find them all."
"And eat them?"
Layer grinned and nodded. "Yep, we're gonna eat 'em all, Herc."
"Promise? Pinkie promise?" Hercules asked, serious as he held out a hand with his pinkie finger extended.
"Promise," Layer said, linking their finger with Hercules'.
Right then, the wall exploded behind them.
...
End of the two-hundred and fifth chapter.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.
...
Author's note: I will not be updating during November 2023 as I will be recovering from surgery. Thanks for your patience!