Act 2: A Smearing of Justice

After his confession, Tommy Howard was escorted out of the Safety Patrol office greeted by several reporters. He wore a proud smile on his face.

After the arrest, Vallejo met up with the rest of his squad. "Folsom's so happy, she didn't even mention the $700 of office supplies that you four trashed. But don't worry. She will."

"I bet." Montoya said. "Anyway, something came for you, boss." She pushed out a cardboard package drawing it up for the captain.

"Is that for me?" Vallejo asked growing a smile on his face. "That must be my fishing rod. It's beautiful." He opened it up only to get surprised by the several fake fish springing out. He then pulled out a mechanical singing fish. Most of the other kids laughed.

"Very funny, people. Hilarious." Vallejo said unamused.

Ingrid looked over to the corner of the office and noticed Ed slouching. He didn't look very happy, so she walked over to him.

"Hey, Ed. Is something the matter?"

"It doesn't sit right."

"What? The prank? It's not so bad. We do it to each other a lot. We are kids, after all."

"Not that. It's Stainless. I know you didn't forget about that. You have a photographic memory."

"What about it? Tommy got caught."

"What if Tommy isn't the tagger? I don't know about you, but I feel like this got marked off way too easily."

"Marked." Fillmore said. He turned over to the evidence bag full of the markers that Tommy tried to take. He took a good look at it before turning back to the consultant. "You might be onto something. Look at these markers and see for yourself."

Ed looked and realized the truth himself. He gave a little grin of realization. "I knew it was too good to be true."

"Oh, no." Vallejo said. "What's up?"

"Tommy Howard isn't Stainless." Ed surmised. "Tell me, what do you call a used book?"

"I don't know. Can't you get to the point for once?"

"Read." Fillmore answered. "A used book is read. He's talking about Stainless' red marker. He would have been looking for a red refill. But the ones Tommy tried to take were black. Earlier, when me and Ingrid were questioning him, he was working on a masterpiece that used 700 layers of different shades of black. He must have needed more."

"Not to mention his hands were clean, remember?" Ed asked. "No red stains whatsoever."

"But Tommy confessed." Vallejo said.

"Tommy wanted attention." Ingrid said. "He wanted to be known. Now, he is."

Vallejo sighed. "All right. Stay on it, but keep it quiet. Hard to believe a guy would smear his own name like that just to get some attention."

"Smear?" Ingrid asked before realizing something. "Crackers! That's it!"

"What's it?" Ed asked.

"The clue you and Montoya got from Randall Julian earlier." Ingrid said. She pulled out a whiteboard along with a red marker. "Check this out. A marker leaves a white residue. Right handed people don't have to worry about smearing it." With her right hand, she wrote her name down clearly. "But a left handed person has a tendency to drag their hand over the area they just wrote." She demonstrated by writing her name with her left hand leaving several smears over the letters. "That is, unless…"

Ed widened his eyes. "Unless they write backwards. Right to left!" He took a marker and used his left hand to write his name from the last letter to the first.

"Disco!" Fillmore said. "This means that Stainless is left-handed."

"Excellent work, officers." Randall said. "And Fillmore, it is nice to see you again. Glad you could finally come over instead of sending your riddler to do your dirty work."

Ed tapped his foot angrily echoing throughout the white cell that Julian was in. Ingrid calmed him down while Fillmore responded to the vandal.

"Well, it's too bad that 15% of the school is left-handed."

"So many suspects and so little time." Randall said. "Stainless is no doubt scouting out his next bathroom while you're wasting your time talking to me."

"There are 14 newly renovated bathrooms." Ingrid said. "Tell me, which one would you hit? You have nothing to lose from helping us."

"I have nothing to gain."

"Nothing to gain, huh, Julian?" Fillmore asked. "How about access to art supplies? All under strict supervision of course. You can be a real artist again."

"A real artist." Randal said softly with dilating eyes looking back into his past. "I placed first in seven consecutive art fairs. Sure, it brought me a small following, but then, as I began to place lower, that following began to shrink. Sure, the fans I had left were devoted, but I wanted more. I wanted to be immortal. And I found a way to do it, as Flava Sava. And now, Randall Julian, the artist, is merely a fading memory for those few who even remember him." He shook himself back to the present before looking normal again. "Stainless will most likely be targeting the bathroom in Hallway C."

The three of them nodded and left he cell to meet back up with Montoya, but not without accidently dropping a pencil with the twisted-minded artist. After leaving, they were passing by a familiar cell which Montoya stopped to look at.

"Hey, maybe we should talk to Sage." Montoya suggested.

"Who?" Fillmore asked.

"Some kind of nut who's behind that cell." Ed said.

"He said he knows a lot about Stainless." Montoya asked. "I feel inclined to give him a shot."

"Why?" Fillmore asked.

"Good question." Sage's voice said from the other side of the door. "No doubt the counselor told you about me. So why are you wanting my opinion again?"

"I don't know." Montoya asked. "I just… I think we need every possible answer, even the most unlikely."

There was silence for a moment that Sage shortly broke. "I like you. Unfortunately, I told you, I have more important things to think about, no thanks to you all."

"Us? What did we do?" Ed asked.

"Just go."

Ed groaned before walking away with the others.

Following the lead given by Randall Julian, the four of them waited under the staircase in Hallway C keeping an eye on the bathroom in sight.

"I got one." Ingrid said. "Would you rather eat a two-month-old mac and cheese or spider meringue pie?"

"Gotta go with the vintage mac." Fillmore answered.

"That's an easy one."

Ed turned to Fillmore and Ingrid. "What the heck are you two doing?"

"Just playing a little game." Ingrid said. "Fillmore and I always do this doing stakeouts. You want in?"

Ed sighed. "Well, it beats doing nothing waiting for Stainless. Shoot."

"Okay." Ingrid said. "Would you rather have nothing but fatty fish for a month or black licorice for two?"

"Fatty fish, obviously." Ed said. "It's brain food."

Just then, a figure walked out. The four of them hid behind the stairs and looked on ahead. They saw a white-haired boy with glasses approach the girl's bathroom. He carried a backpack that read 'Left Handed People are Always Right".

"That's Frankie Polk, the founder and president of the art club." Ingrid said.

They followed Frankie in and tracked him into one of the stalls. Fillmore surprised him by kicking his stall door down.

"Don't forget to wash your hands." Fillmore said before seeing what Frankie was doing. He was working on a sketch of the toilet he was standing in front of.

"Yes, I draw toilets. Beautiful toilets." Frankie confessed dramatically. "It's the perfect marriage of form and function, of style and substance, of water and porcelain."

Ed groaned. "Dude, you really need a hobby. Why couldn't you at least draw in the boy's bathroom?"

"Oh, that?" Frankie asked as he went to exchange bathrooms. "I was merely trying to capture the…" He screamed as he looked in the boy's bathroom.

The Safety Patrol rushed in and stopped their feet. They gazed at all the stall doors with the word "Stainless" written across them all.

Ingrid brushed her finger on the red ink. "This is still wet."

"So did we just miss him?" Ed asked.

"Or maybe…" Fillmore said. He approached the door slowly. He was about to open it up, but a powerful burst of water shot out of it. He and his friends were all shot to the wall. All the while, an unknown figure, the real Stainless, escaped through the door.

It was official. Stainless was still on the loose.