Yipe. Better hurry up about this. Pressing down on me.

Jay belongs to Disney Channel, Ash belongs to Renaissance Pictures, and Tails and Amy belong to Sega Corporation. Man, that's a lot.

Yep. We found the way to Starr's place.

Vinny Lee was able to find a GPS – and by find, I mean she took it off of Tails, who didn't seem to notice – or care. Those two had a running joke about filching each other's tools.

She pinpointed a route to the PMCB, which was the closest open place to where I'd spotted Starr going in. Given Starr's methods, it would not have surprised me if he had a way to track – and block – people trying to locate his base. At least, we weren't taking any chances on it.

"So this is the joint?" Imira observed when we reached the building. Ash had rejoined us some time back, and Jay didn't ask too many questions about it. "Real welcoming."

"This is with Starr in it," DJ reminded her. "And God knows who else."

Vinny Lee scanned around the building and frowned. That got me tense. When our maniac genius is unsure about entry, you know it's a problem.

"Something isn't right about this," she whispered. No telling who was an informant for Starr or not. "Shouldn't he have some sort of seguridad around here?"

"Probably couldn't hire any. Probably too scared to work for Starr," Ash said in a low whisper. Like he was one to talk about people being spooked. Didn't that guy just scare off a whole mugger mob with his chainsaw hand demonstration this morning? Nor could I feel superior on that account, since my own temper flares scared even DJ – who, by the way, does not scare easily.

"Or they were too busy laughing at his name," I joked, which got a nervous laugh out of the others. I always liked being the humorous one of the team. I found it comforting that we could still laugh about a dangerous situation.

Whatever the case might have been, it did bother me that Starr didn't have at least one guard out by the door. If they weren't outside the building, they should have at least been within. I didn't want to crack open that door without knowing what I'd be dealing with. Unfortunately, the inside was darker than a Tim Burton film's background, so I couldn't see inside.

I also figured it would be just as bad for us to hesitate. For all I knew, the cops could be at this place any minute. People tended to jump to conclusions about teenagers checking out abandoned buildings.

"Let's just go," I muttered, pressing on the door, and checking to make sure the police weren't around. I was in no mood to get arrested for trespassing on private property. Certainly, since I wasn't going to be able to explain it to them. Sorry, officer, but I was looking for a forger who might just be a murderer and simonist.

I would have laughed at that image if I wasn't sure I'd not get caught. I was surprised I even wanted to laugh. This was not a mission I was looking forward to.

I slid open the door of the TC.

The interior had definitely seen better days. There were cobwebs all over the place, and some of the desks were demolished. I also sneezed at the clouds of dust coming off the desks (I'm so allergic to dust it isn't even that funny). You'd think Starr would take better care of his own base, I thought.

Although I suspected it was merely a front. You know how it goes. They make it look like a total mess to discourage unwanted visitors, but it's actually very organized when you get farther in. And I mean, the more it discourages people from entry, the more you really want to go inside and see for yourself.

"Anything?" Imira asked. And no, I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about the missile crisis with her, but a report on the interior of a villain's lair? Easy topic. Totally safe.

"We'll have to go further inside," I said. "And no, I'm not thrilled about it either."

"Hooray," DJ muttered.

I didn't pull out my belt, but I kept my hand near it. And no, it wouldn't have done any good if the guards inside had guns and probably would've only left attackers with a broken nose and/or a nasty nosebleed at best, but as far as I was concerned, it was better than nothing.

I caught the same motions out of the others. Amy had her hammer out. Jay had his hand on his oil lamp. Ash had removed his fake hand and was presently reaching for his chainsaw attachment. Tails had conjured several knives and was hovering them in the air with his telekinesis. I heard a shink as Vinny Lee's claws deployed. (Yeah, Vinny Lee had retracting claws built into her gloves. As if her color scheme didn't evoke Wolverine enough.) We were all thinking the same thing. A fight was coming.

DJ took the lead, glancing around the building. Then her glance fell somewhere to the side. "He actually got it to work?"

What? I looked off to the side and caught an elevator – an honest-to-God elevator, with floor numbers ticking off. Usually, elevators in an abandoned building (obvious fact alert) don't work, but judging from the way the light shifted from 3 to 4, it was presently operational.

It wasn't the working elevator itself that bothered me. I'd seen more surreal things than that. How did the power company not notice when someone fixed the elevator in a building long abandoned? Had Starr perhaps paid them off?

"I don't like that," Imira muttered.

Jay suddenly shivered and pulled out his oil lamp, which morphed into the snake staff. "Um, speaking of things we don't like–"

I spun around – and immediately regretted it.

How could I have not seen these many convicts? An even half dozen, surrounding us. And carrying guns, too. Just my luck. Why did the bad guys have to have all the guns?

Also – how many of these criminals were on Starr's payroll? Had they just offered their services so they could get some fake for a planned robbery? It would not have been that much of a stretch, since this was the sleazy Patrick Starr we were talking about, but it was still unlikely. Nevertheless, I couldn't shake the image of these guys walking up to Starr and saying, hey, if you can make me a copy of the Mona Lisa, I'll guard your base for you.

"Whoa, whoa, guys," I said. "What's the big idea?"

"Nobody's allowed in here," said one of the convicts. His hair was loose and blond, and he sported a nice goatee. "Not unless the boss lets 'em in."

Great! So they were just denying us entry. That wouldn't be much of a problem, except for two things. One: we had to get inside Starr's HQ. That was nonnegotiable. Two: the thugs were armed – more than we were.

I'd have to do something really desperate to get out of this one. I'd have to do what Imira termed "pulling a Darvosky:" saying and doing something really stupid in the hopes that I could actually win out of a desperate situation.

"The boss sent us here," I said in a neutral tone.

Another guy, one in a tank top and pants with a bicep tattoo reading NS+FR with a heart around it, tilted his head. "Really?"

Imira stared at me, conveying the message, have you lost your marbles?

I ignored her and pressed on with my wild story. "We're part of the Ludlow Dogs," I said, picking a neighborhood and mascot at random. "We were looking for a sculpture to replicate for a heist. Wouldn't want anyone catching on that we stole it. And Starr owed it to us yesterday." I sounded it off in a whiny tone; to make it sound like I was really impatient with Starr for holding us up. It wasn't even that hard to fake, as these guys were trying my patience enough without a delayed counterfeit.

The third criminal, a brunette with a comb-over, scowled at me. "Starr mentioned nothing about that. And why would he see you while he's working?"

Yikes and yikes. I quickly ran through my repertoire of dumb excuses (which was quite expansive). "I guess Starr didn't want it on the record. Couldn't have it getting out. And my boss just sent me to call it in again," I said. "He got edgy." I threw up my hands. "Look, I'm just a rookie. They don't tell me everything."

The avatars were staying in the shadows, I noticed. That was when it occurred to me that my little lie might not work with their presence. Avatars generally fought on the light side of humanity. It was highly unlikely that they'd join a street gang, and they're, as I've said time and again, pretty hard to miss.

"And the chicks?" the fourth guy said, pointing his spindly finger at my fellow VLADJIs.

It hadn't occurred to me that I'd have to explain the girls. I was quite glad the avatars were staying out of the light. Or had Tails cast an illusion over them already? "The blond chick's my lady," I said lightly. DJ shot me a dirty look, but I went on. "She heard about it and wanted in on the mission. And nobody argues with her." That last part was so true I was choking on it. "The blue-haired gal–" I pointed at Vinny Lee – "is the demolition expert. She's coming in case things go really south, and believe me, you don't want that."

The thugs backed up. I guess that really struck a chord with them. Of course, given Vinny Lee's unpredictable nature, they might not even worry about when things went south – she'd send them that way on her own. "The big one?" asked the fifth guy, who sported an eagle tattoo on his shin – which I could see with the cargo shorts he was wearing. He pointed at Imira.

"The boss's girlfriend," I replied. "She'll be reporting back to him, too."

"I will hurt you," Imira muttered. I wasn't sure I wanted to know who that was directed at, so I moved on with the whopper.

"Yeah, that's right," I told the thugs. "You hurt her, you answer from my boss. And he's not one to mess with. Nor is she."

The thugs weighed that response. I guessed they were quite used to these sorts of threats from up-and-coming gangsters. "All right, go in," said Comb-Over, waving toward the elevator. "Top floor. And I hope your boss has someone to bury the bodies. Starr doesn't like being disturbed at his work."

We didn't waste any time. We headed straight toward the elevator, and I mashed the Up button. I caught the avatars heading out of the building just before the doors closed. Knowing them, they were probably about to look for another way inside. Perhaps Tails would fly them up to the window? Or they'd use one of the window-washer cars? Now that would be a worthy tourist sight.

DJ didn't say anything to me until we were inside the elevator. Once we were heading up, she turned to me and said, "'My lady'?"

"It sounded like something a gangster would say."

"I'll give you a lady treatment–" DJ muttered, but Imira cut her off.

"I didn't much like the way he referred to me, either," she countered. "But it got us past the guards, at any rate."

I rubbed my ears; not sure I'd heard her right. I mean, she'd beaten me up in the past, but… was she actually defending me? Truly, a sign of the apocalypse.

I glanced up at the screen. Ugh. The numbers were not going up fast enough for my liking. My pendant was buzzing so intensely at being so close to Starr that I was afraid my chest might reflect the vibrations.

"So what's the plan?" I asked.

"Go in, get info, leave," DJ said.

"And what to expect?"

"Pretty much everything we saw in his hotel room. And all the twisted works you can imagine."

Wonderful. So the answers would be in here. But suddenly I wasn't sure that I really wanted to look for them. How deep was I?

Did "too deep" even qualify here?

Going into a criminal's lair? I'd say so.

Verse for the update: Genesis 32:29. Stay tuned!