Jason barely registered the hairy guy's rant. He had tuned out after the first minute, letting the words blur together into a tangled mess of grumbles and grunts. Every now and then, a word broke through the noise—mostly insults, each more creative than the last. It was impressive, in a way, how many synonyms existed for the word "stupid." When he ran out in one language, he seamlessly switched to another.

It might have been tolerable if he didn't spit every time he hit a noun.

Jason gave up on listening and just stared at the guy's face. He looked like a dirt patch with a bad attitude—or maybe a retired boxer who took one too many hits. Jason held his tongue, just in case the latter was true.

"And another thing! Not only are you disrespectful! Kids like you are too soft! They don't know the first thing about—"

Caster… Can you hear me?

Jason tested their telepathic link, making sure not to glance at her unless he wanted another lecture.

Yes, darling! Her voice chirped in his skull, warm and amused.

Do you know what's going on?

Hmmm... Jason could picture her pouting in thought. I think we're having our first marriage counseling. Although, he's criticizing my clothes way too much. Compared to a certain Roman I know, I'm practically modest.

Roman?... I...

The word struck him like a hammer to the skull. His head buzzed, vibrating at a million miles per hour. His vision fractured, too many colors crashing together, warping shapes into something unrecognizable.

"Agh!" Jason clutched his head, agony ripping through his skull like a jagged knife.

"Darling!" Caster's voice lost all its usual playfulness. She lunged forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"I… I can't—!?" His voice cracked as he gasped, the pain unbearable.

"Shhh, darling. It's okay. Baby steps, baby steps," she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair. The gentle motion dulled the edges of his suffering, if only slightly.

"I—ugh." The words barely made it past his lips.

"Shhh. Don't think." Her voice was soft, steady—like a lifeline keeping him from sinking any deeper.

It didn't feel real. Something was clawing its way out of the darkness, reaching for the light—only to be burned and shoved back into oblivion. He could almost grasp it. Almost see it. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

The pain left with it, yanked from his mind like a thread pulled too tight. The emptiness that followed was almost worse.

Jason was drenched in sweat. His collar clung to his neck in a damp ring, and his shirt stuck uncomfortably to his skin. He felt hollow, like something had been taken from him—something important.

"Gods… You kids are going to be trouble, aren't you?" the hairy guy muttered, adjusting his cap with a scowl. "This mission is already going to the dogs."

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Teacher's Salary," Archer drawled, inspecting her nails with exaggerated boredom. Her clothes were pristine—almost unnervingly so. Strange how Jason had nearly forgotten she was there. Despite the glamor, her face barely held an ounce of interest, as if the ten-minute lecture had been nothing more than background noise.

"How long are you planning to keep us here?" she asked, voice dripping with smugness. "I have job hunting to do."

The coach huffed, arms crossed tight.

"As much as I'd like that, you three are a liability! I have half a mind to apprehend you myself."

Archer smirked. "Oh? You sure you want to try that?"

"I know I can, young lady." The coach squared his shoulders, standing firm.

"Really?" She leaned in, her eyes shifting colors like gemstones catching the light.

"Wah?" The coach faltered.

"How about you let us go." Her voice slithered through the air, a whisper that seemed to crawl into Jason's ears.

"Ahhhh…" The coach trembled. "Auuh. Yes." His eyes went blank.

Archer grinned. "Good. And while you're at it, hand over all your cash."

"Okay." He muttered, suddenly sounding like a dazed surfer.

"And that baseball cap."

"Okay."

"And that megaphone. Your shirt. Pants. The bat. Those fake feet—I don't need them, I just don't want you to have them."

"Okay."

"And while you're down there, kiss my feet and tell me you're a dumb, stupid Neanderthal who can't make more than minimum wage."

"Okay."

"And you know what? I'm getting really bored. Tell me, how good are you with that tong—"

"Oh, shut up, you overpriced whore." Caster muttered, unimpressed.

"Oi, someone's jealous." Archer rolled her shoulders, eyes glittering with amusement as she smirked at Caster.

"Why would I want your sloppy seconds?" Caster's voice took on a low, demonic edge.

"Oh, please. We both know you couldn't get any action if it walked up and said hello."

"That's the street for you!"

"Isn't that where you live?" Archer shot back without missing a beat.

"Why, you—!" Caster lunged, ready to strangle her, but Jason stepped between them, raising a shaky hand.

"Enough! This is getting us nowhere." His voice was sharp, but his body betrayed him—he was still reeling from the headache. He stumbled forward, pressing his fingers against his temple, gritting his teeth as the pain slowly ebbed.

He took a deep breath, forcing his vision to focus. His gaze shifted to the coach slumped nearby. The man was completely dazed—eyes glazed over, body limp. If not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, Jason might have thought he was dead.

His stomach twisted. "Archer… what did you do to him?"

"Hmm?" Archer barely spared the man a glance. "Oh, I just turned him into one of my simps—" She paused, then smirked. "Ah, right. That word doesn't exist yet. Basically, I turned him into a drooling, hormonal idiot who'll follow my every beck and call. So, you know—your average male."

Jason blinked. "…I feel like I should be more concerned about that."

"No, you don't. You're my Daddy." Archer purred, rolling her tongue over the word like she was savoring it.

Jason felt his headache slam back into his skull. "Can you not call me that?" He said numbly.

"What else am I supposed to call my pimp? Procurer? Agent? My Fuck Boss? Want me to call you that? Fuck Boss—you pay me to fuck and fuck. Then loan me mana so I can fuck some more?"

A full-body shiver ran up Jason's spine.

"Oh, I love that word. Fuck, fuck, fuck me, Mr. Boss. I want you to ri—"

"OKAY! You can call me Daddy!" Jason yelled, throwing up his hands. Anything to make it stop.

Caster, all the while, wore a smug expression that screamed "I told you so." And honestly, Jason was inclined to agree.

Is she always like this?

Yes, Darling. Caster's voice dripped with exaggerated suffering. She is an incorrigible degenerate who will stop at nothing to bleed you dry of everything you love!

If you're going to gossip, don't do it on a public channel.

Jason groaned. Oh great, she's in my brain.

Don't worry, Darling. If I flood this with enough memories, it'll clean that whore out!

Great idea! It's been a while since I opened the spank vault.

Jason's eyes went wide. "OKAY, WE'RE NOT DOING THAT!" He shouted, desperate to scrub his own thoughts clean. His throat was starting to hurt.

Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. "We just… I just need a minute to clear my head." He paced for a moment before pointing at the coach. "Archer, can you release him?"

Archer snapped her fingers. The man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

"By the gods of Olympus!" He screeched, eyes flying open as if waking from a nightmare. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his bat and pointing it at them like it was the only thing keeping him from death. "You're sirens!"

Archer tilted her head, unfazed. "Ehhh… technically not wrong." She leveled her hand casually, looking as if she were debating whether to put him under again.

"I won't let you take a step further if my name isn't Gleeson Hedge!"

Jason blinked. "Wait… Gleeson Hedge?"

The coach—now fully awake and vibrating with righteous fury—tightened his grip on the bat. "That's right, you little punks! I don't know what kind of monster tricks you're pulling, but you won't get them! Not on my watch!"

Archer stifled a laugh. "Oh, this is precious." She turned to Jason with a smirk. "We've been verbally abused for ten minutes by a chihuahua in cargo shorts."

Hedge bared his teeth. "I heard that, you little enchantress! You think your magic tricks work on me?! I've trained against sirens, lamias, and Las Vegas showgirls!"

"Darling, I think the caveman has a point. Maybe we should head out before things get... messy. Plus, we could probably use some alone time away from..." She glanced towards Archer.

Archer didn't even look up from her nails. "Don't mind me if you want a quickie behind the bus. I promise, I won't peek—vanilla's not really my thing."

"Eeek! I... I would never!" Caster's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. Jason had never seen her so flustered before. She was both angry and embarrassed.

"And you say I have a dirty mind." Archer laughed.

"I didn't mean that!"

"You were thinking it."

"Stop putting words into my mouth!" Caster was starting to sound demonic again.

Before Jason could retort the coach grabbed him by the shirt and leveled to bat on his chin. That took both the fox girls' attention away.

"Alright sirens! Here's what's going to happen, if you don't want your boyfriend to be sleeping with the fishes. You'll do exactly as I–"

He didn't even finish before Caster and Archer knocked coach Hedge to the ground. They both had their foot on his throat and fire floating around their backs. Jason pulled himself up dusting the dirt off his clothes.

"How dare you?! How dare you lay a finger on my husband?!" Caster's voice was pure demon mode now.

The coach could only choke helplessly beneath their hold.

Caster raised her talismans, ready to make the coach regret his actions, but Jason stopped her.

"Wait, Caster!" he urged.

"Darling!" She cried, releasing the coach and rushing to embrace him. Tears streamed down her face like a river. "Darling, are you alright!? Did he hurt you? Did he take your innocence! I'll skin him alive!"

"Stop, it's okay. I'm fine, alright?" Jason reassured her.

"Darling!" She sobbed into his shirt, clinging to him.

Meanwhile, Archer stood off to the side, staring down at the coach. With a bored expression, she eased off some of the pressure on his throat. The coach immediately entered a violent coughing fit, gasping for air.

"Caster, Archer, stop. We were in the wrong here. He was just doing his job," Jason said, stepping forward. Archer stepped back, giving the downed coach some space. Jason crouched down, offering a hand to help him up.

"I'm sorry," Jason continued, "they can be a bit overprotective sometimes. We'll be out of your hair soon."

The coach didn't respond immediately, still rubbing his throat and coughing uncontrollably.

"We just need directions to civilization, that's all. We didn't mean to—"

"Sorry—ack—Kid, I don't know moonspeak," the coach grumbled, still hacking into his hand. "Haven't seen anyone move that fast since the war. Ka—of... those harpies, man. They'll get ya." The coach flexed his shoulders all while staring down the two.

"Harpies?" Jason's mind immediately conjured an image, somehow comparing them to the fox girls.

"Darling!" Caster pouted, puffing her cheeks in mock indignation. Archer simply shrugged.

"Anyway, we need directions. Badly…" Jason spoke as openly as possible, waiting for the coach to settle. The man finally composed himself and tilts his head in confusion.

"What Darling means to say is, do you have directions to the nearest city?"

"Wait, city?" The coach repeated, clearly taken aback.

"Yes. Darling is asking for directions," Caster clarified, her tone bright.

The coach looked puzzled for a moment, first staring at the girls and then at Jason.

"Kid, this is the Grand Canyon. The nearest city's miles away."

Grand… Canyon…

Pictures of rock formations and vast ravines flooded his thoughts, ancient landscapes carved by rivers over millennia, the earth's soil stripped away to form long, sweeping valleys. He had to stop himself from thinking before the visions overwhelmed him.

"If it's the city you're after, I guess I can take you back. But only until the field trip's over," the coach grumbled, rubbing his throat. "You sure you're not sirens?"

"Do I look like a fish to you?!" Archer scoffed, clearly irritated.

"Maybe you're hiding a tail under all those clothes. What are you wearing, girl? It's a million degrees outside." He shot back.

"Because some of us actually care," Archer muttered, rolling her eyes at Caster.

"Ugh, why am I even doing this…" The coach groaned, then locked eyes with Jason. "You sure you're not monsters?"

Caster looked absolutely offended, while Archer snickered under her breath.

"We're not monsters," Jason said firmly, cutting through the tension.

The coach stared at him for a long moment, his eyes drifting from Jason's shoes up to his face, scrutinizing him.

"Uh, I don't get it... but you smell alright. Come on." He finally turned and walked away from the bus, gesturing for them to follow. They were in the parking lot of a museum, tucked away in a corner where their shouts wouldn't draw attention. Jason hesitated, then walked out after him, recalling the time when the coach had held him at bat-point.

"Alright, just follow me and don't talk to anyone. I mean it," the coach spat. "There are dangerous things around here."

"Yeah…" Jason muttered in reply, glancing over his shoulder. He expected to see Caster and Archer right behind him, but neither of them were in sight.

Where are you? he thought, his heart sinking a bit.

In a minute, Darling, just picking the right outfit.

What?

Jason and the coach were nearing a group of school kids lounging around the entrance. He glanced around, still not seeing the two girls.

The coach pulled out his megaphone and screamed at the students, his voice echoing through the parking lot. Jason took a step back, melting into the crowd. His eyes scanned over the students—more boys than girls, many of them looking a bit too spoiled in his opinion, all talking at once, ignoring the coach's words. Just as Jason thought he'd lost himself in the sea of people, someone touched his shoulder.

"Hey, Jason!" a kid's voice spoke directly into his ear. Jason turned to see a short boy with messy hair and a brown complexion. "Thought Coach Hedge killed you back there. There was a lot of screaming—did he try deprogramming you again?"

Who was this guy?

Jason blinked, confused. This was the first time he'd seen him, yet the kid acted like they were old friends. His proximity and relaxed demeanor made Jason uncomfortable.

"Ah, who are you?" Jason asked, trying to make sense of it all.

The boy stopped mid-sentence, his eyes wide in shock. "Dude… is that Japanese? Since when did you know Japanese?!" He shouted with excitement.

What?

何を話しているの？ Jason finally listened to himself. He froze, his mouth closing as the words registered in his brain.

What the hell!?

"Darling!" he heard Caster's voice from the distance. He started to turn when someone else suddenly wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Jason!" a different girl shouted, holding his hands. She looked at him with the same intense gaze as Caster. "I was so worried! What happened? Better not be something you did, Leo!" She said to the other boy.

"No, never, Pipes! It wasn't my fault this time!" The other kid responded quickly.

何!

"Darling!?" Caster's furious voice cut through the air, and Jason turned to see her. She was different now, wearing a purple hoodie and jeans to match his. Her fox features were nowhere to be seen—she looked like an average (or maybe above-average) girl. But her eyes were burning with anger. "Who's that homewrecking slut!?"

Jason felt another headache coming along.