Nothing like coming down with a cold to give you an excuse to sit down and type. I'm more in the coughing-and-sore-throat phase, but don't worry. I'm still up.

Tails belongs to Sega Corporation. Now read on!

Dinner was stellar.

And I don't just say this because Papa was cooking. It was steak ranchero, well suited for me. Tails definitely enjoyed it.

After hearing about Papa's day – the usual, pretty much – my dad turned it over to me and Tails, because everyone had to have a turn in conversation. The conversation quickly turned to our flag problem – my suspicions that it was GABAFFS and Hollins behind it (which made Papa shudder), and the recent wave of car trouble lately.

"It seems there's a pattern to these car problems," Tails said. "You said Hardwell drove a red Tesla?"

"Sí," I replied.

"And then the taxicab's yellow, and the green car belonged to a street shaman –" Tails paused, as if he'd been thinking of less polite terms for Madame Chabin. (We shared a prejudice against fortune tellers. It's a thing.) "And – what color was Schultz's car?"

"Azul. Why?" Papa asked.

Tails frowned, as if an unpleasant thought had occurred to him. "Anyway, this is pretty serious. The mayor should have been informed about it."

"Unless he's covering the group's butt," I blurted out.

"I hope he isn't, but I'm not optimistic," Papa replied. "If the mayor throws support to a group that's playing with bumper cars, we are doomed. But GABAFFS certainly seems like the sort of group he'd throw support to."

"Over us?" I asked, keeping the edge out of my voice. He'd promised us we'd be safe from attacks on our character, he'd promised…

"Good God," Papa spluttered. "I sure hope we can convince him to back off. If we could show what a lunatic Hollins is, we might be able to convince him."

That sounded about as likely as Leonard embracing gender drama, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to spoil my father's mood – or anyone else's dinner – any further.

Speaking of Leonard…

"Not to mention, he'd probably want to look good in front of agrimensores," I replied, sawing into my steak.

"What are you talking about?" Papa asked, starting to take a sip of water.

"Oh, just a couple of people looking over the ciudad for a project. Leonard Hofstadter, Sheldon Cooper –"

Papa did a spit-take at the mention of those names. "Imposible. No es verdad."

"What?" I asked. I hadn't asked the geeks for their positions in CalTech, but it was starting to occur to me that their story might have been fabricated. Or if not, that they themselves weren't truly real. But how would it possibly be the latter? I'd been able to shove them out of the way of Hardwell's Tesla. You don't shove an illusion – you couldn't even contact it. I knew that much from dealing with Tails' illusion powers.

"Did they talk to you about it?" Papa questioned.

"José –" Tails began to protest but stopped himself. "They did. Vinny Lee saved their lives, too."

"It can't be true," Papa said softly. "They're not –"

"Not real? They seemed real enough to me." But then I remembered how unconcerned they'd been about leaving CalTech for so long – as if they wouldn't be missed. Or they weren't really scientists. As if it were some sort of cover – but for what?

I was diverted from these thoughts by a knock at the door.

"Oh, what does he want to talk about now?" Papa inquired.

Tails tensed up. "That's not Hardwell," he replied.

The tension didn't sit well with me. Who had Tails sensed?

Papa ignored him and went up to the door.

And no, it wasn't Hardwell. It was Hollins.

He looked a lot weirder than his photo made him out to be. I guess he couldn't have piercings in his police photos, because he had quite a few on his ears and one on his forehead. His blond hair was teased in a rumpled rat's nest, like he'd just gotten out of bed. The face jarred directly with his black tux, like he was getting ready to go to a business meeting. He reeked of patchouli and Old Spice – and I wasn't sure which was his brand of deodorant, and which was his cologne.

"What are you here for?" Papa asked him.

I thought it was quite obvious. He'd found out I'd taken the device from Hardwell, after sticking the Speeder Trap to his car. He must've badly wanted it back. Even without that knowledge, I didn't see any good reasons for his presence. I tend to steer clear of Priders wherever possible.

The device… stupid me. I should've left it in my room, or somewhere else upstairs, but alas, it was still out on the coffee table in the living room.

"Your kid took something that's quite important to me," Hollins said in a steady voice, soft and melodic. I was starting to understand how people rallied to him. They heard that voice, and were immediately taken in. I didn't see the mayor standing a chance against it.

"Like that aftershave?" Tails cut in, wrinkling his nose. At least he was immune, hanging around a Sirensong 24/7 (Sonic was his legal guardian). "Don't you have a better scent for that?"

Hollins eyed Tails. "Didn't know you had a pet, Miss Marzera."

"Primo, he's not my pet," I replied. "Secondo, you didn't need to stress the miss that way. You know I'm female, don't you?"

"I also know you feel like you were born –"

"In the wrong body, blah blah blah. You were born from the wrong body to suggest that."

Tails snorted.

"Why don't we just cut to the chase, then, instead of insulting each other?" Hollins said. He wasn't a Sirensong like Sonic – at least, not that I could tell – but his voice was smooth enough for one. I was glad I hung out with Sonic as often as I did, or I wouldn't be able to resist it. "You took something of mine."

"Only from that guarda," I replied in my most innocent voice. "And he asked me to look at it. He knows something's up."

Hollins arched an eyebrow at me. "Please, it's very important I have it back. It's for Saturday."

"And what are you planning to do with it come sábado? Use it to carjack another person? No gracias."

At that he lost his composure. He lunged, going straight for the device.

Oh, so he was just going to take it. I jumped in front of him, only for him to collapse on top of me.

I yelped – probably a little louder than I should have – and he tried to punch me. Luckily for me, I was trained in combat by avatars. In particular, by a certain two-tailed fox.

And I had weapons.

I dodged the blow and clenched my fist, which activated the claws on my gloves. I'd modified my gloves over the summer, adding retracting talons a la Wolverine. When I clenched my fists, they popped out over my hands, like cat claws.

I didn't look to see where the blow was landing, but I aimed high enough to suit my purposes. Hollins yelled and let go of me, hands over his face.

"You sneaky little –" He sounded like he was gargling syrup, which tipped me off that the blow had landed somewhere near his nose. He lunged again, and I dodged – not fast enough this time. I yelped as the blow hit my leg.

He tried to attack me a third time, but suddenly he was screaming – like a little girl, no less – as some force pulled him off me.

I had to ponder the turn of events. Had a monster decided to attack then? Had Tails telekinetically attacked him? Had he merely tripped over something I'd dropped on the floor?

A sudden yip from the dining room table told me it wasn't Tails attacking. In fact, when I looked at the scene in the front hall, I realized it was none of the above. Papa had Hollins by the throat and was shoving him into the doorway. He must've jumped up from the dinner table, from the steak knife still in his hand. The blade was pressed against Hollins' throat.

"¡Fuera de aquí!" Papa snapped. "Get out of this casa, you monster! Leave this threshold, you –" He then launched off some Spanish words he'd never used around me. Must be dire, if he's turning to that language.

He must've heard my screaming. Why else would he be driving Hollins out with that much vitriol? I caught Tails' expression – a mixture of shock and fury. Our silverware was levitating as well, which often happened when he was upset. I didn't blame him. The whole scene – Hollins attacking me, my papa's reaction – was pretty unsettling.

"Is there a problem here?" Hollins said calmly, yanking himself out of Papa's grasp. His face now bore stripes down it thanks to my claws – running down, sí, his nose. I saw the device clutched in his hand.

He made a big mistake speaking so smoothly. It just made the matter worse for him. Papa released him, only to grab the door and gesture with the steak knife at the doorway.

"You," he hissed. "OUT!"

"José –"

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, IDIOTA! SCAT! OFF WITH YOU!"

"I have what I came for already," Hollins said.

But Papa wasn't finished with the teacher. As soon as Hollins turned and stepped off the threshold, the handyman locked eyes with him and said, in a low growl, "If I even see you mess with my Vicenza again –"

He let that threat hang in the air, then slammed the door.

"Whoa," Tails said. I didn't blame him for being shocked at the turn of events. I didn't think Papa had it in him.

Papa frowned and spat in Hollins' direction, then turned to me with a gentler gaze. "Are you all right, mi cara?"

I quickly understood why Papa had reacted that way to Hollins. It wasn't anything rational, no. But he was back to normal – offering no hostility, no threat whatsoever. He was no longer in a rage. And I didn't blame him for flipping out, either. It was simply a fact – you didn't mess with José Marzera's daughter.

I took him in an embrace.

"If anyone needs me, I'll be at Sonic's place," Tails responded as he rose from his place. He then turned into a moth, flew out the open window, and then shapeshifted into an owl, flying away.

Now what will they do? Hollins has the device, but what else is there? Can't say for sure.

Verse for the update: Matthew 24: 36.

Please review! No flames! And as always, stay tuned for more!