Author: Belart Wright
Date: 2014-12-18 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult
Description: On a dark and balmy Floridian night, a strange and mysterious dark haired woman stalks the shadows of the local college football stadium, on the prowl for secrets buried deep beneath the Earth. These secrets, she knows, may change everything including this small town. While knocking back illegal drinks with his friends at the hallowed Orangetown Pickers' college football stadium, average kid Joe Black finds himself desperately trying to save the life of a beautiful dark haired woman after a deadly explosion violently interrupts his fun and games. While trying to fathom why he would even do som
Publisher: BWright Publishing

Average Joe and the Extraordinaires

By Belart Wright

Copyright 2014 © Belart Wright

Written by Belart Wright

New cover designed by Alexandra Engellmann 2015

Former cover designed by Michael Holladay and Belart Wright 2014

Gears Inside a Clock Tower image licensed by Belart Wright from LDF of iStock.

Headline Cracked font licensed by Belart Wright from IMAGEX

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Fun at the Game

Chapter 2 BOOM

Chapter 3 She Can Do That!?

Chapter 4 Do what now!?

Chapter 5 One More Thing

Chapter 6 Stranger Danger

Chapter 7 Joe the Terrorist

Chapter 8 An Effort of Futility

Chapter 9 The P.I.

Chapter 10 Then Who's Protecting Me?

Villain View 1: Old Friends

Chapter 11 The Must Have Candy Bar

Chapter 12 Clear My Name???

Chapter 13 That Can't Be Sanitary

Chapter 14 The First Revenger

Chapter 15 Extraordinaires Assemble

Villain View 2: A Powerful Motivator

Chapter 16 Team Badd Azz

Chapter 17 The Price of Popularity

Chapter 18 Old Faces

Chapter 19 Occupado

Chapter 20 Home Sweet Clock Tower

Chapter 21 Zero Tolerance

Chapter 22 The Dating Game

Chapter 23 Making Things Right

Chapter 24 The Plot Thickens

Chapter 25 Scarlet Comeuppance

Chapter 26 Hero?

Chapter 27 A Good Deed Never Goes Unpunished

Chapter 28 The Conference Call

Chapter 29 The Deadly Speech

Chapter 30 Of Killers and Lizards

Chapter 31 Meet the Press

Chapter 32 The Olive Branch

Chapter 33 The Bloody Edifice

Villain View 3: Marching Orders

Villain View 4: The Daily Grind

Chapter 34 The Glamour Conference

Villain View 5: The Spotted Tail

Chapter 35 The Fun Zone

Chapter 36 The Truth Hurts

Chapter 37 The Right Kind of Hatred

Chapter 38 The Wrap Up

Chapter 39 Busy Day

Epilogue

Thank Yous and Reviews

Acknowledgements

Extras

Fun Facts and Story Changes

Alternate/Deleted Scenes

About the Author

Links

Coming Soon

Something Exciting This Way Comes

Welcome, audience, to this tale of a guy.  Yes!  The tale of a normal guy.  This is the story of a young man so unnoticeable that you’d pass him on the street without a second glance.  This guy is so unremarkable that the only name that registered in my brain for him was Joe: mediocre, plain, simple, indistinguishable, Average Joe.  Yes, this is a story about a very plain guy but, hopefully, amongst all the extraordinary, unbelievable, and larger than life characters, the plainness of Joe’s own character will stand out with a certain bold starkness. This is an ode to all the Average Joes of the world.  May you all live on in comfortable mediocrity.  The world needs you just as much as it needs its stars.

Chapter 1

Fun at the Game

The day was hot and the crowd rowdy and rambunctious.  Everyone was getting riled up for today’s statewide collegiate football match where the state favorites, the Sunshine City Fowlers, would take on the underdogs, the Orangetown Pickers.  Joe and his girlfriend Kate, along with her little brother, Mod, had predicted a bloodbath today between the two rival teams and their rabid fans.  Too bad for now the line had stalled.

Joe: “This line is way too long.”

The three teens were here to support their hometown team, the Pickers.  Joe and Kate were set on going to Orangetown University.  Neither had even considered the alternatives.  Joe himself didn't have any bright prospects when it came to choosing his college, but Kate on the other hand had many schools to choose from.  In the end she chose with her heart and decided to stay with Joe.

The line had finally started to move, but everyone was still pretty antsy.  The game was set to start in only thirty minutes.  As always the red-haired siblings couldn’t help but fuss at one another.  Mod stopped arguing with his sister just long enough to lean over to Joe.

Mod: “Hey, Joe, I brought some game boosters.”

Mod smiled a devilish smile that lasted longer than it should.  He pulled off his backpack, took out a bright red insulated cooler bag, opened it, and showed its contents to his shocked sister and Joe.

Kate: “How did you get that?”

Kate looked at her fourteen year old brother with alarmed blue eyes. His smile still hadn’t faded as he stared her down with his green eyes, so she knew he had something planned. She waited for his explanation of some half-brained scheme.

Mod: “The how is unimportant, dear sister, at least when it comes to the where.  A different how should be asked.”

Mod smiled over towards where Joe was absentmindedly standing, and repeated himself a bit louder after delivering an elbow to Joe’s side.  Joe snapped to attention and responded.

Joe: “As in how we’re going to get it in there with all that security.”

Mod: “And the answer to that, my dear sister, is you.”

Kate: “Why do I feel as if this is going to make me feel so stupid?”

The crowd started to move forward faster, the group’s shady acts cleverly hidden from the security staff.  No one could really see what they were doing with all the secrecy.  When the line paused again Joe stood in front of the two to block what they were doing.  Mod took what looked like an albino baby seal and a gray sweatshirt from his backpack and stuffed the cooler bag and his backpack into the weird seal looking thing.  He attached it to Kate and hid it under the sweatshirt that he had also hidden in his backpack.

Kate: "Did you get this sweater from Grandma?"

Mod: "Nah, it's one of Dad's old sweaters."

The weird thing wrapped around Kate wasn't really an albino baby seal, as that would be a ridiculous and smelly thing to attach to someone, even more ridiculous than a regularly pigmented seal. He had attached a fake pregnancy belly to his sister.

Mod: “Okay now act natural, sis.”

Kate scoffed at the notion.

Kate: “Act as if I’m pregnant?  You jerk, that’s not even funny.”

Mod: “With the rate at which you and Joe have been going, I will be able to say that with a straight face a few months from now.”

Kate and Joe both blushed.

Kate: “You’re lucky I don’t slap you.”

Uncomfortable conversations aside, the line was moving full speed ahead and Joe’s group was finally nearing the front doors of the stadium.  The closer they got to security, the more nervous they all became.  It was difficult to tell if Kate’s sea of sweat had formed because of her nervousness or the hot fake belly and sweatshirt that she now had to wear over her clothes.

At the front of the line, Joe went towards the doors, but was pushed back by a large man the size of a pro-wrestler, wearing a red t-shirt.  Kate looked at him with rising fear in her eyes and a growing knot in her stomach.  The large man might’ve been a wrestler, but he had the words UNIVERSITY SECURITY on his shirt.  He approached the group and looked right at Kate and Joe.

Security: “Is this woman with you?”

Kate and Joe looked at each other, and then back at the security officer.  Joe nodded his head and Kate sweated even more, to the point of drenching her socks.

Security: “Where’s your head at, kid?  Let the lady go first.  She’s with child.”

He looked right at her and smiled, which Kate guessed was meant to be inviting, but didn’t make her feel any more comfortable.

Security: “Go on through, miss.”

Kate gulped down her previous fear and strolled past the man, while the other two followed close behind.  Joe got the stink-eye from the security guy.  Sensing DDTs and power-bombs in his future, he decided to hasten his pace towards the ticket taker, who then took their tickets.

Inside, they all had a powwow about where to go and if they would get snacks. Eventually, they got it all together and found their seats. The game began with the singing of the national anthem, which got everyone riled up and patriotic. The players on both teams took to the field in a frenzy, to everyone’s delight.  You could feel the high levels of energy throughout the stadium.  The pops that the players took created audible “pops” throughout the audience.

The hometown team was losing in the first quarter, to the chagrin of Joe and the gang.  Mod had pulled the thermos from Kate’s baby belly when he was sure no one was looking. Kate hastily ripped off the hot sweater and fake belly and threw them underneath her seat.  The upper part of her green tanktop was drenched with sweat.

Kate: “Ugh, I need to cool down.”

Mod pulled a couple cans of Double Dog Brew for himself and handed another to Joe and then to Kate.  Joe sipped his beer while the other two downed theirs like old pros and argued over who had finished first.  Kate and Mod grabbed more beers and shared stories of the time Mod had accidently soiled his underwear during a camping trip.  Mod tried not to laugh but couldn’t help himself.

Mod: “You guys are poop-heads.”

Kate: “Great choice of words, little bro.  You might want to rethink what comes out of your potty mouth.”

When the second quarter picked up, they poured their hearts into cheering the Pickers, while pouring more beers into their mouths. You would’ve thought the Fowlers had murdered the families of their rivals from the jeers they got.  Joe, Mod, Kate, and the rest that sat in their row, screamed expletives at the rival team, and a few death threats as well.  Mod and Joe had made friends with the group sitting next to them and even shared some of their beers.  The man sitting next to Mod was very grateful.

Neighboring Fan: “Yeah, they’re selling beers at the concession for about seven flippin’ dollars.  If I didn’t think security would be so tight I would’ve brought me some cans too.”

Mod: “Yeah I always come prepared, man. Otherwise I’d blow all of my allowance—er paycheck, on these drinks.”

Kate elbowed Mod in the ribs and the friendly fan merely laughed.  Towards the end of the second quarter the group started smelling something weird.

Joe: “Do you guys smell that?”

Kate: “What is it?”

Joe: “Smells like something is burning or something.”

They all smelled it, but it was so faint that no one paid it any major attention.  The Pickers were still down and so the group cheered louder than ever.

Chapter 2

Boom

BOOM!

A large rippling explosion reverberated throughout the stadium, knocking many people over into the aisles below them.  Fires came from seemingly nowhere.  Chaos erupted throughout the stadium as everyone sprang out of their seats and to the exits.  Joe kept sight of Kate and her brother Mod and moved down the crowded stairs and into the hallways of the stadium.  They all ran towards the exit.  Kate and Mod had a sizable lead on Joe.

Another explosion then ripped throughout the stadium, causing the panic to erupt into pandemonium.  Joe lost sight of Kate amongst the sea of desperate people seeking the exit.  The smoke coming from the lower levels of the stadium was so black and thick that it began to obscure the field.  It had begun to choke Joe; his eyes were starting to water.  He wiped them, and when he did, he saw the most beautiful girl that he’d ever seen in real life.  There were women on TV who came close to this beauty, but no woman he’d ever seen or met in this reality was even close.  He was forced to question if he was still even alive, or if the smoke and heat had gotten the better of him.  He was as hot as a slab of ribs on the fourth of July, so that gave him a clue.

For some reason, the woman was running the opposite way from the rest of the crowd, like fighting a tide, but she managed gracefully and with marginal effort.  There was a loud pop and the beauty ducked, another and she ducked again.  She did all this without losing her running pace, and Joe realized the woman was being chased and shot at.  After another pop, Joe saw someone in the crowd fall to the ground.  He looked around for the shooter, but had a hard time seeing anyone specific in such a large crowd.  He waited for another pop, and maybe a flash.  The anticipation was killing him. He knew he should be trying to escape with the others, but he was compelled to find this shooter.

There!  He caught sight of the man in the black suit with what Joe could tell was probably an M9 handgun, thanks to his years of playing Call of Duty.  The crowd had thinned considerably around the man, and he ran forward after the woman.  He pushed a small child out of the way, and then shoved an older lady to the ground.  He carefully aimed his gun and drew a bead on the olive-skinned beauty.  He stopped and anticipated the way she might move and BLAM!

The bullet flew upwards and clicked against metal near the ceiling.  Joe had slapped the gun out of the man’s hand. After the initial moment of shock, the man clad in the black suit glared down at Joe, who had fallen clumsily.  Thick red veins bulged from the man’s neck.

Man in Black: “What the hell do you think you’re doing, kid?  I’m going to pop your head off your skinny little shoulders. And guess what?  I’m going to love every second of it.”

The man picked Joe up and threw a wild punch into the defenseless boy’s stomach.  Joe tried to double over and heave up everything he had eaten today, but the man held him up for more punishment.

Man: “I’m not done with you yet, boy.”

Joe saw the man wind back for a punch that he just knew was a gift for his face.  If given a choice, he would reject the present, or re-gift it, but he currently didn’t have that luxury.

Joe then fell under the force of several people.  He felt the floor and was free to crawl away from the pandemonium.  When he looked back, he saw that a group of very big Fowler fans were going to town on the man in black’s face.  He couldn’t stomach any more of the carnage, so he looked forward to see where the woman had went.

Joe just had to make sure that she was okay, then he could leave.  He wasn’t sure if any of those bullets had hit her, and he wasn’t quite thinking straight.  It could have been the drinks.  It could have been the chaos.  It could have even been the lack of breathable air.  He hadn’t noticed that there was no blood trail.  He hadn’t even noticed that he had run past another man in a black suit or that the man was drawing a bead on the back of his skull.  The only thing on his mind now was a scent.  It had disrupted Joe’s surroundings.  It didn’t fit in with all the running people, fire, sweat, blood, and chaos.  It smelled…

Joe was halfway to the ground before he heard the popping sound.  He floated seemingly forever between the sky and the ground, waiting to descend.  The smell came back to the forefront of his thoughts and was stronger now, enjoyably aromatic, but that wasn’t all.  There was a weight on his chest, and it was warm, comfortably so.  He instinctively cradled it and felt arms go around his hips and to his back.  For no reason, Joe felt the moment was framed in gold.  He had just enough time to see her dark tresses spread about his chest as he and this golden person fell.  A perfect moment.  A perfect meeting.

The force of his body hitting the floor unmercifully interrupted all that.

“Are you an imbecile?  Get up and run!  Go!”

Her voice had an unmistakable foreign flare to it, but didn’t distract from the message she was trying to convey.  The curtness of her voice jolted Joe to his feet to meet her.  When he looked up, she was already on her feet.  He waited for her to move before he did.

“Go!  Now!”

She hadn’t even looked at Joe when she’d said that.  Her eyes were on her shooter.  She reached for her ear and took off a large earring.  The silver pendant bore a symbol that Joe thought looked like a lightning bolt.

She threw the thing hard and Joe heard it smack the guy dead in the chest.  He flew back on impact and landed painfully hard on the floor, convulsing.  He looks like those guys on Cops after they’ve been Tased, he concluded.

“Why are you still here?  I told you to leave!”

Joe: “I’m sorry, miss, I just want to make sure you’re not hurt or anything.”

“I’m not.”

Joe: “Well I … I just want to help you.”

“Oh no!  You’re ‘inspired’ … I really don’t have time for this.”

She forcibly grabbed Joe’s hand and started running.  Joe saw that she looked determined, and that the earring she had thrown earlier was now back on her ear. He must have been mistaken; she must have thrown the one from the opposite ear.

They continued to run against the crowd and away from the doors.  Joe was sure they were actually going deeper into the stadium.

Joe: “Where are we going, miss?”

“Just enjoy the ride.  Since you’re so gung-ho about helping me out.”

They found an elevator and the woman called it.  It opened as soon as she pressed the button.

Joe: “Is this safe, miss … miss?  Um, what’s your name?”

“Just get in.”

Joe: “That’s a funny name.”

Joe offered a smile, but dark tresses pushed him into the freight car.

“This is as safe as we need it to be, and if you must call me anything, call me annoyed.”

Joe: “Seriously!?”

“The concept of sarcasm is lost on you, isn’t it?  So to say you’re an imbecile isn’t too far from the mark.”

Joe: “I'm not stupid.  I just wanted to know your name.”

"Call me what you like.  If I'm lucky I won't have to see you after today."

Joe: "Well, the only thing that I can think of is Beauty."

Beauty: “Whatever helps you sleep at night.  Though that is a curious concept, isn’t it?  Beauty can be learned, perfected, and mastered, and yet it is utterly subjective.”

Dark tresses studied Joe’s face and laughed.

Beauty: “I’m going to think about that one for a while.  I suppose I could use your help.  Yes, that’s it!”

Joe scratched his head, both out of habit and in general confusion.

Beauty: “You have a chance to do a really good deed today.  Something that can really help a lot of people out.”

Joe: “What are you trying to do?  Why are they trying to kill you?”

Beauty: “I don’t have time to explain.  Just know that I'm trying to save someone.  Once this elevator stops we’re going to have to run, and if you stick with me your life will be in danger.  You need to decide before we reach the next floor.”

The wooziness brought on by the drinks and lack of oxygen had disappeared and Joe felt his head was clear now.  He wondered why he had even done what he did earlier to save this woman.  It was simple, he thought, Mom and Pop taught me early on to do the right thing.  It was only natural to help when big men with guns tried to hurt little women.  Joe knew he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.  He wasn’t raised that way.

Joe: “This person, are they important to you?”

Beauty: "Not to me, but to someone else, I'm sure.  Today is the only day I can get them out."

Joe thought about it for a moment, but he knew he couldn't pass up a chance to save someone's life.  He would want the same thing if the shoe was on the other foot.

Joe: "I'll help you."

The woman didn’t look all that surprised.

Chapter 3

She Can Do That!?

Ding!

Joe: “Okay, we’re here, let’s go!”

Beauty: “Get back in here!  This isn’t our floor.”

Joe hopped back into the freight elevator and looked at the button panel.

Joe: “But it says we’re at the ground floor.  We can’t go any lower.”

Beauty: “Shhh.”

Beauty ran her fingers through her hair and produced what looked to be a keycard.  She took the keycard and inserted it into a small slit on the back side of the elevator.  Three glowing squares popped up in the middle of the small glass display on the wall.  They were marked UG5, UG6, and UG7. Beauty pressed the square for UG6; the elevator began to move and the display disappeared.  The card reader ejected Beauty’s card and she grabbed it and placed it back amongst her dark tresses.  Joe wondered where exactly she had put the card, but didn't linger too long on that thought.  He had other things on his mind.

Joe: “Do you have a gun or anything?  Seems like all these guys might have guns.”

Beauty: “No, I don’t need ‘em.  I have everything I need right here.”

She touched the earrings on her ears.  Joe didn’t know what she meant or how her missing earring was back on her ear.

Joe: “What will you do with those?  They’re just earrings.”

Beauty: “I’m tricky.  They won’t even see me coming.”

The elevator had finally come to a stop.  For some reason Beauty was still facing the back wall.  Joe went to tell her that they had reached their stop, but was halted when the back wall of the elevator suddenly slid completely open.  Joe gaped down the hall to see if there was anyone there, but didn’t see or hear anyone.

Beauty: “Just follow me, Joe.”

Joe: “Okay, but how do you know my name?  I haven’t told you yet.”

Beauty: “You look like a Joe.  A real average Joe, as the saying goes.  Now come on.”

Joe followed her as close as he possibly could.  He figured that even if he somehow lost his sight he could still follow her as long as he had his sense of smell.  The woman smelled as delightful as she looked, and Joe was taking it all in.  It was one of the perks of following a woman, he supposed.

Beauty: “Remember to watch me and not my superbly sculpted buns, little guy.  I need you to be alert.”

Joe snapped to attention and looked mortified.

Joe: “But I … I mean I wasn’t.”

Beauty: “Save it.  Let’s go!”

Beauty ran down the hall with the speed and grace of a creature of the night.  Joe had never seen a person move like she did.  Complete confidence in her movements, she hugged the walls as if she were a part of them whenever she checked her surroundings.  Joe felt awkward and clumsy as he tried to keep up.  He wasn’t used to sneaking around, and seeing Beauty in action just made him feel like the kid he was.  In that brief moment, he felt oddly uncomfortable in his own skin.  A very strange thought crept into his head.  He imagined some small creature piloting his body and now cursing itself because it didn’t pay attention to lessons in human piloting school.  The creature also cursed Beauty’s pilot for being a know-it-all goody-goody and an overachiever.  His daydreams ended when Beauty signaled him over to her side.

Beauty: “I’m sure this floor was successfully evacuated.  I didn’t see anyone up ahead, but we should have company pretty soon.  Let’s clear this hallway and I’ll lead you to our destination.”

Joe: “Okay, but what do you want me to do when we get there?”

Beauty: “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know soon.  You’ll come in handy.”

They ran down another hall filled with doors that mostly led to empty rooms.  Joe had no clue what these rooms could have been used for or even why the stadium had hidden floors to begin with.  None of it made sense.  Far behind them Joe heard the elevator doors slide open, and shortly after heard voices as well.  The sound hadn’t escaped Beauty.  They turned a corner and entered a large room filled with lockers that seemed like the coldest part of the building.  Joe wondered if it was a backup locker room for the sports stars, but couldn’t see a visible showering area nearby.  He did spot one thing though, a beautiful blonde girl bound with rope and gagged.  She wore some sort of blue security pants with lots of big pockets and a white tank top but no shoes.  She had a few bruises on her face and upper back near her shoulders.

Beauty: “She’s still in here.  This makes things a lot easier.”

Beauty quickly ran over to the girl and tugged at her ropes.

Beauty: “What an amateur.  I can’t believe you got caught like that.  You’ve made my job one hundred times harder.”

Joe: “I don’t think she can hear you.”

Beauty: “Can’t a girl vent her frustrations?  This girl really mucked things up for me.”

Joe: “Sure but what made you both come here anyway?”

Beauty: “I guess I can tell you that.  I have no clue why she’s here but I’m here to get something precious to me.  It’s supposed to be down here somewhere.  I thought I’d free her in the process.  She got caught, a few weeks ago.”

Joe: “Who is she?”

Beauty: “Ask her yourself whenever she wakes up.  Here take this.”

She handed Joe her elevator card and grabbed the earring from her ear.  It looked like she was squeezing it but when she opened her hand Joe saw a shiny curved knife there, not an earring.  She took it and sliced through the ropes cleanly as if she were using a katana and when she was done the knife turned back into a little earring and she put it back on her ear.  Joe couldn’t believe that he wasn’t dreaming right now.  The woman tried shaking the girl awake, but to no avail.  She looked over towards the back row of lockers and only saw one that was lockless.

Beauty: “Okay, I need you to listen very carefully, Joe.  A group of those guys that were shooting at me earlier are going to arrive here any minute now.  I need you to do a few things for me.  Starting off, I need you to hurry and tie me up.”

She lifted the girl off of the chair that she was sitting on and gently placed her on the floor.

Joe: “But I—”

Beauty: “No time to explain, Joe.  Just do as I say.  I’ll be just fine.”

Joe nodded his head and waited for further orders.  Beauty picked up the rope that had bound the blonde girl and handed it to Joe.  Joe was shocked to find that the rope had none of the cuts on it that Beauty had made earlier, but he decided not to linger on that thought.

Beauty: “Make sure you do that nice and tight, country boy.  Knot it good.  Once you finish that, I want you to pick up Sleeping Beauty and head straight to that locker over there — I’m staring right at it — and hide.  Once the room clears out, I want you to wait a few minutes — at least until you don’t hear any more voices — and then I want you to escape with her.”

Joe: “Who is she?”

Beauty: “She’s important.  I need her alive, and if anything happens to her I’m going to find you and besmirch you.”

Joe: “Besmirch?”

Beauty: “Now go.  Hurry, we have no time.  Make sure you stay hidden.”

Joe grabbed the mystery blonde and walked himself and the girl to the only locker that he saw without a lock.  He opened the locker and saw nothing but a Pantera t-shirt inside.  He lifted the cute blonde up and placed her inside first.  She kept falling to the bottom of the locker, so he leaned her up and propped her at an angle.

Beauty: “Hurry up!”

Joe hastily draped his legs over the girl’s slumbering body and squeezed in as best he could.  It was definitely a tight fit, and it was definitely uncomfortable.  He could feel the girl’s tiny breaths on his chest, and could feel the weight and warmth of her body against his belly.  The only girl he had ever been this close with was Kate.  He peered out through the slits of the locker and nearly dropped his jaw.  Where Beauty had sat before, there was now another blonde girl.  No … the same blonde girl, but that was impossible.  Joe looked down again at his locker mate and examined her face.  He then looked at the girl in the chair and saw that they were identical right down to the bruises they shared.

This was madness.  More importantly, where was Beauty?  Joe had only looked away for a few seconds and had lost her.  Wait, something was off, he thought.  The clothes didn’t match up.  The girls wore completely different outfits.  That’s when he saw it.  Before his eyes, the blonde in the chair’s outfit changed from the one that Beauty had worn to the same blue security outfit that his locker mate was wearing.  It was then that he knew.

Joe: “She isn't like us.”

Chapter 4

Do What Now!?

Through the slits in the locker, Joe could still see Beauty, the lady he was trying to help, but now things had gotten a bit more complicated.  For one, he had found himself in a very secret part of his favorite football team’s stadium, so secret in fact that the buttons to get there weren’t on the elevator.  He was also being pursued by dangerous men in black suits thanks to his good deeds.  But none of that held a candle to the fact that this girl whom Joe had named Beauty could change her face and clothes on a whim.  She had changed from a tall, dark skinned, dark haired woman in black pants to a blonde haired girl wearing a blue security outfit and it only took an instant.  He had to play the scenario in his head over again just to process it all.

A knot of tension welled up in his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel as if the blonde who used to be Beauty was a sitting duck.  But it was her who had told him to tie her up, so he assumed she had some sort of plan.  It was wishful thinking, but Joe was hard pressed thinking otherwise.  He left it all to her and somehow trusted her judgment wholeheartedly.  He had carelessly staked his life upon it.

There were men’s voices and then a loud crash.  Joe could see men’s heads over the tops of the smaller lockers in the middle of the floor, and there were many of them.  Most of them were in black suits, but he saw a few wearing a blue security uniform, with pants just like the blonde’s.   They all seemed to be searching for something or someone.  An older guy dressed recklessly in a salmon-colored shirt and white pants walked near the blonde in the chair.

“I was sure our intruder would come this way.   If whoever broke in didn’t want this girl, then I don’t know why they came to this floor.  Keep looking!  They can’t have gone far.”

He was red all over but reserved the darkest shade for his neck and face.  His balding head shined like the sun when the light caught it, and glistened as brightly as the long locks of blonde hair on the sides and the back of his head.  He tapped the chair and signaled two of the men in black to his side.

“Bring her.  We’re going to need collateral for that old agent.”

He looked the blonde’s face and grabbed her by the cheeks.  Beauty pretended to be in a half-sleep state, which was more conscious than she and Joe had found the girl, but none of the men raised objections to that.  The balding man pulled back her hair so that she faced him.

“The old man is being a real pain in our collective behinds.  If he doesn’t back off, I’m going to have no choice but to do great harm to you.  You ready to tell me why you came here?”

The man smiled and Beauty simply slumped down into her chair when he released her.  Joe’s heart had stopped, for the man was looking dead at him it seemed.  Joe dared not move.  He dared not even breathe, and he hoped to heaven that his locker-mate would not make any sudden movements.  The man seemed to stare on forever and Joe was stuck in the moment.  He didn’t know if he should just wait for his fate or if he should run out there and fight for his life.  Either way, he knew he’d die, but he also knew that he was no warrior and had no real prideful aspirations to “go out with a bang,” as they say.  Truthfully, he didn’t trust himself.  He didn’t know what he would do next and that frightened him.  For now he waited.

“Where’s the lock for that locker?  It’s the only one I see without a lock and I don’t trust unlocked things in secret places.”

He walked towards the metal coffin and was halted mid-stride by one of his subordinates.  The security officer in blue had an explanation for him.

Security: “That’s Pete’s locker.  He hasn’t locked it since he’s worked for you guys.  The only thing he keeps in there is that funky Pantera t-shirt that he likes to over-wear.”

“Well, tell your friend Pete to invest in a lock.  Alright, let’s go, we’re burning clock here.”

Two of the men in black untied Beauty, handcuffed her, and placed a cloth bag over her head.  The bigger of the two hoisted her over his shoulders and carried her.  Ten seconds later, the room was completely empty.  Joe waited ten minutes to even make a peep.  He waited until even the small bumps couldn’t be heard anymore.  Once the coast was clear he opened the locker and got a better view of the hallway outside.  He stopped and listened, more clearly now, to the sounds outside the room.

He moved himself awkwardly past the sleeping blonde girl to the outside of the locker.  He looked at the girl more carefully now.  She was much more beautiful than he had noticed before, even though she was drooling and sweating unpleasantly.  He was also a sweaty mess, but being trapped in a sardine can while scared to death would do that.  He grabbed the girl, and she stirred after returning to the cooler air of the locker room.  She shivered when he placed her on the cold floor.  He nudged her by her shoulder but got no response.  He let out a whisper.

Joe: “Hey.  Pssssssst!  Wake up.  I need you to wake up.  Psssssst!  We’re in danger.”

No response.  He shook her some more but nothing.

Joe: “Sorry ‘bout this.  I don’t hit girls, I swear.”

Joe slapped her face once, twice, then thrice.  He contemplated striking her harder, until a better idea came to his head.  He walked to the back of the room, to the showers, and ran the water from one of the faucets.  He came out with a handful of cold water and nearly tripped trying to quickly get it to the blonde.

Joe: “This is stupid.  I’m going to spill all this water and have to do this all over again.”

He didn’t spill, much anyway.  He knelt down but forgot to apply a little restraint and dropped all the water he had in his palms straight onto the blonde’s face.  She quickly sprang up coughing and snorting and slapped Joe bloody.

Joe: “Ouch!  What the hell!”

Blonde: “What the hell?  What the hell!  You almost drowned me!”

Joe: “Sorry, sorry.  Keep it down, we’re in danger.”

She rubbed her face and tried to wipe as much water and grogginess from it as she could.  They must’ve done a number on her.

Blonde: “Who are you, kid, and what happened?”

Joe didn’t think the girl was far enough from his own age to be calling him a kid.  He stared into her curved brown eyes.

Joe: “My name is Joe and that’s all I really know.  I was helping some lady out and we came down here.  I guess she was trying to free you.”

The blonde girl stood up and blew her nose into her shirt.  She said something to herself, but Joe caught it as he rose up with her.

Blonde: “A woman, huh?”

Joe: “Yeah, and she got captured after she freed you.”

Blonde: “And you’re her partner?”

He answered without hesitation.

Joe: “Yeah, but she brought me in last minute and still never had the chance to bring me completely up to speed.”

Blonde: “You agreed to help her out without even knowing what her mission was?”

Joe nodded his head and smiled.  It was stupid but true.  He had gotten himself in a situation that might cost him his life and he had done so without the promise of a reward or even a clear purpose.

Blonde: “Do you want to rescue her?”

Joe: “No, that would be a bad idea.  I think she planned to get caught.”

Blonde: “Hold on.  What time is it?”

Joe stopped and pulled his phone out. His signal was completely dead but it still displayed the right time.

Joe: “It’s 3:43.  In the afternoon.”

Blonde: “We need to go to the seventh floor.”

Joe: “You want to do what?  That’s the floor below us, right?”

Blondie nodded her head.

Chapter 5

One More Thing

Joe: “We need to leave before they kill us.  To leave, we go up.”

He pointed up at the ceiling.

Blondie: “We need to do one more thing before we leave.  It’s important.”

Joe didn’t want to tempt fate any more than he already had.

Joe: “I’m sorry, miss—”

Blonde: “Dahlila! D-A-H-L-I-L-A!”

Joe: “I’m sorry, Dahlila, but I can’t think of anything more important than getting out of here alive.  I have the keycard that we’ll need to get out of here.  Now let’s go.”

Dahlila simply smiled.  Her smile made Joe uncomfortable.  He felt that she knew something that he didn’t, which he knew was extremely true.  She walked over to him and placed her head on his chest.  She looked up into his eyes and uttered a phrase that made Joe’s heart race.

Dahlila: “Kiss me.”

Joe: “Wha—what?”

She backed up and let out a laugh.  Joe stood where he was confused.

Dahlila: “Never mind all that. I just wanted this.”

She produced the elevator keycard that Joe thought he was safely guarding in his pocket and giggled uncontrollably.  Joe looked at her, hurt.

Dahlila: “Sorry for the deceit, but I may need your help on floor seven.  In exchange, I’ll lead you out of here using a safer exit than the elevator.  The elevator’s a kill-box at this point.”

Joe: “So how are we going to get to the seventh floor without the elevator?”

Again Dahlila smiled.

Dahlila: “Well, of course they would make stairs.  We just have to find them and from there I can get us out.”

Joe: “I don’t know if this elevator key will work on any other doors.”

Dahlila: “It won’t, but one of these will.”

She produced three ID badges from her back pockets that were all white with blue rims and held them up for Joe to see.

Dahlila: “Now let’s go and we need to step on it.”

Joe followed closely behind Dahlila, who moved just as fast and with nearly as much grace as Beauty.  She glided down the hallway going towards the elevator and past all the empty doors.  Joe saw that a few of the doors they passed had electronic key locks, and was curious as to what was behind those doors.  Ahead of him Dahlila had stopped abruptly at a particular door that wasn’t any more special than the rest.  She swiped her keycard with complete confidence and opened the door.  She entered and Joe entered after her into a narrow hallway.  They walked all the way down the hallway, past another door that was also locked with a keycard, and found steps leading downwards.

Joe: “How’d you know this was the right place to go?”

Dahlila: “I’d say that I knew thanks to thirty percent observation and seventy percent guessing.”

Dahlila laughed, apparently amused by the truth and the fact that it had worked.

Dahlila: “I always saw guys coming in here and not coming out for long amounts of time.”

They slowly crept down to another level that they both hoped was the seventh floor.  Dahlila looked around and kept low.  She pulled Joe down to his knees so fast that the boy barely had time to let out a small cry which was quickly stifled by Dahlila’s hand.  Joe looked at her accusingly, but she merely shushed him and continued moving forward.  Down the hall was a door, but to the left was a window that spanned about a third of the hallway.  Voices could be heard from behind the window, and Joe was getting that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  It was the same feeling he got whenever he knew he was about to get in trouble for something stupid.  They slowly crouch-walked under the window and down the hallway.

Dahlila: “Almost there…”

Once they reached the door, Dahlila swiped her card and they hurried through.  The voices behind them abruptly stopped.  Once out the door Joe and Dahlila both stood up and looked around the hallway.  Dahlila didn’t seem as concerned as Joe at the fact that they may have been spotted and moved forward with ceaseless determination.  Her eyes seemed to be taking in every detail.  Joe wasn’t sure where they were and couldn’t understand the purpose of this part of the stadium.  There was nothing but long hallways and numbered rooms in each of the hallways.  All of the doors they had checked so far were locked.

Dahlila: “Damn.  I have no clue what door I’m looking for.”

She let out a sigh.

Dahlila: “This sucks.”

She stopped for a moment and looked down the hall they were standing in.

Joe: “What are you looking for?”

Dahlila: “A person.  Let’s split up and search the hallway by ourselves.  We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Joe didn’t like that idea, it made no sense to him.  He didn’t even know who they were looking for.  Before he could object, Dahlila took off and Joe assumed he would just search the other side of the hallway or another hallway altogether.  He decided to do another hallway; he figured he would cover much more ground that way.

He now felt completely vulnerable.  He knew he was someplace that he shouldn’t be, and even though he had gone in far deeper, he hadn’t felt the true depths of his fear until now.  He saw the cameras that lined the halls and he heard the distant footsteps that didn’t belong to himself or Dahlila.  He was in danger, and if he didn’t leave soon he was going to die.  He knew this, maybe all along, but with Beauty and Dahlila he had forgotten his fears.  Now, without them, he was as good as dead.  He didn’t necessarily want to go back alone either, so he figured he should just continue looking for whoever or whatever it was that he was supposed to be looking for so that he and Dahlila could just go back together.  What did she want? he wondered.

He softly pressed the handle on each door he had come across, which all had surprisingly low-tech methods of entry.  These doors had metal locks that required metal keys instead of plastic cards and electronic circuitry.  Joe could not take his mind off of the footsteps that he had heard earlier and the quieting of the voices when he and Dahlila had entered through the door.  He began to sweat.

Joe: “Dang it…”

He became more anxious every time he failed to open another door and moved further down the hallway.  He thought about the cameras and how they must have clear images of his face.  He wondered why no one had come to stop him or Dahlila and that frightened him more than anything else.  Why else would people this secretive be waiting to capture us, he thought.  They were planning some grisly, horrific punishment for him.  One that ensured that he wouldn’t even get a proper burial.

Joe: “Dang it!  I don't want to be here…”

He continued to press on through his fears and attempted to open any door that he saw.  None would open.  He looked back and saw that he’d tried at least ten doors so far.  His stomach sank again.  He thought about how he had touched all the doors and how his sweat-stained hands had left very noticeable fingerprints on each and every one of the perfectly polished handles.

Then he heard footsteps growing louder and that brought him to attention.  They came from the front of him, at the end of the hall.  When he looked forward he saw no one, but the person was getting closer, and with all the doors around him likely locked he was trapped.  He backpedaled to the previous hallway.  He wanted to run, but figured that if he could hear whomever’s footsteps as clear as he could, they would hear the pitter-patter of his running just as well, so he walked as fast as he could.  He looked back to see if whoever owned those footsteps had caught him, but saw no one at the end of the hall.  He reached his end and looked back one more time before turning the corner and suddenly feeling all the air being crushed from his throat.

He now couldn’t see anything but the ceiling, his body flailing against the pressure of a man far bigger than himself.  What little air he had was nearly gone and his eyes started to water.  His hands could only yank at the ears of his attacker.  He was on the verge of giving up when he felt the hands around his neck slacken and his body fall to the ground.  About two seconds later the body of his attacker fell next to his.  It was a woman, a huge one, in a uniform with the word “W-Sec” on it.

He struggled to find his lost strength, and looked up. To his surprise, it was Dahlila’s face. The light above her made it hard to tell.  He slowly stood, and was even more surprised by what was behind her back.

Chapter 6

Stranger Danger

Joe struggled to breathe, and began to cough loudly.

Joe: “Is that what we came here for?”

Dahlila: “Shutup with all that coughing.  This is not a what, but a ‘she,’ if you hadn’t noticed. She has a name.  Now come on, we need to get the hell out of here.”

The air of the place felt different.  It felt livelier.  He looked down at the little girl that held Dahlila’s hand ever so gently.  She couldn’t have been any older than nine; he guessed seven.  Joe had never seen a little girl with as little hair as she had, or one quite as dark as her.  He couldn’t help but think that he had misheard Dahlila when she had called the little one a “she.”  After studying her features, he was convinced of her femininity however.  She looked calm despite her surroundings, and simply looked at him as if unaware of how much danger they were in.  Why is she so dang calm? he wondered.  The little girl looked right at him as if he were talking right to her.

Joe: “Who is she?”

Dahlila: “Her name’s Melissa.  Melissa, this is Joe.”

The little girl knelt down and relieved the unconscious guard of her flashlight.

Joe: “And why is she down here?”

Melissa: “Because my daddy’s a very important man.”

She gave him a reassuring smile, reached out and gently grabbed his trembling hand.  Joe pulled his hand away from the little girl.  He was too embarrassed to show her how scared he was.

Melissa: “It’s okay to be scared a little, Joe, we all are.  Especially me, since I’m just a little girl.  But we all have to be smart and work together to get out of here.”

Joe was flabbergasted by the wisdom of that.  If she can be brave, then so can I, he thought.

Dahlila: “Let’s go, guys.  I’m going back to the stairs.”

Melissa: “Bad idea.  They already know you’re here.  There’s another way up.  A safer way.”

Dahlila: “Sounds good.  Lead on, lil’ sister.”

Joe: “She’s your sister?”

Dahlila: “She wishes.”

Melissa smiled.

Melissa: “Follow me.  This way will lead us right out of here.”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!!!”

Melissa: “Oh no!”

The group looked back and saw a team of guards in blue behind them.  The word W-Sec lined their clothes like a brand name.  Dahlila and Joe ran like the wind after Melissa, but she was only a little girl and began to fall behind.

Dahlila: “We need to get out of here now!  Come on!”

Dahlila picked up Melissa and the girl scrambled onto her back.  Joe was amazed at the woman’s show of strength, and surprised that even with the extra weight of the girl that Dahlila still outpaced him.  They approached a fork in the hallway.

Melissa:  “Take the right up there.  Then at the end a left, and be careful, they have guns.”

Dahlila responded to her instructions precisely, with Joe right behind trying to keep pace.

Melissa: “Now up ahead a left, and run all the way to the end and take a right. Don’t turn at the middle.”

Dahlila: “I could’ve just took a left the first time.”

Melissa: “I’m trying to confuse them.  I want them to think that we don’t know where we’re going.  Now keep running!”

They ran and ran, taking another right, then a left, right, left.  They didn’t stop running until Melissa halted them.

Melissa: “Dahl, use your level seven keycard for this room.”

Dahlila swiped one of her keycards and they entered the dark room.  Once they closed the door behind them, Joe couldn’t see anything.  The little girl shined a flashlight up towards the ceiling.

Melissa: “Daddy told me never leave home without one of these.  Daddy’s usually always right.  Now I need you two to help me climb up there.”

Joe volunteered.  He followed the direction of Melissa’s flashlight to a table and moved it right below the spot she had pointed.  He climbed atop it, with Melissa soon after, and pushed up on one of the cold metal tiles.  It proved surprisingly tough to move, but Joe managed it.  He hoisted little Melissa up and over soon after and then waited anxiously.  She hadn’t informed Joe or Dahlila what would happen after they lifted her.  Joe could hear the voices outside getting closer.  He dared not yell at the girl for fear of being discovered, so he whispered as loud as he thought possible.

Joe: “Psst, Melissa, we need you.  They’re going to be here any minute now.”

He became aware of his sweating again.  He had nearly thought that the girl had fled, until she dropped a rope down for him and Dahlila.

Melissa: “Come on, hurry!”

They climbed up, pulled the rope with them and placed the tile back in the spot where it was left.  Joe could only see wherever Melissa pointed her flashlight.

Joe: “So this somehow leads out of here?”

Melissa: “Yes just follow me.  I’ve done this a bajillion times before.”

Joe: “Who helped you get up here before?”

In what little light they had, Joe could see the little girl’s expression turn somber.

Melissa: “His name was Joe too, and he was a good man.  I told him that he couldn’t escape through here on his own but he tried anyway.”

Joe: “What happened to him?”

Melissa: “They caught him on level six and that was the last I heard of him.”

Dahlila: “Men never listen to little girls.”

Melissa shook her head and walked faster ahead.  She had a much easier time getting around in the dark than Joe did.  Her small size made navigating the cramped space no issue, especially compared to Joe, who was crouching down.  He found it hard not to trip over his own feet.  He had walked into a few strands of spider web and had nearly eaten some when he went to ask Melissa to slow down.  Besides the area directly around Melissa and slightly ahead of her, Joe was surrounded by black.  The group walked as quietly as they could in a direction that Joe could not even guess.

Eventually, the three of them did encounter a sliver of light from above them.  Melissa stopped and pointed at it, but Joe had already guessed what needed to be done.  He struggled but managed to push aside the tile floor tile above out of the way and pulled himself up to take a peek at the next floor.  He saw no one. He was in a bathroom. He pulled himself up first and listened for sounds for a few seconds.  When he heard nothing, he reached down and pulled Melissa up.  Dahlila had already climbed up by the time he was finished with that.

Dahlila: “I know where to go from here.  Hop on my back.”

She looked at Joe and grinned.

Dahlila: “Not you, Joe.”

Dahlila led them all into the hallway. Joe recognized the furnishings from earlier.  This was the floor he and Beauty had first stopped at, UG6 or level six.  The halls were mostly empty but for the occasional security guard that ran by.  Joe, Dahlila, and Melissa all hugged the walls and kept low as they crept towards a set of double doors.  They had to duck into a room when a group of guards rounded the corner so fast they were nearly caught.  Once the guards had passed, it left the path open for the group to run forward through the double doors and up to the stairs.  They ran up one flight and Joe tried to press on, until Dahlila grabbed him.

Dahlila: "Wait."

Joe: "What?"

Dahlila: "You don't want to go up there.  What we need is in here."

She put Melissa down and felt around a small corner of the wall.

Dahlila: "I overheard them talking about what this place was like before they got the elevators.  They used to have to climb up and down with a ladder.  They said it was over in this direction and I remember ... ah here it is."

She tapped the wall with her right foot first, and then with a quick burst of strength kicked the top part in sending the shattered wood down to the floor.  Her next two kicks broke through the rest leaving them enough space to walk through.

Dahlila: "I tried to escape before and ran over here.  I remembered seeing some funny looking lines around here.  Let's go!"

They followed her through an area that looked very unpolished compared to the rest of the facility.  There was dry, dusty rock and dirt all around them, like they were in a cave.  There also wasn't any light ahead.  Melissa shined her light forward so they could at least see their feet.  Finally they spotted a rope ladder hanging up ahead.  It stood out in the darkness, a dingy beige color that was probably white at one time.  Dahlila tugged at it firmly.

Dahlila: "It's good!  Time to get out of here."

Joe: "What's up ahead?"

Dahlila: "The exit I imagine, but truthfully I don't know.  I've never made it this far before."

Joe: "What if there's nothing up there?"

Dahlila shook her head and sighed.  She lifted Melissa and put her on the ladder first.  Melissa looked down at Joe and smiled.

Melissa: "Have a little faith, Joe."

She climbed up with Dahlila trailing right behind her.  Joe only hesitated for a bit before deciding he had no choice but to take his chances with the girls.

Dahlila: "It's a long climb.  If your arms start to hurt, just stop and rest.  This goes for both of you.  Joe, if you stop, let us know so we don't leave you behind."

Joe: "Okay."

Her concern for him perked Joe up a bit.  He began to feel a burning in his arms only moments after starting his climb.  It felt like they had been climbing for at least five minutes straight, and when that turned to almost ten minutes Joe was tapped out.  They all stopped and waited for about a minute for him to get his strength back.  Neither the little girl or Dahlila had looked tired.  Joe wondered what the heck they were made of.  Right after that, they made it to a large metal platform with wooden planks for footholds that led to more stairs.  They took the stairs straight up until they couldn't go up any further.  Here, there were metal rungs attached to the wall.  Joe dreaded more climbing, but decided he'd be the first one to climb up this time.

Dahlila: "Just don't fall."

Joe: "I won't.  I can see a little light up there though."

The climb to the top was short, and Joe found a metal door with a latch on it.  He pulled the old latch towards him and pushed the little door.  It budged only a little.

Dahlila: "Is that all you got?  You're really going to let a little door end your hopes for escape like that?"

For some reason, that got right under Joe's skin, like when his friend Jonathan used to tease him about his height or basketball when they were little.  He pushed and pushed with all he could muster until he almost fell off the ladder rungs.  Dahlila managed to do some quick acrobatics to climb up past Melissa to help him out.  They both pushed together until they moved whatever was atop their exit and opened the latch door.  They emerged into a room filled with construction equipment and Joe saw it was a large workbench that had blocked their exit.  There were old dirty gray tarps covering nearly everything in the room.

Dahlila: "Come on, no time to waste!"

They raced through the room and found themselves suddenly right near the football field.

Joe: "Oh no..."

Ahead of them near the sidelines they spotted a group of men fervently talking.  It was mostly a group of the black-suited men and the security guards.  All of them seemed to be focused on the man in the center.  He stood out from the rest by the sharpness of his style, and projected an air of importance as he gave the men orders.  He was dressed in a crisp gray suit that was about two shades darker than his hair.  He looked sort of familiar to Joe, but he couldn't remember where the heck he would've seen the man.  Melissa looked at him with terror in her eyes.  She whispered something under her breath.  Joe barely heard it.

Melissa: “…Grabas…”

Suddenly the commanding man was looking right at him.  His eyes were pale blue and hunter sharp.  Joe knew the man wouldn't turn away no matter how much he wished for it.  When his stare intensified, the men around him took note and looked over to what he was staring at.  With all eyes on them, Dahlila took off with Melissa on her back, yelling.

Dahlila: "Run the other way!"

She darted up the stands and out of sight.  Joe followed her orders, but was sure he would be caught.  He ran as fast as he could up the stadium aisles and out as soon as he found the nearest exit to the lobby.  There, he saw a bunch of security and knew the jig was up, but now he felt daring.  He remembered the thrill of running from when he used to play football.  He was never good at it, but it was fun, and now … was this fun?  He ran and ran, and when a security guard tried to grab him he dodged and ran some more.  He saw his exit, but after his brush with the security guard the rest now saw him.  He was almost out of breath but he’d curse himself if he got caught.  He’d at least distract these guys until the girls could get free.  He was good for that.  That’s when he noticed something odd.  There were no police inside the stadium, only security and the men in black.  All the cops were on the outside.

With one final push, Joe raced to the doors leading to the outside.  This was the most exercise he had gotten in a long time and it was killing him.  He pushed and pushed and pushed and knew that after it all he would pass out and die.  With no breath left and no options available, Joe leapt and crashed into the awaiting security guard, sending both of them tumbling through the stadium doors to the outside.  Joe tried to get up, but the man was on top of him.

“Aye, get offa him!  Come on, move—move!  We’ll take it from here, meathead.”

Joe remained on the ground even after the security guard grudgingly rose off of him.  Joe looked over and saw a young officer approaching.

Joe: “Ouch!”

He was flipped over and made to sit up.  The young officer roughly grabbed his arms and twisted his wrists together.  The officer slapped on the cuffs, giving Joe a death stare the whole time.  The cuffs were much heavier than Joe had expected, and a little too warm.  Once he heard them snap shut, he found that they were way too tight as well.

“You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.  You have the right to an attorney.  If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you.  Do you understand the rights that I have just read to you?  With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak with me?”

Joe: “I understand, but I don’t think I want to speak right now.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can stand to listen to your crap, dirtbag.”

With that, Joe was unceremoniously dumped into a cop car like all the criminals he saw on a show he watched all the time, Cops.

Chapter 7

Joe the Terrorist

The ride to the police station was surprisingly quiet and, of course, hot.  This was “The Sunshine State,” and heat was the norm, but this year’s temps were the hottest that Joe could remember.  His whole body was racked with sweat, and it made the frying pan hot handcuffs that he sported on his wrists even more unbearable.  A beet red rash was forming where the cuffs set on his wrists.

Joe was thankful that the sheriffs had decided to cuff his arms to the front.  Once the heat became unbearable, he had to scream.

Joe: “Can you let my window down a little more?  I’m going to pass out back here.”

The officers continued to face forward.  The driver chewed on something.  A few more silent moments passed before Joe heard the electronic movements near his nearest window, but was disheartened when he saw the glass ascend and heard the door lock click.

They must’ve thought he was the terrorist scum that had tried to blow up the hallowed battlegrounds of the Orangetown Pickers.  He would’ve hated himself for such a thing if he didn’t know of his own innocence.  He hoped his name didn’t get out in association with this; otherwise he’d attract the ire of the whole town.  The Pickers were the biggest thing that came out of this town.  They had won two NCAA championships, and though that had been over twenty years ago the town still had that pride from the good ol’ days.  The team was always one of the town’s biggest treasures.  Joe was in for a world of hurt if they put his name out in the news.  He wondered how Kate and Mod were doing.

The car came to a stop, apparently parked.  Joe was marched right out of the squad car and into a holding cell.  He tried to rub as much pain as he could out of his wrists once his cuffs were off.  There was much fuss over the stadium explosion by both the cops and the prisoners in the cells.  Joe noticed that his clothes smelled like smoke and fire.  Outside of his cell he saw coverage of the Pickers’ stadium explosion on a nearby T.V.  He looked on, mortified as he saw footage of himself tackling, or rather attempting to jump over, the stadium security guard and landing on the concrete below.  The caption read: Terrorist Suspect Caught. At least they didn’t get my face, he thought.

“Hey look!  This guy’s the terrorist from the news,” said some guy in the cells.

Joe looked at the man and then to the T.V. and saw himself, face up, being put into a cop car.

“This kid blew up the Picker stadium!  Evil little scumbag, get over here!”

Chapter 8

An Effort of Futility

Joe was saved by the police.  They pulled him out just as his cellmates attempted to rearrange his face.  Two uniformed officers then escorted him down the hall and to an empty room.  They asked if he needed some coffee, which he declined.  He had seen enough cop shows to know that the small table and single wooden chair in the middle of this shabby looking room signified this was the interrogation room.  A sinking feeling was paradoxically rising in the pit of Joe’s stomach.  It was fear, he knew.

Joe was starting to get hungry, and the heat and constant sweating had accelerated his thirst.  About an hour passed before he even had contact with anyone, and they told him the detective would be with him soon.  He sat back and wondered what they would do to him next.

Joe wondered how long they would leave him to his own devices.  His thoughts were everywhere: Beauty, Dahlila, Melissa, and all that had come from meeting those incredible women—and girl.  They were nothing but trouble, he thought.  Even while he despaired his current fate, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement about it all.  Initially, it was his endorphins and the constant threat of danger.  Now the excitement came from piecing together the events from the stadium and trying to make sense of it all.  No matter how hard he tried to get it all to make sense, he simply couldn’t.  All he could do was ponder over events he didn't understand. He found himself wishing for some company.

Chapter 9

The P.I.

The silence was broken along with Joe’s current train of thought as two voices came closer.  They seemed to be getting louder and angrier as they approached.

“Remember that favor you said that I had.”

“Yeah, but you’re not gonna call that in now.  This is hot stuff!  Big time terrorism, and this boy has something to do with it.”

“This boy has nothing to do with anything.  He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Now that they were right by the doorway, their voices became hushed, but Joe could still make out what they were saying.

“Whatever the case, this guy is my prisoner, and my detectives will interrogate him and get his statement.”

“Listen Carl, I don’t want no damn statement.  I just want five minutes with this kid to see if he ran into one of my colleagues in there.”

Carl: “That’s why I brought you here.  I didn’t walk you down here for my health.”

There was a bit of silence.

“I’ll be honest, Carl.  Some of what we’ll be talking about you shouldn’t be hearing.”

Carl: “What’s the point in us even arresting this kid then?”

"You can ask him anything you want, I just want to get him off the record."

The one named Carl let out a huge sigh.

Carl: “Hank, if you do anything to mess up this case, I’m gonna deck you.  Your big ugly gray mug is gonna go spinning into orbit.”

Hank: “Five minutes, Carl, that’s all.”

Carl: “You got your five minutes. Use ‘em wisely.  And he better be in usable condition once you’re done with him.”

There was silence followed by footsteps, then more silence.  The wooden door creaked open and in entered one of the talking men.  Joe guessed this one to be Hank, who, to Joe, looked very old and tired.  The man’s clothes matched his hair, gray and unkempt.  He bore down on Joe with his grayish green eyes and Joe struggled to meet his gaze briefly and resigned to stare at the floor.  Joe’s brief glimpse showed him that the man wasn’t too tall.  The way his shoulders set and all of the frown lines on his forehead gave Joe the distinct impression that this Hank was not a patient man.

Joe dared to look up at the man again; his grandpa wouldn't approve of him looking away.  The man’s gaze was fiercely trained on Joe, and Joe began to fidget and squirm in his chair.  He tried to sit as still as he possibly could, barely managing to breathe in the process.  Joe let out all the air as slowly as he could.  As the man approached, Joe tried to offer a bit of awkward stilted conversation.

Joe: “Hello, sir.  How can I help you, sir?”

Hank: “By dropping the crappy pleasantries, this ain’t the prom, kid.  You’re wasting both of our time.  Now, you can answer my questions like a good little boy.”

Joe’s stomach twisted and turned.  He didn’t know what this man wanted or even if he had the answers that he was looking for.  It had just dawned on him how much trouble he was in.  He was a terrorist — to the rest of the town at least — and would be tried as such.  They’ll probably give me to a firing squad for treason or something, he thought.

The old guy loudly snapped his fingers.

Hank: “Pay attention, Joe Shmoe!  I don’t have a lot of time.”

Joe looked the man in the eyes and nodded.

Joe: “Yessir.”

The old guy pulled a chair from outside the room and sat. He studied Joe for a moment and found his opening.

Hank: “What happened in that stadium, kid?”

Joe didn’t know where to start.

Joe: “Well … um … me and my friends wanted to see the Pickers, and Mod—”

Hank: “Enough foreplay, kid.  Start from the explosion.  You were there for that, right?”

Joe: “Yessir.  It happened during the second quarter.  I was watching the game when it happened.”

Hank: “What happened to your friends?”

Joe: “I don’t know.  I didn’t see them after.”

Hank: “But they were sitting right next to you, right?  How did they get out but not you?  What the hell were you doing in there that whole time?”

Joe froze.  He didn’t know what to say.  Most of what he did earlier was probably very illegal.  The old guy was sharp as a tack.  He was quick to notice Joe’s hesitation.

Hank: “What the hell were you doing in there, kid!  Talk!”

Joe pushed his chair back and spelled it out for Hank.

Joe: “N-no.  I want a l-l-lawyer.”

Joe tried his best to sound a lot bigger than he actually was or felt.  Hank had risen out of his chair so fast and with such fury that he looked like a man half his age.  Joe sprung backwards and out of his seat as he tried to scramble away.  There was venom in the old man’s glare.  He screamed at Joe.

Hank: “Do I look like a damned cop?”

After that his voice lowered to a subdued growl, but his demeanor was no less intense.

Hank: “I wasn’t born yesterday, Joe.  I do know that you were somehow a part of the day’s activities.  You wouldn’t have come out of the building nearly a whole hour later if you weren’t.  Why were you so scared of those security guards at the stadium?  You ran from them like you were running for your life, and the way that you tackled that last one to get outside … you weren’t just scared of getting into trouble or getting a little roughed up.  If that were the case you wouldn’t have so willingly surrendered yourself to the cops outside.”

Joe stared at the floor and gave a soft shrug.  He honestly didn’t know if he should answer that.

Hank: “Why’d you give up once you made it outside?  If you wanted to get away so bad, why didn’t you try to keep running once you made it out?  What about those guards inside frightened you so much?”

Joe looked at Hank for a while before he decided that he was better off not talking.  He wasn’t sure if it was a bit of savvy that he’d picked up from all those cop shows he watched, or fear that stayed his tongue.

Hank took a moment to reassess the situation and let out a sigh.  He wasn’t dealing with the hardened criminals that he was accustomed to dealing with.  He was dealing with a young teenager.  He needed to change his approach.

Hank: “Listen, kid — Joe.  Anything you say to me now won’t be used against you or those you care about.  I just want answers.  I lost someone in that stadium and I just want to know if you saw them.  Now, can you level with me, kid, we don’t have much time.”

Joe: “Who — who are you?”

Hank: “My name is Borland, Hank Borland.  You’re a kid, so use my last name.”

Joe: “Are you a—”

Hank: “I'm not a cop, but I used to be one a long time ago.  Right now I’m looking for a woman named Dahlila.  Did you see her in that stadium?  About yay high and tougher than Kevlar.”

Joe’s heart and stomach jumped at the name.  He was sure that everything that happened under that stadium had just been an alcohol-induced dream. He was sure he’d never see nor hear of or from Dahlila.  Now Borland was tossing that name out like he knew the woman.

Joe: “Blonde hair?”

Borland: “Where did you see her?”

Joe paused.  He didn’t want to put Dahlila in any danger, and he remembered how he found her, all tied up in the underground part of that stadium.  Who put her there?  Joe’s face must’ve given away his thoughts, because Borland pursued the subject more aggressively.

Borland: “Listen, kid, Dahlila is important to me.  Please!  Tell me where she is.”

Joe: “How is she important to you?  Answer that for her sake.”

Borland pulled out an old and worn-out wallet, and in it sat an old and worn-out photo.  Borland took out the photo and showed it to Joe.

Borland: “That little girl there is Dahlila when she was younger.  I helped raise her.  She’s as precious as my own daughter.  I need to know where she is.  Please, tell me where she is!”

Borland pleaded his case, not only with his words but with his eyes as well.

Joe had sympathy for the man, and felt he could trust him.  He told Borland about everything except the shape-shifting, because he hardly believed it himself.  Borland was ready at the end of his tale with questions.

Borland: “Do you know where the girls were headed?”

Joe: “I don’t.  We were separated.”

Borland: “I see.  What about the little girl’s name?  Do you remember it?”

Joe: “Her name was Melissa.”

There was a flash of recognition in Borland’s eyes and he whispered, “That’s good,” so low that Joe could barely hear him.

Chapter 10

Then Who's Protecting Me?

Joe wanted to know what Borland’s next move was going to be, but the old man was focusing intently on something and Joe had only now begun to figure out what that was.  A pair of nearly inaudible footsteps was nearing them.  They were slow and cautious, most likely to avert attention, but that had only made them more noticeable to Borland and Joe.

There was a lull in the footsteps when they seemed near enough to the doorway.  Borland and Joe sat in complete silence.  After a few more moments, the silence became unbearable and Borland broke it.

Borland: “Anybody there?  Don’t be shy.”

A man emerged from the door looking sickly.  He stood by the door hesitantly and was sweating bullets.

Borland: “Murphy, right?”

The man looked startled at Borland’s question.

Borland: “Carl should’ve mentioned that he and I had an arrangement.”

The strange officer and Borland stared at each other for a moment, and when the officer didn’t respond Borland spoke up.

Borland: “I’m almost done here.  Would you mind waiting outside?”

BANG!!!

Joe had seen the man reach for something, but only after the shot did he register what it was.  What was most surprising to Joe was that he was still alive.  The man had been looking dead at him, Joe could swear it.  He didn’t know what the heck was happening.  He was flat on his back and looking up at the gunman.  He felt a dull pain at the back of his head and was disoriented.  Borland, who had been at his side only seconds ago, was now gone.  With a teary-eyed and desperate look on his face, the gunman pointed his pistol dead at Joe.  Joe knew what awaited him, and knew he couldn’t escape it.  He expected the split second of pain from the hot lead juxtaposed by the eternity of cold unlife.

He looked up and blinked, then saw Borland on top of the gunman.  The gun soared through the air, and an instant later Borland stood over the man as he slumped down to the floor.  Borland grabbed the man’s own handcuffs and cuffed him with them.  He screamed at Joe.

Borland: “Don’t just lie down there!  Get your sorry butt off the ground!”

Joe could hear an engine roaring loudly in the distance.  The roar came back three times, louder and louder each time.  After that, he heard tires screeching and vibrations could be felt approaching.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A huge explosion rocked the building and sent dust flying through the air.  Joe heard a lot of screaming from outside the room.  Joe had never heard men scream like that.  He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could.  Borland was the closest thing he had for safety, he hoped.  He stuck close to the man as he had done with both Beauty and Dahlila.  He was weary and wary of continuously placing his safety in the hands of others.  As he saw it, he also had no choice.  At least he isn’t trying to kill me right now, he thought to himself.

Borland was smart.  He knew that picking up the officer’s gun marked him for dead, but he also knew there was something bigger at play and felt that he was probably marked for dead any way he sliced it.  Better to go out fighting, the old codger thought.

The heat in the building had intensified, and now Joe could hear gunfire.  All he had to protect him was a graying old man, and that made his stomach twist, turn, and knot.  There were no windows in this room or in the hall that led to the front of the building.  That’s where all the shooting was.  They slowly walked down the hall.

BANG!

The new hole that was pierced into the wall between Borland and Joe had shown Joe that his life could end so fast that he wouldn’t know he was dead.  Bullets were much faster in real life than they were on T.V., Joe was learning.  Maybe whoever had just shot at them couldn’t decide if they wanted Joe or Borland dead first. An indecisive murderer wasn’t a very good one.

Borland: “Get your head out of the clouds, kid, and run!”

Joe snapped out of his daze and quickly ran near Borland, a.k.a. the old salty man with the gun.  The bullpen was a wreck and pandemonium reigned.  Desks were flipped and fleeting papers were scattered everywhere and looked ghostly as they fell from and floated through the air amidst a flurry of bullets.  Borland ducked behind a wooden pillar near the desks.  Joe opted to stick as close as he could to the floor by crawling.  He couldn’t see anything.  The cops on his side looked to be shooting in the opposite direction, and more importantly not at Joe himself.  He wasn’t sure how long that would last considering what had just happened in the interrogation room.

Joe looked up and saw Borland still as a rock and with a firm grip on his gun.  Borland let out a shot and Joe heard more yelling on the other side.

“Hank, get your old hide over here,” yelled a voice that Joe recognized from earlier.  It was the man named Carl that Borland had spoken to earlier.

Borland: “Carl!  They want this boy dead.  He knows things they don’t want to be known.”

Carl: “Who’s they?”

Borland: “That’s what I’m—”

A bullet hit the pillar near Borland’s shoulder and he squeezed his gun off a few times at the enemies’ direction.

Borland: “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Carl: “Listen! Get him the heck outta here and figure out what this is all about.  That hallway down there leads to an office with a window you can safely jump out of. Take it!”

Borland: “Thanks, Carl.  Don’t die in here.”

Carl: “Ha, I should say that to you.  You’re looking a little rusty, old timer, now get!”

Borland yanked Joe up from the floor.

Borland: “Keep your head down unless you want to eat a bullet.”

Joe looked up instinctively for a brief second.  What he saw confused him.  On the other side of the room were more cops, and they were shooting at the cops on this side of the room.  Why were cops killing other cops?  It didn’t make any sense.  As he ran with Borland, he was trying to figure out why they wanted him so dead.  An image of the well-dressed gray-haired man flashed into his mind.  Maybe he was important.  Borland had interrupted his telling of the stadium’s events earlier for a description of the man, and seemed quite interested.

They ran down the hall unimpeded, and into a room that looked like some sort of office. They found their window only slightly elevated from the ground outside.  Borland scoped out the area and jumped first, followed by Joe.

Joe: “Where are we going?”

Borland: “First to my car, and if we can make it in one piece, then you’re going to lay low at my place for a while.”

Villain View 1

Old Friends

What a bloodbath, thought the mannerable man as he surveyed the scene near the police station.  Ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars were everywhere, parked chaotically at the scene.  The man himself stood a distance from the scene and wore a dark hooded shirt, opposite to his normal style of dress.  He watched as paramedics, firemen, and police from other districts scrambled in and around the building gathering survivors and putting out fires.  It was pure mayhem.

The man shook his head at the thought of the carnage, and how it was all for nothing.  His orders had come too fast; there had been no time to put together a solid plan, and so his efforts had boiled down to this madness.  The thugs he used weren’t the brightest, which made them easier to control, but they were extra vicious.  The hardest part was getting all those police uniform replicas together for them to wear.  The extra confusion didn’t seem to be helping his plan at all though.  He felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket, so he left the scene to sit in his car.  He took the call as he walked back.

Mannerable Man: “Hello?”

A deep and commanding voice on the other end answered him with a question.

Commanding Man: “Is it done?”

The mannerable man paused and considered what he could say.  There was no point in lying, he reasoned; it wouldn’t do him much good.  His old friend knew him in and out and would find out the truth eventually.  He began to sweat, and bristled at the thought of admitting his failure.

Mannerable Man: “It is … but … he is still out there.”

Commanding Man: “It’s okay, old friend.  I figured as much.  I am still impressed.  Your level of control over that many men was masterful.  You said you could do it, but seeing it in action was spectacular.”

Mannerable Man: “Thank you.  My abilities are evolving, it seems.”

Commanding Man: “Yes, yes they are.  I’ll need you to continue with this task I gave you.  We cannot afford to have any liabilities.  That kid is a big one.”

That left an unsavory taste lingering in the man’s mouth.  He had done some questionable things in his life, but killing kids wasn’t one of them, at least not on purpose.  A dark thought flashed in his mind along with images of his friend Cynthia and he was suddenly saddened.

There was a pause on the line, brief but very palpable. Both men knew its cause.

Commanding Man: “I’m sorry to make you do this, old friend.  I know it might bring forth certain ‘memories.’  I don’t want you to have to experience those memories again.”

There was an intense relief for the worried man.  He almost let out a sigh of right there.

Commanding Man: “But we both know that you’re in the best position to get this done.  And it needs to get done.  No liabilities can be tolerated. None.”

Just like that, the mannerable man was crushed.

Commanding Man: “And keep an eye out for those two girls.  We only need the little one.  She’s my little experiment.”

Mannerable Man: “Okay, it’ll get done.”

Click.  He could do nothing but follow those orders.

Chapter 11

The Must Have Candy Bar

Joe thought he was partially color-blind.  This was thanks to how Hank Borland had decorated his apartment.  Everything in the place seemed to be either black, gray, or brown.  That combined with the lack of anything to do made the three days Joe had spent here seem like three weeks.

Joe could only wonder what Borland’s plan could be.  Beyond laying some initial ground rules, he was hardly present.  When he was, he hardly talked, and said things like, “Supper’s ready,” or “Stay here and keep a low profile.”  Not exactly illuminating conversation.  What was worse was that Borland didn’t even own a T.V.  The only thing Joe had to keep him entertained was a window and a radio.  Joe usually listened to the news on the radio, and it was usually about him.  The way the news put it, he was the most sought-after man in the country, now connected to two terrorist attacks.  That’s where he heard Kate declare his innocence.  He could hardly choke back his own tears as he heard her voice crack.  He could see her tears in his mind as he heard her explain the situation.

Kate: “… me, my brother, and Joe were just watching the football game and having some laughs when all this started.”

Some reporter had cut in immediately.

Reporter: “The police are saying that he’s the link between these tragedies.”

Kate: “He has nothing to do with this, nothing!”

Joe could hear Mod’s voice in the background, and saw him gently nudging his sister away in his mind’s eye.

Mod: “Come on, Kate.  Let’s go, come on.”

Joe saw it all vividly.  Their voices came through so clear to him.  He missed them so much.  He hadn’t realized that until now.  That made him sad.  He sat perfectly still and restless for the next few hours and hoped Borland would return to relieve him of this deathly boredom.  Kate’s voice again cut into his thoughts.

Kate: “You must have tapes somewhere.  Just check them and you’ll see that we all came in at the same time.  You’ll see that the explosion happened while we were in the stands.  Joe couldn’t and wouldn’t ever do this.”

Joe could practically see the tears on Kate’s face, and wanted nothing more than to wipe her tears away and to tell her he was alright and that everything would be okay.

************

On the fifth day of his confinement, Joe could stomach his proverbial prison no more.  He also didn’t appreciate Borland’s diet for him.  All he had to feed himself with every day were lunchmeat sandwiches and T.V. dinners.  Borland never cooked, unless he counted nuking dinner in a microwave. Besides that, there was nothing good in the cupboards either.  Like the rest of his apartment, his cupboards had only the barest of necessities.

Joe had an extreme craving for some sweets.  He’d eyed a vending machine in the main lobby on the first day that he came.  He imagined that in it would be a sole Snickers bar waiting just for him.  It called out to him “Joe, Joooooe.  I can wait no longer!  My chocolately, caramelly, peanut-filled needs must be fulfilled!  I will now uncoil myself from these shackles and throw myself into the uncertain abyss below.  I know my worth, which comes out to about eighty-five cents.  Someone will eat me.  I just hope it’s you.”

Joe could wait no longer.  He sprinted down the hall to the elevator.  Right before he got there a door swung open and out popped an older lady with gray hair that was beginning to turn white, and deep blue eyes that seemed to shine regardless of the lack of light.

Old lady: “No running in the halls, young man.  You should be careful about who sees you out here.”

The old lady’s stare lingered for longer than Joe was comfortable with.  Joe got on the elevator and ignored the woman.  He was happy to be able to stretch his legs.  The elevator was quick and darted from floor six to three to one in no time.  Joe noticed that a lot of old timers stayed in the building.  Joe thought old people were okay.  He loved his gram-gram and pop-pop.  He even still called them that, no matter how lame it sounded.  Now he missed them too.  Before this whole ordeal, it had been a while since he’d last seen them.  His pop-pop was always on an alligator hunt, like a madman.  His gram-gram, who had always reluctantly tagged along on such trips, would never admit that she had as much, if not more fun, than pop-pop.  Joe could tell though.

The main lobby was surprisingly spacious, especially when one considered the cramped stylings of Borland’s apartment.  It felt completely relaxed here.  There were big ferns by the doors and in some of the corners.  The central air kept the huge room comfortably cool with circulating air.

There were more people in the lobby than Joe had expected.  He didn’t know if it was always this busy or if today was a special day.  People were moving to and fro all over the place.  None seemed too interested in him, though, so he continued on with slight caution.  Too much caution would attract some attention, which for Joe was too much attention.

Joe was calm until the security guard at the front desk stared at him for a little too long.  About as long as the old lady on the sixth.  Joe looked at the man for only a flash and continued across the room to the vending machine.  The man stood up, which made Joe even more nervous.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that the man was burning a hole straight through him.  He’d hoped he wasn’t recognized from the news reports.  Only now had he realized the absurdity and stupidity of his decision.  Not only was he supposed to be hiding from the law, he was also hiding from those who wanted to see him dead.  Why did he go to such lengths just to get a candy bar?  Was he rebelling against Borland?  If so, that was incredibly stupid.

He put his change into the machine, which was out of Snickers bars, and input the code for the Kit Kat Big Kat.  He picked up his bounty and looked over to the security guard to see if he was still being leered at.  Unfortunately, he still was, and what’s more the guard was talking to someone on the phone as he was doing it.  That wasn’t good.  Joe didn’t want to cross the guard again so he stuck to the side of the building that he was already on which meant that he couldn’t use the elevator.  He resolved to find some stairs and climb up to the sixth floor.  On the eastern side of the building, he received a few stares from people.  This put him in a nearly panicked frenzy.  He shuffled quickly down the hall searching for and through doorways, looking quite suspicious.  He ducked down a hallway covered in shadows because he thought he’d spied some stairs.  The hall led to nowhere in particular.  Joe walked back towards the lighted hallway, but was suddenly grabbed brusquely by his left arm.  His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

Once he looked up and saw that it was Borland holding his arm, he placed his free hand on his quickening heart and let out a huge sigh to calm himself.

Joe: “You scared me.”

Joe barely managed to say that between haggard breaths.

Borland: “I could’ve done a lot more if I was so inclined.  Real easy too.  You’re a clumsy and easily-killable mark.  A dumb one too.”

Borland looked at Joe and let go of the clamp that he had on his arm.  A moment passed by in silence.

Borland: “What did I tell you, kid?”

Joe: “You told me to stay put in the apartment.”

Joe stared at the floor as he spoke.  He felt incredibly guilty and stupid, which he knew he was.

Borland: “And why is that?”

Joe: “To stay safe.”

Borland: “So why are you here, unprotected, unsafe?”

Joe: “I got hungry. There was nothing I wanted in the fridge.”

Chapter 12

Clear My Name???

Borland: “You really are an idiot aren’t you?  Come on, we’re going back.”

Borland smelled strange.  He usually reeked of old guy aftershave, but now he actually smelled pleasant. Too pleasant.

Joe: “Hold on, let me tie my shoe.”

Joe thought of ways to buy himself some time.  He was thinking, thinking … thinking.

Borland: “Get the lead out!  What’s taking so long?”

Joe had a bold idea, but if he was wrong he knew he’d end up paying for it.

Joe: “If I’m an idiot, then you’re a liar.”

Joe outstretched his arms and grabbed Borland.  First by the shoulders, and then he wrapped his arms around the man’s chest.  He had the man wrapped tight.

Borland: “Get your goddamn hands off me, kid!”

Joe struggled to contain the angry old bull.

Joe bellowed, “Not until you show me what you really look like.”

The bitter old man stopped struggling and started laughing.  It creeped Joe out.

Borland: “Very good.  I’ll do as you say.”

Joe: “Uggh!  What the heck is this?”

Inside the shadowy hall where they stood, Borland’s body started to melt, liquefying as Joe tried his best to hold on.  It felt like putty in Joe’s hand, stretching and morphing uncomfortably, and thoroughly freaking him out in the process.  The broad shoulders of the man became slender and streamlined.  The rest of his boxy frame followed suit, except for the hips and buttocks, which became rounder.  Joe’s view of the man’s head became obscured by a sea of thick curls.  That delightful aroma that he hadn't smelled in almost a week had intensified, and the two of them stood there silent for several moments.

Joe: “Is it over?”

Beauty: “Yes, and that means you can release your death grip on my breasts.  I don’t think they’ll be attacking you anytime soon.”

Joe instantly turned a deep shade of red, and only now realized that he had two handfuls of Beauty.  He instantly let go of the woman.  Beauty put her hand to her mouth and let out a laugh.

Beauty: “You’re so gullible.  What if I was a different shape-shifter?  What if I wanted you dead?”

Joe didn’t want to think about that.  Mainly because he didn’t want to think about there being other shape-shifters out there.  Beauty smiled.

Beauty: “And for the record … you only grabbed me because I let you.”

Joe: “So you wanted me to grab you like that?”

Beauty: “No, that was a little improv on your part.  I didn’t resist because I thought it’d be funny.  Now, though, we need to focus on getting out of here.  I have a bit more mischief to cause before Borland notices I’ve stolen you.”

She smiled devilishly.

Joe: “Stolen me?  I don’t think I want to be stolen by you.  I don’t have the stomach for any more of your trouble.  I’ve been getting closer and closer to being killed since I met you, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Beauty continued smiling and countered.

Beauty: “You chose to join this circus, if you remember correctly.”

Silence lingered with those words.  Beauty approached Joe solemnly.

Beauty: “I’m sorry, that’s not quite fair is it, or accurate?”

Joe: “I don’t want whatever you’re offering.  I feel like I’d be worse off with your help.”

There was more silence between the two until Beauty’s bright smile signaled its end.

Beauty: “What if I can prove your innocence?”

Chapter 13

That Can’t Be Sanitary

Joe: “So how can we do that?”

That felt like Joe’s twentieth time asking that.  Beauty had been ignoring his questions for the last few minutes now and it was really annoying him.  Despite that, he continued to follow her.  Where she was going, he did not know.  The sun overhead was now setting.

Joe: “And how did you get out of the stadium?”

Beauty: “Quiet yourself and hurry up.  I honestly can’t believe you’re as oblivious as you are.  Your lack of remarkability and failures to grasp what’s going on in your environment may be a skill in and of itself.”

Joe had nothing to say to that and couldn’t blame the woman for sharing it.  She was just telling the truth and he knew it.  All his life he’d wanted to be a bigshot, wanted to be phenomenal at … something, he didn’t know what.  He had made the unfortunate discovery, over time, that he however was nothing if not average or below.

Beauty: “You had to have noticed that you’ve been getting funny looks all morning by all sorts people.”

Joe: “I did.  From the lady upstairs and the security guard in the lobby.”

They continued to walk through the alley with Joe trying to match Beauty’s brisk pace.

Beauty: “Well, that’s a start.  Those two were the most overt, but there were a handful of others that noticed you too.  I counted six in total that took an interest in your every move.  Fortunately for you, those people were associates of Borland, so he probably had them spying on you.  Fortunately for me, you became impatient and made my job easier.  Borland’s meddling in my affairs has made things difficult for me lately.  I’d like to avoid him whenever possible.  That includes looking like him.”

Joe: “About that … how exactly do you do that?  Change like that I mean?”

Beauty looked back, not at Joe, but beyond him.

Beauty: “Come on!  We have to go!”

Beauty grabbed Joe’s hand and started running.  Joe would have peeked backwards if Beauty wasn’t yanking his arm so strongly.  He tried to formulate a sentence as he gasped for air.

Joe: “Where are you taking me?”

Beauty: “We need to get back to my bike.  Move your feet faster!”

They rounded a corner quickly and ran straight for a while, past a flock of seagulls that were busying themselves with large pieces of bread, too occupied apparently to be scared of Joe or Beauty as they ran past.  Another corner to the right gave them a nice clear path out of the alley and to the street.  Joe was tired of running and hoped that the bike was right up ahead.  After getting up to the street, they still had about a block to run until they reached the bike. Beauty hopped on the bike first and put on her helmet.

Joe: “Where’s mine?”

Joe pointed at his head.  Beauty took her helmet off and removed one of her earrings.

Beauty: “Here, take this and quiet yourself.”

The lightning bolt-shaped earring changed into a black helmet in Beauty’s hand.  Joe, who was now getting used to these magic feats, let loose what he was thinking.

Joe: “That can’t be sanitary.”

Beauty laughed and handed Joe the helmet.

Beauty: “Just put it on, Mr. Clean.  We have a lot of driving to do.”

Joe: “You’re going to have to tell me how you do this stuff one of these days.”

Beauty: “Not today.”

She placed her helmet over her head and Joe followed suit.  She revved the engine, clutched the throttle, and accelerated to who knows where.

Chapter 14

The First Revenger

Joe was starting to regret asking for a helmet.  The heat was not mixing well with its tightness.  His face was covered with sweat and now he was feeling claustrophobic.  He ripped the helmet off and accidently dropped it into the street behind him.  He looked behind and saw it quickly change back into an earring and then disappear completely as the bike zoomed down the street.  The night air felt nice and calming on his face, despite still being quite warm.  The open air was at least cooler than the inside of the helmet.  Joe was thankful for that.  He then remembered that he was still supposed to be hiding.  He clung closer to Beauty and rested his head against her back.  They rode on like that for a while until they reached their destination.

They stopped at a restaurant.  One that looked rather old.  Across the red and white awning were the words “Pierogi Place.”  It was nestled in a quiet old part of Orange City that seemed on the verge of decay.  A lot of stuff downtown gave off that look.

Joe: “Where are we?”

Beauty: “This is Steve Blonsky’s restaurant.  We’ll find poor food and poorer company inside.  You’ll recognize Blonsky as the loudmouth that had me carried away before in the stadium.”

Joe: “Yeah about that, how did you—”

Beauty: “Shhh.”

They walked through the door, right on through to the old country.  The place looked like it was ripped from one of those old mobster movies.  Red and white checkered tablecloths were spread across many of the tables, and the light was low to the point of being dim.  Fake leafy vines hung across the walls along with the pictures of old famous Miami.  It looked like someone was trying too hard, in all honesty.

Beauty opted to keep her helmet on and pushed Joe further into the restaurant.  Joe was hesitant, still wary of people seeing his face.  Beauty didn’t seem to care.  Joe tried his best to keep his head down, but whenever he looked up eyes were all over him.  It felt like Beauty was parading him around on purpose for all to see.  Joe didn’t like it.  A few men’s stares had lingered way too long.

Now Beauty was pushing him westwards towards a bunch of noise.  Directly ahead of him was a table around which were seated eight people.  The men in black suits here were either drinking, smoking, laughing, or doing all three in intervals.  A man in a brown suit and black tie with a yellow smiley on it did most of the talking or joke telling from what Joe could tell.  The laughter stopped when Beauty pushed Joe in front of their table.  He bumped it and tried to recover himself.  At that point, everyone’s stares were on him.  He turned around to find Beauty, but she was already gone.  He stood perfectly still, like a deer caught in the headlights.

He stared at the men’s black suits and was reminded of the stadium.  He could swear that he recognized a few of the men from before, when his life was in danger.  A lot was similar to then, especially the knot in Joe’s stomach and the large amounts of sweating he was doing.  A man that Joe definitely recognized from the stadium sat directly across from where Joe stood.  His balding blonde hair and thick red skin made him stand out easily enough, but it was the ruthlessness in his voice and the way he barked orders that Joe remembered the most.

Blonsky: “Hey, hey, hey!  Watch the table, kid.  We’re having civilized adult time over here.”

He eyeballed Joe and rubbed his mustache with his thumb.  He then offered Joe a sly smile.

Blonsky: “You look familiar, kid.  Have we met before?”

Joe could feel more sweat beading on his forehead.  He didn’t back away from Blonsky’s stare despite his own fear.  He couldn’t.  He just wasn’t taught that way.  His mom, dad, granddad, and grand-mom had all taught him to never back away from a stare.  A man is only as good as his handshake, if he can look another man in the eye without flinching, his granddad had always said.  It was somewhat of a family motto.

Joe: “No.  I don’t believe so.”

Blonsky: “Well I beg to differ, kiddo.  Cuz, you see, I’m good with faces, and your face is kicking my memory into overdrive.”

Beauty was nowhere in sight, and Joe had no idea as to what he should say or do right now.

Joe: “Sorry, but I’m not sure why.”

Blonsky: “Because I’ve seen you before, eggs-for-brains.  The question is where.”

Joe remembered his clear view of Blonsky through the locker slits, but there was no way this man had seen him.  A woman spoke up.

Woman: “That’s because he’s a national celebrity, Steve.  His face is all over the T.V.”

Blonsky: “Hehe, I know who this kid is.  I’m just bustin’ his chops a bit.  Ain’t that right, kiddo?  Don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question.  Of course it’s right, cuz I said it.”

He took a swig of his drink.  It looked red and dark.  Most likely wine … or blood.

Blonsky: “Now Joe Remington Black, what brings you to my establishment?  Come to turn yourself in?”

Joe: “You’re with the police?”

Blonsky let out a snort and laughed.

Blonsky: “Man, kid, you really crack me up.  Do I look like the police?”

Joe looked ready to respond, but Blonsky lifted a finger to stop him.

Blonsky: “Shh, shh, shh … again, that was rhetorical.”

He swirled the liquid in his glass around, tilted his head back, and drained what was left.

Blonsky: “You really are dense, kid, to an unfair degree.  But you know what?  You’re a godsend.  You popped up at just the right time, twice.”

Joe looked perplexed.

Blonsky: “Don’t think too hard, you’ll rupture something and your face’ll stay stuck all dumb like that.  Okay, okay … to simplify this, there is a bounty on your head.  Two very big ones.  The police department put out a decent sized one, but my partner has one even bigger, about ten times what they promised to pay out.”

Nobody made a move.  All eyes were on Joe.  His eyes went from Blonsky to the man left of Blonsky, then to the man right of Blonsky.  The men looked quite athletic.  Joe knew that he wouldn’t make it far if he ran, but heck, he had nothing to lose.

Blonsky: “You’ll make me a richer man, cuz I’m already pretty stinkin’ rich.”

Joe didn’t know what Beauty had planned here at this restaurant, but he did know that he couldn’t stay here any longer.  He bolted away awkwardly, stumbling first over his feet and then over chairs, tables, and then a waitress.  Throughout all of that, however, he created a nice amount of distance between himself and Blonsky’s group.  There was another man in a black suit near the front door now, so Joe instead opted to dash through the kitchen, hoping to find a back door.

The kitchen felt like a little slice of hell, and Joe began sweating like crazy.  Most of the cooks ignored him, as if a teenage boy running for his life through their workspace was a normal everyday occurrence.  He dashed until he came to a narrow part of the kitchen between a large metal table and a large grill.  The path between the two was blocked by a cart covered with tomatoes.  Joe jumped the cart and kicked his foot backwards.

Tomatoes flew everywhere, splattering all over the ground and angering many yelling cooks.  The cart crashed loudly and tipped over, sending the remaining tomatoes to the floor.  Joe ran through a door that led to a small room with cooking utensils, then through another door which landed him outside.  He wasn’t alone though.  Two men in black suits awaited him.

“Wow, nothing but fail here.”

“Heh, he really thought he could get away.”

They came at Joe and he had no choice but to accept defeat.  The closest one to him with the blonde hair bent Joe’s right arm behind his back and twisted up on it.  Joe yelled out in pain, but shut up when he was pushed, face first, into the brick wall and pinned there.

The other men came out of the kitchen exit moments later, with Blonsky in their midst.

Blonsky: “Well, well, well…”

Up walked Blonsky with the top of his head shining red from the bright light bulb above the door.  He smiled.

Blonsky: “No need to make a scene, Joe.  Your fate is sealed.  You see, you won’t be making a fool of me again.”

Joe wondered what he meant by again, but didn’t linger on the thought.  Blonsky made a wiping gesture with his right hand, and the next thing that Joe knew his face was being rubbed against the brick wall.

Joe:“Ahh aaaahhh sss-s-stop!”

Blonsky: “Shut up!  Failures don’t deserve to speak.  Just be grateful that someone feels you’re important enough to talk to, elsewise I’d have your head squeezed from your neck tonight and call it a success.”

Saliva gleamed from the corners of Blonsky’s snarling mouth.  After that he took a moment to regain his composure.

Blonsky: “I’m going to have fun making you pay later.  But for now bring ‘em in, fellas.”

A loud pop echoed through the alleyway and ricocheted around.  It was loud enough to be near, but distant enough for no one to see where it came from.  It must’ve been a gunshot, thought Joe.  The curves, corners, edges, and shadows of the alley helped mask the shooter.  Everyone near the restaurant ducked, and Blonsky was escorted inside with the door closed behind him.  All that remained in the alley was an eerie quiet, five men in black suits, Joe, and whoever had fired that shot.

Joe had taken cover behind a trash can that was close to the kitchen door.  He wasn’t sure if he was the intended target but took no chances.  He saw the men around him rise up and point their guns into the alley.  The alley was silent; Joe was only able to hear the breathing of the men around him.  In a sneaking instant, Joe heard a groan and then something hit the ground and he heard a yell.

He turned to his rear to catch the commotion, and immediately saw the black suit writhing on the ground and another black suit with his arms in the air.  There was a gun near the side of his head, but behind that gun was a welcoming sight.  Borland, and by the look of it, he had taken a hostage.

Borland: “Put your guns down.  Everybody!”

His voice was strangely low, but everyone could still hear him.  The hush in the alley was resounding.  No one made a move, and no one followed Borland’s orders either.  Borland motioned for Joe to join him.  Joe walked towards Borland, but was grabbed by the man in black standing near him mid-stride.  The man held Joe’s arms behind his back painfully tight.

Man in Black: “You’re not getting him.  Now let my partner go and we’ll let you leave with your life.”

There was a standoff.  It didn’t look like Borland was taking the bait.

Man in Black: “Heh!  No matter.  We’ll blow you away regardless.”

The men all lifted their guns at Borland.  Borland stood still and unflinching.  He didn’t utter a word and only held tight to his human shield, who had begun to squirm.

Man in Black: “Heh!  Well, fine, old man.  If that’s how you want it.”

The man grabbed Joe by the neck in a chokehold.  With his free hand, he lifted his gun and pointed it at Borland.

Man in Black: “Last chance.”

Time was running out.  But it seemed to stand still for a moment.  Joe spared a glance at the other shooters to see if Borland stood a chance.  He saw something way behind the group, in the shadows.  The shape was quickly approaching though, much faster than a man.  It was blue, but that’s all Joe could make out.

“Oof!”

One man in black went down.  The others tried tracking the noise.

“Ahhh-uugh!”

Another hit the ground with a blunt thud.  The blue blur was now in their midst, but Joe could still hardly see it.  As the blur closed in, more gunshots rang out.  The blur had taken on the shape of a man, and a large one at that.  As close as he was now, Joe could see more red.  Red hands crashed against a black suit’s face.  Red feet were thrust into another’s gut.  No, they weren’t just hands and feet, they were boots and gloves, Joe thought.

The blue clad man was now close enough that Joe could make out his features and that left him astounded.

Joe: “This can’t be real.”

Man in Black: “Who is this freak?”

The man in black holding Joe turned his aim towards the approaching fighter, pointing it dead center of the white star at the man’s chest.  His grip on Joe loosened just a little, and only briefly, but it was enough for Joe to wriggle free and elbow the man in the face.   Joe ran a little distance away and the man aimed at him.  Joe turned in enough time to catch the sight of a huge red and white spinning disk as it sailed through the air and crashed into the side of the man's face that had held him just moments before.  The disk hit the ground afterwards. Upon closer glance, it was just a regular old metal trashcan lid.  He could have sworn that it had had white and red stripes around it and a star in the middle.

Those thoughts were interrupted when the blue blur leaped upon the man in black and landed two clean knockout punches to the man’s jaw.  The black suit crashed into the brick wall behind him and slumped to the ground, where he slumbered.

The blue clad man approached Joe and smiled at him.  He gave him the thumbs up.

Blue Clad Man: “Good work, soldier!”

Joe stared at the huge muscular man and tried to find something to say.  He could only stare at the shining white “A” on the guy’s mask, as no words would come.  Finally he managed.

Joe: “Holy cow!  You’re Captain A—”

There was a loud thud behind him, and Joe looked back at Borland and saw that his human shield was now on the ground knocked out.  Borland pointed his gun at the blue man in suspicion.

Borland: “Who’re you, freakshow?”

Joe: “Wait Borland, he’s Captain A—”

Borland: “Let him answer it.”

Captain A—: “You can think of me as the enemy of your enemy.  I understand your caution, but I think we should discuss things at a safer location.”

Borland: “You have a point.  Let’s get out of here.”

Captain A—: “Let freedom prevail!”

Chapter 15

Extraordinaires Assemble

Borland: “Why are you still dressed like that?”

Captain A—: “Because it’s a hoot and a half, as you people like to say.”

Joe settled into the old gray couch.  The cramped stylings of Borland’s old apartment seemed extra small when occupied by two other people, especially when one of those people was a hulking superhero.  His bright costume crashed drastically with the décor.

Borland: “Well, you’re attracting too much unwanted attention, so stop looking like an idiot and change back.”

The super soldier saluted Borland and began to change shape.  His shoulders contracted and slanted downwards.  The rough angles that made up the big man’s physiology morphed into firm curves, the long limbs and torso shortened to a height that was just a shade under Borland’s. The blues became blacks and the mask was no more, as were the bright red boots and gloves.

Standing before them was Beauty. Joe had forgotten about her once the fighting started outside of Blonsky’s Pierogi Place, until she had admitted to them both minutes before that it was her.  Joe felt extremely stupid; he had thought he was in the presence of a real life superhero. And why not believe that? With all the crazy secret buildings, shape-shifting spies, and murder plots, a superhero was an easy thing to believe.

Joe wasn’t quite so lucky. There were no superheroes, but everything else was true, Beauty’s presence was a testament to that.  Now that she was in her own skin, that familiar smell of loveliness that Joe associated with her had intensified.

Beauty: “You guys miss me?”

Guys?  Joe wondered if Beauty and Borland had met before.

Borland: “Like a thorn in my side.  So what’s that, magic?”

Beauty: “To simplify it, yes.”

Borland: “Always thought that existed. Makes sense.”

Beauty: “Helps me get the job done.”

Joe had caught a flash of anger in Borland.  The man was prone to those, as Joe had learned during his stay here.

Borland: “And what job is that might I ask?  Getting this boy killed?  Ruining my investigation?”

Beauty: “None of those.”

Borland: “Well then, tell me what gives you the right to kidnap this boy and use him for your own purposes?”

Borland ended up screaming those last words.

Beauty: “Kidnap?  From who?  You?  Last time I checked, you weren’t either of his parents.  As for why I did it, well, I did it for his sake.”

Borland: “You could’ve gotten him killed or captured!  What in the nine hells was worth that?”

Beauty: “The proof of his innocence.  I have it.”

She looked Joe right in his eyes.

Beauty: “I owed him that … for his kindness.”

The room fell quiet.  Borland looked anxious.

Beauty: “I believe it was worth the risk, and I can assure you that no harm would have come upon little Joe’s head.  You’re a good man, Borland.  Your apprehension shows that you care about this boy, but at this point he has nothing to do with your goals or my goals.”

Borland: “He’s the center of all of this, he has everything to do with it.”

Beauty: “He’s an unfortunate scapegoat in all of this, and I put him in this situation.”

She had it half right, but Joe himself had volunteered to help when he could’ve just escaped with his friends.

Beauty: “It should be up to him if he wants to continue or not, not you, not I, and not Blonsky.  I’m putting that choice back in his hands before this gets out of hand.”

She produced a DVD case from her messenger bag that was labeled in comically large letters: “Joe Not Guilty.”  She put the disc in Joe’s hands, along with some sort of necklace.  The necklace was long and made of silver, and had a pendant of what looked like the head of a crazed owl.  Joe lifted the pendant in front of his face.

Joe: “What is this?”

Beauty: “It is a keepsake for all we have been through together.  It is said that the owl watches over and safeguards those that wear it.  Take it, please, as an apology from me for causing you so much pain.  I hope it brings you comfort and tranquility”

Joe studied the trinket and slipped it into his pocket.  It was ugly, but it came from a good place.

Joe: “Thank you.”

Beauty: “Well, Joe, we are at a crossroads and you have a choice to make.  Because of the prominence you’ve gained in this situation, and thanks to what you’ve seen, you’ve became an integral piece in this whole mess.  Both Borland and I need you to accomplish our goals.  We are both trying to take down two very bad men, and Borland still needs your help in finding Dahlila and Melissa.”

Joe: “You two know each other?”

Borland brooded quietly against the wall.

Beauty: “Our paths have crossed before.  We are neither friends nor partners for that matter, but our goals seem to be somewhat aligned.  You have no obligation to help us.  As a matter of fact, you have done much and more already to help us.  That disc is my thanks for that help. With it, you have all you need to clear your name.  You can go back to your regular, everyday, average lifestyle.”

Joe: “I, um…”

Villain View 2

A Powerful Motivator

The office was warm, too warm, and so a black-suited man was ordered to crack the window to let some of the night air in.  Might as well put these fools to use, thought their master.  His office was also dim, as he liked, and smoky—from both the fireplace and his own cigar collection.

Blonsky: “So you’re telling me that a superhero came out of nowhere and knocked you all out cold?”

“Yes sir, a patriot!”

Blonsky’s personal cadre of black-suited men all looked broken, both physically and spiritually.  Blonsky wouldn’t let them stay that way.  They had work to do and he needed them in tip top shape.  His suits knew how to follow his orders and he didn’t even need to use pansy-pants magic.  He was the sort of man who knew alternate ways to effectively motivate, unlike that wimp Billy-boy.  He spoke to them all in a light and comical tone.

Blonsky: “Man oh man!  I might have actually found this funny if you all didn’t make such a complete fool of me by eating the dirt in Pierogi’s alley so hard tonight.  But you all made me look baaaaaaad.  I mean real baaaaaaad.  And that’s the problem because, you see, I live and breathe based on my reputation.  And what is my reputation you may ask?  You there, loser number one, I’m looking right at you.”

The black-suited man with long brown hair pointed at himself in confusion.

Blonsky: “Yeah you, ya long-haired moron.  Go ahead and ask me that question.  The one I just asked you to ask me.”

Black-suited man: “Umm, what is your reputation, sir?”

Blonsky: “Why, I thought you’d never ask.  You see, eggs-for-brains, my reputation is based on fear.  Fear from my enemies, fear from my partners, and fear from my subordinates.  A guy like me is nothing without it.  Fear keeps the gears of my operation running and motivates business.”

Blonsky produced an expensive-looking cigar from his office drawer and snipped the tip.  He lit it and took a few puffs.  An earthy, smoky aroma filled the room.  Blonsky blew the smoke towards the group of black suits.  One of them let out a cough.  They were all lined up shoulder to shoulder and kneeling in front of Blonsky’s desk.  They were a gift from his partner, a poisoned gift if truth be told.  Sure, they were obedient, but they were also fools.  He dropped the fool voice and spoke in his normal tone.

Blonsky: “Here’s a quick history lesson.  Back before the Revolutionary War, America was a lowly servant to Britain.  Whenever the pretty little queen and king said ‘jump,’ America asked ‘how high?’  That’s because America was young, and like any child feared to bite the hand that fed them.  Children don’t like to be punished, so America obeyed.  Britain had an iron grip on the country, they were not to be trifled with because they were the Red Coats, a strong name for a strong nation.  Anyone that challenged a Red Coat was an enemy of the crown and thusly doomed to a jail, gallows, or a life of indentured servitude only slightly better than a slave.  But after a while, children get bigger and bolder and they try you, they try to taunt you and challenge you to see how far they get.  If the parent balks at this challenge, the child runs roughshod and the parent loses what control they had.  Britain lost that control when Americans stopped calling them Red Coats and started calling them Lobsterbacks.  You give a child an inch and they’ll take a mile.”

Blonsky pulled a bottle of some dark liquid from his desk.  The bottle had the labels removed so one could only guess what was in it.  He opened it, placing the top on his solid oak desk while he poured all the contents of the bottle into the spray bottle that sat on top of the desk.  It didn’t take him long.  He got up and walked to the front of his desk.

Blonsky: “I know you guys have got to be thirsty after all that fighting.  Here, have a drink.”

He sprayed them all with whatever was in the spray bottle until their suits shined in what little light the office received.  When he was done, he sat on the top of his desk, in front of them, and set his nearly empty spray bottle down next to him.

Blonsky: “Good, good.  You guys look sharp.  You see, fellas, even controlling a rough bunch of creeps like you is made difficult when you lack proper motivation.  Today I will motivate you.”

The men sat in silence and waited.  Some sweated, others looked off into space, others looked at the floor. None looked at Blonsky.  Blonsky puffed his cigar nice and long and flicked it into the air.  He exhaled an excessive amount of smoke and grinned sickly when the cigar landed softly on the man in black that had coughed earlier.  The man’s suit ignited quickly and easily.  He dropped to the ground to try to smother the flames, but the floor was laden with excess amounts of whatever liquid Blonsky had coated them all in.

Blonsky: “I didn’t give you permission to put yourself out, ya moron.”

Blonsky laughed as the man screamed.

Blonsky: “Now that is proper motivation.  Fear is a tool and I use it to make money, lots and lots of money.  I need to reacquaint those who have wronged me and continue to wrong me with it.”

The man on the floor screamed louder.

Blonsky: “Now, fellas, let’s find a reason to make my enemies fear me—and for the love of Jove will somebody please put this idiot out!”

One of the men took off his jacket to fan the flames and caught fire himself.

Blonsky: “No, no!  Don’t touch him!  What’re you doing?  Get an extinguisher!  Run, don’t walk!  What circus am I dealing with?  Idiots, idiots, and more idiots!  That’s what I’m cursed with.”

Chapter 16

Team Badd Azz

Buzz Buzz Buzz!

The alarm clock seemed louder than ever before and Joe had to karate chop the big snooze button to save his sleepy state.

Joe: “Dang it!  Just a few more minutes.”

Nine minutes later the buzzing came back, but this time Joe was ready to get up.  The morning went by in a blur.  Joe vaguely remembered taking a shower, having cereal, and watching T.V., but not really paying attention to what was on.

He left his house and walked to the car, which was parked on the street.  His dutiful girlfriend Kate had returned it—his parents said—after the whole stadium incident.  He still hadn’t seen or talked to her since and wasn’t sure what he’d say the next time he did.

He got into his car and turned the ignition.  His car jumped to life but it felt different.  Everything felt different.  The drive to school went by in a blur.  Joe vaguely remembered seeing street signs, a stoplight, a slow old lady crossing the street, traffic lights, more traffic lights, and a cute girl with red hair in the school’s parking lot.  She smiled at him.  Her red hair reminded him of Kate, but Kate’s was naturally red. He couldn’t say the same about this girl.

The walk through the school went by in a blur.  There were plenty of staring faces everywhere he went, much chatter, some laughter, and many whispers.  No one talked directly to him but Joe knew that they were talking about him.

He had shifted through the halls and was almost near his locker when he bumped into two guys that he was distantly familiar with but had never talked to before.  More accurately, they bumped into him.  He knew them as Fleez and Dozz, and that they were to be avoided.

Fleez: “Uh-oh!  Badass alert!  Clear the hallway, peasants, lest you want to be just another victim.”

Fleez was the taller of the two, and had a distinct island tan and large dark eyes.  His hair was black and curly but partially shaved on the sides.  He approached Joe in a casual manner.

Dozz: “That’s not fair, Fleez.  He’s been acquitted of his crimes.  That makes us the only badasses setting off alarms here.”

Dozz was very hairy, almost like a werewolf and had tiny beady eyes.  He already had a full beard that hung down past his Adam’s apple even though he was only sixteen.  His hair was equally as long, reaching down to the middle of his neck, and both hair and beard were brown and completely messy.  Underneath all that hair was flesh so pale that Joe wondered if Dozz had ever seen the sun.

Fleez: “He’s been acquitted of half his crimes, so he’s a badass until proven innocent.  How ‘bout it, Joe?  Wanna join the likes of us and raise hell?”

Fleez stuck his hand out.

Joe: “Sorry, but your friend is right.  I’m not a badass.  I’m just a regular guy.  Excuse me, I have to get to class.”

Joe sheepishly pushed past them and walked down the hall.  Further down he caught a flash of red hair and saw her. Kate was facing her locker.  He stood still and wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights.  She turned and looked in his direction and they locked eyes, but only briefly.  She turned her head and walked away down the opposite end of the hall.

The rest of the day went by in a blur until lunch, when he bumped into the principal, Mr. Patrias, a short and slender man with a penchant for tacky dress clothes.  Today he wore an olive green suit with a yellow tie and pocket square which made him look like a pickle someone accidently dunked in mustard.

Mr. Patrias: “So, Joe, you’ve decided to join us in the land of the learning?”

Patrias laughed at his own joke, but Joe didn’t find it so funny.

Joe: “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Patrias: “Well I’m glad you’re in good health and that this whole ordeal is behind you.  Now you can get back on track to academic excellence.”

Joe: “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Patrias: “Remember, Joe, toeing the line won’t cut it anymore.  I won’t have it here at my school.  I’ll be on your case until you’re just as bright and competitive as my best.”

Joe: “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Patrias: “If you follow that, we’ll finally see eye to eye.  I know you can do it.”

Principal Patrias adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and smiled using only his lips.

Mr. Patrias: “Now go get some lunch and fuel up for the rest of your classes.”

Joe walked away from the principal, feeling ill at ease.  Neither he nor Joe had seen eye to eye since he had been Joe’s teacher back in elementary school.  Joe honestly didn’t think the man had liked him—ever.  He opted to get on with his day, however, and grabbed some lunch.

Lunch was a standard affair, corndogs and tater tots.  Brussels sprouts were there too, but who wanted those?  Joe grabbed his tray and looked for a place to sit.  He usually split his seating arrangements between Mod and his friends, or the Orangetown High benchwarmers.  The benchwarmers were usually good company and had much to say about football, which Joe liked, but today he didn’t feel like answering all the questions they were sure to ask.  Plus, even as benchwarmers, they were too high profile for him right now.  He wanted to be as incognito as possible.

He spotted Mod sitting with only a few of his friends at their usual spot.  He wanted to make sure that Mod was doing okay, and to also gauge the temperature of Kate.

Joe: “Hey, Mod!”

Mod: “Wow, Joe!  You can talk?  I can’t believe it!  It must be a miracle, because I could’ve sworn this whole time that your vocal cords were stolen by the government or aliens or Australians.”

Joe: “Very funny, Mod.  You know I would’ve called if I could.”

Joe took a seat across from Mod and was again treated to the stares, whispers, and giggles of those around him.

Mod: “Well then, why didn’t you?  It’s been almost two weeks since the stadium and they proved your innocence almost a week ago.  Why am I just now talking to you?”

A lot had happened between sitting on Borland’s couch and now.  Not only did Joe have to stay in Borland’s protection for a few days after the incident at Pierogi’s Place, but he also had to wait for the police to clear him.  Once he was finally cleared to go home, the media whipped into a frenzy and his parents decided that it would be better if they all stayed in.  But Joe had seemingly shut down and he still wasn’t sure why.

Joe: “I’m sorry.  It’s just … you know … I needed time.  I still need time to deal with everything that happened.”

Mod: “And that’s just it, nobody knows what happened.  None of us know what you saw or why you stayed.”

Joe: “And I can’t tell you for good reasons.”

Mod: “That bad huh?”

Joe: “Yeah…”

Mod: “I’m fine with that. Not too sure about Kate though.”

Joe: “You and me both.  But I’m telling you, the less you and her know, the safer you’ll be.”

Mod: “I wish I was there with you.  Whatever happened, you shouldn’t have faced it alone.”

Joe: “It’s okay, Mod.  I wasn’t alone.  Just hearing you say that though makes me feel a lot better.  I’m just glad you two got out safely.”

Mod nodded.

Joe: “I’m going to lay low until this all blows over.  As you can see, I’m a little too popular today.”

Mod grinned.

Mod: “You can never be too popular.”

Joe: “I don’t like the spotlight as much as you do.  For now I’ll let you enjoy your food, free of stares.”

Mod: “Psshaw, you kidding me?  I’ve never been gawked at by so many hot babes before in my life.  Stay!  Heck, I might even get a phone number out of this.”

Joe laughed.

Joe: “You’ll never change, Mod, I swear.”

Mod: “Change?  Why do that?  When life gives you lemons, eh…”

Joe: “Yeah…”

They talked for a while about Mod’s girl troubles, until they were interrupted.  Fleez and Dozz had pushed themselves into the table the boys were sitting at, each on either side of Mod.  One of Mod’s friends ended up being pushed from the end of the bench when Fleez and Dozz sat down. His lunch fell to the floor with him.

Fleez: “I just came over here to continue our conversation from earlier, Josephus.  It didn’t exactly end on the right footing.  For one, you didn’t let me explain my terms.”

Mod looked extremely uncomfortable between the two boys.  Joe had only now noticed how big they both were.  Both Fleez and Dozz were over six foot, but Fleez was a lot bulkier.  He was now wearing a green tank-top, and Joe took note of how chiseled and large his biceps were.  With that in mind, he had no idea why he was going to say what he was about to say.

Joe: “My answer is still no.  I have a lot on my mind right now.”

Dozz: “He’s definitely got balls, Fleez.”

Fleez: “Well, he wouldn’t be the badass we know he is without ‘em.  Now listen, Joe, the truth of the matter is you don’t have much of a choice here.  Wait—no, that ain’t right.  You have a lot of choices, but they aren’t the ones you think you have.  We have choices too.  We could just make you join us and easily establish our own badassery that way, but you’d probably just let us, and that’s no fun.  It wouldn’t get us anywhere either.  So me and Dozz here—whoops—sorry, Dozz and I, will instead make a friend of your friend.  Yeah, this little guy here.”

Fleez patted Mod on the shoulder and Dozz gave him a few rough slaps on his back.

Fleez: “He’ll be our little ‘friend’ for the rest of his high school life, or until you come to your senses.”

Dozz: “I’ve always wanted a little red-headed brother.  What color do you think his hair would turn if we burned it?”

Fleez: “Good question, Dozz!  We should find out, you know how the principal’s always going on about academic curiosity and whatnot.”

They both got up laughing.  Mod looked mortified, especially after Dozz gave his shoulder another tap.

Fleez: “Here’s a little demo, Josephus.”

Fleez took out a mason jar from a brown paper bag that he had.  He unscrewed the lid and produced a wad of something that filled the air with a horrid and bitter odor.  Dozz followed suit.  Loudly and in tandem they proclaimed:

“Welcome, everyone, to pukeball, everyone’s favorite wacky, wretched, and whacked out event.  We are your hosts.”

Fleez: “Fleez!”

Dozz: “And Dozz!”

Fleez: “Today’s guest is Mod, which is short for…”

Dozz: “Mod—er, or maybe Modicum, as in modicum of girls that like him, modicum of athletic talent, modicum of coolness—”

Fleez: “Or maybe just words that he’ll never hear from a girl ever.  Haha, get it Dozz, get it?  Cuz when you break it down, it sounds like Mod-I-oh never-mind!”

The kids at the other tables ate up the act and howled with laughter throughout.  An adult had walked up to Fleez and Dozz.  It was Mr. Serano the math teacher.  He typically monitored the lunchroom during Joe’s lunch period.  Kids usually despised when he approached their table, but Joe welcomed it today. Finally, an end to this craziness, Joe thought.

Mr. Serano: “Keep it down, you two.”

Fleez: “Aww man.  You’re gonna stop pukeball?”

Mr. Serano: “Did I say that?  I said keep it down.”

Mr. Serano looked at Joe and walked back to the front of the lunchroom, where he sat.  Fleez smiled a nasty smile and pumped his fist.  Joe was speechless, so was Mod.

Fleez: “Now, Dozz, let’s continue.”

He and Dozz held up the nasty wads in their hands for all to see.

Dozz: “Behold exhibit A, the fabled pukeball.  It slithers with life in my hand.  It wants … it wants to splat … real good.”

Fleez: “Without further ado, here’s the main event!”

With that they chucked the foul-smelling wads at Mod, which splattered gross grayish-green muck all over him.  Everyone sitting at the table, including Joe, shuffled away from the havoc.  Fleez and Dozz threw the wads with such force that Mod stumbled to the ground after one caught him as he tried to dodge.

They were more vicious with the second round, and decided to coat his face with the stuff.  Joe was forced to watch in horror as his friend suffered.  When it finally did end, Mod was standing and covered from head to toe with muck.  He kept his hands in front of his face in case they weren’t finished.  Joe decided then that he’d grab him and get the heck out of Dodge.  He walked two steps before he saw Kate and stopped in his tracks.  She grabbed up Mod, her eyes never leaving him, and whispered something to him, most likely to console him.  Joe couldn’t tell what she was saying over all the laughter.  They were gone in a heartbeat.

Dozz: “Fear not, serfs.  All you innocent casualties can rest knowing that no real puke was used in this spectacle, only mustard, vinegar, old mayonnaise, pickle juice, and shame.”

Fleez looked at Joe, grinning while Dozz continued.

Dozz: “Don’t miss our next show. We’re here all day, folks.”

Chapter 17

The Price of Popularity

Joe couldn’t stomach being at school any longer.  It was just a bad day for it.  He decided to leave once he heard that Mod went home right after the lunchroom incident, which neither Fleez nor Dozz got in trouble for.  It had caused a stir by the lunchroom doors after Mod was escorted out.  A few teachers were huddled outside the doors, talking, and Joe even glimpsed Principal Patrias standing amidst them.  As he walked past he heard Mr. Serano say, “Kids will be kids,” and both he and Patrias had looked at Joe.

Once Joe got past the gaggle of faculty members, no one tried to stop his early exit.  Joe had a feeling that none of his teachers wanted him there anyway.  On his way to his car he saw the girl from before with the red hair again, and that made him miss Kate.  She had been so heroic earlier, helping her brother like that.  Joe had no idea how she had even known her brother was in trouble.  It wasn’t her lunch period, and Joe knew she had a class at that time.  He figured someone must’ve texted her.

He sailed through the streets and enjoyed the pleasant air.  The day wasn’t as hot as it normally was of late.  He rounded the corner from Gator Street into his own neighborhood.  He drove a few blocks down from his own house to the house of the Malingtons.  The driveway was opened, but Joe parked on the street.  Mr. and Mrs. Malington must still be at work, he thought.  He walked up the steps to the door and knocked on the outside screen door.  There was no answer.  He knocked again and still no answer.  He went to the side door and knocked, but there was still nothing.  He took a peak into Mod’s window and saw that he wasn’t in his room.

If he’s not here, then where is he? he thought.  But he knew where Mod was, truthfully.  There could be only one place, well maybe two places, but of the two he knew which one Mod would pick today.

He dashed to his car and drove off in pursuit of his friend.  He took Gator Street down two miles and turned on Crownwell Drive.  Down Crownwell he found another street called Gains and took that down for a few blocks until he got to Sapton Street.  The clock tower was on the corner and it was a joy to look upon.  It rose high, at about seventy feet, and had a dark blue rooftop.  The bricks themselves were a sort of light blue as well, so light they almost appeared white.

Joe parked his car in the alley and walked into the clock tower through the back door.  Inside, it was cooler than out, and much quieter.  He wasted no time and walked to the staircase.  The inside of the tower had an old-time feel.  It felt like you were transported to the past when you looked at the bricks, the metalwork, the furniture, and even the kitchen appliances.  The staircase itself was made of old black iron, from the stairs to the rails.  Joe climbed, dreading every step.  He knew that once he reached the top his legs would start to burn.  It was a tall climb, but Joe didn’t fear it. Despite being very old, this tower's staircase was very sturdy.  The old iron was nothing if not strong.  At the halfway point Joe looked upwards to see if someone was here, but he didn’t need to see any signs to know that someone was.

At the top Joe’s prediction came true. To his displeasure, his thighs ached from the climb.  It had been a while since he had done it and that was coming back to haunt him.  He looked around for a bit and decided to ascend even higher.  He climbed more stairs to the platform that led to the low ledge that he had to climb to get to the open window near the western clock-face.  Sitting here was Mod.  He looked out into the rest of Orangetown, his red hair catching the breeze.  He looked sad.  Joe was used to the boy being so animated, but now he was quiet and still.  He seemed to not even notice Joe.  His ukulele sat lifeless in his lap.  Joe knocked softly on the brick.

Mod: “Come in.”

Joe laughed.  It was strange to think of the clock tower as someone’s home, but in a weird way it was kind of like a second home to him and Mod and Kate.

Joe: “Wow, you brought that thing back out!  You used to always play this to cheer me and Kate up.”

Mod smiled and played a whimsical melody that eventually turned into a sound that Joe was very familiar with, just not on ukulele.  Joe started giggling uncontrollably.  He waited for Mod to break in with his lyrics.  Mod did not disappoint.

Mod: “Gotta keep it classy.  Don’t wanna be ashy.  Makin’ it rain at the club.  Ladies showin’ a brotha love.  It feels good to be a G.  Livin’ high like only me.  I show love to my crew.  But that I think you knew.  Big Mo up in ya ear.  Tellin’ you what you need to hear.  I don’t bow down and play like a pranksta’.  Because this G is a certified gansta’!”

Joe laughed uncontrollably.  It had been a while since he heard Mod recite those lyrics.

Joe: “Haha, man, I’m surprised you remembered that old rap.”

Mod: “Of course I do.  That was my first real shot at fame.  Do you still remember your part?”

Joe: “No not really.”

Mod: “Psshaw, liar.  I can tell that you do.”

Mod started playing the tune again on his ukulele.  Joe smiled.

Joe: “I’m not your average Joe, cuz I’m a real cool bro.  I came here to stop the show, give you peeps that old school flow.  I ain’t just a show stopper, I’m also a body rocker.  I don’t stop … believin’ and achievin’ at the next level because I’m history’s number one rebel!  Lil’ Joe is on the mic, and when I spit it’s always tight.  Doin’ it the way that’s right, I’m so cool it’s outta sight!”

Mod and Joe: “Oooooh!  Oooooooh!”

Mod: “That’s hot fire.”

He touched Joe’s shirt and made a hissing sound and quickly removed his hand as if he’d been burned.  They both started laughing uncontrollably.  Joe’s stomach and face started hurting after a while from all the laughing.

Joe: “Stop, stop!  I can’t take it anymore!  You’re killing me here, man!  We can't ever rap those horrible lyrics again as long as we’re alive on this earth. We need to make a pact.”

Mod: “Pact schmact!  You do that, I'm good.  You know, when I rapped on stage like that, with you right beside me, it was one of the best moments of my life.  I worked on the lyrics for that song for weeks.  I had to get ‘em just right.”

Joe: “I remember that the whole school loved it, except for the older teachers.  We almost got in trouble for the lyrics, remember?”

Mod: “Yeah, even though we watered them down like crazy.  Stupid teachers never recognize genius when it’s in front of them.”

Joe was glad that Mod’s sullen mood had lifted.  He wanted Mod to stay in high spirits but felt that he did need to address the earlier situation.  After a lull in the laughs, Joe found his moment.

Joe: “So…”

Mod beat him to the punch.

Mod: “So you made Dozz and Fleez’s target list.  How’d you manage that?”

Joe: “Mod — I’m sorry man!  That got way out of hand.  I have no idea why they took it that far and why they took it out on you.  It should’ve been me instead of you.  I went to help you too, but Kate was already there so fast.  I’d take it all back if I could.”

Mod smiled and laid his ukulele on his lap.  He looked out at the town sprawled down below him.  Joe looked too and noticed how empty everything looked today.  The people and cars were sparse today, but that made the bright blue sky above even more striking as it met with tiny skyward buildings in the distance.

Mod: “It’s alright, man, seriously.  My reputation took a hit … well, not really since I don’t even have one.  But — you know, this is good.”

Joe: “I fail to understand how.”

Mod: “Well, Joe, you’re heavy-handed friends have actually done me a little favor.”

Joe: “I still don’t see how.”

Mod: “I’ll tell you. Before today you could ask most people in the halls what my name was and not one would know it.”

Joe: “That’s not true.”

Mod: “Psshaw.  Only you, Kate, and a handful of others know who I am.”

Joe: “And that’s not a bad thing.”

Mod: “Not for you maybe.  You have a girlfriend and now you’re famous.  I don’t have any of that.”

Joe: “You’re only in ninth grade.  You have plenty of time to get a girl and a little popularity.”

Mod: “I need that now!  I don’t want to be a nobody forever.  Or stay here stuck in this town.  I want my renown, as the heroes of yore called it, to be high.  I have a shot now. Thanks to Fleez and Dozz the whole school will be talking about today’s lunchroom circus and me by proxy.”

Joe: “But they’ll be talking about how you were humiliated.”

Mod: “The point being that they’re talking about me.  All publicity is good publicity, Joe.  They know how I look.  Now we just have to get them to remember my name.”

Joe: “They said that they won’t stop.  They’re going to humiliate you every day unless I do something.”

Mod: “Like what?”

Joe: “I don’t know.”

There was a silence between them that lasted a while.

Mod: “I’ll be ready for whatever they throw at me, and don’t worry, I have a plan.”

Mod smiled and that somehow made Joe uneasy.  He wasn’t sure if Mod was being honest and he honestly needed to think of something to get the bullies off of Mod’s case.  He nodded his head anyway.

Joe: “Is Kate here with you?”

Joe felt the need to whisper those words.

Mod: “No.  I had her drop me off here and she went back to school, saying something about a test.”

Joe was almost relieved.  He still had no idea what to say when he saw her, but he did want to see her.  He and Mod hung out at the clock tower for the better part of the day, laughing and reminiscing about the past.

Chapter 18

Old Faces

It was nearing night by the time Joe dropped Mod off.  He didn’t see Kate’s car in the driveway so he opted to go straight home instead of stopping in.  The drive home was quiet and would have been peaceful if not for Joe’s own nagging thoughts.  He parked his car near the curb in front of his house and walked up the sidewalk to his front door.  He fumbled around in his pockets for his keys and thought he’d lost them until he remembered he’d had them in his hand the whole time.

Joe: “I’m such a dummy!”

His parents must’ve left the air conditioning turned on, because it was much colder inside the house than out.  Tonight was their dance night and Joe knew that they’d be learning some foreign dances, but didn’t know which ones.

He quickly pieced together a sandwich from the leftovers of the beef roast that his mom had cooked yesterday.  He walked through the house chomping greedily.  He was particularly hungry since he hadn’t bothered with lunch after all that had happened with Mod.  He licked his fingers of the warm gravy while he walked through the house.  He turned on the T.V. and watched some show that he wouldn’t remember later.  He got on the computer and browsed the Internet for a bit until he got bored, then he walked to his room, contemplated getting another sandwich, and then realized his door was closed.  His mom must have cleaned it.  She usually closed the door after she cleaned for whatever reason.  Joe couldn’t think of a reason why she would clean it, since it was already clean, thanks to her.

He opened the door and two very familiar faces greeted him with smiles.  The small face beamed with bright whites contrasted by dark skin.  The face with the blonde hair sported a long crooked grin.  Both sat on his bed, waiting for him.

Joe: “Melissa!  Dahlila!  I can’t believe it’s you!”

Melissa: “You mean you can’t believe that we’re alive.”

Joe smiled at the smart little girl.

Joe: “Yeah, I guess.”

Dahlila: “We could say the same about you.”

Melissa: “And we did … a couple of times.”

They all laughed.

Melissa: “I’m glad we all made it back and safe.”

Joe had so much to say.

Joe: “But how — I mean, what happened?”

Dahlila tapped on the bed, signaling for Joe to sit down.  Melissa scooted down and made space for him between the two of them.

Dahlila: “We’ll tell you that in a minute.  Right now, though, I have an important request.  We need your help!”

Joe nodded.  These two had kept him alive in the depths of the stadium.  He would return the favor and help them no matter what.

Melissa: “Thanks, Joe.  I knew you were a good person.”

She smiled up at him.  How could he say no to that?

Dahlila: “Thanks to you, our escape was easy.  Most of the security went your way at first.  By the time most of them came after us, Melissa and I had already found a nice quiet back way out.  I had to crack a few skulls but a lot less with your distraction.  We’ve been on the run since that day, but we don’t have a place to stay.”

Joe: “Don’t worry, I’ll just call Borland, he’ll be glad to see you.  Wait here.  I’ll go get the phone.”

Joe started to get up, but Dahlila pushed him back down effortlessly with one arm. Joe was confused.

Dahlila: “That’s not necessary.”

Joe was more confused.

Joe: “Why not?  He told me that he knew you.  He wants to see you.  He worries about you.”

Dahlila: “I figured as much.  For you to be alive still, it had to be either him or the super-spy helping you out.”

Joe: “Super-spy?”

Dahlila: “It’s just what I call the dark-haired lady. Your partner, I mean.  She’s good.  I’ve seen her in action.  She was there the night they caught me.”

Beauty, Joe guessed.

Dahlila: “But the reason that I refuse Borland’s aid is simple.  If I go near him, he’s dead.  He’s only alive because he doesn’t know what’s in that stadium.  They want to keep him alive on the off chance that he finds us so that they can take us all out.  We’re a danger to their operation.  Anyone close to us, including Melissa’s remaining family, are being watched and can be used as leverage on us.  He has his hands on their pulses.”

Joe: “Who is ‘he?’”

Dahlila: “Stevinn Blonsky, and he’s not the only one.  He’s just the dirtiest one.”

Joe: “What about the gray-haired man at the stadium?”

Dahlila: “I’m not sure, but he’s important too.  Borland would probably know who he is, especially by now.”

Melissa: “His name is Grabas, and he’s a bad man too.  He hurt a lot of people.”

Dahlila: “He and Blonsky are perfect company then.”

This puzzle was getting more and more complex by the day, and more dangerous.  Blonsky was certainly a scary guy, and so was that gray-haired man.  Something about his eyes had unsettled Joe.  If the man was anywhere near as nasty as Blonsky, then Joe had much and more to fear.

Joe: “Well, if not Borland’s, where will you stay?”

Dahlila: “That’s why we’re here.  We were hoping you’d let us stay at your place.”

No no no, Joe thought.

Joe: “Um…”

Dahlila: “Not for long anyway, but until we can get Blonsky off of our backs.”

Joe: “And how long do you think that would be?”

Dahlila: “Not long.  I already have a plan to get him out of our lives.”

Joe didn’t like the sound of that.  It was mainly how she said it.  Her words had such finality in them.  He was more worried about housing them, however.  His house wasn’t very big and there wasn’t really a way to hide them from his parents.  He needed help, but from who?

Dahlila: “And Borland can’t know that we were here.  He’ll try to take us in, regardless of the danger.  I can’t have him doing that.”

Joe then knew what to do.

Chapter 19

Occupado

It was actually chilly out, so much so that Joe had to grab a light jacket.  He didn’t wear it for long though.  He gave it up to Melissa when she let out a little sneeze.  September was coming to a close and the moon overhead was getting fuller and fuller.  Tonight it was about four-fifths complete.  Nevertheless, it was quite beautiful.

Joe picked up a pebble that was the shape of the overhead satellite and chucked it at the window.  After that, there was only quiet.  Joe picked up another pebble, this one a little bigger than the first.  He chucked this one more softly.  Only quiet answered back.  Joe whispered to himself.

Joe: “I hope he isn’t sleeping in there.”

He was out of options, so he picked up a bigger rock, this one roughly the size of his thumbnail.  He threw it underhanded like a softball, and as gently as he could.  As the rock left his hand, the window was opened up about halfway.  The rock sailed in effortlessly and Joe could hear a quiet curse inside the house.  There was some scuffling and Joe heard a few voices.  He thought he heard Kate, but wasn’t quite so sure.  After a bit, Mod finally poked his head out of the window.

Mod: “Joe?”

Joe: “Who else would it be?”

Mod: “I was hoping for Dianna Agron or Lea Michele, but I’m forced to settle for you.  Why must the heavens be so cruel?”

Joe: “Very funny, but I’m here for a reason.”

Mod: “That reason being…?”

Joe: “I need your help.  Could you go grab a few blankets for me and meet me by my car?”

Mod yawned, and didn’t seem to comprehend what Joe had asked of him.  He stared blankly at Joe for a while.

Mod: “You didn’t kill anybody, did you?”

Joe couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so he opted to answer.

Joe: “No.”

Mod: “Okay fine.  Cuz I’m not helping with that, no matter how cool we are.”

Mod closed the window and went bumbling through the darkness of the house.  Joe walked back to his car and sat on his hood as he waited for Mod to return.  All in all, it took Mod a little over three minutes.  He came out of the house with a bundle of blankets in his arms, wearing red-tinted glasses and a fuzzy red robe that was a darker shade of red than his hair.

Joe: “What the heck are you wearing?  Isn’t it a little too dark for sunglasses?”

Mod: “Listen, Ungrateful Joe!  If I wasn’t rudely awakened from my sleep, maybe I’d have taken a little time to doll myself up.  As it stands, you’ll just have to put up with this and like it; otherwise, my blankets and I will be going back inside.  Now why do you need this stuff?”

Joe: “Just put them in the backseat and see for yourself.”

Mod looked at Joe warily and then peeked into the back seat.

Mod: “Who are they?”

Joe: “Friends.”

Mod: “I’ve known you for six long years and I’ve never seen you with these girls.  I would’ve remembered them, especially the blonde one.”

Joe: “I met them recently and they need my help.  More specifically, they need a place to stay.”

Mod: “Umm…”

Joe: “I’m not asking for them to stay here, but I don’t have any room at my place either.”

Mod: “Then where are you taking them?”

There was silence and Joe simply stared at Mod.  Mod looked at Joe and lifted his eyes and head as he made a realization.

Mod: “You’re taking them to the clock tower, aren’t you?”

Joe: “Yep.”

Mod: “I wouldn’t exactly call that place livable.”

Joe: “It’ll do.”

Mod: “Well, they’ll need more than these blankets.  Wait here while I grab them some sleeping bags.”

Joe: “Thanks, Mod.”

Mod shook his head and handed Joe the blankets.  He disappeared into the house and returned shortly after with two sleeping bags rolled up in each of his arms.  Joe popped open his trunk and placed the blankets and bags inside.

Mod: “There are snacks wrapped up inside the sleeping bags.  There’s chips, crackers, cheese, juice, some veggies, some apples, and some gummies.”

Joe: “Mod, I really can’t thank you enough.  You really came through for me and them tonight.  Seriously, thanks, man!”

Mod smiled and lazily answered back.

Mod: “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Joe: “I just have one more favor.”

Mod: “Joe, I’m tired and getting sleepier by the second.”

Joe: “Sorry, I know.  Just please don’t tell Kate about this!  Please promise me!”

Mod: “What!? No Joe!  I can’t believe that you — you didn’t?  You aren’t, are you?  And with her?”

Dahlila and Melissa were inside the car giggling as if they could hear the conversation.  Joe suddenly felt very embarrassed.

Joe: “No, no, no!  Never.  I’d never do that to your sister.  Now just promise me.  There are very important reasons for why she can’t know.”

Mod: “Joe, if you’re cheating on my sister I’ll—”

Joe: “For the last time, NO!  Now please promise me you won’t tell her.”

Mod: “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Joe: “Thank you.”

Mod: “I’m going to bed.  If you want something else, make sure to call Santa Claus, because the next time I hear a rock or a knock against my window I’m calling the cops.”

Chapter 20

Home Sweet Clock Tower

The drive there went quickly enough.  It was even easier getting into the tower at this time of night.  The only company that the three of them had was a blinking traffic light and that was a mile down.

Joe brought the girls in from the back entrance.  He couldn’t tell one from the other thanks to the bundle of stuff each held in front of them.  Only when their heads poked out to the side to see where they were walking did Joe see who was who.  He decided to help lighten their loads once they reached the stairs.  He took the sleeping bag from Melissa and had her carry the folded blankets as he had originally intended before the girl declined.  She was adamant about pulling her own weight, a virtue that was taught to her from her dad, by her telling.  That was all fine and dandy, but Joe didn’t want her to trip and break a leg.  He wouldn’t have that at all.  He liked the little girl.  She was very sweet.

Melissa looked up at the long stretch of stairs going towards the rooftop, and Joe followed her gaze.  He could see nothing but black after the halfway point until the very top where a small sliver of blue light could be seen.

Melissa: “Wow, it looks much bigger inside than outside.”

Joe had always thought that too, especially when he walked the winding steps.  The climb had always taken so long and his thighs would always burn, and his ankles were seldom not sore once he reached the top.  Outside the tower didn’t look very tall at all, despite that.

Joe: “Maybe there are double the stairs.”

Melissa giggled at that and Dahlila shook her head in disapproval.  They weren’t going to go up the stairs tonight, however.  It was much too dark for that and Joe was getting sleepy.

Joe: “The room you gals will be at is through this door here, so we’ll skip the stairs for now.”

They walked through the small single door and into a room that was nothing but shadow and moonlight.  Joe was used to daytime strolls here.  It had been quite some years since he had seen the inside of the tower at night, and it was very striking to see.  Pale blue light poured in over the long oaken benches that sat, black as night, near the front of the hall.  The light came from the five large windows that surrounded the room.  The windows were set high up, unreachable by unaided human hands.  There was mostly empty space, especially if you discounted the benches.  A large ornate tapestry that strongly smelled of dust took up most of the room’s space.  The tapestry had some sort of coat of arms on it, with a spear, vines, and that thing that Julius Caesar and the Little Caesar guy wear on their heads, Joe had concluded.  The girls looked to and fro, surveying their new digs.

Joe: “There’s a lot of space here as you can see.  That’s why I figure it’d be a good spot to sleep. Plus, there’s no wind.”

Melissa: “But it’s so cold in here.”

Joe couldn’t disagree with that.  It was always colder inside the tower than outside it for some odd reason.

Joe: “Yeah, it’s always like that.  Sorry.”

They put their sleeping equipment on the floor and Joe continued the tour.  He pointed up to the front, where an altar sat with a woman’s face on it.  They all walked towards it.

Joe: “I think this used to be a church or something.  There’s a statue of some famous wise woman up there.  I never figured out who she was, but the description under the altar says that she brings out the potential in men and helps them reclaim their destinies.”

Dahlila: “She looks tough.”

Melissa: “And beautiful.”

Joe nodded his head in agreement with both accounts, and continued on.  He led them to the front hallway, near the front door, along with the coat closet.  He warned the girls never to use the front door.

Joe: “If you have to leave, use the back door.  You don’t want to be seen in here, and the front door leads right to the streets.”

He then walked them through the tiny kitchen where the slivers of moonlight filtered through an overhead vent.  The kitchen was still very dark regardless of the moonlight, and Joe loudly called himself stupid for forgetting to bring any flashlights.

Melissa: “I still have mine!”

Dahlila looked over the old appliances and wiped dust off the stove and blew it from her fingers and off into the air.

Dahlila: “Does any of this work?”

Joe: “I doubt it.  The tower doesn’t get power, and I’m sure they turned the gas off too.”

Dahlila made a face as if she smelled something rotten.

Dahlila: “I guess beggars can’t be choosers.  Draft up the papers, we’ll take it!”

All three of them laughed at that.  Afterwards Joe felt a yawn trying to escape.

Joe: “Well, this is it for now, I guess.  It’s not the best, but it’s peaceful here.  That’s why me and Mod like it, but we’ve never slept here overnight.”

Melissa: “What about the top?  You haven’t shown us what the view looks like yet.”

Another yawn crept up, and this time Joe couldn’t stifle it.

Dahlila: “He can do it some other time.  Come on, let’s set everything up for bed.”

The little girl looked as disappointed as Joe had ever seen her look.  She didn’t look sad per se, just a little less happy.

Joe: “No, it’s okay.  I don’t mind, Dahlila.  Come on, follow me.”

That perked Melissa right up.  She gave Joe her flashlight and he led the sortie up the winding staircase, with both girls not far behind.  Once they neared the halfway point, he looked back after he heard Dahlila say something to Melissa.

Dahlila: “Why’d you lug that up with you?”

Melissa: “Oh, I forgot that I had it in my hands.”

Joe looked and saw that the girl was carrying her sleeping bag.  Dahlila eyed her suspiciously.

Dahlila: “Mmhm.”

At the halfway point Melissa spotted an open window that was just beyond her reach.  Joe turned down her request to be lifted into the large windowsill because he felt it was too dangerous.  Dahlila seconded his decision.

Joe: “I promise you’ll have an even better view at the top.”

They continued on to the top, and once more — like before — his thighs burned, but this time his ankles didn’t hurt quite so much.  It was here that Joe lost the attention of both girls.  They gaped up at the insides of the four pale blue clock faces that glowed with the moon’s light.  Their own faces glowed with that same light.  After that Melissa put down her sleeping bag and inspected the other gears and machinery.  He figured she’d have long enough to do that later though.  He wanted to get to the coup de grace.  He needed sleep sooner rather than later.

Joe: “Okay, gals, this way please.”

Melissa smiled up at him, obviously excited by all the mechanical wonders around her, and took Joe’s hand.  He led her up one more level of stairs to the southern clock face and they looked out of it.  The wind was blowing coolly, just as Joe had said, though it wasn’t even half as chilly as the altar room downstairs.  It was a nice night.

Melissa wanted to climb a little higher, and this time Joe obliged her.  This windowsill was much bigger than the one below, and there was enough space for her to stand on the inside.  She stood transfixed by the goings on outside and below, and then by the stars.

Melissa: “I think I’m going to sleep up here.”

Dahlila sighed.

Dahlila: “You knew you were going to sleep up here, you little sneak.”

Melissa smiled and shrugged while Joe laughed.

Dahlila: “Greeeaat!  Now I have to go get my sleeping bag.”

Chapter 21

Zero Tolerance

The morning had come and gone.  Joe was so tired that he had slept through first hour Spanish, second hour history, and most of third hour English.  The English teacher, Mrs. Lane, hadn’t taken a liking to that.  She decided to send Joe to the principal to discuss why he was so sleepy, which Joe hadn’t taken a liking to.

He walked the halls to get to the principal’s office, and bumped into Fleez and Dozz as they were wandering the halls, to no place in particular it seemed.  Today, both wore maroon vests with their “names” on the back under a logo of a skull with a snake slithering through the mouth and hissing from the eye socket.  Above the logo were the words “Badd Azz.”  Both wore headbands: Fleez with a zebra print and Dozz’s brown to match his pants.  Both grinned at Joe as he went to pass them.

Fleez: “What about today, Joe?  It’s an awfully good day to be a Badd Azz, but then again, what day isn’t?”

Joe shook his head and kept walking.  He hoped they wouldn’t trouble him or Mod at lunch, but knew better than to expect it.

Fleez: “See you at lunch, then.”

He smiled when he said that, and Dozz giggled.  Joe could only wonder and fear what they had planned next.

He made it quickly to principal Patrias’ office after deciding not to waste any more time.  He had to sit in the waiting seats while the principal finished a conference with a teacher and a parent.  He had heard yelling, but eventually it was over and a red-faced parent, a bored and annoyed-looking student, and a teary-eyed Ms. Grobino emerged.  The principal had a few words with her and patted her on the shoulder.  She went on her way, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.  The principal noticed Joe and smiled at him like an old friend.  He and Joe were anything but old friends.

Mr. Patrias: “Joe!  Come on in.  We have a lot to talk about, young man.”

The words “a lot” confused Joe.  It was a stretch to say they had even a little to talk about, much less a lot.  He walked into the office all the same and watched as the principal closed the door behind himself.  He looked over to the principal’s desk and the ornate nameplate caught his eye.  It was wrought in pure gold and indented with a tiny golden signature that neatly spelled out “Principal William Patrias.”

The principal’s heels clicked loudly against the floor tiles and led Joe to stare at the man’s shoes.  They were white dress shoes with black heels.  In a way they did match his green suit, but none of it looked quite right.  Joe marveled at the man’s tiny feet and thought they could’ve easily been confused for tic-tacs in those shoes.  Joe remembered comparing his feet with Principal Patrias’ back when they were teacher and student.  Though Patrias’ used to be bigger, it wasn’t by that much, and that was in comparison to a third grader.

Mr. Patrias: “Come, Joe.  Sit sit!  There’s no reason to stand uncomfortably, you’re not in trouble.”

Joe walked to the desk and took his seat across from the principal in silence.  He sat and waited for another prompt from the principal.  He honestly had no clue as to why he was here, especially if he wasn’t in any trouble.

Mr. Patrias: “You know how long I’ve been principal of this school, Joe?”

Joe didn’t remember the precise number of days it had been, but knew Patrias had been principal of Orangetown High since he was in middle school.

Joe: “A couple of years.”

The principal smiled and let out a laugh.

Mr. Patrias: “Yes, quite a few years now, and to think I started all of this off as a teacher — your teacher, even.”

He laughed again and shook his head.  He smiled widely whilst staring right at Joe.

Mr. Patrias: “Yes, it’s been a wild ride for me, but I’m glad for it.”

He adjusted his glasses and stared off to his left in some type of reverie.

Mr. Patrias: “I remember back when you were my student and I assigned you those weekly take-home tests.  You always got C’s, or if you were really lucky, a B every so often.  I thought for the longest time that that was all you were capable of, but I used to think you would pull an A out of your magic hat on one of my big tests—somehow, maybe just to spite me.  The average teacher would assume that you had cheated. Not me, though. I never thought that.  I saw something more in you, as I do with all my students.  Remember what I told you the last time you showed me an A?”

The principal continued to smile.  Joe had forgotten many things since those days, but never the principal’s words.

Joe: “You told me that if I didn’t change all those C’s and B’s to A’s that you’d fail me.”

Patrias’ grin was huge now and he let out an elfish giggle.

Mr. Patrias: “I saw your potential and challenged you to see if you’d meet it.  You remember how that ended?”

How could I forget? Joe thought.

Joe: “You failed me, even though I should’ve passed.  I did all of my work and only got one D and never any F’s.”

Mr. Patrias: “Everything you say is true.  You opened my eyes so many years ago, Joe.  Those A’s you got showed me that you were capable of much more than your usual average grades.  It changed my whole outlook.  Kids need to be challenged to unlock their greatness, and kids that achieve lower than expected can be given the necessary help to improve.  However, students that toe the line and play it safe with grades that are just good enough to get by are the bad seeds of the bunch.”

He extended his hand to Joe.  Joe looked at it quizzically

Joe: “What for?”

Mr. Patrias: “I must thank you for teaching me such a valuable lesson early on.  That lesson has fueled my life.  It has helped me improve the testing grades for all the classes that I taught since then, and the school’s overall scores of achievement as well.  We are as good as we are partially thanks to you.”

Joe shook the principal’s hand uneasily.  A few moments passed in silence.  During the silence the principal’s smile had faded.  He snapped his fingers loudly and suddenly Joe was wide-awake and alert.  The principal looked oddly confused at first, and then suddenly disappointed.

Mr. Patrias: “This school is what it is thanks to my hard work.  I only want to improve our test scores even more, and make Orangetown High even better than it is right now.  To that end, Joe, you’re in my way and I can’t tolerate that.”

Joe squirmed in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

Joe: “I’m trying my best, Mr. Patrias.”

Mr Patrias: “Yes, and it’s simply not good enough.  I need huge improvements from you, Joe.  Since you’ve done so much for me and for this school, I felt it would be fair for you to be the first to learn about Operation Zero Tolerance: zero tolerance for horseplay, zero tolerance for academic distraction, and zero tolerance for those who don’t need to be here, those who aren’t striving for greatness.  In a word: you.”

Joe didn’t know what to say, only that what was going on wasn’t right.

Joe: “That’s not fair!”

Mr. Patrias: “And what is fair, Joe?  Hmm?  Is it fair that a student with no talent or dedication to anything is the talk of the town and country, while other, far more intelligent, athletic, and talented kids are overlooked and go unnoticed?  The world has a bad way of rewarding those who aren’t worthy.  That just won’t fly while I’m principal.  I won’t allow you to continue to tarnish the Orangetown name.”

Joe suddenly rose from his seat and looked the principal dead in his face.

Joe: “I’ll just have to get better grades, then.”

Patrias smiled smugly.

Mr. Patrias: “If that’s possible, then do it.  Either way it’s a win-win situation for me.  You keep up with more of the same and you’re out of here.  If you get better grades, then our overall scores improve.  Choose wisely.  You’re excused now.”

Joe walked to the door and twisted the handle.  Before he could leave, Patrias called out to him.

Patrias: “And Joe … if I catch you sleeping in class again, you’re suspended.”

Wonderful.

Chapter 22

The Dating Game

Joe’s meeting with Principal Patrias had gone much worse than expected.  He was now the principal’s target, and the principal wanted him gone.  One good thing was accomplished because of the meeting though.  It had taken up so much time that Joe’s English class had ended and it was now time for lunch, or rather Fleez and Dozz happy hour.  He didn’t think he could stomach whatever cruel game they had planned for today.  He wanted to skip lunch altogether, but he was hungry, and if he was going to stay awake in class he’d need a lot more energy.  Most of all, he needed to be there for Mod.

Once he grabbed his lunch and strolled to his usual seat, he saw no sign of Mod.  That’s mighty smart of him, thought Joe.  No sign of Fleez and Dozz either, and that lifted the weight from the pit of Joe’s stomach.  He was able to eat half his lunch of ravioli and steamed buttery broccoli, which wasn’t half as bad as it looked.

Fleez and Dozz walked in theatrically about twenty minutes later.  They looked sad and sullen, but in an overacted sort of way.  They joined Joe near his mostly empty table and gave him more of their sad and piteous looks.  Joe tried, but failed to ignore them.  Mod isn’t here, so what will they do? he wondered.  There were a few other kids to pick on at the table, but Joe couldn’t really call them his friends.  Maybe Fleez and Dozz would actually direct their wrath towards him.  Joe would welcome it, since he was the one deserving of it anyway.  Maybe I should just join their stupid club, he thought.

Fleez: “Excuse me, all, if I could get your attention!  Womenfolk and gentler men, all eyes over here!”

It was another performance and it made Joe uneasy.

Fleez: “Well, it seems that even though we put on a great show yesterday, our red-headed guest wants no part in the joy that we bring to the masses, to our loving fans and subjects.  We have been searching for him since this lunch hour—which is also his lunch hour—began.”

Again, they poured on the fake sadness.

Dozz: “Unfortunately, the show for today is cancelled…”

Boos echoed throughout the lunchroom.

Fleez: “Is what Dozz would’ve said if I didn’t have our loyal minion, Byron rox-yer-sox, marching Mod to this very lunchroom.”

Cheers rang out louder than the boos this time.  Mr. Serano was nowhere in sight to even keep the noise level in check.  Fleez smiled like a madman and took a bow.  He rose and took another one on his other side.

Mod was brought in and didn’t seem to be offering any resistance to his captor, the humanoid gorilla, Byron.  Byron was roughly the size of three Mods put together, not in height, but in stone weight.  He was taller than Mod, but one really couldn’t say he had anything but average height.  His arms, legs, head, and belly were all wide.  He had a head full of dark brown hair that had likely not come into contact with a comb in some time.  His black eyes were small and beady, but looked even smaller hidden behind the excess of his fleshy cheeks and brow.  He escorted Mod to where Fleez and Dozz were standing.  Once they arrived, the kids cheered louder.

Fleez: “Now that the gang’s here, how about a bit of history, kids?  We can actually thank good old Joe for all this fun.  These great lunchroom games are a direct cause of him deciding not to join team Badd Azz.  Let’s have a big round of applause for Joe.  I think he likes this more than all of us.”

The kids of the lunchroom applauded and Fleez savored the moment.  He grinned and motioned for Byron to bring Mod over.

Fleez: “Hiya, Modrick!  Sorry for your loss.”

Mod: “What loss?”

Fleez: “The loss of your dignity yesterday.  That must’ve stung the ol’ ego, aye?  It got a little out of hand, I’ll admit, and the mess we caused was catastrophic.  How long did it take you to clean all that pukeball crud up?”

Joe noticed that Mod looked like he was suppressing a grin.  Fleez noticed as well, and seemed surprised by it.

Mod: “Not long.  As you can see I’m looking and smelling very clean today.”

Fleez: “That’s good.  Yesterday Dozz and I were just having a bit of fun.  Today is serious business though.  You see, Modrick, we want to help you.”

Mod's near grin was replaced by shock and confusion.  Something about the way Fleez said that made Mod uneasy.  Fleez turned his attention from Mod to the crowd.

Fleez: “We’re here today to help this poor soul find happiness.”

Neither Mod nor Joe knew what the heck to expect next.

Fleez: “So, Mod, let’s take a little time to get to know you.  Sure, we bonded a bunch yesterday, but we still need to learn the particulars.  Now, I’ve been told that your parents are from a land called Limeyville, where they have Lobsterbacks”

Mod: “Yeah, but I was born in the States”

Fleez: “Tsk tsk tsk, Modrick.  Mind your manners now.  You should never interrupt a man when he’s talking.  Haven’t your Limey parents taught you that?  Now, you’ve been in Orangetown a while, but no one knows who you are.  That’s pretty sad, pal.”

The crowd reacted with an audible round of “Awww,” as if they were the audience in some nineties’ sitcom.  That stung at Mod a bit, Joe could tell.

Fleez: “That’s okay, though.  That’s why Dozz and I are here — oh, and Byron too — sorry Byron!  We’re gonna hook you up, man.  Big time.  Aint that right, boys?”

Dozz and Byron nodded their heads.  Both were smirking and clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Fleez: “Now, Dozz, would you care to explain the rules of our hook-up challenge?”

Dozz: “Certainly, Fleez.  You see there’s a science and an art to hooking up.  The theory is that men and women attract studs and studesses that are as hot and rich as themselves.  We call this a person’s ‘league.’”

He used air quotes every time he said the word “league.”

Dozz: “Whenever you fellas see a girl too hot for you and you walk away: that’s you recognizing that she’s out of your ‘league’ and you walk away to protect yourself from soul-crushing rejection.  So, with that in mind, we’ve compiled a list of Mod’s traits and have calculated which girls are in his ‘league.’  I’m happy to say that we’ve found a match.”

Fleez: “Yes, indeed we have, folks, but we can’t have our bachelor seeing her before he gets to know her.  We here at Badd Azz Hook-ups pride ourselves on helping others find deeper connections that go beyond physical attraction.  And so ... we will blindfold our bachelor as he and our bachelorette get to know one another.  So bachelorette number one, MBH, please come on down.”

As she rose from her seat, Joe recognized MBH as Meribeth Hilday.  She was a freshman like Mod, but Joe knew her from middle school and elementary school.  She used to be very spirited and rambunctious and full of jokes, but had mellowed over the years into the quiet and timid girl that she was now.  As she walked over to team Badd Azz, she was visibly nervous.  They pulled chairs for both of them and sat her back-to-back with Mod.  She looked at Fleez sheepishly, and waited for whatever he had planned for her.  Fleez himself flashed her a big grin and winked at her.  The crowd laughed when she sat down, and that seemed to make her more self-conscious.

She wasn’t what you’d call a small girl, but Joe thought it was wrong to call her fat, not morally wrong but logically wrong.  She was reasonably tall, just under Kate, but had a much thicker waistline, thicker arms and legs, along with wider hips.  She had a squat sort of shape to her, which made her look much bigger than what she was, along with a humongous set of breasts and a big round butt.  Her sandy blonde hair was always tied into a knot or a ponytail, she had a large hooked nose on her face, and her eyes had a dark brown look to them.  Though she wasn’t the standard type of “beautiful girl” that the region was known for, Joe still found her to be attractive.  The only major turn-off that he could find was the outbreak of acne that pocked her face with a multitude of tiny red dots.  She was cute elsewise.

Joe was confused as to why she was humoring these two.  Is it something as simple as fear, he wondered.

Fleez: “Now we shall help the love birds get to know one another.  Mod’s gonna be in for a HUGE surprise.”

The crowd laughed at that, and Meribeth flushed red.

Fleez: “Now, Dozz, take it away with the introductions.”

Dozz: “Will do, Fleez!  First we have our very lovely bachelorette here who loves moonlit walks to KFC and Dairy Queen, except without the walking.  Her favorite place to shop is the dollar menu, and not because she likes to save money — no, it’s because she lives by the motto: “Quantity over quality.”  Her favorite physical activity is something exotic called no-nay.  Whoops, sorry!  I believe I have mispronounced that, her favorite physical activity is actually “none.” Yes, none, folks.  Dislikes for her include cooking — because there’s a wait involved — and not being loved.  Her favorite date spot is the drive-in, which is pretty romantic — whoops again!  I misread that.  It looks like her favorite date spot is actually the drive thru.  It doesn’t specify which one, so I assume that means any and possibly all drive thrus.  What a catch!  She doesn’t discriminate and is easy to please.  On Saturday nights she likes to splash around wearing the bikini that she bought for that special day when she’d make some friends and they could all hang out by the pool.  Hey, we all have our dreams. Stop laughing!  She also spends most of Saturday pretending to play slurpy-face with rad boys, especially ones with rad red hair.  What a catch, aye guys?”

Hoots, laughs, and whistles came from the crowd, along with a bit of foot stamping and there was still no sign of Mr. Serano or even Mr. Zero Tolerance Patrias.  The faculty picked the wrong time to decide not to do their jobs.  Joe had seen enough.  He walked up to Fleez and asked him to end it.

Fleez: “It’s out of my hands, Joe-bro.  This is Dozz’s show now.”

Dozz was too busy reveling in this spectacle to notice Joe.

Dozz: “Now for the man of the hour.  The down-on-his-luck bachelor, Modicum Malington.”

Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Joe could swear that he saw the beginnings of a smile cross Mod’s face.  Joe himself was feeling embarrassed, and he wasn’t the one being humiliated.  How could Mod even slightly enjoy this?

Dozz: “Now Modicum’s likes include pretending to be Ronald Weasley, wishing he was Fleez and Dozz and sometimes Byron, girls he can’t have, and an unreachable popularity status.  His dislikes include himself, life, not feasting on souls, you, his haircut, his evil soulless ginger body, and having friends that won’t join team Badd Azz.  His favorite date spot is his mom and dad’s room cuz that’s where all the magic happens.  On his Saturday nights, he likes to make out with his elbows, which is a talent really.  You ever try that?  It’s very difficult to do.  He also builds Taylor Swift idols with his Lego collection, prays for popularity, and watches whole seasons of Glee that he’s personally recorded and sings to.  What insane girl here doesn’t want to friend-zone that?”

A roar of laughter went up from around the lunchroom.  That was it, Joe had to get him out of there.  He left Fleez where he stood laughing and walked towards Mod’s chair.  He looked to his right and saw Kate stomping towards the scene just like yesterday, except this time much angrier.  She looked at Joe with murder in her eyes, shook her head, and grabbed her brother by the arm, pulling him from the chair and removing his blindfold.

Kate: “What are you doing?  Get up!”

Dozz: “Hey, chicky!  We were in the middle of a hook-up here.”

Kate: “You two can do that just fine without my brother.  Let’s go, Mod!”

She pulled and he followed.  Joe ran after them this time.  Boos reverberated around the lunchroom as they dashed towards the exit.

Fleez: “It looks like big sister red didn’t approve of you, Meribeth, and if she doesn’t approve then we don’t approve.  Sorry, Meribeth, but it looks like you’ve been dumped before you even got to go on a date.  Harsh.”

“Awwww,” offered the crowd.

Fleez: “Now that was…”

Fleez and Dozz: “Off the hook!”

Joe looked back just in time to see Meribeth Hilday break down into tears.

Chapter 23

Making Things Right

Kate was walking down the hallway way too fast.  Joe could hardly keep up.

Joe: “Kate, wait!”

Kate: “I don’t have a reason to.”

Those were the first words exchanged by them since the stadium and that made Joe sad.  Mod looked trapped and bewildered as Kate pulled him along.

Joe: “Come on, Kate!  Slow down!”

Kate: “Go away!”

Joe could hear the hurt in her voice.  She was trying to be tough, but her voice had betrayed her and told that she was close to tears.  Mod looked from her to Joe, then shrugged Kate off of his arm.

Mod: “Stop, sis.  Wait for him.”

Both redheads stopped in their tracks.  Green eyes stared into blue ones.  Kate looked shocked.  She then looked like she wanted to slap him.  Joe finally managed to catch up to Kate and Mod.

Joe: “Kate, I’m sorry.  I just—”

Kate: “Yeah, you’re sorry alright.  I had to leave my class again to stick up for my brother when he had a perfectly good friend standing next to him doing nothing.”

Joe: “I didn’t know what to do.  I asked Fleez to stop, but he couldn’t control Dozz.”

Kate: “You’re an idiot.  A completely dense, dim-witted, brainless, dolt-headed, idiotic ignoramus.  My brother deserves a better friend than you.”

Mod: “Kate, that’s not fair.  This isn’t about me and you know it.  You two need to deal with your issues and stop using me as a shield.  I’m going to class now.”

Mod walked away down the hall, leaving silence between Kate and Joe.  Once they were done looking after him, Joe glanced at Kate and they connected eyes for a second.  It must’ve been a second too long for Kate.  She started to run after her brother.

Joe: “Kate!  Please!”

She stopped.

Joe: “Mod’s right.  We need to talk.”

Kate’s back was to Joe, and because of that he had to strain to hear her words.

Kate: “It’s too late for that.”

Joe walked up to Kate and put a hand on her shoulder.  She shrugged him off and pushed him away.  Joe’s face was struck with confusion.

Kate: “You missed your chance.  You had all this time to talk to me, but you chose not to.”

Joe: “I’m sorry, Kate.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  One million and one times I’m sorry.”

Kate: “Shut up.”

Joe: “I am a worthless human being that deserves no pity.  I should’ve called you, I should’ve written you, I should’ve visited you—”

Kate: “But you didn’t, even after you came back.”

Joe was silent.  Kate went silent.

Joe: “I would have if I could have, you know that.  You and Mod are my two favorite people on this planet, and that includes my parents and grandparents, sorry to say.”

Kate: “Really?  Well then why aren’t you treating us like it?  Even when you came back you didn’t waste any breath on us.”

Joe: “I’m sorry, it just took a while to adjust to being back.”

That was true, Joe decided.  He hadn’t known why he’d avoided the world for so long until he had just said it.  Once Beauty turned over a copy of the stadium tape to the cops, it had only taken a few days for Joe to be set free and cleared to return home.  He had cooped himself up in his house with his parents to avoid danger and the media.  After that, he continued to tell his parents that he wasn’t ready for school until the second week had passed and he had finally relented to going back because he thought he’d die from boredom.  That whole time he hadn’t contacted either Kate or Mod.  He had only talked to his grandparents because they had called him.

Kate shook her head.

Kate: “For two weeks?  That’s insane, Joe, and you know it.”

It was really selfish, he had to admit, but he didn’t know any other ways to deal with the situation.

Kate: “You know what I was doing for two weeks?”

Joe: “Crying.”

She looked like she wanted to slap him at that moment.

Kate: “Yes, you big jerk.  That’s all I’ve been doing.  That, and waiting for you to call me.”

Her face was red with heat, and tears welled up and fell left then right from her bright blue eyes.

Joe: “I know, I … Kate, I’m sorry.”

Kate: “You’ve already said that.  Is that all you can say?”

She sniffled quietly to herself.

Kate: “You still haven’t told us what happened to you in the stadium.”

Joe: “If I haven’t told you and Mod what happened yet, then you should know it’s for a good reason.  You two are my closest friends.”

Kate: “That doesn’t make sense.”

Joe: “It does.  Trust me.  If anything happened to you I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Kate: “What?”

Joe: “I can’t tell you anything about the stadium.  It’s honestly to keep you safe.

Kate: “Fine.  I gotta go.  I have … class.”

Joe looked into Kate’s eyes, she looked back at his, then she turned and started walking down the hall.

Joe: “Kate!  I heard you on the radio.  You were crying, I could tell.  You were hurting, I know.  I wish I could take it back.”

She turned towards him again.

Joe: “Kate I’m sor— you don’t deserve to be hurt like this.  You deserve much better.  I don’t want to see you cry anymore.”

Kate: “I’m late, Joe.  I need to go.”

She walked off down the hall.  When she was comfortably out of Joe’s hearing range, she whispered so low so that only she could hear.

Kate: “Lunkhead.”

Chapter 24

The Plot Thickens

The sun was still out by the time Joe made it home.  Leaving school, he was free of all the excess drama that had come from his attendance.  He had expected to find a lot more peace of mind at school than he was getting.  Not much, but some.  Between Fleez and Dozz’s antics, Principal Patrias’ threats, Kate’s emotions, and his needy teachers, school had become a hundred times more stressful.  His home was the only place he could find any sort of respite.

Today, his house was once again empty, and he checked all the rooms this time just to make sure.  Today his room door was open and there was no sign of any of his new friends.  That actually disappointed him a little.  He settled down on his bed and threw his books and folders on the floor and lay down.  He had no desire to do homework, but he remembered the principal’s warning.  He compromised with himself and decided to go to class early tomorrow to do it all before first bell.

He was tired from all of the day’s heightened emotions and started to drift to sleep.  The cell phone Borland had given him woke him out of his near slumber, vibrating lightly against the side of his left thigh.  Joe reached for the phone and answered it.

Joe: “Hello?”

A low grumble faintly reached Joe’s ear.  He recognized it as Borland.

Borland: “Tonight. Nine.  Get there early.  Be alone.  Toy Store.”

There was only one toy store in town, so Joe knew which one Borland wanted to meet at.

Joe: “Okay.”

Click.  Joe pocketed the phone and rested his head.  Slowly, and without realizing it, he drifted off into a quiet and peaceful sleep.

He awoke frightened and sweaty.  His heart was pumping like mad. Dream or nightmare, whichever it might have been, he only had the feelings of it to rely on, and a brief flash of images to remember it by.  He remembered seeing Kate and Mod covered in red … red something.  Their faces and clothes were drenched in it, painted with it.  There was fire too, lots and lots of heat and fire.  None of that was what woke him.  No, the last thing he had seen was a pair of eyes, silver and blue.  They wanted Joe dead.  He could tell that much.

He sat up and checked his clock. It was already 8:47pm.  He had overslept by twenty-seven minutes longer than he’d wanted.  Why didn’t I just set my alarm, he lamented.

He threw on his shoes, a thin hoodie, grabbed his keys, then headed out.  He bumped into his parents on the way out, but was in too much of a hurry to hear what they were saying to him.  He told them he’d be back and rushed off to his car.

He made it to the toy store parking lot with no time to spare.  A slim and ripped youth sat on a motorbike, clad in leather pants, a white tank-top, and fingerless black leather gloves.  He wore a vest over his tank-top and sported a pink mohawk.  He looked like a member of Fleez and Dozz’s Team Badd Azz. He regarded Joe through large orange-tinted sunglasses.

Mohawked Youth: “Get ovah here, ya git’!  We don’ have time ta wa-easte!”

He spoke with a strong English accent as he pointed towards his bike.

Mohawked Youth: “Put on ye helmet an’ don’ toss it away this toime.  We need ta hide ya.”

This time?  That could only mean that this punk from 1984 was Beauty.

Joe: “You’re looking very rock and roll tonight.  The mohawk brings out the color in your eyes.”

Joe laughed, and even the punk couldn’t hide his grin.

Mohawked Youth: “Don’t worry your pret-ey lit-el ‘ead ‘bout that one.  Neh-ow let’s ‘urry it up!”

Joe put on his helmet and climbed up on the bike behind the kid.  They drove off into the night on Beauty's now-pink bike, going probably three times the legal speed limit.  Beauty drove a few towns over and they arrived at a park.  Joe could hardly see his own two feet as they walked through the grass.  Beauty led the way.  She was just a shadow in front of Joe, and at some point had become a girl again.  Joe couldn’t tell when she’d transformed, but could tell that she was in her normal form.

They walked past the playground and to the baseball diamond.  Then passed that up for the bleachers.  That’s where they found Borland, in a gray suit to match his hair.  He was sitting on the stands, apparently waiting.

Borland: “Took you two long enough.”

Beauty: “This one looks to have overslept.”

Joe: “Sorry.”

Borland: “It makes no nevermind.  Were either of you watched?”

Beauty: “We wouldn’t be here if we were, but Joe might’ve had a tail before we met up.”

Joe: “No way!”

Borland ignored Joe.

Borland: “Are you sure, Liandra?”

What did Borland just call her?  Liandra?  Who was that?

Beauty: “I’m not certain.  If there was a tail, they left as soon as they saw me.”

Joe: “Your name’s Liandra?  How come you never told me?”

Beauty: “You never properly asked.  Besides, I like Beauty a lot better anyways.  I think it fits perfectly.”

Joe: “It’d be rude to call you anything other than your name … Liandra.”

She smiled at that, which caused Joe to blush.

Borland: “It’s okay, as long as they didn’t make it here, but we’ll have to take note of them soon.  Now come up here.”

Joe walked behind Beauty, a.k.a. Liandra, up the steps of the bleachers to Borland, who was near the middle.  Once they were settled, Borland spoke up.

Borland: “I must first thank you, Joe, and commend you for your bravery in deciding to stay and help us.”

Joe: “No problem, Mr. Borland.  My mom and pop always taught me to do the right thing.”

Borland: “They raised you well.  Your help will take us a long way, but to a certain extent puts you in a little danger.  I’ll do my best to protect you—”

Liandra: “As will I.”

Joe: “Thank you both.  But if I’m in danger, what about my family and friends?”

Liandra: “No harm should befoul any of them, but I’ll be around should someone try.”

Joe: “I’m not quite sure what befoul means, but thank you.”

Borland: “That’s all well and good.  Now I must ask you both an important question.  Have either of you seen or had contact with my girls, Melissa and Dahlila?  Dahlila hasn’t contacted me and I’m starting to fear that they’ve been … recaptured.  There aren’t too many places they could’ve gone.  Alone, they don’t have much of a chance.”

Liandra spoke up first and fast.

Liandra: “I haven’t come across your girls.  Once they’re safe and sound, I’ll let you know.”

Borland: “How about you, Joe?  Have you seen either of them?”

Joe was hesitant, but luckily Beauty—er—Liandra seemed to sense that.

Liandra: “He hasn’t either.  He told me earlier.”

Liandra and Joe exchanged looks and Joe followed her lead.

Borland: “Is that true, Joe?”

Joe: “Yes sir, yes it is.”

Liandra: “He tells it true, Borland.  I’d know if he was lying.”

Borland looked resigned.  He looked like the old man he was for the first time.

Borland: “It can’t be helped, I suppose.  I just wish that my old badge could do something, like helping find these girls.”

Joe: “It’s okay, sir.  Together, both of them can make it for as long as they need to.  Both are smart and much craftier than most people, from what I’ve seen.”

Borland couldn’t help but grin at that.

Borland: “You’re a smart boy.  I taught Dahlila how to fight, and she’s a natural survivor, and that Melissa girl ain’t no slouch either.  To survive what that girl has survived, a person has to have incredible willpower.”

Joe: “Yeah, they’ll be okay.”

Borland: “I pray you’re right.”

There was silence.

Liandra: “Now, as for the real reason for this secret gathering.  You might want to get comfortable, gentlemen.  I had a handful of reasons for being in the stadium the day of the explosion. For one, I made it.”

Joe and Borland: “What!”

Liandra: “What?  There were no fatalities from the bomb.  The only casualties were caused by the men in black suits.  I didn't know they would be so desperate to use guns in a public stadium.”

Borland fumed and brooded quietly as Liandra told the rest of her tale.  Joe’s mouth was stuck wide open.

Liandra: “Now, as for the why …  I was there to find out the dirty dealings of Stevinn Blonsky and his circle, and to get your girl Dahlila out.”

Joe: “But there was another guy there besides Blonsky; he seemed scarier.”

Borland: “Yeah, the gray-haired man you told me about.  You said he was calling the shots up above on the field.  Liandra, what do you make of that?”

She looked disinterested.

Liandra: “Probably some no-name stadium pencil pusher.”

Borland seemed to be studying her the whole time she talked.

Borland: “You’re a terrible liar.  Who is this guy?”

Joe interrupted.

Joe: “Grabas is what Melissa called him.  She said she’s definitely a bad guy too.”

Borland: “When did she say that?”

Joe cursed his idiotic mouth.

Joe: “When we came up on the field.”

Borland: “So who is he, Liandra?”

Liandra: “I’m getting there, don’t rush me now.  As I was saying, I had met the blonde girl, Dahlila, after I had crossed paths with the both of you, Borland.  You never told me what you two were doing there.”

Borland: “And I don’t plan on it.”

Liandra: “Come on, I’m spilling my guts to you here!  Besides, you owe me.  I saved your girl.”

Borland: “I don’t owe you anything but I am grateful and my reasons for being there aren’t exactly top secret.  Even Blonsky knows it by now.  We were there investigating Blonsky.  He’s been transporting a lot of heavy stuff around this city and we wanted to know what.”

Liandra: “Stuff like people right?  And some weird chemicals.”

Borland: “Yeah, how did you know?”

Liandra: “We’ve probably been pursuing the same beat.”

Borland looked at her icily and rubbed his chin.

Liandra: “What’s going on with that Melissa girl?  Why was she there?”

Borland: “I don’t know.  We got a tip that she would be a part of one of the shipments going to the stadium.  It was hard to believe that anybody would try to ship people illegally into a public stadium like that.  It was my first time hearing that a kid was involved in this savagery so we pursued Blonsky extra hard.  Nothing turned up from all that so I started to doubt the tip.”

Liandra: “Then your girl disappeared?”

Borland: “Yeah.  What happened to her?”

Liandra: “She infiltrated the stadium one night, the same as I.  We were both dressed as security and both there to see what was going on.  After going down the elevator, none would come up to any of the upper floors, and that’s when we knew there was more to the stadium than what was on the surface.  Part of the cargo was people both old and young.  We saw them being herded into the elevator.  They kept them in shipping trucks until inside.  I had to stop Dahlila from pouncing down on the guards when one group was marched in.  I think she might’ve seen the girl you were looking for.  I convinced her that nothing would be gained from going any further that night, and so we both left.  I was glad that my mission was still intact until I saw her go in the next night—”

Borland: “Without my permission.”

Liandra: “When I didn’t see her come out I knew my plans would be jeopardized.”

Borland scoffed loudly.

Liandra: “And I was right.  After that, they doubled the security detail and changed their operations.  Nothing else was coming in, but I noticed that they hadn’t taken anything out yet, and so figured I still had a chance to find what I was looking for, and if possible I could rescue that girl.”

Borland: “What exactly were you looking for?  I want the truth.”

Liandra: “Whatever Blonsky and his associates had buried down there.  I didn’t know what.  I still don’t fully know what the purpose of that area is, but after rescuing Dahlila I learned a few of its secrets, mainly that it’s an excavation site.”

Borland: “And what are they excavating?”

Liandra: “Don’t know, but if they want it then I want it.”

Borland: “You sound like a thief.”

She spread her arms along the bench she sat on and leaned back against the row behind her.

Liandra: “I’m not.”

Borland leaned in towards her.

Borland: “Whatever they’re hiding, you can bet that I'll find it and expose it.  If you're a part of any of that, then you'll be exposed too.”

Liandra: “I'd be disappointed otherwise.”

Borland: “Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint.  For now I’m stuck wading through the dark.”

Liandra: “Me too, but once I know what they’re after I’m sure I’ll find what I’m after.  They're definitely linked.  I can feel it in my gut.”

Borland: “Sounds like you’re grasping at straws.”

Liandra: “Yes I am, and I’m not pigheaded enough to deny it either.  But my straw grasping has helped me to some degree.”

Borland: “I’d like to hear how.”

Liandra: “I learned that the governor’s life is in danger.”

Joe and Borland: “What!?”

She giggled at their surprised expressions.

Liandra: “Indeed!  I stumbled across this plan partly in the depths of the stadium, partly on my own, and the rest with Joe at Pierogi’s Place.  I’ve been gathering more and more details about the operation since then, and now I think I have enough to stop it.”

Borland: “If you’re trying to save the governor, why not call the police?  They live for stuff like this.”

Liandra: “It’s a bad idea no matter how you look at it.  The Orangetown Police Department were crippled weeks ago when they were invaded.”

Joe remembered.  That’s when they tried to kill him.  There were cops on both sides of that firefight.

Liandra: “They’ll only be at half strength if they’re lucky.  From the few skirmishes that I’ve had with these men in black suits, I can tell that they have more muscle than the cops at this point.”

Borland: “Who does this muscle belong to?”

Liandra: “No telling.  Each of our marks seems to have a sizeable cadre of men with guns.  If it came to it, I’m sure the cops would be outmanned and outgunned.  Beyond all that, I won’t risk my neck on cops that may be bought and paid for.  They present more of a risk than the suits.”

It all sounded so hopeless to Joe.

Joe: “We’re the only ones that can do it, aren’t we?”

Liandra smiled.

Liandra: “Sounds like you already know the answer and have volunteered to help.”

Joe thought about that for a minute.

Joe: “I guess so.”

Borland: “That’s very brave, kid.  Well, no use standing here stupefied.  We need a plan.”

Liandra: “The governor is giving a speech in a few days.  The bad guys will try to kill him at that point, I think.  We can use the time until the speech to get everything together.”

Joe: “What can I do to help?”

Liandra: “Don’t worry, Borland and I will be doing the heavy lifting.  I want to keep your exposure level to a minimum.  The more you’re exposed, the more danger you’re in.  That being said, we still need another pair of eyes to help us keep tabs on the crowd.  You’ll be our extra pair of eyes.”

Joe: “We can’t get anyone else to help?”

Liandra: “No, Joe, you’re it.  I typically work alone and I’d be surprised if Mr. Grumpy Gus over there has any friends to help.”

Borland sneered.

Borland: “It’s best to keep the group as small as possible.  We don’t need any of your friends trying to help.  They’ll just get in the way.  We three’ll be enough.  The governor’s guards’ll keep him safe for the most part.  We just have to identify the threat and let it be known.  The guards and cops’ll do the rest.”

Liandra: “Mmmmm, I’m not so sure.  I think you’re putting too much faith into all these uniforms.  Like I said before, we don’t know who’s bought.  One of the guards could be the one that pulls the trigger.”

Borland: “I thought of that.  Our threat will come from the crowd, that I’m sure.  Once you come up with this plan, let me know so I can make the necessary changes so that it actually works.  Meeting adjourned?”

Liandra: “Meeting adjourned.”

Liandra had regarded Borland coolly, but her voice held a note of derision.

Borland: “Come with me, kid, I’ll drop you off.”

Joe: “Um … I rode up here with Beauty—I mean Liandra.”

It was hard to keep track.  She had been Beauty, Dahlila, Borland, a super hero, a punk with a spiky pink Mohawk.  Now she was Liandra and Joe needed to remember that.

Borland: “It’s okay, I’m taking you back.  Now hurry up, let’s go!”

The note in Borland’s voice and the stern expression on his face made Joe understand that he wasn’t making a request.  His eyebrows were so thick and furrowed that they nearly obscured his eyes.  The man got up and Joe posed no argument. Neither did Liandra; she merely shrugged, then contemplated the stars in the sky when Joe looked at her.

Joe: “Okay.”

Joe lagged behind as he walked after Borland through the darkness of the park.  He stumbled a few times over uneven ground as he tried to catch up to the old man.  Borland’s car was parked just a little ways from Liandra’s bike.  It was a somewhat modern black BMW.  Probably a model from between ’99 and ’01, Joe noted.  It was darker than the night.  Borland unlocked his door with his key and popped Joe’s door open with the unlock switch.

They got in the car and Joe asked Borland for the year the car was made.  Borland confirmed that it was a ’99, and after that they rode in silence for roughly half the trip.  With no music playing, Joe was starting to get antsy and uncomfortable.  Joe thought of about five conversation starters, but to initiate conversation with Borland seemed kind of futile.  He would try anyway, he resolved.  Just as he readied to ask another question about his car, he was cut off.

Borland: “Let me give you some real good advice, kid: Don’t trust that woman.  I don’t know what she is or who she is, but everything about her rings false.”

Joe: “That’s not true!”

Joe’s mouth had outpaced his brain by a large margin.  Before he had time to think, he continued.

Joe: “Ever since I’ve known her, she’s done nothing but look out for me.  She even went out of her way to help Dahlila.”

Borland: “That’s because she wants something.  She’s using you and me for her own ends.”

Joe: “No she isn’t!”

Joe wasn’t sure why he was yelling or why he was so vigorously defending Liandra.  After all, he hadn’t known her for that long, and heck, he had just learned her real name only minutes ago, if that was her real name.  Borland had a point.

Borland: “I don’t know what you call it, but it’s clear we’re being manipulated by this woman, or whatever she is.  She knows more than she’s letting on, and holding back useful information.  It even seems like she’s protecting one of the bad guys with her omissions.  I’ve never witnessed sorcery before in my life, but even I know you can’t trust someone that can change their face.  I’m warning you, kid, be careful around her.  Got it?”

Joe looked at Borland and nodded his head solemnly.

Joe: “Yeah I got it.”

He didn’t want to think of her like that.  He liked to think of her as a friend, a protector, a hero.  After all, it wasn’t her fault that he’d volunteered to help.  He had done that himself, and after she had warned him against it.  Why would she turn down free help, why would anyone? he thought.  He was the fool, but regardless of all that, Borland’s words rang with truth, and that ringing threatened to drown out Joe’s own feelings.

Once they finally reached the toy store, Joe went to open the car door, but Borland clicked the lock button and barred his exit.  He looked at Joe with concern in his eyes.  Joe was plainly puzzled.

Borland: “Remember what I said and keep that phone charged.  We’ll be calling you soon.  Be ready.”

Joe: “Okay, I will.”

Borland: “And remember this: I’ll be watching you.”

That wasn’t good.

Click.

And he was free.

Chapter 25

Scarlet Comeuppance

Today Joe made sure to be ready and alert.  He asked his mom to make him a big breakfast, but instead she deflected those duties to his father.  Joe wasn’t even an average cook, he was quite terrible, but his father was masterful in the kitchen.  He whipped up a fried spicy Italian sausage, along with a small portion of bacon and scrambled eggs with reduced yolk, as he had conserved the bulk of that inside the shell.  They both sat and ate their food.  Joe told him about the conversation with the principal and his dad was outraged.  He calmed his father down and assured him that he would take care of everything and his father smiled.

Mr. Black: “You know, I’m proud of you.  It takes a lot of moxy to stand up to someone in power like that, especially on your own two feet.  I’ll be there if this doesn’t work out.  Somebody needs to put that principal in his place.”

Joe was glad that his dad was on his side, but it was no surprise.  His dad was always in his corner cheering him on, even when he failed or came up just a little short.  Joe was glad to finally give him something to really be proud of.  He needed to ace his classes, and he was preparing to do just that.

Joe: “Thanks, Dad.  What else can I eat to keep me focused and awake in class?”

Mr. Black: “We always have bananas and coffee here, so take advantage of those.  Just don’t overdo it on the coffee.”

Joe nodded his head and offered his dad a “thank you.”  His dad collected their plates when they were done and loaded the dishwasher.  He showed Joe how to set up and start the coffee machine, then left him for the refuge of his bed.  Joe started the coffee machine and waited for the brew.  After a few minutes, it was done and Joe grabbed himself a tiny cup and added a portion of sugar and creamer to it.  He tasted it and nearly burnt his tongue off.  He wasn’t sure if he could taste it through the burning, but it left a weird aftertaste in his mouth.

He didn’t have much time, so he put the brew in the freezer while he retrieved his schoolbooks and folders from his room.  He tried the brew again when it was comfortably warm and decided he didn’t like the bitter taste, so he opted to add more sugar to it.  After pouring about a tenth of the restaurant style sugar shaker into his cup, he drained it and found himself wide awake a few minutes after that.  He grabbed himself a banana and hastily moved to his car.

He made it to school early, though with very little time to spare.  He had a lot of homework that he had skipped out on the night before.  Homework for Spanish at first hour, history at second hour, he had to read chapters of Clockwork Orange for third hour English, and had to have a rough draft of his speech on American civil liberties ready for his seventh hour speech class.  Thank goodness his pre-calc teacher hadn’t felt the need to assign him anything, but with only an hour and a half to do all this work he was in a tight position.

There was never really any homework for weight training because it was well … weight training.  Spanish, history, and English were first priorities, since they were coming up.  Though he wasn’t that fast of a reader, he could even possibly skim through those chapters in class before the bell rang.  If he had to, he’d save the work for the later classes and do them in his early classes and hopefully at lunch.

Once the hour and a half had passed, Joe was relieved to have gotten the work for all three of his morning classes done, albeit in a rushed and shoddy manner.  He had even burned through a portion of his speech class’ rough draft and would finish the rest in his Spanish class if he was lucky.

By lunch he had finished his rough draft and seen the grades for his homework assignments.  Two C’s and a D didn’t inspire any confidence that he’d beat Patrias’ Zero tolerance list, but Joe was still relieved that he had gotten the work done.  Now he just had to find time to study more and sleep less, if such a thing was possible.

He was most glad to get everything done before lunch. Whatever distraction Fleez and Dozz had ready today would keep his mind from his work.

It was unnaturally still in the lunchroom. Well, as still as a lunchroom could get anyway.  Kids were moving to and fro and chatting it up, but the buzzing energy that had been present as of late had died down quite a bit.  Fleez and Dozz were actually sitting down like normal and chatting it up with the jocks, but the first stringers, not the benchwarmers that Joe was so close with.

Mod was here too. He and his dwindling table of friends and comrades were talking about something, though not as feverishly as they usually did.  Joe could still see nervousness in those that sat with Mod.  As if they didn’t want to sit with him but honestly had nowhere else to sit.  There was plain fear there. None of them knew when Fleez and Dozz would strike next, or who.  But that’s one thing Joe was glad of.  Fleez and Dozz were consistent. Well, mostly.  They’d only torture Mod, though Meribeth was a casualty in that, and they’d torture him daily.  They had let that be known and they had stuck to that schedule.  Though his tablemates were uneasy, Mod himself was quite at ease.  He laughed, he smiled, he joked.  He didn’t seem to be the social outcast that Fleez and Dozz were making him out to be.

This whole scene was making Joe uneasy.  Like the quiet before a storm.  He was right. Once they were done talking to the jocks, Fleez and Dozz rose and took their usual positions standing near Mod’s table, where Joe also sat.  They both offered Joe big grins, and this terrified the kids at the table with him, but they had nowhere else to go.

Fleez: “Hello everybody and again welcome to another love connection via Badd Azz Hookups, with your hosts … Fleez—”

Dozz: “And Dozz!”

Dozz gathered up two chairs and placed them where they were before.

Fleez: “Now, yesterday’s connection didn’t go so smoothly for Meribeth.  She was jilted by the unscrupulous Modrick at the behest of his sister, the tyrannous and hard to please Ginger Malington.  At least I think that’s what her name is.  Poor Meribeth isn’t here today because she is crying herself into a coma.  But that’s okay, because today we will make a hookup for Modrick even if we have to resort to extreme measures to do it.”

Joe didn’t like the way Fleez said “extreme measures.”  Anything extreme on his part was sure to be bad.

Fleez: “So, Modrick, would you mind joining us over here at the looooove zone?”

Mod didn’t make a move.

Mod: “Nah, I’m comfy over here.”

Fleez: “So be it, Modrick.  I can’t sit back and let your love life stink any more than it already does.  We at Team Badd Azz pride ourselves on making the best hookups.  We help those that can't help themselves.”

He clapped his hands brusquely two times.

Fleez: “Byron!  We need you over here, big guy.”

From across the room came the hulking Byron with his slab arms and slate face.  He strolled over to Mod, practically dragging his knuckles on the lunchroom floor, and picked Mod up from the waist, like a little baby, and plopped him down in one of the chairs that sat in the middle of the floor.  Mod didn’t offer any resistance and simply looked uninterested.

Fleez: “Thank you, big guy.  Stick around, enjoy the show.”

Byron walked to where Dozz was standing and stood next to him.  Dozz whispered something to him, and the both of them started laughing to themselves.

Fleez: “Now that our bachelor is secured, I can now tell you that we’re going to try something risky today.  As Dozz explained yesterday, we typically don’t pair people who’re out of each other’s leagues.  Modrick here is at the bottom of the barrel, so it’s always tough to find matches for him, but today we’re going to go several leagues above him to find a match and see what happens.”

The crowd collectively gasped, and then laughed at their own absurdity.

Fleez: “Dozz, please bring out my former paramour L-L-L-Liza!”

That was an honest shock.  The crowd gasped again, but this time without the laughter.  It was known that Liza and Fleez had an on-again, off-again fling.  Joe couldn’t figure out why Fleez would subject one of his girlfriends to something like this.  Most likely she was just there to further embarrass Mod.

Dozz walked across the lunchroom and came walking back hand-in-hand with Liza Marston.  Liza looked visibly annoyed, and seemed to scowl at Fleez when she walked past him.  He only offered her the same smile he offered to Joe and Mod as he was taunting them.  Dozz sat Liza in her chair, and as much as Joe hated to admit it, Fleez had somewhat of a point about her being out of Mod’s league.  She was beautiful and fit.  Joe remembered that she had been a member of the swimming team back in middle school, and had even joined the swimming team in high school, but had quit shortly thereafter.  Her slim body was a testament to that.  Her hair fell to her neckline, straight and black.  She was wearing a blue tank top today, with tight black jeans and matching blue thong flip flops.

Fleez: “Hello, Liza.  How are you today?”

Liza: “Peachy, now let’s get this over with.”

Fleez: “Looks like we have a tough match today.  Liza doesn’t seem too excited at the prospect of hooking up with Mod, or maybe she just wants to hurry up and get to the mating.”

Mod stood and spoke up to everyone’s surprise.

Mod: “I can’t handle a girl that you were with, Fleez.”

Fleez: “We all know, Mod, but you don’t need to be scared of a wittle bitty girly.”

Mod: “What I mean to say is, I don’t want your sloppy seconds.  If that’s all you’re offering, then I’m better off on my own.”

The lunchroom was silent.  Everyone’s eyes were on Fleez, wondering what he would do next.  He kept a smile on his face, but his eyes held contempt.  Liza looked annoyed.

Fleez: “So Liza’s not good enough for you? You’ve gone all Hollywood on me, Modrick, if you’re denying girls that are this far out of your league.”

Mod: “I’m saying that if she’s good enough for you, then she’s not good enough for me.”

Fleez: “I thought Dozz already explained this ‘league’ business to you Modrick.”

Mod was, surprisingly, grinning and brimming with confidence.

Mod: “I’ll show you.  My proof lies in exhibit A.  Lights, boys!”

Mod pulled a remote control from his pocket, which made a few people flinch as if it were something else.  Once he had done that, the lights went out and a large blue square appeared on the rear wall.  Then the blue square transitioned into footage of a house, a house that seemed to be nearly dilapidated.  It was wracked with weeds on its unkempt lawn and there were tires and various garbage strewn about.  Broken down cars sat on the side of the house, and on the other side there was a large field where it looked like there might have been another house at some point.

Mod’s voice boomed through the speakers. He spoke as if he were telling a story.

"Today we watch as a story is told from the viewpoint of this camera on the unsuspecting residents of this household.  Inside is a family very different than yours and mine.  Let’s delve in and find out the mysteries of the trailer trash clan…"

The camera zoomed in, and Fleez could be spotted with an older looking man that looked somewhat like him, except much older and much fatter.  They both looked to be working on the cars that sat in their driveway.

"Watch as the papa savage teaches the flea-infested savage junior how to scavenge, an important skill in the world of the bologna-loving gear-heads of this part of Orangetown.  Tonight, they will grill hot dogs over the hot engine to feed their displaced tribe."

A few laughs shot forth from around the mostly quiet lunchroom.  Not many, but enough to annoy Fleez.  He looked on at the video, and instructed Dozz and Byron to find the projector, but no one could tell where it had been set up.

"Here we catch a glimpse of the bonding process at another household.  Some of you may want to look away, this next part isn’t for the faint of heart."

The camera slowly peeked around the corner of some part of the house.  It seemed to Joe that Mod had snuck inside the house and was trying to be as quiet as possible.  Joe honestly didn’t think that his friend was that reckless, but this was the same kid who had snuck beers into the Pickers’ football stadium.  An older man’s voice had begun to yell from the speakers.

“Git in here, boy!  You know I need yer help!  Come on and bring that sponge with you!”

A familiar voice answered him back.

“Hold your horses, Grandpa, dang!  I’m doin’ stuff!”

“Boy, ain’t nothing more important than getting’ the dirt offah Granpa’s back and toes.  Come on now, hurry!”

Someone stomped through and the camera retreated back around the corner until the footsteps had stopped, and when it peeked around the corner again Dozz could be seen through a crack in the bathroom doors and so could his grandpa.  He had a sponge in his hand and was scrubbing his grandpa’s back.

“I’m getting too old for this, Grandpa.  It’s embarrassing, man.”

“Ain’t nothin’ embarrassing about this.  Kids should be grateful that us old folks lived so you could be here.  This shows yer grateful.”

“Whatever, Grandpa.”

The camera cut again to what looked to be a little Fleez running with other little kids, all of them with sticks in their hands striking out at each other.  Big Fleez could be seen in the background, so the little version must’ve been his brother.

"In youth, the members of this family engage in barbaric activities as training for their future lives of scavenging.  This young one here is learning the art of pain. Watch as he bashes other kids and claims leadership of the wild pack."

A little girl splashed in the mud and made mud houses.

"This one is the smallest of the pack and learning ways of hut building for when she finds some other little savage to marry someday.”

The next shot was one of Fleez asleep in one of the abandoned cars.

Night time is almost upon us, and this one must seek shelter before it gets cold.  He burrows his way into the body of this car, surely feasting on cold hot dogs and squirrel.  He may be safe here for the night."

Movie Fleez started snoring so loudly that he almost drowned out Mod’s commentary as the camera approached him.  He let out a loud snort when the camera came too close.

"This one is a near adult savage and is being groomed to lead the pack.  He knows the ways of the grease monkey and can open up a can of pork n’ beans like no one else. Oh no, here comes the mama savage!"

A large woman came out of the house and began calling Fleez from the porch of the large but worn house.

“Bartholomew!  Bartholomew!  I know your ‘sleep over there, Bartholomew!”

“What do you want, Momma?”

“You ain’t use none of that foot fungus medication yet.  I ain’t spend fifty dollars on that you so can ignore it.  Next time you step inside of my house you better use that dang medication or you ain’t comin’ in.”

“Alright, go away, Momma.”

Finally, one of the lunch ladies cut the lights back on and Mr. Serano showed up, found the projector and unplugged it.  That didn’t stop the laughs though.  There were about as many as when Team Badd Azz had done pukeball.  Fleez was still as stone and Mod stood there looking into the crowd, smirking.  He took a bow and then another in front of his audience.  Joe had even seen Liza laughing over in her seat.  Joe didn’t laugh.  The situation was still too tense for his liking.

Mod: “Thank you, thank you!  I’ll be here all day, folks!  Just call me Mod the Sod, your friendly neighborhood fool.”

Not only had he embarrassed them, he was also taking their shtick.  Mod was playing with fire.  Dozz was pissed, but Fleez kept his cool and grinned at Mod.  It wasn’t his usual triumphant grin, but a more sedated one.

Fleez: “That was well played, Mod, and worthy of my respect.”

Mod gave him a lazy salute.

Mod: “Thank you.”

Fleez: “It was an inspired performance that’s for sure, only…”

Silence.  Fleez laughed, but he was the only one.

Fleez: “Only … that was my family that you were making fun of, and nobody makes fun of them but me.”

Joe hadn’t noticed until now how close Fleez had gotten to Mod.  He was close enough to spit on Mod, and that’s what he did, first.  Then he grabbed him, lifted him, and slammed him to the ground.  Everyone around them stood up to see the carnage, and obscured Joe’s view.  Joe tried to make his way through the crowd, but there were so many people in his way that it was like fighting against a tide.  When he finally reached the front, he saw Mod being mauled by the much bigger Fleez.  Most of Fleez’s blows were wild and inaccurate though, and missed Mod as he covered his head and withdrew into his arms.  The few blows that got through Mod’s guard looked horrifically painful.

Joe had seen enough, and Fleez had gotten away with enough.  He took his necklace off and put it on the table to avoid being choked by it.  He clawed his way through the last few folks that were in his path and then dived into Fleez with as much force as he could muster, which brought forth memories of his days playing JV Football.  Both he and Fleez went to the ground hard and landed a few feet away from Mod.  Joe, on top, threw a wild punch at Fleez, which was deflected.  Fleez grabbed the front of Joe’s shirt and tried to wrest him down, but Joe pushed away and managed to hit Fleez in the face.  Fleez recoiled and crawled from under Joe, and both boys got to their feet.  Joe lunged at Fleez again and crashed into him.  Both stayed on their toes and began to tussle, before Fleez slammed Joe to the ground and started hitting him in the chest and face.  Mr. Serano and Mr. Caltabaldi showed up from seemingly nowhere and struggled and finally managed to pull the boys apart.  It was a mercy, and Joe counted himself lucky not to have broken anything.  At the end of it all, Fleez, Joe, and Mod were all bruised and bloody, and the lunch room had indeed gotten a show.

Chapter 26

Hero?

Both Joe and Mod sat in the office waiting for the principal to get back from assessing the situation in the lunch room.  They were both separated from Fleez to avoid any further fighting and were both glad for that.  He had done a number on the both of them, leaving them bruised and bloody.  Joe was bleeding from his nose and from his knuckles from when he’d missed a punch at Fleez and hit the floor instead.  His chest and sides were bruised and aching as well.  Even so, his injuries were small compared to Mod’s.  Mod had a bloody nose that might be broken.  He had welts all over his neck and face, a black eye, and Joe feared that he might also have a concussion and maybe a back injury from being slammed so hard to the ground.

They were both silent when they weren’t groaning.  It had taken seemingly forever for the principal to return, and when he did he brought an entourage of Mr. Serano, Mr. Caltabaldi, and a few of the lunch ladies. None of them had been any help when Mod was being harassed by Team Badd Azz.

Mr. Serano walked up and placed Joe’s necklace on his lap.

Mr. Serano: “I believe this is yours.”

He walked away to join the rest of the faculty.

Mod: “That’s an ugly necklace, dude.”

Joe laughed and shook his head.  It was all he had to remember Beauty and her promise to protect him.  He didn’t care how ugly it was.

Mr. Patrias and the rest were all talking about the situation and coming up with conclusions that were wrong. They hadn’t been part of it, and only had what limited and most likely wrong information was provided to them.  It was always that way with fights.   The kids that liked or feared Fleez and Dozz, which there were more of, would take their sides and report a story that would help them.  Joe knew that he and Mod had very little chance of coming out of this being seen as the victims that they were.

After all the talking was done, Mr. Patrias walked up to Joe and Mod, looking grim.  He handed them both tissues to wipe the blood from their faces, and pointed Joe to the basket to discard the tissue he used to stop the blood from his nose.

Mr. Patrias: “Go to my office, both of you.  I’ll be in there shortly.”

They walked into the office and took their seats.  The principal had stepped out for a minute, leaving Joe and Mod in silence.

Mod: “I wish that they would get this over with already.”

Joe: “They’re going to suspend us.”

Mod: “Yep, and it was totally worth it.”

They laughed until it hurt too much to laugh anymore.  Principal Patrias walked back into the office with a stack of papers in his hand.  He closed the door behind him and walked over to his desk, where he set the neat stack down.

Mr. Patrias: “So … gentlemen…”

He took the time to look both of them in the eyes dramatically.

Mr. Patrias: “Violence?  In my lunchroom?  That’s intolerable.  We can’t have that in our building.”

Mod: “Tell that to Fleez.  He jumped on me, not the other way around.”

Mr. Patrias: “I understand that you played a humiliating video of Bart and his family.”

There was no way Mod could get out of being blamed for that.  His voice was on the video.

Mod: “Yes I did, but that was only to pay him back for the last two times he humiliated me.  Notice that in those times I never laid my hands on him.”

Mr. Patrias: “Now, you know that two wrongs don’t make a right, Modrick.  There was no valid reason to play that video, humiliating him like that.  What’s more, you used precious school equipment to do it with.  Our budget is not so bloated that we can have our A/V equipment used for such a trivial thing as a prank video.  You did this without permission and blatantly violated our rules.”

Mod: “I wouldn’t have had to do it if you didn’t let Fleez run roughshod over the lunchroom.  The last several days he’s been making my life hell and embarrassing me in front of everyone.”

Mr. Patrias: “His name is Bart, not Fleez. But Bart.  I can assure you that we are handling him as well.”

Mod: “Like you handled him after he and Dozz threw all that junk on me?  Yeah, you guys are handling that like pros.  Yup, he was definitely reprimanded and suspended—oh wait, he wasn’t.”

BAM!  The principal banged his hand against the desk loudly, silencing Mod.

Mr. Patrias: “That’s enough!  Your smart mouth is getting us nowhere.  The fact of the matter is an altercation was started on school premises thanks to you.  You instigated it, and although, yes, Bartholomew did escalate to physical violence, you provoked him and had your friend attack him two-on-one.”

Joe: “Mod was getting creamed!  I couldn’t let that monster Fleez kill him like that.”

Mr. Patrias: “I assure you, Mr. Black, your friend was not going to die.  A little schoolyard tussle never killed anybody.  I frown upon it, but if it must be done, do it with honesty at least.  So yes, for your part, Joseph, you will also be punished.”

Mod, visibly angered, sighed at his helplessness.  Joe waited quietly for his sentence.

Mr. Patrias: “Both of you will be suspended and won’t be readmitted until I meet with your parents.  Modrick, you will be suspended for five days and, Joe, you for three.”

Joe: “And how many days for Fleez?”

Mr. Patrias: “In this building he is Bart, understand?  That information isn’t relevant to you.”

He signed something on his desk and then signed something else.

Mr. Patrias: “Now, I don’t want to see you two in my office again, especially you, Joe.  We already had this talk, remember?”

Joe: “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Patrias: “This definitely isn’t helping your chances of staying here.”

He handed both of them their suspension forms.  They were really neat and pretty looking things, with the fancy border designs and the way Patrias signed his name ornately.

Mr. Patrias: “I’ll see you gentlemen in a few days.  Be ready to catch up in your classes when you come back.  You are dismissed.”

They both quickly got up and raced to the door, walking as fast as they could without looking overly excited.  Mod whispered to Joe very quietly.

Mod: “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

Sitting in the office chairs was Kate. She greeted them when they walked near.

Kate: “So how long you two out for?”

Mod: “Five days.”

Joe: “Three days.”

Kate: “You look terrible.  We need to get you both to the hospital.”

Joe: “I’ll be okay.”

Mod: “Cut it out, tough guy.  If you’re hurting even half as much as I am, you need to go.”

He elbowed Joe in the ribs, causing Joe to flinch back terribly.  Kate was startled by that, so Mod leaned in and whispered in Joe’s ear instead.

Mod: “Idiot!  My sister is being nice to you again.  Take her up on her offer and get out of the doghouse.”

Joe felt so stupid.  That was some prime advice from a guy who hadn’t even had a girlfriend yet.

Kate: “What are you two whispering about?”

Mod: “Just reminding our buddy here that injuries like that don’t heal so fast.  Now let’s go to the hospital!”

Kate eyed them both suspiciously.  They all walked through the halls and out of the building to Kate’s car in the parking lot.  She had not parked too far from him, and he took that as a good sign that they were in a good place.  The only problem was that he had no idea what that place was.  They got in the car, which was a much brighter red than either sibling’s hair, and drove off to the hospital.

The Orangetown hospital was quite small, only three floors and a few small hallways.  Because of that, the doctors all knew everyone in town.  All three went in at the same time and waited for their doctor.  Instead of waiting in emergency, their doctor, Dr. McCullough would perform a checkup on them, at his request.  He was both Joe and Mod’s personal physician and had some space in his schedule after his current appointment.  Mod was chosen to go first when the good doctor saw the depth of his injuries.  As he was getting his checkup, Joe and Kate were left to sit together outside of the doctor’s office.

Kate: “You guys are idiots.”

That was starting to be her favorite word for Joe it seemed.  He laughed.

Joe: “Why is that?”

Kate: “Neither of you had any business challenging Fleez like that.  You guys are like little ants in comparison to him.”

Joe: “Why, thanks for the vote of confidence!  I knew we could beat him too.”

Kate: “Well, you know what I mean.”

Joe: “This was mostly Mod’s bright idea.  He kept telling me that he had a plan for all this bullying, but I didn’t know that it involved angering both Fleez and Dozz like that.  If I’d known that, I probably would have stopped him.”

Kate: “Probably?”

There was a hint of something inside Joe that didn’t mind giving the bullies a taste of their own medicine.  He had even welcomed it despite his injuries.

Joe: “Well, they deserved it.  I personally didn’t like that he put their families in the video, but I do think that Fleez and Dozz needed to be taken down a peg.  Your brother was just brave and crazy enough to do it.  In a way he’s a hero.”

Kate: “You know what I think?”

Joe: “What’s that?”

Kate: “I think you’re a hero.”

Joe was left speechless at that.  He could only blush and look down at the floor.

Kate: “It’s true.”

Joe: “Nah, I’m not no hero.”

Kate: “But you are.  My brother didn’t do what he did to help anyone else out.  He didn’t even stand up for himself.  He did what he did to outdo Fleez and Dozz.  He wanted to be the best showman—I know he did, and so he put on a show that rivaled theirs.  His motivations were mostly selfish, but not yours.”

Joe: “What do you mean?”

Kate: “I mean that you’re a good person, Joe.  You stepped in and helped my brother without even thinking about your own well-being.  I know, because I saw you with my own two eyes.  You dived in and defended my brother like a champion.”

Joe: “Well, he’s like family.  There was no way that I’d let him get hurt like that without doing—I don’t know … something.”

Kate smiled and softly tapped his arm.

Kate: “Thank you for being my brother’s good friend.  He needs you.”

Joe: “What about you?  What do you need?”

She took her eyes off of him and looked into the distance morosely.

Kate: “Well … I need you.  I’m tired of pretending to be mad at you.”

Breathing had suddenly become very difficult for Joe.  He took a few deep breaths before he could say anything.

Joe: “I need you too.”

She smiled and Joe grabbed her hands and cupped them in his own.

Joe: “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!  So freaking much!”

She laughed loudly.

Kate: “You lunkhead!  I bet that’s the reason you stayed in the stadium when we left.”

Joe: “Huh?  What do you mean?”

Kate: “You stayed to help somebody, I just know it.  That’s the only reason.”

Joe: “Well I—”

Kate: “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say anything else about it right now.  I’m just glad that things are almost back to the way they were.”

Kate laid her head down on his shoulder and Joe smelled her perfume.  It was jasmine, what she always wore.  He loved the smell.

Joe: “Me too.”

They sat like that for a while and talked about their last couple of weeks.  Joe told her as much as he could, but left out the details.  She wanted him to tell her even more, but he protested.  After that, she told him about her classes and they talked about their plans for college.

Mod returned to them all bandaged up, along with the very tall and brown-haired Dr. McCullough.

Joe: “That was quick.”

Mod: “I’m good to go, surprisingly enough.  I just need to take it easy for the next five days. I should be alright by the time I go back to school.”

Dr. McCullough: “Your bruises should heal up even faster, Joe.  Come on, let’s get you examined.”

Chapter 27

A Good Deed Never Goes Unpunished

Mod: “How much money do you still have?  Your summer job ended a while ago.”

Joe: “Enough to last me for a while.  My parents didn’t want me to kick anything back to them even when I asked.”

Mod: “Aww man, that’s sweeeeet!  My parents would never be that nice.”

Joe checked his driver’s side mirror to make sure no one was trying to pass.  He changed lanes when he saw that the coast was clear.

Joe: “I just hope it lasts until I get my next job.  I’d hate to ask my folks for an allowance again.  It just feels so lame after having a job.”

Mod: “My folks are starting to get stubborn and closefisted with what they give me.  They’re pushing for me to get a job, but there’s nothing close that suits me.”

Joe: “Well, since we’re going to the grocery store, you might as well apply there.  You can be a bagger or cashier easy.”

Mod looked over at Joe and rolled his eyes.

Mod: “Did you not hear what I just said?  It’s not my skillset.”

Joe: “Well, you need something that pays, so you might as well just suck it up and work there.  It’s not like it’s going to be your future career or anything, just a job for the here and now.”

Mod: “I need to be somebody’s roadie, or maybe start making my rounds on the night club comedy circuit, or become an apprentice to one of the great bass players.  That’s a job that a legend starts out with.”

Joe shook his head.  Once he fully stopped at the red light, he gave Mod a piece of his mind.

Joe: “That stuff’s unrealistic, man.  You can’t complain about money and then be unwilling to work most of the jobs in this town.  Just get something, work it for a bit, make a little money, and then get on with your life.  My summer job went by like that.”

Joe snapped his fingers.

Joe: “I wish that I had put part-time availability on my job application instead of seasonal so I could still work there.  I’m telling you, man, it’s easy stuff.  I’m reapplying the next chance I get.”

Mod: “Whatever.”

Mod stared out of the window silently for a while.  It was a few hours past noon and hot as the inside of a worn boot.  Both boys, lightly dressed, still sweated from brow and chest.  Once the light turned green again, Joe pulled away.

Mod: “Why are we going to the grocery store anyway?”

Joe: “I need to get some supplies for my friends.”

Mod: “Those two girls?”

Joe: “Yeah.”

Mod: “What were their names again?”

Joe: “Melissa and Dahlila.”

Mod: “Dahlila was the blonde, right?  At least I think that’s what I saw.  I was more than a little drowsy at the time.”

Joe: “Yeah, she’s blonde, but I wouldn’t get any funny ideas.  She’s tough.  She’d probably break you.”

Mod: “We’ll see about that.”

Joe drove on thinking of Borland’s words.  He was sure that he’d get a call tonight from either Borland or Liandra. In the meantime, he knew he had to resupply Melissa and Dahlila, but Borland was the problem.  He didn’t see Borland around, but he knew  the man was probably watching him at this very moment.  At this point he could be around any corner.  Another problem was that Joe had no way of contacting Melissa or Dahlila other than being face to face.  He knew he had to exercise the utmost caution.  He didn’t need Borland to know who he was visiting, for his own sake.

After a few more minutes of driving, he and Mod finally reached Kwoala-T Mart on Gains Street.  There, they picked up all manner of snacks and goodies.  They bought various flavors of chips, crackers, granola bars, juice, bread, water, lunchmeat, and cheese.  He grabbed a ready-made meal of fried chicken, cheesy macaroni, buttered green beans, and biscuits for all of them.  Joe figured it was about five days’ worth of supplies, altogether.  He was grateful when he saw that he hadn’t even come close to putting a dent in his savings.  He had Mod consolidate the items into as few bags as possible so it wouldn’t look like he had a lot.  The cashier, a pretty girl slightly older than Joe, complimented Mod on how quickly he had bagged the groceries.  He smiled like a goober and continued bagging.  He had double and even tripled some items in no time at all.  He then asked if they were still hiring, and she told him not at the moment.  She smiled and told him to try again in a month or two, since one guy was on the ins-and-outs.

When they left, Joe carefully looked for signs of Borland until he noticed that he was beginning to spook Mod.  He’d seen nothing anyway.  He drove off towards Sapton street and was relieved there were no signs of him being followed.  He still remained careful, just in case.

Once he reached the clock tower, he parked in the back and propped the door open with a nearby stick that he was fond of using.  There were only three bags between them, with Joe carrying one and Mod carrying the other two.  Mod removed the stick with his free hand once he walked through the door, and tossed it to the ground outside.

Joe: “Wait, no!”

Mod: “Wuh?”

Once the door closed, it was pitch black in the hallway thanks to the remnants of the outside sun that lingered in their eyes.  You had to look way upwards to see any light.

Mod: “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

Joe felt around for the door and clumsily stumbled into it.  He slowly pushed it open and felt all the air sucked from his body in an instant.  He was off his feet and found himself looking first at a shadow, then the floor, then he saw Mod’s upside down outline, and when he had finally crashed he saw the rooms high ceiling.  It wasn’t long before Mod was tossed right next to him.  They both lay on the floor, dazed and as still as silent mountains.

“Who are y—wait Joe!?”

Joe recognized the voice as one belonging to a certain blonde.

Joe: “Ow!”

Joe looked around at all the groceries that had come spilling out of his bag.

Joe: “Dang … what a pain.”

Dahlila: “What’d you say?”

Joe: “Nothing, ow, my back!”

Joe slowly sat up and began collecting the items that had fallen out of his bag.  He rubbed as much of the pain out of his back as he could.

Dahlila: “Why did you come sneaking in here like that?  I almost ripped your head off.”

After he grabbed all of the groceries, Dahlila helped pull him up to his feet.  Once he was up, he went over to Mod, who was still nursing his injury, and tried to help him up.

Mod: “No, no, no!  Let me rest up a little longer.  I’ll be okay.”

Joe: “If you want it that way.”

Joe left Mod on the ground and turned his attention to Dahlila.  She was sweating profusely and wearing what looked like workout clothes.  She wore form-fitting blue shorts that were made of lycra or spandex or maybe something else that Joe wasn’t sure of.  She wore a matching tank top that stopped right above her abdomen and showed off her impressive physique.  She had the build of a professional athlete. Joe was reminded of the runners he saw on the Olympics, and the hurdlers.  Her blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail that touched the middle of her neck.  She looked at Joe, puzzled.

Joe: “I’ll remember not to do that again.  We weren’t sneaking in.  We were just bringing you and Melissa some groceries and supplies.”

Dahlila: “Well … um … thanks.  You … uh … really didn’t have to.”

Joe: “I figured you were running out of stuff so I brought you more.”

Dahlila: “That’s just it, we have enough to last us a while.”

Joe began to think to himself.

Joe: “Either you both eat extremely light or…”

Dahlila: “Or I might’ve left to get us more supplies.”

Joe: “You left!?”

Dahlila: “Chill, kid, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

The way she said that sounded very Borland-esque to Joe.  He then remembered that Borland had raised her.

Dahlila: “I left and came back without anyone seeing me.  Have you forgotten about my skills already?”

Joe: “No, but it’s still really dangerous, and how exactly did you get all this stuff anyway?”

Dahlila sighed loudly, crossed her arms, and tapped her right foot feverishly.

Dahlila: “It doesn’t matter.”

Joe: “It does.  How?”

Dahlila: “I had to borrow some money.”

Joe looked her in the eye for a while.

Joe: “You mean steal some money?”

Dahlila: “The guy I took this from’ll be okay.  I made sure I got one that was well off.  Besides all that, I have his name and address.  I’m going to pay him back once I get a chance.  I stake my honor on that.”

Joe: “Fine, but Borland is snooping around the area, so you should be more careful that he doesn’t see you.”

Dahlila: “I’m sure he’s tailing you, and if so you’re bringing him right to us.”

Joe had already thought of that.

Joe: “Not at all.  If he is watching, then to him it’ll just look like Mod and I are hanging out here, eating junk food like we always do.”

Dahlila: “Oh yeah.  Not bad, kid.”

She grinned at Joe, then looked over at Mod, who was still over on the floor resting on his back. She seemed to notice him for the first time.

Joe: “That’s Mod.”

Dahlila: “Hmm.”

She walked over to him looked down at him the way a doctor might examine a patient.

Dahlila: “Come on, let’s get you up.”

He looked at her without blinking for a couple of seconds, and when he didn’t respond she began to pull him up.  He protested at first, until he quickly found himself on his feet.

Dahlila: “Sorry about the violence.  It looks like you were already worse for wear before I got to you.”

He looked at her and again smiled like a goober, as if it were his first school dance with a girl.

Mod: “Oh, these?  These are nothing, just war wounds.”

Dahlila: “Okay, tough guy.  Glad you’re alright.”

Mod worked a few more kinks out in his back and then offered Dahlila his hand.

Mod: “Sorry for my lack of manners.  My name is Modrick Malington, age fourteen, Aquarius.  I like long walks on the beach and happen to be single and ready to mingle.”

Dahlila: “That’s cute.  If I was into dating little kids, that would be a great line.”

Mod looked dejected.

Dahlila: “Oh yeah, you’re the kid from the other night.  Thanks for all the supplies.”

He nodded his head and offered a small smile.  She examined him even further with her eyes.

Dahlila: “Lift your shirt.”

Mod: “What!?”

Dahlila: “Hurry up.  Let me take a look at your back.”

Mod: “Ah—okay.”

Mod did what he was told and Dahlila put her hand at first on his shoulder blades and then moved downwards to his lower back.

Dahlila: “Hold on a sec.  This should help.”

With her left hand, she grabbed Mod by the back of his neck at the base where it met his back.  With her right, she pushed forward on his lower back.  She pushed his back forward eerily far.  Joe had never seen someone’s back bend like that.

Dahlila: “Okay, now lift your arms.”

Mod: “I don’t think I want to.”

Dahlila: “Stop being a baby!  I know it hurts a little now, but I’ll have it feeling better once I’m done.”

Mod again did as he was told, and this time Dahlila lifted him off of his feet in a bear hug and bent his body towards hers.  She then put him down and swiveled his body around in a circular motion around the waist.  She then roughly gripped his shoulder and spun him around to face her.

Dahlila: “Now how’s that?”

Mod: “It still hurts a little, but it feels a lot better than before.”

Dahlila: “Heh, I should be a masseuse.”

Joe: “What did you do?”

Dahlila: “I just relieved a knot of tension in his back.  All this money you pay these doctors goes down the drain when they can’t do simple things like this.”

She wiped her brow and walked over to where she left her exercise equipment, which consisted of a set of ten pound weights, a jump rope, and a mat.  She picked up the rope and started doing jump rope exercises near the back wall.  The boys followed her partway.

Joe: “You’re in great shape, Dahlila.”

Dahlila: “Yeah, well, what choice do I have?  There’s nothing else to do here.  Besides, I have to stay in tip-top shape for all these threats that seem to be creeping up.”

Mod: “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working for you.  You look amazing.  None of the girls in my school look even half as good as you.”

Dahlila abruptly stopped jumping and looked very annoyed.  Her brows furrowed and her eyes were full of venom.  She stomped over to Mod and looked down at him.

Dahlila: “You think I do this for that?  That’s not why I train so hard.  I’m not some little girl trying to pretty herself up for some snot-nosed brat.  I do this to get strong so I can survive.  Survival is all that matters in this world.”

Mod: “I’m — I mean I didn’t — sorry, I mean.  I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

Joe: “I’d just drop it.  She’s pretty scary when you think about it.  I wouldn’t want to anger her anymore.”

Mod: “Yeah, I — um … noted.”

Dahlila looked at Joe, stunned.

Dahlila: “Really Joe?  Is that what you think of me?”

She smiled at him and Joe was reminded of how cute he thought she was when he first met her.  Her features were almost angelic.  She didn’t smile much, but when she did it was one of the cutest smiles he had ever seen.  Then she punched him in the arm and all of that went away.  The punch was playful, but it still shot pain through Joe’s arm and left it tender.  Mod cringed when he saw the hit.  Now she was more demon than angel.  When she saw him wince, she cupped her hands over her mouth and laughed loudly.

Joe: “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ouch!”

Dahlila: “Oh my God!  Was that too hard?  I’m so sorry.”

Joe: “I’ll say it again.  Remind me not to piss you off.”

She laughed again, and this time Joe did too, through the pain.

Joe: “Where’s Melissa, by the way?”

Dahlila: “She’s up at the top, either reading or drawing or looking out at the town.”

Joe: “Oh, I see.  Well I brought dinner for us all.  A premade meal from the grocery store.”

Dahlila: “Cool.  Melissa might be a little disappointed though.  She planned on cooking tonight, and wouldn’t shut up about it either.”

Joe: “Well, I’ll just sit it all over there and go up to see her.”

Joe walked to the kitchen and put the bag of snacks and food on the counter.  He heard foreign sounds around him and felt something vibrating nearby in the typically still kitchen.  He investigated and tracked the vibrations to the refrigerator.  He opened it and saw chicken, bacon, eggs, broccoli, lettuce, grapes, celery, carrots, apples, strawberries, fish, bottled water, and juice.  What surprised Joe the most about all this was that everything was cold.

Joe: “When did this fridge start working?”

Dahlila: “The day after you left it started working.  Everything started working.  We make sure to conserve as much as possible though, which is why you never see the lights on.”

Joe: “The stove works too?”

Dahlila: “Yes.”

Mod: “I wonder who’s footing the bill?”

Joe: “Me too.”

Suddenly the tower didn’t seem so abandoned, but Joe had never seen anyone come or go here in his many years of visiting.  Though he was startled by this new development, he was overall glad that the girls had all they needed to survive for a while.

He climbed the winding tower steps to the clock faces with Mod following close behind.  For some reason he climbed quite quickly, and by the time he reached the top he and Mod were out of breath.

Mod: “Why the heck were you in such a hurry?”

Joe: “I have no clue, just a burst of energy I guess.”

Joe looked around and spied a pile of artwork on the table.  He rifled through the strangely detailed crayon drawings.  There was one drawing, a portrait really, of Melissa but with longer hair.  On another drawing there were three little Melissas, each with a different hairstyle, but none matched Melissa’s own short hair.  On the third picture were the three Melissas and an older-looking man with wrinkles on his cheeks and forehead.  He shared some of their features and shared their color for his skin.

There was another picture of that same man by himself and smiling.  Under that, Joe found one of himself smiling and flexing his two-dimensional biceps.  They were all really good pictures, despite being rendered in crayon.  He was really impressed with the one of himself that looked strangely heroic, like a superhero almost.

Mod: “This kid can really draw!”

Joe nodded his head and looked up for Melissa.

Joe: “Melissa!”

Mod tapped Joe’s shoulder and pointed at a piece of paper, a small note near the pictures.  Joe picked up and read the neatly written note.

If you’re looking for me, friend, then you’ll have to try again.  I won’t be easy to spot because right now I’m somewhere you’re not.

Melissa Grant

He put down the note and looked around the room.

Mod: “She can’t be serious.”

Joe: “Melissa, we don’t have time for this.”

Silence hung in the air.

Joe: “Okay, fine, but don’t cry when we find you.  We know this tower better than the back of our own hands.  You won’t be able to trick us for long.”

Only more silence answered Joe.

Joe: “Fine, if that’s how you want it.”

Joe and Mod looked at one another and nodded.  They had silently agreed to split up and search the two sides of the clock tower.  Mod took the east side and Joe was stuck with the west side.  Unfortunately for her, there weren’t many places she could hide.  They got the obvious places out of the way first, like under the stairs and in the sleeping bag.   That left up near the clock faces, around the clock’s gears, or way up near the roof.  Joe decided to search the clock’s gears to see if he could find her there.  He found her smiling and crouched between two giant gear shafts that rotated slowly.

Joe: “You know this isn’t safe, right?”

She laughed then crawled out of the tiny space.

Melissa: “I was okay.  I heard you coming and couldn’t believe you found me so fast.”

Joe: “I told you that I knew this place like the back of my hand.  Come on, let’s go get Mod.  I brought us all some dinner.”

Melissa: “Aww, but I want to cook for you all!”

The little girl seemed to be pouting, but when Joe looked closer he noticed that she was suppressing a grin.

Chapter 28

The Conference Call

Joe had awoken to a brusque phone call from Borland very early in the morning.

Borland: “Be ready for my call tonight.  Clear your schedule, we have a meetup.  Stay tuned for details.  Ya get that?”

Joe: “Yeah—”

The line went dead before Joe could say anything else.  He buried his head in his pillows and lay back down with his phone on the nightstand next to his bed.  He fell asleep again for a few hours and woke up at ten twenty-seven in the morning.  He moped around for a few hours, not quite sure what to do with himself.  His parents weren’t home and everyone else but Mod was at school or work.  He was bored, and nearly left to go to the Malington’s house.  He stopped once he remembered Patrias’ Zero Tolerance plan, and opted to do something more productive with his day.

After checking his emails and various social media websites, Joe grabbed his backpack from upstairs and the rest of his books from his car, and decided to spend the day studying.  He set up shop at the kitchen table and went to work.

His English scores were bad and getting worse, as a thick stack of papers he pulled out attested to.  Somehow he had managed to get better scores in Spanish, not that he was any good at that either.  Worst of all were his pre-calc grades, and that was mainly because he didn’t know what the heck was going on in the class anyway.  Somehow the F he got seemed too generous.  He had at least managed to squeak out a C so far in speech, and C’s and D’s in just about everything else.  Heck, he even got an A in weight training where the only prerequisite was that he showed up.  But pre-calc was a language more foreign than Spanish, and Joe thought he’d never understand it.

His problems with English came from all the rules he had to employ while writing.  His teacher, Mrs. Lane, graded hard for improper use of grammar, spelling, and punctuation.  Joe had already had trouble reading through all the books, and struggled to make sense of the subjects she had them write about.  It seemed you’d have to be an English professor to get an A in her class, so Joe just shot for improving his D to a C for now.

He took notes on his current book, A Clockwork Orange, which Mrs. Lane, who was also a Psychology major, constantly raved about.  He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.  The main character, Alex, seemed like more of a bad guy than anything else.  Joe never liked to root for the bad guy, so he didn’t see the point in reading this book.  All the same, he forced himself to take notes on it.  After a few hours, he noted that the good guys seemed to be more twisted than Alex himself.

He found himself hungry and stopped his studies to grab himself some lunch.  He enjoyed some of his mom’s leftover lasagna that had the little pepperonis in it, and a soft buttery bread roll.  He washed it down with some ice cold cola.  He belched all the way back to his room, where he lay down for a bit until he found his resolve to study again.  Next up was pre-calc, but he gave that up after twenty minutes of reading through the sections.  He couldn’t understand any of it on his own.  He instead opted to focus on Spanish.  He had never done particularly well in any of his Spanish classes, but he did have a familiarity with it.  He had taken it since middle school, and managed to get at least C’s in it by the end of every term he had it.  All he had to do now was maintain that C, but the lessons were getting much harder.

The last thing he opted to study was history, because he saw no point in studying for speech and found it impossible to study for weight training.  He couldn’t keep his eyes awake while reading his history book, so he played games on his computer instead, and tried to study again an hour later.  He didn’t like staying cooped in the house all day because he found that it made him sleepier.  Studying didn’t help matters.

Joe shut his books and walked up the stairs to his room.  He was done with academics for the day, and coincidently so was his girlfriend.  School had let out about an hour and a half earlier.  Most likely she’d be at home.  He shut his door behind him and dialed her number.  The phone rang a few times and finally she picked up.

Kate: “Hey, hold on a sec…”

It sounded like she was in motion, possibly cleaning, or just walking really fast.

Kate: “Hello, sorry ‘bout that!”

Joe: “You sound tired. Long day?”

Kate: “You don’t know the half of it.  Everyone picked today to be annoying.”

She sighed loudly, her frustration apparent.  Joe giggled knowing there was a story behind it.  He began to fish for details.

Kate: “You’re over there giggling?  I’m glad you find my annoyance so funny.”

Joe: “Not at all.  So who annoyed you?”

Kate: “For one, Mod.  He decided he wasn’t ready to tell our parents that he was suspended.  Not only has he not told them, but he also made me promise not to tell them.  The idiot thinks he can keep a five day suspension under wraps from our parents.  Whatever hair-brained scheme he had planned was swatted away when Patrias called and talked to our parents, saying — pretending, really — that he was concerned about Mod.  He told them about the fight, the suspension, and blamed the whole thing on you.”

Joe: “What!?”

Joe was heated.  He hit the only thing nearby that was safe to hit, his mattress, in frustration.

Kate: “Yeah, I know!  What a liar!  On top of all that, Mod decided to stay out all day, so when I got back my parents decided to grill me about it.  They wanted to know where Mod was, and when I told them that I honestly didn’t know they got all pissy with me, like I was supposed to be his guardian and hold his hand at all times.  I had to remind them that I was the one that got him out of those messes, helped him clean himself up, and took him to the hospital.  They shut their mouths after that.”

Joe: “I don’t know what Patrias is trying to pull by blaming this all on me, but it’s totally not true.  What’s his problem?”

Kate: “He thinks you’re a delinquent.  He told me as much at school today.  He told me that you’re a bad influence and gave me the whole rotten apple speech, as if a principal could change who a girl decides to spend her time with.”

Joe: “He hates me and I can’t figure out why.  I’ve never done anything to him or been a bad kid.”

Kate: “I don’t know, love, but even my parents are starting in on it.  They want us to slow down.”

Joe remained silent.  He didn’t know what to say to that.

Kate: “Love?”

Joe: “I’m still here … what should we do?”

Kate: “Absolutely nothing.  There’s no reason to change a thing.  You are a wonderful person and my parents are idiots for forgetting that.”

Joe couldn’t help but smile.

Joe: “Thanks, Kate.  You really know how to say just what I need to hear.  I love you.”

Kate: “I know.  I love you too, lunkhead.”

Joe laughed.

Joe: “I guess that’s my new nickname. Yours will be sugar-lips.”

Kate: “Eww!  No!  Don’t ever say that around my parents.”

Joe: “I’m steering clear of your parents for a while, so I can call you that, unless you prefer honey-smacks.”

Kate: “Call me either of those and I’m putting you on crutches, then taking those crutches and beating you with them.”

Joe winced.  He marveled his girlfriend’s penchant for violence with a mixture of amusement and fear.

Joe: “Okay, fine, pookie-bear, but the main reason I called was because I was feeling a little nostalgic.  I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the movies.  Friday they’re showing Ghosts, Goblins, and Girlfriends.”

There was a tinge of excitement in Kate’s voice.

Kate: “How’d you know I wanted to see that?”

Joe: “I don’t know, a movie with zombies, ghosts, goblins, fairies, and a weird love story just all seemed to scream ‘Kate.’”

She laughed on the other end.

Kate: “You know me too well.”

Joe: “Like no other.  I wanted to see it at the drive-in like we used to when I first got my car.”

Kate: “Oh, wow, really … like when we first started going there by ourselves…”

Joe began to think back on those times, and all of a sudden felt a rush of heat travel to his face.

Joe: “You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

Kate: “No!  Get your mind out of the gutter, lunkhead!  Unlike you, I plan to actually watch this movie.”

Joe: “So it’s a date then?”

Kate: “I’ll have to think about it.  You have a reputation as a troublemaker, you know.”

Joe: “The only trouble I know is the good kind…”

************

Borland’s call came later than Joe had expected.  He had just started on another chapter of A Clockwork Orange when he received the call.  Borland’s voice came through sounding husky.

Borland: “Tonight.  Your hangout spot.  Back alley.  You’ll see the girl first, whatever she looks like.  I’ll show last.”

Hangout spot?  Did he mean the clock tower?  If so, that was too close for Joe’s liking.  He didn’t want Borland to accidently discover Melissa and Dahlila, at least until they were ready.

Joe: “I don’t know about that.  Do we have to meet up there?”

Borland: “Not up for debate.  We do this now.  Start making your way there.”

Joe: “Where are we going after?”

Borland: “No time to explain.”

Click.

Joe grabbed his car keys, a thin jacket, a pen and a notebook, then made his way outside.  His parents, who had taken his suspension surprisingly well, asked him where he was off to.  He told them that he was going out with friends, which wasn’t entirely a lie, and after that jumped into his car and started for the clock tower on Sapton Street.

When he arrived he saw Liandra partially sitting but mostly leaning against her motorcycle.  She was in her normal form tonight.  Her hair, long, dark, and voluminous, was unruly and covered most of her face.  When Joe approached she swept it to the side.  He greeted her with a wave.

Joe: “No special appearance tonight?”

Liandra: “This isn’t special enough for you.  I made myself all pretty for you and you don’t even appreciate it.”

Joe blushed and struggled to comprehend what she had said.

Joe: “What!?”

Linadra: “Relax.  It was a joke.”

Joe made a strange contorted face and smiled awkwardly.

Joe: “Yeah, hehe, I knew it.  That’s why I also … was … joking.”

Liandra shook her head.

Joe: “Why does Borland want us to gather here?”

She shrugged.

Liandra: “I honestly couldn’t tell you.  He’s overly cautious, that’s for sure.  He doesn’t want to meet anywhere we’ve already met.”

Joe: “But of all the places.  Do you think he knows?”

Liandra: “I don’t know.  I have no clue what goes on in Borland’s head.”

Joe: “You know where we’re going next?”

She shrugged.

Liandra: “You’ll have to ask Borland.”

They stood in silence for a while after that.

Liandra: “Your normal life has gotten a lot tougher since the stadium, hasn’t it?”

Joe didn’t feel like lying to her, so he nodded his head.

Liandra: “Fame is sometimes cruel.  I can see, though, that these tests have made you sturdier, stronger even.  That makes me feel a little less guilty about getting you involved in all this.”

Joe: “I volunteered myself.  No need to feel guilty.”

He saw her mouth tighten and she looked down to her side, then quickly back at him.

Liandra: “Not exactly.  You were ‘inspired’ by me.  It’s a passive crafte, one of mental domination.  I cannot control it and I cannot dictate what it does and how others react to it.  I’m lucky that it rarely affects anything, but, when it does, those who are affected usually do bold deeds, mostly in my favor.  Deeds they wouldn’t have the courage to do elsewise.”

Joe: “Seriously!?”

Liandra: “That is the most likely reason you jumped in so recklessly to help me at the stadium.  Since I can’t control this, when it does occur I typically use it to my advantage.  To that end, I ended up using you to accomplish my goals, and I’m sorry for that.  I’m sorry for all the damage I have caused in your life.”

Joe closed his eyes and shook his head.

Joe: “No, it’s okay.  It’s a bummer to learn that I didn’t really do any of that on my own.”

He smiled sadly. Liandra got up from her bike, walked over to him, gently put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

Liandra: “All of that is in you.  You truly want to do good and to be good.  You wouldn’t have done what you did otherwise.”

She smiled at him. With true honesty and understanding, he thought, which put him at ease.

Liandra: “I believe your life will get better once all this is behind you.  I’ll do my best to get you to that point.”

Joe: “Thanks, B—Liandra.  I appreciate that.”

She nodded and they both waited quietly for Borland’s arrival.  It was eleven o’ three by the time he showed up.  He parked his car next to Joe’s and walked through the dark alley towards them.

Liandra: “You’re late.”

Borland: “I had a tail that I was trying to lose all night.  These guys seem desperate for something.  I’ve never seen them so relentless.  I take that to mean I’m doing something right.  Now, without further ado, let’s go get this over with.”

Joe: “Where to next?”

Borland looked at Joe like he was crazy.

Borland: “Ya think I spent all that time losing that tail to leave again?  The meeting’s here, at your little clubhouse.  Now lead on.  Take us somewhere with a decent amount of space so I can stretch my legs.”

Joe began to sweat.  Oh no, this is bad, he thought. I don’t know what to do.  He didn’t expect Borland to want to have the meeting here.  He had to think fast.

Joe: “This isn’t the best place for a meeting.  For one, there’s no light in there after dark.”

Borland: “Well, good thing I thought ahead and brought some candles since I figured this dump wouldn’t have electricity.”

Borland lifted his black duffle bag to show Joe.  Joe was getting desperate.

Joe: “I’m telling you, it’s really bad in there.  It’s cold and dusty and smells like old dirt.  That smell stays in your clothes.”

Borland was losing his patience.  Even in the dark Joe could see him scowl.

Borland: “Listen.  I don’t care about any of that.  We don’t have a lot of time, so take us inside to a good spot now or I will drag you in there by the neck and find it myself.”

Joe swallowed hard, turned, and walked up the stairs to the back door.

Joe: “Fine, fine.  Just let me look around to make sure the coast is clear.”

Borland: “Who do you think is in there?”

Joe had nothing to say.

Borland: “And what sense would it make to have a kid doing that when we have an armed ex-cop and a lady that can beat up ten men here?”

Joe became frantic trying to think of something, anything, to stop Borland from entering the building.  He looked to Liandra for support.  She simply nodded her head.

Liandra: “Just lead us in, Joe.”

Joe wordlessly walked forward and opened the door, making sure to do so as slowly as he could.  Inside was nothing but darkness.  He fumbled around a bit, half pretending, half not.  He kept up the charade until Borland pulled out a flashlight and illuminated the black iron stairs and the doors.

Borland: “We goin’ up or what, kid?”

Joe thought for a minute.  He knew Melissa would most likely be at the top, and figured that there was no way to really hide the signs that she was up there.  The pictures, the sleeping bags, the blankets, all of it gave her away.  At least on this floor he had the chance of Dahlila being somewhere else.  She might have snuck out again to get more supplies.  Or she was probably waiting inside, and as soon as he opened the door would probably slam him again.  That would give her away instantly, unless…

A crazy idea popped into his head, but he realized he needed to be quick about it for it to work.  He started coughing loudly.  Borland tried to shush him.

Borland: “Keep it down, kid.”

Joe: “Sorry Mr. BORLAND!  It’s just all this dust.  I didn’t know so much of it could HIDE so well on the walls.”

Borland: “Alright, keep it down. Stop yelling.”

Joe: “Okay, MR. BORLAND!”

He hoped that was enough, as bad as it was.  He saw Liandra shaking her head behind Borland.  Borland looked at Joe as if he were crazy.

Borland: “Your parents must not have fed you today.”

Joe slowly pushed the creaking door open, half expecting to be grabbed and slammed at any moment.

Borland: “Bad things are gonna happen if you don’t hurry up with that door and stop toying with me, kid.”

Joe quickened his pace.  He opened the door and saw the pale blue light of the moon keeping much of the room's darkness at bay.  What he didn’t see was any sign of Dahlila, or her exercise equipment, and what’s more he was still on his feet.  He let out a huge sigh of relief.  He guessed that she was upstairs with Melissa.  Hopefully they had heard him.

Joe: “Well, I guess the benches over there are as good a spot as any for this meeting.  Shall we begin?”

Borland appeared to be annoyed.  Liandra however was transfixed on the statue of the woman at the altar at the front of the room.  She walked up to it and touched its face, gently, as one might touch a person they’re about to lose.

Joe: “Are you okay, Liandra?”

Liandra: “Yes, I’m fine.  This statue ... she’s beautiful is all.”

Chapter 29

The Deadly Speech

It was early, school time early, and Joe dreaded every minute of being awake.  Where was the joy of getting suspended if he couldn’t sleep in?  Mostly Joe just wanted this day to be over.  Once the day was done he’d be safely in his bed again and not worrying about some psycho killer out for blood.  He’d be happy for that.  That worry had left a painful knot in the pit of his stomach.  The sooner that left, the better off Joe would be.

On this particular morning, Joe’s brain decided to worry him every which way it could.  Everything that had recently troubled him came to the forefront of his thoughts.  He tried his best to push those bad thoughts away but had no such luck.  His somber mood continued into breakfast.  He tried to focus on Borland’s plan in order to get his mind out of the dumps.

Borland had spent the majority of the meeting emphasizing each of their roles.  Joe was told that he was to strictly watch his small portion of the crowd and report, to Borland or Liandra, any sign of suspicious activities.  It felt like small-time grunt work to Joe, but he was fine not sticking his neck out.  He still wasn’t used to dealing with danger and assassins like the other two.  They seemed to keep their calm in those situations, where he always panicked.  Borland had even gone out of his way to make Joe promise to stay out of danger.  Joe remembered his words.

Borland: “Don’t try to be a hero, that’s the main thing.  You’re a civilian, and if you die I’ll be the one to blame.”

To Joe it had sounded like Borland’s way of trying to communicate that he cared.

Liandra was outside waiting in the driveway as planned.  She had taken his car last night and dropped him off.  Joe got into the passenger side and closed the door.  Now Liandra—in the guise of an older gent in a white dress shirt, blue crisscross patterned tie, mustard colored slacks, and sporting a gray Caesar haircut—was trying to hammer the details of the plan into Joe’s memory as she drove off.  Once she noticed his lack of interest and apparent preoccupation, she stopped regurgitating facts and asked him a question.

Liandra: “What’s wrong, Joe?”

He didn’t immediately answer, not quite sure what to say.  After a moment he found his voice.

Joe: “Everything is … all of it.”

Liandra: “Elaborate please.”

Joe: “Nothing is right.  If I died today it’ll be for nothing.  I haven’t accomplished anything in my life.”

He looked out the window at nothing in particular as he talked, making sure his face was fully turned away from hers.  She heard a dull THUNK, and then looked down at Joe’s pants to see the wide splash mark made by what was most likely a tear.

Joe: “When I look back on it, my whole life is nothing but a failure.”

Liandra was never a cheerleader or one to mince her words; however, she tried her best to put him in better spirits.  She transformed back to her normal self for a moment to make the situation less weird.

Liandra: “You mean has been.”

Joe: “What?”

Liandra: “If you think nothing good has come of your life, then you must remember that you’re talking about your very short life up to this point.  I promise that I won’t let you die today.  After that, it’s up to you to decide if the rest of your life is going to be a failure or not.  You have plenty of time to make something of yourself.  Don’t waste it on moping around and thinking of a life that could’ve been.”

He looked at her sheepishly, his eyes still red and wet.

Joe: “Thanks.”

She smiled at him.

Liandra: “Don’t thank me until we’re done with this mess.”

************

It had been a pain to park.  There were way more people here than Joe thought there would be.  Joe didn’t think anybody liked this boring political stuff, but it seemed he was wrong.  The only person he knew to be openly political year-round was Kate.  She was always prattling on about women’s rights, gay rights, and voting rights.  For all her talk of “rights” all of her positions were remarkably to the “left,” at least that’s what one of Joe’s teachers had said to him in a joking manner.  Joe couldn’t find the humor in it.

The crowd was jam-packed.  They had filled the Sunbeam County Fair Courtyard easily enough, and it wasn’t even anywhere near noon.  Joe and Liandra, the old man, had split up as soon as they entered the courtyard so no one saw them together.  She was to keep an eye on the rear of the crowd and he the middle.  Borland was supposed to watch the front, but he was nowhere in sight.  It was tough to see through the thickness of the crowd.

Joe waded through the crowd, not entirely sure what he was looking for.  There were mainly older folks around his parents’ age and older.  Joe supposed that this would-be assassin he was looking for would be someone younger, so he looked around for folks closer to his age than Borland’s.  He saw a few younger folks scattered about, and one big group of them that was in his middle section.  They looked only slightly older than him, maybe on some college field trip, if they had those in college.  Maybe the assassin would come from that group.  They looked innocent enough and nearly as restless as Joe.  It would be twenty more minutes until the governor took to the stage.

After a few minutes Joe felt a vibration against his leg.  He whipped out the cell phone that Borland had given him and read the message.  “Everyone in position.”

Joe responded with a “Yes,” as fast as he could type.  He still couldn’t see Borland, however.  He placed the phone back into his pocket.  It was nearing time for the speech to begin.

“I didn’t expect to see you at this event, Joseph.”

Joe turned towards the familiar voice and saw the small man dressed in brown slacks, a yellow dress shirt, white vest, and as always those tiny white tic-tac shoes.  He looked as if he were going to some prom as a bathroom gone bad.  Today he complemented all that with a pair of silver-framed specs which caught the sun and reflected it into Joe’s eyes, causing him to squint.

Mr. Patrias: “I see suspension hasn’t kept you from being a busybody.  Of all places, what brings you here?”

Joe didn’t want to talk to Patrias, but felt obligated thanks to Zero Tolerance.

Joe: “I thought I’d come out here to learn a little about our local politics.”

Patrias smiled and clasped his hands together.

Mr. Patrias: “Good answer, and very commendable.  If you keep up this level of academic excellence, you may get to keep your spot at our school.  Keep up the good work and enjoy the speech, Joseph.  Good day to you.”

The principal walked away with a subdued smile, while Joe bared a subdued scowl as he walked away.  Of all places, Joe thought.  A few moments later the speech started.

There was a huge commotion and the crowd forcefully moved forward when a celebrity, some actor named Ace McTavert, took to the stage for the governor’s introduction.  He started by rattling off a list of the governor’s accomplishments.  It was a formidable list, but Joe noted that a lot of the supposed achievements sounded trivial at best.

After all that, the governor was brought on stage to loud collective applause and cheers.  He was a round and squat man, bald at the top of his head with a horseshoe shaped half-ring of brown hair around that.  He was clean shaven and wore a dark blue suit sans the blazer.  He looked uncomfortable, or constipated, or both as he smiled and waved around to the crowd.  Shutters snapped feverishly before he even uttered a word, and when he did talk there was nothing but bullish confidence in his voice.

“What kind words from Mr. McTavert.  I’ve always liked his movies, so his endorsement means a lot.  Thanks, Ace!  Now, to those of you who don’t know me, I am your friendly neighborhood governor, John Everstone!”

Loud cheers erupted at the mention of the governor’s name.  The governor paused to let the clamor die down a bit before he continued.  Joe felt he was the only one here who didn’t know who this governor really was.  He wasn’t familiar with the man in the least.

Everstone: “Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you all!  I couldn’t have done this without you.  I think of you all every day and in every decision I make.  That’s the success of my administration and I don’t keep that a secret.  We are for the people and by the people!”

The crowd erupted at that.  Hands went up in the air, whistles were blown, flags were waved that had the governor’s name on them, and the cheers seemed to nearly rival a Pickers game.  Nah, on second thought, nothing rivals the loudness of a Pickers’ game, Joe thought.

Everstone: “At your behest, I have put into effect a five point plan.  Now, this very town was good to me during the election and ol’ John won’t forget it.  That’s why I’m using this town as a launching point for part three of my five point plan, rebuilding.  You’ll soon see new construction around some of your favorite districts in a concerted effort to bring prosperity, opportunity, and fun to this town.  Our plan to rejuvenate this state starts with you, Orangetown, and to kick that off we’ve invested countless resources into getting Pickers stadium up and running so your Pickers have a home to return to.”

More cheers went up, this time insanely louder than the last.

Everstone: “We will have the stadium up and running before next season.  That’s a promise!”

The crowd went wild, and this time not even Governor Everstone could bring them back.  He smiled and you could barely hear him talking and laughing over the speakers.

“EH-VER-STONE!  EH-VER-STONE!  EH-VER-STONE!” went the chant from the crowd.

Everstone: “Now I’m flattered but we have to—”

They cut him off with, “FOUR MORE YEARS!  FOUR MORE YEARS!  FOUR MORE YEARS!”

Joe found himself smiling too, mainly at the thought of more Pickers games here in Orangetown.  His reverie was interrupted when his pocket vibrated.  He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at it.  “STOP GAWKING,” it said.  A second message came immediately after: “This lousy GOV won’t save himself.”  Joe got the message in more ways than one, and proceeded to do his part in saving the governor’s life.  He walked to his left and awkwardly surveyed the men and women around him.  He honestly felt like the suspicious one.  A few people around him agreed and eyed him warily as he passed by.  After that, he walked back through the crowd again, but this time towards the right side.  He didn’t see any sign of suspicious activity but continued to survey all the same.

On stage, some man in a black suit walked over to the governor and tapped him on the shoulder.  Joe thought it was curtains for Everstone until he saw him laughing after the other man whispered some inaudible joke in his ear.  The man walked away and Everstone turned his attention back towards the crowd.

Everstone: “I was just told some very interesting news.  It seems that we have a very special guest here with us today, and it seems that they’re a secret supporter of mine.  I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least say hi.”

The crowd became hushed with suspense as they waited to learn who this guest was.  Joe himself didn’t care at all who this guest was, probably just another boring old guy.  He just wanted the speech to be done for his and the governor’s sake.

Everstone: “Joe Black, is that you back there?  Joseph Remington Black?”

Joe stopped in his tracks and froze.  He couldn’t believe it.  The crowd was stunned too.  Everyone was turning their heads to look for him.  Only a few of those near him immediately recognized him.  Joe turned towards the stage and saw that the governor had clearly recognized him as well.  Thanks to Everstone’s unwavering stare, all eyes were quickly upon him.

Everstone: “Yes, that is you isn’t it?  My eyes don’t deceive me.”

Joe could do nothing but stare at the man.  The phone in his pocket vibrated but he didn’t have the nerve to answer it, not with everyone staring at him.

Everstone: “Can you join me on stage, young man?”

Joe had no idea what to do.  More vibrations came from his pocket, but the only thing on his mind now were the stares.  There were so many faces around him, all staring, with John Everstone at the center of the parade.  They all waited to see what he would do next, but even he didn't know what he would do.  The next thing he knew he was nodding his head very slowly.  His feet did the rest.

Everstone: “Yes, that’s it!  Come on down!”

The crowd started booing as Joe made his way to the stage, so much venom in their jeers that the governor thought it best to send security over to meet Joe and escort him to the stage.

Everstone: “Yes, this young man does indeed have a reputation that precedes him, and it is a rather infamous one.”

Once Joe was on stage, the governor welcomed him with a strong handshake and a pat on the shoulders.  He spoke to Joe away from the mic.

Everstone: “Nice to finally meet you.”

The camera shutters snapped like mad.  The governor then patted Joe on the back, a gesture signaling for him to face the audience.  Joe followed the governor’s cue as the governor prepared to talk.  Governor Everstone was fairly short up close.

Everstone: “So here we are.  I want to properly introduce you all to our friend here, Joseph Black.  Can we call you Joe?”

Joe nearly froze again, but instead he offered:

Joe: “Yes … my friends call me Joe.”

Everstone: “That’s great, Joe, because I do want to be your friend, and I’ll bet that once the people here get to know the real you, they will too.”

He again turned to face the audience.

Everstone: “Now, I want to clear up a few things about our pal Joe.  I’ve followed his case from its beginning, being an avid Pickers fan myself, and took an immediate interest in this young man’s story.  We all know he was originally implicated and charged for the destruction inside the Pickers stadium, and we as informed citizens know that those charges were dropped as well.  Most of you sound like you’re not convinced of his innocence, however.  I recently looked into this case and uncovered a few details that weren’t released to the public.”

Joe became even more nervous.  He wasn’t ready for any questions related to the stadium incident right now.  He suddenly couldn’t remember the story that Liandra and Borland had made him rehearse for the police.

Everstone: “What I know that many of you don’t is that this young man only stayed in that stadium because he risked his life to save a young lady, narrowly making it out himself from the resulting chaos.  As a survivor and a compassionate human being, I think he perfectly represents this town.  Beyond all that, I think he deserves an apology from all of us who doubted him and continue to doubt him.  I, for one, want to thank him for setting an example of the goodness this town has to offer.”

Silence fell over the crowd.  Shortly after that came thunderous applause.  It was the loudest by far.  It was strange to see people, who earlier might have torn him to shreds, now cheering for him.  It was a great feeling of validation for him.  He had set out only to do the right thing, and it felt good to be praised for it.  He had an overwhelming urge to bow and to cast himself into the crowd like a righteous rocker in a mosh-pit.  Now wasn’t the time for that however.

Something caught his eye, or maybe it’d be more apt to say nothing caught his eye.  It was the stillness amidst a sea of moving hands and bodies that gave him pause and allowed him to see the danger.

Joe: “HE’S GOT A GUN!”

Chapter 30

Of Killers and Lizards

The moment was surreal.  It seemed like no one was moving.  The crowd was still, the governor was still; heck, even the air seemed at a standstill as everyone held their collective breath.  Unfortunately, the governor’s security detail was the most still, almost to the point of being catatonic.

It seemed to Joe that only he and this gunman were the only ones in motion, and they were directly competing.  Unfortunately for Joe, he was no good at competition.  His early attempts at grade school sports were a testament to that.  He could only hope against hope that he’d come out of this with his life.  His declaration of danger had silenced the crowd, the deafening CRACK of the assassin’s gun had sent them all into a frenzy.  They parted like the Red Sea and scattered away from the scene as best they could.

Joe lay on the ground in a daze.  He looked over to his left and saw the governor with a horrorstruck look frozen upon his face.  That caused him to worry until he saw the man start to move.  Joe hadn’t seen the face of the assassin, and if he was quick and lucky enough he wouldn’t have to.

Joe: “Come on, Governor, we have to go!”

The governor quickly snapped out of his daze and got to his knees.  They both ducked low behind the podium.

Everstone: “Stay low.  We’ll go out the back.”

A loud CRACK hissed through the air, followed by a hole in the middle part of the podium.  Joe felt the bullet cut hotly through the air above him.  Splinters fell atop his and Everstone’s heads.

Everstone: “It’s now or never, kid, we got to go!”

Joe: “Right!  Let’s go!”

Throwing caution to the wind, they took off as fast as they could, making sure to keep their heads as low as possible.  As they were running, Joe heard another gunshot, this one softer-sounding, followed by another loud CRACK from whoever was shooting before.  Neither bullet came anywhere near Joe or Governor Everstone.  Once they were behind the curtains, Everstone yelled something about his lax security and told Joe that they needed to keep moving.

They continued running for what had to be two or three minutes.  When they finally stopped they found themselves in a large tent surrounded by people.  They were in the middle of some sort of reptile convention.  The people here were unaffected by the drama that had occurred only down the road.  There was enough noise from the people, announcers, and exhibits to drown out distant gunshots.

They waited, trying as best they could to blend in with the reptile enthusiasts around them.  They pretended to be preoccupied with the collector’s exhibits, all the while glancing around for more signs of danger.  Joe found solace here even amongst this deadly collection of the world’s most exotic reptiles, and they stood around for what felt like ten or fifteen minutes before the governor sent and received a text message.  He sighed and wiped his brow after he read it.

Everstone: “It’s over.”

The governor wiped his brow and bought a dull little pocket knife from a nearby vendor and handed it to Joe.

Everstone: “This is yours hero.  It’s a souvenir.”

Chapter 31

Meet the Press

Joe and Governor John Everstone left the somewhat safe confines of the reptile convention and walked all the way back towards the Courtyard.  The security guards came to escort him, but Everstone shooed them away.

Everstone: “You picked a damn fine time to try to be useful.  Get away from me!  The lot of you are useless!  And fired!  Where’s Robert?”

One of the confused-looking guards pointed straight ahead, and that’s when Joe saw him.  Joe nearly screamed.

Everstone: “Robert!  Robert!”

Everstone walked brusquely, so fast in fact that Joe nearly had to jog to keep pace.  I should be running the other way, he told himself. I need to warn them all.

Joe: “Governor … Governor Ever—”

They were right in front of the man now.  His features were unmistakable.  His hair was gray, nearly silver, and light enough that it was probably once blonde.  He didn’t look old at all except for his hair.  His slacks matched his hair and his tie matched his eyes, which were a pale blue color that sometimes looked silver depending on how you looked at him.  His eyes were what Joe remembered the most from their brief encounter at the stadium.  Now, though, the man’s demeanor was totally different.

Joe: “Grabas…”

Robert: “Yes, that’s me.  How’d you know?  I usually stay behind the camera and let the governor do all the talking.”

He smiled and offered his hand to Joe.  Joe reluctantly shook it weakly.

Joe: “I…”

Robert: “Thank you for saving the governor’s life.  He’s important to the future of this great state, and even though he doesn’t know it yet, the world.  I can see that now.”

He patted Joe on the shoulder.

Everstone: “Robert, that security was lousy.  I just fired them all.”

Robert: “Yes, it was bizarre.  They all just stood there like they were petrified or something.”

Everstone: “We’ll need new security.  Don’t get them from the bargain bin this time.  My supporters can spring for some top of the line security, and after today I want the best.”

Robert: “Well, sir, maybe we can just hire this young man here to protect you.  He did such a great job today.”

He smiled over towards Joe, who shuddered under his skin.

Everstone: “I’m considering it.  He did much better than that slop you had guarding me.  I should fire you right along with them.”

Robert: “I’m glad you haven’t yet, and I do apologize from the bottom of my heart for such a failure on my part.  My mistake was placing so much faith in our head of security.  I thought he was up to the task.”

Everstone: “He won’t have his job for much longer.”

Robert: “I’ll get right on it, sir.”

Everstone: “No!  I want to do that myself.  I’ll have the lot of them put under investigation.”

Robert: “Okay, sir.  The press is waiting for you.”

Everstone: “They’ll have to wait longer.  I need to assess the damage.  Come on, Joe!  Follow me.”

Joe: “I—um … yes sir.”

Joe followed behind the governor as the man walked over to a large gathering of police officers.  Joe saw another familiar face, the man Borland called Carl.  He had more gray hair than the last time Joe had seen him, and rings under his eyes.  He looked like he desperately needed some sleep, but besides that he was A-OK.   Joe was glad the man was still alive.  The last time he had seen him was under a hail of bullets at the police station.

Carl: “You can’t stay out of trouble, can you, kid?”

Both he and Joe laughed.

Joe: “It’s good to see you, sir.”

Carl: “You mean alive, right?  I’m not dying that easily.”

Everstone: “You get around, don’t you, Joe?”

Joe tried to shrug as nonchalantly as he could.

Everstone: “How bad is it, Lieutenant?”

Carl: “No civvies were hurt, if that’s what you mean.  We’re still trying to piece everything together.  We don’t have a clear motive yet, and so far it doesn’t look like we’ll get one.  We’ll need Joe here to help us figure out what happened, since he was the first one to notice the shooter.”

Joe looked astonished.  He was already tired of all the attention.

Everstone: “You guys get the culprit?”

Carl: “In a manner of speaking, yes.  Though he won’t be giving any statements anytime soon.”

Everstone: “What happened?”

Carl: “A former officer, Hank Borland, had to put the shooter down after he had you both pinned down on stage.”

Everstone: “I see.  Another good deed from a citizen.  Well, thank you, Lieutenant.  Now let’s get these statements out of the way.”

Carl: “Okay, follow me.”

They followed him to a pair of younger detectives, who asked about the details surrounding the shooting.  Joe’s mind was drawing a blank, but his mouth was incredibly spitting out the details of it all flawlessly, details he was surprised he even knew.

Detective: “That’s all?”

Joe: “Yes, sir.”

Detective: “Well, kid, I may not be the first, and I definitely won’t be the last to say this, but you’re a hero.  I’ll see you around.”

After that the governor walked him over to a bench, where they sat for a while.  Joe was still in a daze, not sure if everything around him was real.

Everstone: “Robert, say hello to Joe the hero, the boy who saved my life haha.  That’s what the papers are going to read.”

Robert Grabas, the governor’s apparent aide, walked up lazily and offered a mocking hand and smile, even though they had clearly met already a few minutes ago.

Robert: “Hello, Joe the hero.  I have a young son that’s around your age.  You remind me a lot of him.  I’d love for you to meet him one day.  Maybe some of your greatness will rub off on him … if I’m lucky anyway.”

Did he mean Jonathan? Joe thought.  He had to.  It made sense.  Jonathan had the same last name as him.  That connection was a little too close to home for his liking.  Jonathan was a childhood friend, but they hadn’t talked in a while, mainly because Jonathan was—well—dead.  The way Grabas was acting didn’t make sense.  It was common knowledge in Orangetown that Jonathan was dead.  Why would he lie? he wondered.  He shook Grabas’ hand, which was a tough thing to do for Joe, considering that the man probably wanted both he and the governor dead.  Heck, he may have even killed his son years ago.

Everstone: “Now that we’re all friends, I have one more favor for you, Joe.  Let’s go and tell all these wonderful cameras how much of a hero you are.  You don’t know it, but you’re going to bring big things to this town.”

In a way he already had.

Chapter 32

The Olive Branch

It had taken forever, but Joe finally managed to calm down.  He lay down, remaining perfectly still for what seemed like an hour, but it could’ve easily been two hours.  He made sure to enjoy all of the quiet while he could.  He had barely slept last night, and even the few hours of sleep he got were fretful.

He contemplated getting up, but that required too much effort.  He flipped over to his stomach and tried to lie like that.

Joe: “Ow!  Stupid cellphone.”

Joe pulled his red smart-phone from his pocket and instinctively reached for the other one, until he remembered that Borland had snatched it in a rage yesterday.  From what Joe could tell, the man was mad that Joe had even gotten on stage with the doomed politician.  He said that Joe had played right into the bad guys' hands by doing that, and put his own life in danger.  He said they had most likely tried to take Joe and the governor out in one fell swoop.

Borland reserved the bulk of his anger on the subject of all the interviews Joe had given.  He told Joe that he was making his own bull’s-eye bigger.  Joe had only done the interviews because the governor had insisted, and for his part Everstone had given Joe nothing but praise during the multitude of interviews.  Joe himself barely said anything, only backing up the governor when needed.  His parents had become a bit fanatical.  They had set out to record every one of his interviews.  He had done one for each of the big news stations.

In the distance he could hear the antiquated ring of the house phone, which was a rare annoyance to hear.  It rang for a while, until he heard the low voice of his mother.  After a few more moments, she yelled up to him high and loud.

Mrs. Black: “JOE TE-LE-PHONE!”

He lazily shifted to a semi-seated position and reached for his slippers.

Joe: “Okay, Mom!”

Anyone he wanted to talk to would’ve called his cell phone.  He was already dreading the call.  He shuffled down the stairs in no particular rush, and his mom handed him the phone with a smile on her face.

Mrs. Black: “Don’t worry, it’s good news.”

He put the phone to his ear.

Joe: “Hello?”

Patrias: “Ah hello, Joseph!  It’s good to hear that you’re okay after all that happened yesterday.  What a mess that was!”

Joe remained silent.  Patrias’ false courtesy was annoying, or maybe it was real courtesy.  Either way, Joe wanted to slam the phone down and hang up on the man.

Patrias: “What you did yesterday was a wonderful act, and in my opinion totally deserves a reward.  That’s why I want to end your suspension and welcome you back with open arms.”

Joe remembered his last conversation with the governor, how he had promised to get Joe’s suspension lifted.  Patrias was just playing nice because his bosses told him to.  Joe figured he could use that to turn the situation in his favor.

Joe: “What about Mod?  Can he come back with me?  I would have a tough time without my best friend backing me up.”

Joe could imagine the smile on Patrias’ face fading.

Patrias: “Well, that wasn’t agreed upon.”

Joe: “By who?  Me and you?  Or you and your boss?  Well, if that’s the case I think I’ll just enjoy my time off.”

Patrias: “Yes, yes.  I see, I see.  You are much smarter than I gave you credit for.  Tell your friend Mod that he is welcome back along with you.  I expect both of you to report back bright and early Monday morning.”

Joe: “That sounds good, thanks.”

Joe hung up before the principal could initiate any more chat.  Maybe I should’ve asked for more, he thought, like a handicap to getting off the zero tolerance list.  He shrugged to himself.  Just then his mom walked up with two cups of tea in her hands.  She handed one to Joe, which he gratefully accepted.

Joe: “Thanks, Ma!”

She nodded her head and took a sip of her drink.

Mrs. Black: “So it sounds like Mr. Patrias is on the Joe bandwagon now too.”

Joe: “I don’t think so.  I’m pretty sure he still hates me, but the governor said he’d make some calls to help me out.”

Mrs. Black: “The governor!  You two are close like that?”

Joe: “Well, you know, I did kind of save his life.”

Joe grinned as he said that and his mother chuckled.

Mrs. Black: “Noted, Mr. Smarty-pants.  Well, dinner’s here early.  I picked up some takeout from the buffet.  Most of it is stuff you like.”

Joe’s mouth started to water at the thought of that.

Joe: “Oh wow, the buffet!  Thanks, Mom.”

Mrs. Black: “Eat up, champ.  I have to get back to the store to sort out this order.  Your dad should be back soon.”

She kissed his forehead and made for the side door.

Joe: “Have fun…”

She looked at him and dramatically rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Black: “Never mind that.  You just try to stay out of trouble.  You may be a hero to everyone else now, but you’re still my little boy.  If anything happens to you I’ll … you just be good, okay?”

She turned her head and wiped her face with her shirt collar.

Joe: “I’ll try.”

Mrs. Black: “I suppose that’s the best I could ask for.”

With that, she was out the door, and soon after drove off.  Joe couldn’t stand making a woman cry, especially his mom.  It just hit him how worried she must’ve been for him this whole time.  That made him think about Kate and her tears.  So he called her.  He also called Mod to give him the news of his reentry.  He sounded less than thrilled about it.

************

Joe found himself excited to go back to school after a restful weekend where he did nothing but eat and watch T.V.  He rushed through breakfast and couldn’t remember what he ate to save his life.  He felt that new paths were opening up to him and suddenly his normally boring life didn’t seem so bleak.

He picked Mod up in front of his house like they had agreed.  The bruises and welts on Mod’s face had healed well.  They were nearly gone now.  Mod sat down in the car looking rather somber.

Joe: “What’s wrong with you?”

Mod: “Nothing, just been thinking…”

He closed the door after he seated himself.

Joe: “‘Bout what?”

Mod: “A lot of stuff, but mainly about how we got suspended.”

Joe: “Oh that … well what happened, happened.”

Joe drove off down the street enjoying the cool air pouring in from his lowered windows.

Mod: “Yeah, well, it could’ve been avoided if I hadn’t been acting like a bucket-head.”

Joe: “The video was wrong, but that’s only because you humiliated Fleez and Dozz’s families too.”

Mod: “Yeah I know.  That’s what I’ve been thinking about.  I crossed the line by putting them in it.  Comedy is comedy until it turns malicious.  I took it too far because I was out for blood.  I wanted to hurt them so bad for what they did to me and Meribeth.  I wanted them to feel that embarrassment tenfold.  That’s no excuse though.  Today I’m going to find them and apologize to them, if they’re here.”

Joe: “Wow, that’s mighty big of you.  Knowing Patrias, they’ll be here.  He hates me enough to bring them back on the same day.”

It took them no time at all to make it to school, which was barely populated since it was still so early.  They both waited near the front doors for Fleez and Dozz.  Eventually they got their wish when the duo walked up in their customary Team Badd Azz vests and tight jeans.

Dozz: “Look, Fleez!  Here comes a new challenger!”

They looked at Joe and Mod with both humor and contempt.  Joe wasn’t sure which to be more afraid of.

Dozz: “Think they’re ready for round two?”

Fleez: “Doubtful.  They’re still licking their wounds from the thrashing I gave them last time.”

It was amazing, but Fleez had absolutely no scratches, wounds, or bruises that Joe could see.  He was entirely unscathed from their encounter.

Joe: “You guys didn’t get suspended?”

Fleez laughed.

Fleez: “We’re awesome, but not that awesome.  Principal Prickly-Head let us back today, saying something about fair treatment.  I’m just glad to get another shot at rearranging both of your faces.  I want to make Joe’s face look like The Scream by Munch, and Modrick I want your face to look like a custom Van Gogh.”

Joe tensed up at that, ready for another fight.

Mod: “Wait!  There’s no need for that.”

Fleez: “I’ve waited long enough.  I won’t wait any longer to crush you, especially after what you did.”

Mod: “That’s what I’m trying to address here.  I want to apologize for what I did.  I know it was wrong.”

Fleez: “Apologizing won’t save you.  I’m going to break your face, maybe make it a bit prettier.”

Mod stood his ground.

Mod: “You think I’m scared of you?  I’ve already shown you that I’m not.  You can hurt me all you want, but you won’t out-prank me.  What I’m apologizing for is putting your families in that video.  I should have had more tact and cut them out of it completely.  I don’t apologize for any parts you were in though.  You two are fair game, and I look forward to making your lives more miserable in the future.”

Fleez smiled a great big smile and patted Mod on the shoulder.  Mod nearly jumped out of his skin at that.

Fleez: “I accept your sincere and surprisingly bad azz apology, and look forward to your measly attempts to make my life miserable.  Such attempts will be answered with your crushing defeat of course, but should still provide some entertainment to me and my colleague here—I mean my colleague and I.”

He stuck his hand out to a grinning Mod.  They shook hands, until Fleez twisted Mod’s arm behind his back and gave him what Joe had only seen in movies and cartoons from the early nineties, an atomic wedgie.  Mod was left speechless as a group of girls walked by gawking at his ruined and supremely elastic underwear that now crowned the top of his head.  They walked away giggling, leaving Mod mortified.

Dozz: “It looks like one point on the board for Team Badd Azz.”

He and Fleez slapped hands, chuckling.

Fleez: “Where’s that leave you, Joe?  We see that you keep doing bigger and badder Badd Azz deeds.  You keep people guessing, which is our M.O. Going from terrorist to local hero was the smoothest play we’ve seen so far.  We want you on our team, now more than ever.”

Joe didn’t even have to think about that one.

Joe: “Sorry, fellas, I already have a team.”

He looked at Mod, who had painfully removed the underwear from his cranium and was trying to neatly tuck it back into his pants.  He remembered their stage name back when they put on their rap performance and then thought of his new friends: Borland, Liandra, Dahlila, and Melissa.  Then he thought of Kate.

Fleez: “You’re not a real team unless you have a name.”

Joe: “And we have one … the Extraordinaires.”

Chapter 33

The Bloody Edifice

The rest of the day felt extremely long to Joe, and exhausting.  His act of saving the governor’s life had, of course, become the talk of town and school.  Half of his classes were devoted to talking about just that, the other half spent plodding through a myriad of missed assignments and watching teachers give him the evil eye.  The teachers seemed to either love him or hate him these days.  Joe had come to miss the reckless indifference they had shown him before.  He didn’t really like all the attention, but it was much more positive than before.

Even though it was refreshing to get positive attention for a change, Joe was still entirely sick of it all.  He was tired of hearing about the situation, tired of explaining what had happened, and most of all he was tired of all the stares that accompanied his every step.

There were only two people he could think of that didn’t know what he had gone through the last couple of days, and they were at the one place he could go to forget about everything.  The only thing he could think of for the majority of the day was visiting them.  Neither Melissa nor Dahlila would ask about the news story, and besides that he wanted to enjoy their company.  As abnormal as their situation was, they’d provide him with the normalcy he needed.  He was tired of basking in his own problems.  He wanted to help them get their normal lives back as much as he craved it for himself.  To do that, they all needed to work together to put Blonsky and now Grabas behind bars.

Today was a perfect day.  The sun was out, but the fine breeze had spread cool air around the city. On days like this Joe felt lucky that he lived in the Sunshine State.  The ride through the streets was buttery smooth as the roads were mostly clear.  He made it to the clock tower in no time at all, but when he arrived something was amiss.  He pulled into the back, neglecting to properly park, and ran and examined the door on the ground.  It had been ripped from its hinges and discarded like trash.  The doorway to the clock tower was wide open.  Joe walked up the stairs to get a better view.  Before he walked in, he texted Liandra for backup in case there was any trouble around.

He stepped into the doorway and looked around anxiously for signs of intruders.  The door into the chapel was torn down as well, but there was nothing in there but dusty footprints, a lot of them.  He searched around carefully and silently for anything that could tip him off on what had happened here.

He found nothing in the temple area, so he moved to the wrought-iron steps.  Halfway up, he spotted blood.  It was thin and hard to spot at first against the black iron, but with every step it grew a bit thicker.  He followed the blood trail all the way up to the top, until he found her heaped in a corner.

Joe: “DAHLILA!”

He couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.  He ran to her and dropped to his knees.  Before he knew it, tears were falling down his face for this girl he barely knew.  She was face down when he found her, but he flipped her onto her back.

Joe: “Dahlila, come on, say something!  It’s me, Joe!”

He didn’t know what to do and cursed himself for barely passing health class and not paying attention to those CPR lessons.  He didn’t know how to wake her up, so he started to panic and scream.  Just then, her eyes moved inside her eyelids.  He had seen it happen, but barely.  He calmed after that.  She was losing a lot of blood from the front of her right thigh.  Countless T.V. shows had shown him that he needed to stop the loss of blood.  He took off his T-shirt, which was coincidently red, and folded it down the middle vertically.  She was wearing navy blue track pants and the blood was gushing through a large hole.  A lot of it was already on the floor beneath her.  He couldn’t avoid staining his A-shirt that he wore underneath his tee.

After examining her wound, he puzzled out that it had to be from a gunshot, only it was much bigger than he had imagined.  He had never seen a gunshot wound up close before.  He ripped away the bottom of her right pant leg, everything below the thigh.  He then tightly and carefully wound his tee around the wound.  He knotted the ends together and said a little prayer afterwards.  When he touched her forehead, she shuddered, and then her breathing became loud and ragged, but he didn’t know what to do after that.  He called Liandra, but she didn’t answer.

Joe: “Come on, Dahlila!  Wake up!”

She coughed wildly and talked barely above a whisper.

Dahlila: “Five more minutes, Papa…”

He nearly smiled at the sound of her voice.

Joe: “Stop, no jokes.  You’re hurting yourself.”

Dahlila: “You’re right … we don’t have time.  We have to go get Melissa…”

She couldn’t even keep her eyes open all the way.

Joe: “We can’t.  Not with you like this.”

Dahlila: “Then you go.  They can’t have … gotten far … if the sun’s still out … look for a Green … Taurus.”

Joe: “I’m sorry.  I just can’t leave you like this.  You could die.”

She tried her best to sit up.

Dahlila: “Damn your sorries!  There’s a little girl … who needs us…”

That outburst had cost her a great deal of strength.  She rested back and took in long haggard breaths.

Joe: “I know, I know!  We have to wait for Liandra.  She’ll be here any minute.”

They sat on the floor together in silence until Liandra’s arrival five minutes later.  She was her normal raven-haired self, but noticeably more tense and serious.  She quickly and wordlessly started examining Dahlila’s thigh.

Liandra: “You keep getting into trouble, girlie.  This time it looks like you crossed the wrong person.”

She untied the shirt that Joe used to slow the bleeding with and cast it aside.  She looked at the wound as if it were a caterpillar under a microscope.  There wasn’t a hint of distress on her face.

Dahlila: “It wasn’t by choice.  I didn’t even recognize the guy calling the shots.”

Liandra: “Well, I’m playing this tight here.  If we don’t get you properly taken care of soon you won’t be with us too much longer.  Joe, get me that cup from the table.”

Joe ran to the table and back.  He placed the cup near her side.

Dahlila: “I got shot … got shot running up the stairs … don’t know who…”

Liandra: “Okay, save your strength for now.  I need you to survive this.  Joe, give me your belt.”

He didn’t understand why she wanted his belt, but he knew that he didn’t have time to question her.  He removed the belt from his pants and handed it to her.

Liandra: “I want you to bite on this for a little while, okay?”

Dahlila opened her mouth and chomped down on the black leather.  Liandra then slowly and meticulously waved her hand across Dahlila’s leg. When she got to the wound, she stopped and hovered over it.

Liandra: “This will hurt.  I want you to keep biting down on that belt.”

Dahlila winced and screamed.  The sound was largely muffled though, straining her jaw muscles from the pressure she was exerting against Joe’s belt.  After that, Liandra dropped something into the cup.  A curious Joe looked down into the cup, but only saw something small and red.  He moved the cup around and saw the silver shining on the other side of the object.

Joe: “Is this…?”

Liandra: “Yes, that’s the bullet she was shot with.”

Joe: “That quick?”

Liandra: “That quick.”

Liandra took something from her messenger bag and was now rubbing it across Dahlila’s thigh.  It was orange and looked like makeup for tanners.

Liandra: “Before you even ask, this is a salve that I got from overseas.  This should help seal that wound up in no time flat.  The only thing she needs now is for her strength to return.  I need you to bring up some water, not too cold.  Take these too.”

She tossed a small sack at him.  He caught it, loosened the drawstring, and peeked inside to see tiny albino-colored beans.

Joe: “What are these?”

Liandra: “You picked a great time to be curious.  Never mind what they are.  Just take them, boil them, and bring them back here.  It shouldn’t take long, about ten minutes max.  Don’t forget to bring the water, and don’t pour out that bean water either.  Save it, bottle it, and bring it with you.  She’ll need it.”

Joe nodded his head and dashed downstairs while he could still remember all that she told him.  He moved as fast as he could.

He came back ten minutes later carrying a jug of water and a steaming bowl of albino beans.  The bean water he left in a thermos downstairs since he wasn’t blessed with a third hand.  He set it all down near Liandra and watched her work.  She wrapped Dahlila’s wound tightly with a fresh bandage.  She then took some sort of liquid out of her bag and poured it on top of the beans.  Whatever it was, it was brown and had a sweet earthy smell.  She then pulled out a small bowl, poured a handful of herbs into it, then crushed it all with a wooden masher.  She put the herbs into the mixture and crushed it all up until it formed into a greenish brown paste.  She spoon-fed a little to a shivering Dahlila, whom she had to coax to swallow.

Liandra: “She’s slipping.  I can’t feed her like this.  We’ll need that bean water to make this go faster.  I need to make this into a full-on draught.  Where’s that bean water?”

Joe cursed himself for leaving it.

Joe: “I’ll go get it.”

“Don’t worry yourself.  Rest your legs, young man.”

Both Joe and Liandra jumped at the sudden intrusion.  They turned to face the intruder.  He was remarkably close, only a few paces away.  How he got there without anyone noticing was anyone’s guess.  He stood tall, pale, and thin.  He had a head full of wild black hair with two silver “wings” above his temples on both sides of his head.  His face was a blank slate, and his eyes were icy blue streams hidden under the thick silver canopy of his eyebrows.  He wore black robes patterned with white designs and gold trim.

Liandra rose to her feet quicker than Joe could react.

Liandra: “Who are you?”

He smiled, showing all of his teeth, which greatly disturbed Joe.  The tall man saw this and quickly hid his chompers.

“I’m sorry for that, it’s just that I rarely ever get that question anymore.  To answer you, my name is … Claude.  I am the minister … or rather the keeper of these grounds and protector of this most hallowed edifice.”

Joe had never seen this man before.  He’d remember someone who looked like him, talked like him, and dressed like him.

Liandra: “What do you want?  Why are you here?”

Claude: “You certainly are … spirited.  A great quality in one so young.”

He smiled again, this time more subdued.

Claude: “To answer your question, I WANT to give you this…”

He pulled the thermos that Joe had left downstairs from his sleeve.  He beckoned Joe over to him and smiled at him.

Claude: “Two trips up these winding stairs is more than enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

He handed Joe the thermos and Joe carefully handed it to Liandra, who was still eying their guest.

Claude: “As for the why … well … I work here, as I have said.”

Liandra: “Fair enough.  Now excuse me, I was in the middle of something important.”

She slowly removed her gaze from him and focused on mixing the still hot water with the paste she’d made.

Claude: “It smells like an Iasian draught, but that would be impossible.  That’s certainly a lost recipe from ancient times that no one currently living should know.”

He smiled at her, apparently too excited to hide his teeth this time.

Claude: “Even though we know that’s not an Iasian draught, if it was it would be the perfect medicine to restore all the blood that she has lost.  Too bad that’s impossible, correct?”

Liandra remained silent and kept force-feeding  Dahlila.  After a few minutes of that, Dahlila opened her eyes all the way and used them to survey her surroundings.  She sat up, now fully awake.  The color in her cheeks had returned as well.

Liandra: “Welcome back.  You feel like telling us what happened here?”

Dahlila: “I’ll be brief.  Once I’m on my feet I’m leaving to go get Melissa.  Anyone that tries to stop me is taking a one way trip down that staircase.  To sum it up: I was attacked by a group of those thugs in black suits, shot, roughed up, and after all that they took Melissa and left me.  Why?  They didn’t say.  I just know that they won’t have her for much longer.  Questions, anyone?”

Joe: “Guys in black suits?  Like at the stadium?”

Dahlila: “Exactly.  That bastard Blonsky’s men.  I knocked some of them out clean.  I could tell they were out, but it’s strange, they kept getting up even after I beat them bloody.”

Liandra: “I wonder why they didn’t take you back or kill you for that matter?  You saw their faces, I imagine.”

Dahlila: “I don’t know why they didn’t finish me. Maybe they thought I would bleed out or something.”

Claude: “There is a simpler explanation.  Your life was spared by this hallowed edifice.  It shielded you from their malice until the end.  I saw it.”

They were all looking at him now.

Dahlila: “What are you talking about?”

Claude: “This edifice is a great and noble creation.  It is truly one of the world’s foremost mysteries.  It is a true wonder, and I am honored to serve as keeper of its grounds.”

Joe: “Just seemed like an old abandoned building to me.”

Claude looked offended.

Claude: “No, not at all, boy.  This edifice is beyond my understanding, truly.  It is said to be a paradox, both shadow and substance.”

Everyone looked at him as though he were speaking Greek.  Joe told himself that this would be his last trip to the tower, since this crazy guy was lurking around.

Joe: “Did you see Blonsky?  Was he the one the shot you?”

Dahlila: “No, not Blonsky, but this guy dressed twice as bad as Mr. Fluorescent Shirts.  And he…”

Joe: “What?  What is it?”

Dahlila: “You’re going to think I’m crazy for saying this but he—I mean, I think he knew magic or something—I don’t know.”

Joe looked straight at Liandra.

Joe: “I’ve seen some crazy stuff, so I actually believe you.”

Dahlila: “Good, cuz I don’t even believe what I’m about to tell you.  I disarmed one of the men after I knocked him out.  I grabbed his piece, and wasn’t going to use it at first, but these guys kept getting up and were closing in on me.  I could see no other way.  When I went to shoot, I felt the gun being tugged away from me, even though no one was there.  After struggling for a while, the thing flew out of my hands and across the room as if I had thrown it.  My hands were shaking, but I know I didn’t throw that gun.  After that, the guy I guessed to be the ringleader of the whole affair walked up the stairs.  I ran at him once I saw him carrying Melissa away, with my bloody leg and all, and decked him.  Next thing I know my feet were being pulled from under me, but again no one was around.  I fell so hard I saw stars.  When I looked up, the bastard was smiling and I could swear he had a wand in his hand.  A witch’s wand.  I thought he was going to kill me, until I woke up with Joe hovering over me.”

They were all quiet for a few moments.

Claude: “It is the work of this wondrous structure.  I saw the invader that you spoke of.  He had some skill in the arcane arts, but not enough to resist the power contained in this building.  The crafte that had bound his subordinates to him had looked to be failing.  That loss of control seemed to shake the man and hasten his retreat.  He ordered all his men outside and tried to finish you himself, but even then his witchcraft seemed to fail him.  With no other weapons left to him, he left you, confident that you would bleed to death.  Yet it seems you have something far more important in store for you, so this great edifice has kept you alive.”

Liandra: “You and I have much to talk about, Claude, but for now I’ll just thank you for helping to save her life.  It looks like we have a busy night ahead of us.”

Joe: “Yeah, it’s time to get Melissa!  Wait!  Dahlila, where are you going?”

The young blonde was already on her feet and walking towards the stairs.

Liandra: “Don’t be a fool.  You can’t find her by searching alone.  Come back here.”

The young blonde looked back at Liandra with a nasty scowl.

Liandra: “Neither you or Borland scare me with those nasty faces you make.  Every moment you stand there is a moment we could be using to find Melissa.  Now get over here so we can make a plan.”

Dahlila reluctantly did as she was told.  Liandra pulled a cell phone from her pocket.

Joe: “That looks like the phone Borland took from me.”

Liandra: “That’s because it is.  He wanted me to give it back to you.  I’m giving it to her instead so we can all keep in contact.  I want you both to trade numbers as well.  You can work alone if you like, Dahlila.  I won’t even tell Borland that you’re helping us.  The only thing I ask is that you keep in touch.  Your energy should be fully restored in an hour’s time.”

Dahlila nodded and took that as her cue to leave.  Joe called her so she could save his number, and she did the same.

Joe: “I don’t have Borland’s number in this phone.  You’ll have to call him.”

Liandra: “We’ll call him once we’re on the move.  We have no more time to waste if we want to catch up to Melissa.”

Joe: “Dahlila told me that one of them drove a green Taurus.  It’s small, but it’s a start.”

Liandra: “It’s better than nothing.”

Joe looked down at the floor and saw bloody footprints everywhere. Only a few were whole.  Joe and Liandra had managed to avoid the blood, and so apparently had Claude.  Only one pair of bloody footprints had made it to where Dahlila had sat, and they were small.  He thought they belonged to Melissa, until he saw that they were in the shape of a men’s dress shoe.  It was all a mess, and Joe felt personally responsible for bringing this trouble to Claude’s doorstep.  After all, he had brought the girls here assuming they would be safe.

Joe: “Sorry about your place, Claude.  I’ll help you clean it up as soon as I get back, and I’ll stop trespassing here too.”

Claude smiled fully and shook his head.

Claude: “Not necessary.  Maintaining this place is my duty, and having you and your friends here makes this place much more lively.  Continue to come to find solace here, and good luck with your friend.”

Joe: “Thanks”

Villain View 3

Marching Orders

“We have the subject.”

The mannerable man’s voice traveled faintly through the telephone.

“Good, good.  Did you eliminate the other one?”

The other man’s voice was also low, yet commanding and curt.

“Yes, of course.  You issued the order and I followed.”

“Job well done.  I only wish you had put more effort into ending the tale of the town’s new hero.”

The mannerable man expected his old friend to say that.

“I did the best I could.   I saw the opportunity to take out two birds with one stone and I took it.  The blame rests with that lackluster cat’s paw you hired.”

“The shooter or the one that hired him?"

The commanding man laughed loudly and continued talking.

"You do make a good point, but it’s all for the best. I realized that shortly after the whole ordeal.  I can get what I want even with Mr. Five Point Plan in my way.  His plans may yet coincide with mine.  His reconstruction efforts around the state are brilliant masks for my construction projects.”

“That’s good.  So we are not at a loss.”

“Well, not completely.  I still want you to fulfill your role.  I don’t want that boy poking his head around my operations anymore.  He’s too high profile, and he’s seen too much.  He’s also made some powerful friends and I don’t like it.  If they all collaborate, they could make our lives a lot more difficult.  I need that girl.”

The mannerable man went silent, lost in his thoughts.  This whole ordeal was becoming a pain.  He was frankly sick of shouldering this task.

“I have done what you asked. I captured the girl, but this other task is beyond me.  I am not a mercenary, I am a scholar.”

The commanding man’s voice rose to a bellow.

“Don’t ever tell me what you are not!  You will be what I need you to be.  Or have you forgotten all that I have done for you?”

The mannerable man was sullen.  His thoughts went back to Cynthia and he nearly cried.

“No.  How could I ever forget?”

“Good.  We have gone through a lot together, old friend.  I trust you with my life and my fate.  That is why it must be you who fulfills this task.  You are perfectly suited for it.  We need your … finesse.  Anything else would be called into question, and we don’t need that right now.”

“What of my future?  If I am caught doing this, it’s over for me.  Why can’t Blon—why can’t the idiot or one of his cat’s paws do this?”

“Like I said, we need finesse.  Besides, he’s already proven that he’s not reliable.  I don’t see him in our operation for too much longer.  Now, I want you to call that fool to let him know that you’re on your way.  He’s assured me that his facilities are open and ready for you.  As I said before, I need that girl.”

Click.

The mannerable man whispered to himself.

“How nice of him.  I’ll call the idiot.”

He dialed the numbers and waited for the man he called “the idiot” to pick up.  He picked up after three long rings.  His voice came through loudly.

“Ah, it’s you!”

The mannerable man was instantly annoyed.

“I have your subject and need a place to put her.”

“Why thanks!  I hope you didn’t overexert yourself.”

The mannerable man’s anger was starting to build.  Heat rose to his face.

“I wouldn’t have to overexert myself at all if I wasn’t stuck doing your work.”

The rough-talking man on the other line chuckled.

“Oh?  So it’s my fault?  Maybe you should remember that I wasn’t the one who’s been failing to take a little boy out of the picture.”

“You certainly didn’t take him out the other day, now did you?”

“Funny.  But you should also remember that I wasn’t the one that ordered you to do my work.  That was your bestie.”

The mannerable man could hear the smile in the other man’s voice.  He wanted nothing more than to wipe it away.

“You didn’t order me to do anything, true, but the gross incompetence of you and your underlings nearly undermined the whole operation, and did in fact contribute to my excess workload.”

The rough-talking man’s voice had lost a small bit of its bravado.

“Well, what’s done is done.  We both have our orders.”

“Lend me one of your cat’s paws.”

The rough talking man laughed, as the other man had expected.

“That’s beyond my pay grade, Billy Boy.  Why don’t you just use some hocus pocus?”

“I’ve tried.  It doesn’t work on him.”

“Listen, I’d love to stand here and listen to you complain about every little thing, but I have money to make.  I know you don’t want to upset your friend, so figure something out.  Oh, and, Billy Boy, no more calls like this.”

Click.

“The nerve of that rude…”

The man was right about one thing: he needed to think of something and quickly.

Villain View 4

The Daily Grind

Buzz, buzz, buzz, went the sound of the alarm clock.  It rang out for three seconds before a quick tap dispelled its buzzing.  It didn’t pay to be a slob, especially with all he had to do today.

He was up and out of bed in no time.  He opened the curtains first, then the windows to let in some sunlight and fresh air.  His shower was brief and cold, which felt surprisingly good on this warm morning.  He dressed quickly and in colors befitting today’s dark mood.  He made a quick breakfast of toast, egg whites, and orange juice supplemented by a little quiet time with his favorite newspaper, The Sunshine State Chronicle.  His mood soured when he saw the front page.

He read the caption: Local Hero Readmitted Into School.  His anger started to build.  Every day there was a new article, when he turned on the T.V. he saw the boy’s face, at work that was the only subject his coworkers had on their dull brains.  Ever since the stadium explosion the whole town had been obsessed with this fraudulent boy and his lucky shaves with death.  It was all the normally mannerable man could stomach.  He ended his breakfast preemptively by hurling his plate across the room.  His only satisfaction came when he heard it shatter against the wall.  He rubbed the rings on his fingers, and now in a calm state of mind, could only think of cleaning up the mess he had made.

“That was an expensive plate.  I’d hate to lose it.”

He closed his eyes whispered a foreign chant under his breath.

By the time he walked over to the wall, the plate was in one piece again.  He picked it up, scraped the food into the trash and put it into the dishwasher.  He double-checked the wall and was delighted to find it picture perfect with no food or stains in sight.  It was all needless.  His abilities had never failed him … until recently.

“That boy is really rattling my confidence.”

He grabbed a dark pair of shoes to match his somber outfit and mood and slipped into them.  He grabbed his briefcase and was out the door.

As he drove to work there was only one thought on his mind.  Today is the day, it has to be.  As always, traffic was a mess in the parking lot, even this early in the morning.  Luckily, he had his own space, which always saved him precious time, time that he used to think and plan.

The halls were mostly clear, as was typical this early in the morning.  He knew that the bulk of the students would be in the auditorium, library, or lunchroom this early in the morning.  The mannerable man tried not to look like he was searching for someone.  He found himself in luck when he turned the corner towards the front entrance and saw the boy walking with his books tucked neatly under his arm.  He smiled with glee when he saw him, but quickly hid his expression.  The boy had been showing up early as of late, surprising the mannerable man with his showing of initiative.  The mannerable man decided to approach him.  The boy looked a bit startled at first approach, but it didn’t take long for that to change to annoyance.

Joe: “P—Principal … what do you want?”

Patrias: “Good morning, Joseph!”

The mannerable man laughed, mainly at the boy’s ignorance and insipidness.

Patrias: “Don’t look at me so accusingly, Joseph.  I don’t make your life tough because I want to.  But forget about all that. Today I’ve come to talk to you about the progress you’ve been making.”

The boy was clearly confused.

Joe: “Oooh-kay…”

Patrias: “Not here.  We’ll have this discussion after school.  Meet me in my office.”

Joe: “Alright…”

Patrias: “Cheer up, Joseph!  I’ll have you know that today will be a good day.”

Joe: “Whatever you say, Mr. Patrias.  Can I go?”

Patrias: “Yes, back to your studies with you.”

Only when Joe had turned and walked down the hall did the man allow himself to smile.

“Oh, today will be a good day indeed.”

Chapter 34

The Glamour Conference

Joe couldn’t help but yawn.  He had been up half the night with Liandra and Borland looking for Melissa, a search which went cold.  They also had no word from Dahlila, so they had no idea where she even was.  Liandra had refused police aide, saying that she didn’t trust the police, but Borland had the APB put out anyway.  Joe had gotten an earful about trust and honesty from the old codger.

It didn’t take long for Borland to crack him into admitting that they were still working with Dahlila.  He was furious though when Joe refused to give up her contact information.  Liandra gave up the contact info, reasoning it wouldn’t hurt at this stage anyhow.  The old guy admitted that he had a hunch the girls were staying in the tower, but stayed away because they might have had a good reason for hiding.  Joe explained why they were in hiding from even Borland, to which Borland simply said, “I figured it was something like that.”

Both Borland and Liandra objected to Joe pulling an all-nighter and forced him to go home early to get some rest.  They promised to double their efforts in his absence.  It was just as well, he needed to finish his homework before class that morning.  He couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt however.

He toughed it out through his school day.  He was glad that he managed to stay awake through all his classes, even though he only barely managed it.  Sleeping in his car during lunch hour had helped him greatly.

The last bell of the day rang out and Joe was ready to leave.  He wanted to continue to look for Melissa and hopefully break some ground.  For some reason, however, Patrias was adamant about talking to him today of all days.  He seemed to always pick the wrong times to interfere with Joe’s life.

Joe walked into the main office and found it empty.  There weren’t even any secretaries on the phones.  He chalked it up to them being busy in some other part of the building.  Joe thought Patrias must’ve heard him walk in, because the man was standing in front of his office door.

Patrias: “Come on in, Joseph.  Let’s get this little conference done with.”

Joe couldn’t see anything at all wrong with that.  He walked over to the principal’s office and was halted by Patrias in front of his office door.

Patrias: “Are your friends waiting for you?

Joe: “No.  I didn’t even tell them about this meeting.  Why?  You want them too?”

The principal smiled and patted Joe on his shoulder.  Joe noticed a weird scar on the principal's hand.

Patrias: “No, not at all.  I just didn’t want to hold you up from any of your social obligations.  With so much going on in your life, I’m sure you just want to relax.  Come on now.  This won’t take long.”

Joe: “That’s strange.  I didn’t even notice that scar on your hand until now.”

The more Joe looked at it, the more it looked like teeth marks, child-sized teeth marks.

Patrias: “What scar?  There is no scar on my hand.”

Something had changed in Patrias’ voice.  Joe thought what he said was weird as well.

Joe: “The scar on … I—I—I mean no, I’m sorry.  I made a mistake.”

Joe’s whole train of thought came undone when he looked Patrias in the eye.  It wasn’t the eye itself, but rather the swollen, bloody, and bruised dark purple ring that surrounded his left eye.  There was no way Joe could’ve missed that before, no matter how tired he was.  It set his mind to racing, and only now did the realization of just how empty the office was and what that possibly meant occur to him.

He doubled back to the front office doors as Patrias watched, confused.

Patrias: “Where are you going?  We haven’t had our meeting.”

Joe: “Sorry!  Gotta go!  Family emergency!”

Joe bolted out the door before the principal could object.  He heard the clicking of Patrias’ shoes as if the man was running after him.  He also heard the principal calling his name as he ran down the hall, but after a while the only thing Joe could hear was his own haggard breaths and his own shoes tap-tap-tapping against the tile, the grass, finally the pavement.  He didn’t stop until he was at his car.

Once in his car, he gathered all his wits.  Everything made sense now, but he still couldn’t believe it.  The small bloody footprints on the floor of the clock tower were undoubtedly Patrias’.  The teeth marks and the black eye provided the definitive proof that he was behind the kidnapping of Melissa, and responsible for harming Dahlila.  The fact that he hid those scars so well under the veil of some sort of magic bolstered Dahlila’s account of the night.  Heck, Patrias had even been at the governor’s attempted assassination and may have played a role in it.  All this time, under his nose the principal of his own school was plotting all sorts of nasty, deadly maliciousness which probably included Joe’s own death.

Joe started his car and pulled off with no particular destination planned, until a crazy thought crossed his mind.

Villain View 5

The Spotted Tail

Another failed attempt.  The mannerable man was assailed by every interruption imaginable.  The boy had been right at his fingertips.  He nearly had him, until the boy had somehow seen through his glamour and the scars hidden underneath, scars left by the two girls that the boy had recently allied with.  Patrias had wanted to chase the boy down when he fled the office and end it all right there, but he couldn’t with so many eyes, young and old, around the halls.

He wanted to finish it cleanly in his office, but that was always a tall order.  This was a school after all, there were always people around.  He’d thought today would be an easier day, since he’d given his secretaries half the day off.  He wouldn’t have that luxury again anytime soon. The phones were already ringing off the hook.

The mannerable man decided to cut his losses for the day.  Maybe he could just hire some sort of real assassin to finish his job.  Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t acquainted with any.  He could use a crafte to possibly control someone into doing it, but that was a tall order too.  Not only was that a tough crafte to keep control of with any sort of precision, but there was also a chance that it might fail in the boy’s presence as his other craftes seemed to be doing.  He couldn’t explain why.

He decided it was time to go home and regroup.  He walked to his Taurus and started it up.  He drove down the street and smiled at his huge turn of luck.  He saw the foolish boy’s car, and out the corner of his eye saw that Joseph was eagerly awaiting something.  The mannerable man knew he was waiting for his Taurus to pass.  He was filled with scholastic pride, and he definitely didn’t want to disappoint an eager student.

************

The phone rang into the mannerable man’s ear.

Patrias: “Come on … pick up … pick up!”

It shouldn’t have taken this long for him to pick up, thought the mannerable man.  Patrias’ annoyance started to build, and behind that came his anger, that blinding anger which could effortlessly power the right destructive craftes or render more subtle craftes completely powerless.  He knew he had to keep his anger in check, but it had become steadily more impossible with each passing day of stress.

On the last possible ring, a rough voice lazily traveled through the phone’s speaker to Patrias’ ear.

Blonsky: “I thought I told you not to call me unless you had something important to say.”

Patrias barely kept his cool.  He was losing himself to the anger he felt.

Patrias: “It is important!  The boy is following me and I need a place to take care of him.  Your place, to be precise.”

The rough-talking man on the other line scoffed.

Blonsky: “Mine?  You got some set on you, my friend.  What makes you think I’ll let you take care of your dirty business in my place?”

Patrias: “What!?  You selfish little… I—I brought you the experiment and got rid of the troublemaker.  You owe me!”

Blonsky: “Nobody wanted you getting rid of that firecracker.  We needed her in order to lure the detective.”

Patrias: “We’ll get rid of him too!  No need to keep these fools around!  They’re messing everything up.”

Blonsky laughed as lazily as he talked.

Blonsky: “Relax, relax.  I just like to hear you squirm, Billy-boy.  You see, I have no problem helping you out.  Bring him on by; the more the merrier I always say.  He can even meet his little friend.”

Patrias laughed out loud.  It was mostly to relieve his tension.

Patrias: “You know, at the end of it all, you’re not so bad.”

Blonsky: “Well, I like makin’ friends.  As a matter of fact, I’m hoping that a certain superhero stops by tonight to try to save the little boy hero again so we can all make nice.”

Patrias: “You’re smarter than you look.  Be there shortly.”

Click.

Chapter 35

The Fun Zone

Patrias’ green Taurus had finally come to a stop.  Joe tried to stifle another yawn, but this one was too strong.  Joe’s mouth was agape for the yawns near ten second duration. It couldn’t be helped, since Patrias had taken Joe on a tour of the city, from school to his house and around the city.  Liandra and Borland were still chasing leads elsewhere.  Joe didn’t want to tell everyone about his lead until he was absolutely sure his principal was responsible for Melissa’s kidnapping.  He didn’t want them all to lose out on precious time looking for Melissa if his hunch turned out to be wrong.

The sky had darkened to dusk.  Patrias had gotten out of his car and disappeared into the doors of the Fun Zone, a once popular birthday spot for little kids.  It looked to be closed for repairs, which Joe thought was more than a coincidence.  He followed behind Patrias as slyly as he possibly could, and made sure to be quick about it.

He opened the doors and cringed as it creaked and whined.  He looked around and saw no one, not even Patrias.  He was, however, surrounded by childhood revelry.  There were ghostly arcade machines all around him, creepy giant animatronic puppets on the stage to his left, and a playscape filled with colorful tubes that was so large it spanned from the front of the building to its rear.  It had a ball pit big enough to fit at least four classrooms worth of kids.  It was surreal and creepy to see a place normally teeming with life so still.  The only lights that were on were those of the prize counter, and those casted an eerie glow over most of the Fun Zone.

Joe moved at a crawl, not entirely sure of what he should look for.  He inched along to the left towards the prize counter.  He ducked low to avoid the lights.  He glanced up at the prizes hanging over his head, which ranged from racing cars, to action figures, to video games, to plastic jewelry, to board games, stuffed animals.  He spied a huge wooden model of a British Soldier in a spiffy red jacket from the game Revolutionary Heroes.  He picked it up and found it heavier than he thought it would be, which made it perfect for self-defense.  He clutched it tight and continued on quietly and carefully.  He heard something faintly in the distance.  He ignored it until he heard it again.  As he approached the stage the sound became louder and it occurred to Joe that it sounded like a little girl’s voice.  He could hear it clearly now. It was calling for help.

Joe climbed onto the stage with the animatronic band that was led by a bucktooth, wide-eyed squirrel.  He ducked low beneath the animal band and sent a group text to Dahlila, Borland, and Liandra detailing his current location and what he’d discovered.  He got up and peeked behind the curtains.  She was close, he could feel it.

He pushed through the curtains and snuck down the dim hallway towards the sounds he was hearing.  At the end of the hallway, he found Melissa.  She smiled when she saw him.  That relieved him, but he knew that he had to move fast before Patrias came and found him.

He put down the wooden toy and reached down to untie the ropes connecting the girl to the chair.  He was flabbergasted to see his hands pass right through the ropes and Melissa.  For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he or she was the intangible one.  He heard a loud click and suddenly Melissa was gone.  There was no trace of her where she had sat.  Only the chair remained.

Joe: “What the…”

Loud flippant laughter came from a corner to the left, breaking up his current thoughts.  Joe turned towards the noise and saw Patrias approaching him casually.

Patrias: “Joseph, Joseph, Joseph … I do feel bad for you and these situations you find yourself in.”

The man laughed again, apparently overjoyed at the situation.  Joe looked around for an opening to run.  His mind was still occupied on thoughts of Melissa, however.

Joe: “Where’s Melissa?”

Patrias: “Ah, so you want your friend back?  Here, I’ll give her back to you.”

He lifted his left hand and pointed a stick—no a wand, at the chair.  Melissa was suddenly sitting back in the chair in front of Joe and again bound by ropes.  Joe tried to reach out to her again but once more she was gone in a flash.  Tears welled in his eyes.

Joe: “What did you do to her?”

Joe didn’t recognize his own voice.  It was deeper and lower than he had ever heard it.

Patrias laughed loudly and maliciously.  His eyes were filled with condemnation and ridicule.

Patrias: “You always were a little slow on the uptake, but frankly this is pathetic.  You won’t be seeing your friend anytime soon.  You won’t be seeing anyone, as a matter of fact.”

With teeth gritted and eyes filled with tears, Joe charged at Patrias feeling a wrath that he had never felt before.  With all the force that he could muster he launched his fist at a horrified Patrias’ face.  Patrias was knocked back and fell to the floor, cursing.

Patrias: “You!  Stay back!  Stay away from me!”

He pointed his wand at Joe’s chest but nothing happened.  He yelled a curse and snapped his fingers.

Patrias: “Why isn’t anything working?”

Joe turned and ran down the hall.  He ran for the stage as fast as he could.  When he went for the door, he was surprised to find it guarded by two men in black suits.  They stood still as statues and faced straight forward.  They didn’t seem to notice Joe at all.  He whispered to himself.

Joe: “Where the heck did they come from?”

He kept low, avoiding the door and quickly looked for some place to hide, eventually settling near the labyrinthine tubes of the playscape.  Patrias wasn’t too far behind him.  He emerged from the stage curtains, rubbing his cheek and jaw.  He looked to be in no particular hurry to find Joe as he strolled around the arcade.

Patrias: “You’ve certainly made a muck of things, Joseph, but I’ve figured it out.  I know how to stop you now.  I guess you knocked some sense into me back there.  I could kill myself over how simple the solution is, but I’d rather kill you.”

Joe watched as the man playfully sauntered to the prize counter.  Joe’s watch ended when he somehow tripped over a small plastic ball, not entirely sure of where it had come from.  His stomach lurched as he thought of all the noise he made crashing into the ball pit.

He clawed his way through the pit, but didn’t seem to be making any progress.  For a long time he felt like he was swimming, until suddenly it felt like he was drowning.  He struggled and panicked, to no avail.  When nothing worked, he screamed and fell deeper into the pit until he felt his back against the cold floor.  He thought he would die, until suddenly the pressure on top of him lifted.  He wasted no time in pulling his way through and standing up.  The balls came to just above his knee, but when he had been under it had felt like he was in the deep end of the pool.

He was surprised when he didn’t see Patrias around.  He was even more surprised when he saw Dahlila crouched down near the ball pit.

Joe: “D—”

She put her hand over his mouth and shushed him.  She led him to the other side of the tubes.  She looked at him for a second and halted him.

Dahlila: “Where’s your necklace?”

Joe touched around his neck and his chest. Normally, he hid it under his shirt.  When he felt nothing he shrugged.

Joe: “I probably lost it in the ball pit.”

She tapped his forehead.

Dahlila: “The worst place for it.  I’ll have to go in there and get it.  I hate to ask, but I need you to distract Patrias so I can look for the thing uninterrupted.  Don’t do anything stupid.  Just throw something and hide.  Make sure he doesn’t see you.”

Joe: “Don’t worry. His magic can’t hurt me.”

Dahlila: “I wouldn’t count on that.  Now just do it like I told you.”

Joe: “Forget the necklace.  I think Melissa’s here.”

Dahlila: “Don’t worry we’ll get her.  Now get moving, he’s probably looking for me by now.  I need to be quick about this.”

Joe didn’t know why she was so adamant about that stupid owl necklace, but he followed her orders anyway.  She walked back to the pit and carefully tossed him one of the balls.  Joe went to his knees and crawled against a low wall.  He peeked around to see if he could spot Patrias.

Patrias was thrashing about, tossing over tables and knocking things from other tables.  Joe crawled over to another corner behind a pillar, where he was sure Patrias wouldn’t see him.  It was a good choice.  Patrias was soon at the wall where Joe had stood before.  Joe ducked down lower so he wouldn’t be seen.

Joe realized, too late, that Patrias was walking towards the play area.  He was there before Joe could react.  He heard a loud rumbling, and soon after saw a shadow flying through the air.  He couldn’t see where the shadow had went, but he heard it crash against something in the distance.  He then heard Patrias laughing playfully like he was playing some kind of game.

Patrias: “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have any protection against me.  That looked like it might have killed you.”

The shadow, it must have been Dahlila, Joe thought.

Patrias: “I can’t say that you didn’t deserve it.  You should’ve just stayed quiet and kept yourself out of this.  Now it’s over for you.”

Quick as he could, Joe rushed and dived at Patrias, tackling him into the ball pit.  Patrias didn’t see it coming and had trouble in the struggle to free himself.  Joe held him down for as long as he could, until Patrias caught him in the face with an elbow and pushed him away.  Joe was dazed and could only see darkness and odd geometric shapes in his field of vision.  After a while he could feel only himself moving in the ball pit.  After that, he couldn’t move any part of his body.  The rainbow-colored plastic balls had tightened around him, almost crushing him.  He could barely hear Patrias saying something.

Patrias: “Finally!  It’s been too long.  Goodbye, Joseph.”

Joe felt motion all around him like he was on a roller coaster.  His body wasn’t what was moving though, it was the balls.  He felt them speeding up around him until suddenly—

Chapter 36

The Truth Hurts

Joe was out cold and sprawled across the floor.  Dahlilia winced from the impact after seeing him crash into the wall.  He fell to the floor in a heap with the tiny plastic balls falling atop and around him like rainbow rain.  He hadn’t moved since, but thankfully Patrias hadn’t messed with his body.

Dahlila focused on a single goal now.  She had to get to that ball pit.  Patrias walked towards the back of the area, on the lookout for her ever since she’d knocked him down earlier.  She rubbed the pain out of her back and crept through the shadows.  She slinked around along the ground back towards the pit.  She was as quick as a cat and just as agile on her two feet.  She lost sight of Patrias as she crept low near to the pit.

Patrias: “You are not nearly as slick as you think, young lady, and now you’re just in my way.”

He pointed his wand at her, and after hearing a faint clicking noise she felt an invisible force slam into her chest and rocket her backwards into the now empty pit.  She gasped for air as she quickly got to her feet.  She didn’t have time to coddle her injuries.  She needed to move fast and capitalize on the fact that the fool had put her just where she wanted to be.

She pounced and grabbed the silver chain with the large owl medallion.  After that, she couldn’t contain her smile.

Patrias: “You’re tough, girl, but not even you will survive this time.”

He pointed his wand dead center of her chest, but nothing happened.  She walked towards him coiling the chain around her fist, smiling the whole way.

Patrias: “Why!?  Why!?  Why!?  First him, now you.  My craftes are failing me.  Tell me.  WHY CAN’T I KILL YOU!?”

He pointed his wand at a nearby chair, making it levitate before rocketing it towards her.  She was too fast for it.  She sidestepped the chair, then ran straight at Patrias.  He chucked another chair and followed that with a table for good measure.  She sidestepped, bounded forwards, and crashed her fist right into his face, leaving an owl shaped bruise across his left cheek.  He landed on top of a table, which flipped over and sent him tumbling to the ground.

She picked up his wand and snapped it in half.  It surprised her that the wand broke so easily and with no pop.  Then again, she thought, this guy was nothing but a two bit magician.

Dahlila: “A puny wand for a puny man.”

She looked down at him as he snoozed on the ground.  Only novice crafters still used wands.  To put it in perspective, all of the crafters she knew stopped using wands as early as two to six months into their training.  This Patrias was really pathetic.  She pressed the owl medallion to her lips and kissed it.

Dahlila: “To answer your question: the truth hurts.”

Chapter 37

The Right Kind of Hatred

Joe’s breathing was shallow.  She hovered over him, checking his vital signs.  His heart had a strong beat.  She was certain he would be fine.  She was content to leave him like that since she had one more thing to do here.

Dahlila: “I should tie up Houdini here before I move on.”

The two men standing near the front door looked confused for a moment, as if they had just realized where in the world they were.  They stared at her, Joe, and Patrias until they decided that they had better places to be.  They hurried out the front doors leaving her, Joe, and Patrias to themselves.  She produced two pairs of handcuffs and cuffed Patrias’ wrists and ankles.

Dahlila: “Stay put.”

She crouched down low when she saw a group of men in black suits coming from the back doors of the establishment.  They followed their compatriots from earlier out the front door.  Most of them walked past Joe and Patrias without even blinking.  The woman had a sudden realization that she whispered to herself.

Dahlila: “That jerk was controlling them this whole time.”

She had managed to break his spell.  She wasn’t sure if she had done it when she’d broken his wand or when she broke him.  She thought back to the way the governor’s security had just stood idly by as he was getting shot at, as if frozen in place.  It must’ve been him.  The whole time, him.  She walked over to Joe and put the protection pendant back around his neck.  She needed to keep her promise to him.

She left Joe and Patrias behind in order to look for Melissa.  With the guards gone, there was no need to sneak around.  She walked past the play area and through the thick wooden double doors.  Through the doors was a small kitchen filled with large pots, pans, other cookware.  There were three large pizza ovens near the center.  Further on, she spied a set of stairs which led upwards.  She carefully navigated the stairs, not quite sure who was still here.  Halfway up a man in a black suit jumped out at her, but she was ready.  She disarmed him, smashed his face with the side of her palm and sent him rolling down the stairs.  Behind her, another man in black tried to jump out and grab her, but she hooked his leg and sent him scrambling down the stairs, then ran after him and touched his neck, applying a low-powered sleep crafte that would leave him snoozing for several hours.  She continued up the stairs and found herself in a large room that overlooked the front of the Fun Zone.

There were balconies up towards the front of the room.  A chair was set in the middle of the room with a small tangle of ropes around its legs.  The woman saw no one around, just rows and rows of boxes and crates.  They were stacked so high that they easily obscured her view of the rest of the room.  She could only walk straight ahead, thanks to all the boxes and crates on either side of her.  She walked on looking for any minute signs of where the girl might have gone or if she was even here.  There were aisles of empty space that crossed the empty row she walked down.  She cautiously peeked around the corners of those, past boxes filled with prizes.  She stopped in her tracks when she heard the click of a gun behind her.  She recognized and despised the raucous voice as soon as she heard it.

Blonsky: “It’s you again!  You have some gall on you, little girl, coming in here and interfering with my operations again.  Hands up and turn around.”

She did what he asked, but moved as slowly as she dared.  When she turned to fully face him, she saw that his left arm was around Melissa’s tiny throat, while his right hand held the gun that was now pointed right at her.  Melissa’s mouth was gagged with some sort of cloth.

Blonsky: “Good, good!  Funny seeing you here.  Just when I was starting to think that you didn’t like me, that you were trying to escape me, here you come right back.”

Dahlila: “I can assure you that I didn’t come back for your company or your conversation.”

Blonsky bore an overacted look of surprise on his face.  Melissa looked straight at her, tears in the little girl’s eyes.

Blonsky: “Oh?  Then why are you here?”

Dahlila: “I’ll let you figure it out.”

Blonsky: “That’s one thing my parents always told me.  What about your parents?  What did they teach you?”

Dahlila: “Never to trust strange men, especially bald ones.”

Blonsky laughed raucously to the point of almost doubling over, dropping his aim on her in the process.

Blonsky: “Oh that’s good!  That’s rich!  I’d expect nothing less.  Oh, and sorry about that comment about your parents; I know you ain’t have ‘em.  You took that surprisingly well though, compared to last time.”

He smiled at her and then straightened up as he stared into her eyes.

Blonsky: “You almost convinced me.  That smart mouth of yours was spot on.  What you lacked was the right kind of hatred.  You see, I’m well versed in malice.  I can spot a faker.  You didn’t show the hatred of someone trapped by me for weeks being tortured, humiliated, belittled.  The girl showed me that kind of venomous hatred every time I saw her.  A hatred so deep you’re like to choke on it.  You, however … your hatred belongs to someone who’s only been in my presence for a short time.  Who’s been maybe slapped around and humiliated a little.”

Dahlila stood quietly still with an annoyed expression on her face.  Blonsky smiled at her.

Blonsky: “You’re good, but you won’t fool me twice.  That girl was spotted leaving with the boy when we had you.  She couldn’t have escaped on her own like you did.  Give it up already.  We already know that you’ve been interfering at every step.”

Dahlila: “You meant to say, ‘You won’t fool me three times.’”

She laughed at him derisively.

Dahlila: “You don’t know nearly as much as you pretend to know.”

Blonsky’s frame became more rigid.  The woman could tell that she had successfully angered him.

Blonsky: “I KNOW several things.  I know it was you that caused that stadium explosion, which set me back a lot of money on Pickers’ games.  I know you were the one who freed the girl that you’re masquerading as right now.  I know it was you in my restaurant the day my boys got beaten up by a nut in tights.  I know you were that nut in tights.  I’ve lost a lot of money because of you, and I know that you’ll show me your real face.  Otherwise, you and this girl will go bye-bye.”

He took his hand from the little girl’s throat to rub her head.  The woman laughed, instantly calling his bluff.

Dahlila: “You won’t harm a hair on her head; we both know that.  You don’t want to cross your boss.  I’ll give you what you want anyway, just for giggles.  I’m sure you pushed your brain to its upper limits trying to figure out just who I am, so I’ll help you out.”

Blonsky: “Well, go on, make with the magic already.”

With her hands still up in the air, her body began its transformation.  She became thicker around her hips, waist, chest, and thighs.  She grew taller and her skin darkened a few shades to a rich olive tone.  Her hair became a sea of thick black curls atop her head while her clothes remained the same; dark jeans, a dark gray t-shirt, and her brown fingerless leather driving gloves.

Blonsky: “Well, look at you!”

He whistled in a derogatory way.

Blonsky: “I can’t believe my eyes.  You’d make Mrs. Blonsky really jealous right now. Well, ex-Mrs. Blonsky.  Why, look at me!  I’m blushing.  You know, if your friend hadn’t told me firsthand what you looked like, I wouldn’t have believed that this was your real face.”

Liandra: “So my face amazes you, not the fact that I can change it?”

Blonsky snorted loudly.

Blonsky: “Seems you’re the one who doesn’t know as much as she thinks.  I’ve seen magic before.  I see it every day, as a matter of fact.  Yours ain’t special.”

She assumed he was talking about Patrias.  He lifted the gun back at her chest and wrapped his arm around Melissa’s neck again.

Blonsky: “Now, this has been fun, but it’s time I took my leave of you, permanently.”

Melissa's scream was further muffled by Blonsky's hand.  Liandra couldn’t think of anything else to do or say.  She was surrounded by a wall of crates and boxes, leaving her with limited options for escape.  There was only one way out of this, but she knew it would hurt.  She looked at Melissa and motioned for her to close her eyes so she wouldn’t see what was to come.  The little girl was already crying a river of tears, wetting her cheeks and shirt.

THWACK!  CRACK!  SNAP!

The British Grenadiers March filled the air for a few seconds before slowly fizzing out.  Blonsky crumpled to the ground, dropping his hold of both Melissa and his gun.  Joe stood behind Blonsky’s prone body, clutching a broken giant wooden model of a British soldier from the game Revolutionary Heroes.

Melissa flinched from him at first, until she realized that it was Joe.  His smile was worn well, but also looked to be well worn.  He did all he could to assure the little girl that it would all be okay.  He was fond of her.  He picked her up and embraced her as if she were his own sister.  He whispered to her so low that only she could hear it.

Joe: “It’s over.  You’re okay.”

He put her down on the ground and she ran over to Liandra.  Blonsky jumped to life and grabbed Joe by the wrist.  He looked at the figure in Joe’s hand, and then up at Joe with a look of painful confusion painted on his face.

Blonsky: “The British!?”

He released his hold and fell to the ground unconscious.  Liandra walked up with Melissa behind her to observe the man.

Joe: “I think we should handcuff him too.

Liandra: “Noted.”

Joe: “Thanks … Dahlila.”

They both looked at one another and smiled.

Liandra: “When did you figure it out?”

Joe: “Only after I woke up with your necklace on me.  Dahlila wouldn’t know about it.  I kept thinking about that when you were asking me to find it.”

Liandra turned her attention to Melissa.

Liandra: “Are you alright, little dove?”

Melissa beamed up at her.

Melissa: “Yes, thanks to both of you.  Thank you so much!”

Liandra smiled back at her.

Liandra: “Let’s get out of here.  You two wait downstairs.  I’ll get this guy.”

Joe: “No.  I’m not letting anyone else clean up my messes.  I’ll bring him down and call the police.”

Liandra chuckled at his stubbornness.

Liandra: “I can honestly say that you’ve mostly helped me clean up my own mess and you’ve done so excellently.  Let’s do this together.”

“There’s no need,” came a familiar voice from the steps.  When they looked around they saw Dahlila, the real Dahlila.  At least Joe hoped it was the real Dahlila.

Chapter 38

The Wrap Up

Melissa: “DAHL!”

Melissa ran up to Dahlila and jumped into her arms, almost knocking her over in the process.  Dahlila looked like she hadn’t slept for a while, and was more haggard looking than when Joe had last seen her.  She wore the same bloody clothes that they had left her in.

Dahlila: “I came as soon as I got your text message.  The police are on the way.  I had to commandeer a car and sped past them to get here, so they shouldn’t be too far behind.  We can leave him for them.”

They all trotted quickly down the stairs towards the first floor.

Dahlila: “One of us needs to explain what happened here to the police.”

They all jumped at the sight of an old man in a light gray suit appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

Borland: “Don’t worry about that.  I’ve got it covered.  You two should leave.  Dahlila and Melissa, you’re with me.”

Dahlila walked up to the old man’s face and put her hands on her hips.

Dahlila: “I haven’t seen you for a whole ten seconds yet and you’re already bossing me around.  It’s been weeks since we’ve last seen each other, and that’s all you can say to me?”

Joe saw something he hadn’t expected to see.  Borland sighed and relented to Dahlila.

Borland: “Okay, kid, you’re right.  I’m sorry.  I’m glad that you’re okay.  Now would it have killed ya’ to pick up a phone and call to tell me you were okay?”

Dahlila: “I couldn’t put you or us in danger like that.  I did what I had to do.  I did what you’d have done in my place.”

Borland: “Fair enough.  I didn’t raise a fool.”

He turned to Joe and Liandra.

Borland: “Now you two get out of here.  There’s a back door over there.”

Liandra: “His car is still out front so we’ll just hurry and go that way before the police come.”

Dahlila: “Why do I have to stay?”

Borland: “Cuz you’re a troublemaker, that’s why!  Stealing a car, jeez!  I should just let them take you away in handcuffs.”

Dahlila: “Sheesh!  Here we go again!  I only commandeered that freakin’ car to look for Melissa.”

Borland: “Commandeered!?  You ain’t no freakin’ cop!”

Liandra tugged at Joe’s arm.

Liandra: “I think it’s time for us to go.”

Joe nodded.

Joe: “Well … I’ll see you all around.”

Somehow those words saddened Joe.  Silence enveloped the group afterwards.  Melissa walked up and hugged him around the waist.

Melissa: “Thank you, Joe!”

She reluctantly let go of him.  Dahlila then walked up and hugged him, reaching her arms high around his back.  His heart leapt in his chest when she kissed him on the cheek.

Dahlila: “Thank you, Joe…”

Borland shuffled forward in awkward haste and patted him on his shoulder.

Borland: “Thanks … for everything kid.  You did good by us.  If you need anything, let me know.”

Joe nodded his head.  He was embarrassingly close to tears, and had wiped his face to make sure they weren’t there, even though that made him look guiltier.

Borland: “Now get out of here, both of you.”

Joe and Liandra bolted away towards the double doors leading out of the kitchen.  Joe looked back one more time at the strange group of people he had so recently met.  Thousands of words raced through his mind describing each one of them.  The one that stood out the most was “extraordinary.”

The two made it out of the front door of the Fun Zone to a cool night breeze.  They saw no one close, or any cops for that matter.  So they hopped into Joe’s car, with Liandra taking the driver’s wheel, and drove off.

They didn’t drive very far.  She parked only a block down the street from the Fun Zone.  They had managed to leave just in time as the police were just arriving to the scene.

Joe: “Why’d you stop here?”

Liandra stayed focused on the action at the Fun Zone.

Liandra: “I just want to make sure those monsters get what’s coming to them.”

They waited and watched the police go inside.  Joe nervously fumbled with his owl medallion.

Joe: “What’s so special about this necklace?  It looks pretty goofy to me.”

Joe could hear Liandra chuckle.

Liandra: “That goofy little pendant is the only thing keeping you alive when I’m not around.”

Joe: “What!?”

Liandra: “That owl represents the guardian’s eye.  It alerts me to the dangers of its current 'wearer.’  It contacted me each and every time you were in danger, like tonight.”

Joe: “That’s why you were always the first to help me.”

Liandra: “Not always, but it definitely helped tonight.”

Joe: “But his spells—Patrias’ spells—wouldn’t work on me.  I was starting to think it was the necklace saving me.”

Liandra: “What Patrias was using to try to kill you was called a crafte.  You can think of it like magic but it works a little differently.  The user has to focus their energy and willpower into some sort of conduit, like a wand for instance.  Wands are a strange choice, though, because they yield low power.  With a great use of effort, emotion, and concentration, craftes like the ones Patrias used are possible.  His own desire to kill you fueled all the harmful craftes he tried to use on you.”

Joe: “Oh…”

Liandra: “What’s important to remember is that you were right.  The necklace did protect you from Patrias’ craftes, with a little help from me that is. The necklace is charmed.  A man I knew once put a charm on the necklace to protect me.  That charm had since faded, so I reactivated it to protect you.  Mine’s nowhere near as good as his, but it protected you from Patrias’ vicious craftes this whole time.  Anything he tried to use to harm you was nullified.  I’m just lucky that he’s a hack and didn’t know anything stronger than he did.”

Joe: “He was trying to hurt me before today?

Liandra: “He was trying to kill you the moment you stepped back into your school.  I was getting warnings left and right every time you stepped foot in the building.  I didn’t have an inkling that it could’ve been him until the day of the governor’s speech when I saw you talking to him.  I began to doubt that, though, once the shooting began. I thought the warnings might’ve come from the assassin.”

Joe was speechless.  He was more oblivious than he thought.  He and Liandra looked on as the cops emerged from the building with the bruised and bloody pair of Patrias and Blonsky.  The men were both unceremoniously dumped into the back of a squad car.  The cops chatted it up for a bit before they left the scene.

Liandra: “And that, my friend, is a wrap!  Your life will be much safer with them behind bars.”

Joe gave a great sigh of relief.  He felt truly free for the first time in a long time.

Joe: “Thank goodness and thank you, for everything.  I’m sorry I made this so much more difficult for you.”

Liandra: “Difficult?  I couldn’t have done this without you.  I should be the one thanking you.  You are dull, unskilled, and unremarkable in just about every way, but somehow you were a great help.  If nothing else, your actions show that you have a great and wondrous heart.”

Joe laughed and stared off at the moon.  She was honest when she said she didn’t mince her words.  He took it all in and in the end felt good about what she had said.

Joe: “My parents taught me to help those in need.  That day at the stadium I saw that you were in need and so I helped.  It’s that simple.”

She smiled.

Liandra: “I don’t think that’s the only reason.  Admit it, I saw you checking me out.”

He blushed instantly.

Joe: “I didn’t, I mean I did cuz—I mean you came out of nowhere … and … and…”

She laughed.

Liandra: “Don’t worry.  I’m not squeezing in on your girlfriend’s territory.  Now let’s get you home.”

Chapter 39

Busy Day

Joe was in a tremendous amount of pain.  His back and neck were sore from when Patrias launched him into the wall.  His bruises had swelled.  He’d decided to go to school anyway.  He didn’t want to miss a Patrias free day and he wasn’t disappointed.

Joe’s school day went by effortlessly.  Joe now wasn’t under the impression that everything he did was wrong.  Without Patrias, the teachers that normally hated him seemed to ignore him for the most part, though Mr. Serano gave Joe a grimace that chilled his bones.  Just knowing that Patrias wasn’t in the building was enough to rid Joe of most of his scholastic anxiety, though he still worried about his grades.

Fleez and Dozz stayed consistent with their harassment of him and his friends.  They still wanted him to join Team Badd Azz, but he stayed as resolute as they seemed to be.  At least now he had Mod watching his back.

Mod had successfully counter-pranked them after they hosted a round of “What’s in the wad?”—where they threw wads of mysterious substances at Mod and asked the audience to participate in guessing what the substance was by feeling it, smelling it, or for those braver souls—tasting it.

Mod got his revenge after he strapped two buckets of warm melted cheese in the ceiling tiles above Fleez’s locker.  Mod waited and watched as Fleez opened his locker, which triggered a mechanism that Mod and his buddies from shop class had set up.  The mechanism was hooked to string in the back of the locker that ran upwards. When tugged back, the ceiling tiles above Fleez’s locker released the two buckets of cheese. He was covered front to back.  Mod loudly proclaimed in front of everyone that this was the correct way to make a grilled Fleez sandwich.

The hall erupted with laughter. Even Dozz joined in until Fleez gave him a bear hug and made their shirts match.  Remarkably, no one was suspended throughout the whole ordeal, though they were all reprimanded.

Everything had gotten a lot better with Kate as of late.  She and Joe took a few days to get closer, and spent most of their time together after school.  She had taken it upon herself to nurse Joe’s injuries.  She made him food, massaged his neck and back, and made him take hot Epson salt baths.  Joe thought he’d surprise her in a few days with tickets for the fall ball which was quickly coming up.  He knew she would be ecstatic when he presented them to her.

The word around the school was that Patrias had either gotten into a car accident or had been fired.  The teachers were mostly tightlipped about anything concerning him.  The one’s that said anything just said he was sick and left it at that.  Joe didn’t feel the need to tell anyone the truth.  He didn’t want any of them asking how he knew what he knew.  He figured they’d all find out eventually anyway.

That left Joe with time to study and focus on his school work.  He attacked it with as much ferocity as if he were still on Patrias’ Zero Tolerance list.

At the end of the week, Joe stood outside in the blinding sun as it beamed down on the school’s student parking lot, waiting for Mod.  He looked over and saw him approaching the car with a rather somber look on his face.  His sister walked by his side.  Mod walked over to the passenger side door, opened it and sat down in the passenger’s seat, while Kate walked over to Joe’s side to give him a light kiss on the lips.

Kate: “Hey, baby-cakes, I missed you.”

Mod scrunched up his face.

Mod: “Gross!”

Kate: “Nobody asked you, booger-face!”

Kate’s voice took on a light English accent when she yelled, something she always tried to suppress.  Joe couldn’t help but laugh.

Joe: “I missed you more, sugar-lips.”

Mod looked equal parts disgusted and disappointed.

Mod: “Not you too.  You’re both going to make me hurl.”

Kate ignored him this time.  She traced the brim of Joe’s collar playfully with the tip of her finger.

Kate: “What are you up to today, hun?”

Joe: “I guess me and Mod’ll go visit a few friends of mine.”

Kate: “He hasn’t told you?”

Joe: “Told me what?”

Joe looked at Mod, who was facing in the other direction.

Kate: “He has a date.”

Joe: “You’re kidding!  With who?”

Mod turned around, looking annoyed.

Mod: “You don’t have to sound so surprised about it.”

Joe: “I’m just happy for you is all.  Who’s the lucky girl?

Kate: “It’s Meribeth Hilday.  I set it up.  It’s just … after what those bullies did to her she’s been so down in the dumps, and I’ve always known that she has a crush on Mod.  She’s liked him since they were children, which this lug-head never noticed.”

Joe laughed.

Joe: “So he’s the lug-head and I’m the lunk-head?  I don’t know which one’s worse.”

Kate: “Lug-head’s worse.”

Mod: “I’m not going.”

Kate: “You will and you will like it.  You owe her for sitting back and doing nothing while those mongrels hacked her reputation to pieces.”

Joe: “She has a point, Mod.  Plus Meribeth is actually pretty cute.  I thought you’d be able to see past everyone’s petty opinions of her.”

Mod: “I can.  That’s why I’m taking her out to the movies.  I don’t care who sees us.”

Joe: “But you just said—”

Kate: “He’s just being difficult ‘cause this is his first date.  In a way it’s kind of cute.  Too bad my brother voids the cuteness factor.  But since he’s occupied, what will you do now?”

Joe: “Well, maybe you can come with me then.  I could introduce you to all my new friends.”

Kate shook her head and smiled.

Kate: “No, you go and have fun.  I still have a paper to work on.  Just call me when you get back home.”

Joe: “Okay.”

She kissed him on the cheek and walked back towards the school.

************

After Joe dropped Mod off he headed to the city, to an old apartment complex that he had come to know well.  It had been several weeks since he had last seen Borland’s apartment, and to him it looked like nothing had changed, outside or inside.  The same security guard sat at the front desk and eyed him in the same suspicious manner as he had long before.

Joe stopped at the vending machine after he walked into the lobby and decided that his luck was on the rise. He found a row of delicious Snickers candy bars.  He put in his money, tapped in the code, and picked up his mouth-watering bounty. Only this time he wasn’t hungry for it.  He decided to save it for Melissa.

This time around, he intuitively noticed more people giving him quick glances as they passed.  He not only noticed the overt stares, but the sly ones as well.  He was confident there were many he didn’t notice, but he felt good at what he did.

He took the elevator up to the sixth floor and walked down the hall towards Borland’s apartment.  He was greeted along the way by the old lady with the cold blue eyes.  Everything’s still the same, he thought, until Melissa opened Borland’s apartment door.  There were bright and vibrant pictures hung all over the walls, all made with colorful construction paper.  There were pictures of flowers, small suns that were gathered like marbles, and multicolored butterflies each layered with different colors of construction paper. Dahlila sat on the couch which was covered with a colorful cover depicting the sun and clouds.  She lazily grinned and barely waved at Joe from her seat.

Melissa: “Joe!  I missed you soooo much!”

He bent down to hug the little girl, and with his free hand pulled a box of playing cards from his shorts pocket.

Joe: “I brought playing cards and board games with me.  This one’s new, it’s called Flipz.  The others are in my backpack.”

The little girl’s eyes widened.

Melissa: “You’re going to stay?”

Joe chuckled.

Joe: “Not forever but, you know, for a few hours.”

Borland yelled from the kitchen.

Borland: “So are you gonna stand there like an idiot or what?  You’re letting all the cool air out.”

Melissa: “Come on, we can all play!”

************

Joe used his weekend to just sit back and rest his body.  It worked extremely well.  Once he was back in school, Fleez and Dozz thought it suitable to welcome him back to school with a “welcome back stinkball,” their words, according to the note in Joe's locker.  Nasty yellow sulfurous gas leaked from several of the lockers around the halls, showering everyone in a blanket of stink and smoke.  Several kids ran through the halls coughing and covering their mouths.

Mod: “No wonder they didn’t show up yet.  Let’s get out of here.”

There was chaos all around throughout the halls.  Amidst the chaos was something that made Joe’s heart nearly leap out of his chest.  He stood still, transfixed by what he saw.  Only now did he realize how dry his throat was.

Patrias: “Don’t worry, kids, everything’s under control.”

He stared straight at Joe with stony eyes.

Patrias: “I’ll take care of all this in a snap.”

He smiled and lifted his hand to the sky.  Today he wore more rings than Joe had ever seen him wear.  There was one on each of his fingers.  Joe was relieved to see that the man wasn’t carrying his wand at the moment, his killing instrument.  No wand, no magic.

Click!

Patrias snapped his fingers and water erupted from the overhead sprinklers.  The smoke and the smell were washed away quickly, but so was the student body, who all ran for the exits.  Joe was the only one standing with his eyes on the principal.  He stood briefly paralyzed as he pieced together just what those rings were for.

Patrias: “Don’t run and don’t hide, my dear students!  This is a new day and there will be some changes around here.  No need to fear.  I’ll make sure you’re all taken care of.”

It was then that Joe ran to his friends.

Epilogue

She picked a cool dark night like tonight to make her task less strenuous. Plus, she hated to sweat, and that’s all she seemed to be doing in Orangetown as of late.  Tonight she had ditched the bright colors, which she’d lately used on her bike, for deep shades of black.  She accomplished this change with a mere thought.  Her clothes matched her bike and the night sky.  The deep blacks were accented with dark purples.  She’d tied her hair into a long braid earlier to make it less unruly, even though she could’ve just made it shorter with no effort at all.  She hated to use craftes when she didn’t absolutely need to anyway.  She still wasn’t as good at them as she wanted to be.

She snuck into the penthouse apartment complex easily enough.  She was trained to move through the shadows effortlessly, but it was her own natural grace and ease of movement that gave her such an advantage moving in absolute silence.  The security had no idea that she was there, even when she literally stood only a few steps behind them.

Her destination was on the uppermost, the fifth floor.  That’s where her target was.  After four floors of stealthy evasion, she only had one more floor to go.  She continued to avoid the stairs.  She didn’t want to make it too easy for herself.  She chose to use the apartment below her target to infiltrate his penthouse.  She snuck into the apartment, taking care to avoid possible creaky parts of the floor.  She made it to the door of the balcony and opened it slowly, and once outside closed the door behind her.

She climbed up to a window above, and from there climbed up again to the larger balcony of the penthouse suite.  She whipped out her lock-picks, but put them away when she saw that his door was already unlocked.  He always spoils the fun, she thought.

She walked into the lavish apartment and found her mark sitting comfortably near his fireplace sipping a glass of wine and reading some old tome similar to the ones she used to read long ago before she came to America.

Robert Grabas: “Welcome.  Come on in.  Rest your feet, my little night owl.  I’ve been expecting you.”

He pointed to a chair at the side of the table that was next to him.  He did so without looking up from his text.

Robert Grabas: “Go on, have a seat.  We have much to discuss.”

She did as he had bid.  She did so wordlessly but slowly, out of a natural sense of rebellion.

Robert Grabas: “So … it seems you’ve managed to rough up a few of my pawns, and now it looks like they may even be facing jail time.”

Liandra: “Yes, but knowing you it’s only a minor setback for your operations.”

Robert Grabas: “And a very temporary measure I assure you.  Patrias is already free, as a matter of fact.  Good effort anyway.  But I’m curious, why waste such effort into spoiling my plans?  Was it really all for that girl?”

She stared at him, at his gray hair.  She still wasn’t used to seeing him with it, though his face was still the exact same from all those years ago.  His question was disingenuous.  He knew that she knew that he was digging for something under the surface, both figuratively and literally.

Liandra: “No, but I did have my reasons.  I know what you’re after.”

Grabas laughed brazenly.

Robert Grabas: “You only know part of what I want.  Did it ever occur to you that what I’m looking for may actually help us both?  Our paths are not so different.”

That was a start, but she needed more.

Liandra: “My teachers died before I could figure out what my purpose really was.  I don’t know where my path will take me or even if whatever those monks saw in me is still there.  I have a hunch that you’ve found some piece of the past and a purpose for your dreams.”

He laughed again, this time longer and heartier.

Robert Grabas: “So you’ll use me to get something that you don’t even understand?  You’re just filled with surprises.  I can’t say that I approve of that foolish course of action.  You’re useless to me like this, but you’re more useless to yourself.  You won’t get anywhere until you figure out just who and what you are.  Your dreams and nightmares mean nothing until you do.”

So, somehow her history had played a part in all of this, but she had no clue how.  Before the Order of the Owl was decimated, they’d told her as much.  She thought about what Grabas said.  He was right, she couldn’t argue it.  She had collected clues, but they were only pieces of whatever he was planning, she knew that.  It was his history that she was now following and she hoped that led to more answers for her own.  She needed to get more from him before she left tonight.  She needed him to let slip just a tiny bit more.

Liandra: “I’ve seen what you’re digging up under that stadium.”

He laughed derisively at her.

Robert Grabas: “So what?  Do you want to blackmail me?”

Liandra: “I know that there is a small cache of a certain rare mineral hidden under that stadium.  You’re mining it and testing it.”

Robert Grabas: “Is that all?”

She was on thin ice now, she knew.  There was no way she would play her one trump card on this encounter.  She had seen what the man was so desperately trying to hide under the stadium, or rather she had seen the gigantic lock that hid his secret.  There was some sort of vault, she knew, in the deepest layer of the place.  It was surprisingly unguarded but impenetrable all the same.  She didn’t think it suited her purpose for Grabas to know what she had seen.  She didn’t have the key needed to open it anyway.  She instead played it cool by getting a little hot.

Liandra: “You’re doing more than mining.  You’re also testing on humans.  I’m going to stop you.  Whatever it takes.”

He slowly shook his head while he shrugged his shoulders.

Robert Grabas: “You need to figure out just what it is you're stopping first.  Once you learn a thing or two you might even decide to join me.  It’s not my place to teach you these things, however.”

She realized that he wouldn’t be fooled into revealing any more of his plan, not tonight.

Liandra: “Funny, because you take the liberty to teach me at every turn.  Maybe it’s because you’re getting old.”

He subconsciously rubbed his gray hair.

Robert Grabas: “Well, I’ve laid out the path for you to follow, but I cannot make you become enlightened.”

Liandra: “I’ve had better teachers.”

He laughed as she rose from her seat.

Robert Grabas: “And they’ve done a wonderful job.”

She sauntered over to the window, leaving him behind to his book.

Liandra: “I’ll be in touch.”

Robert: “You always are, when you want to be.  But hey—my security is lax on the nights when I'm expecting you.  So please, use the front door next time.”

Liandra grinned and turned to face him one final time.

Liandra: “Where’s the fun in that?”

Thanks Yous and Reviews

I must thank you all for purchasing, downloading, and reading my book.  I love to write and the ultimate validation for that seems to be when others can get lost in and enjoy what I’ve created.  Well I hope you enjoyed it anyway.  There is no way that I, a starving artist, can achieve my goals without you glorious readers so please continue to check out my work and root for me.  I am ridiculously grateful for your precious time.

This is my first official novel and so I really need to kick up some dust and bring attention to my work.  To that end I’d humbly like to ask you to please review my book at the websites below.  Just give your honest-to-goodness opinion, good or bad.  Make it long, make it short –I don’t care – just make it.  Without those reviews it’s very tough to make a splash in the indie book scene.

Amazon Review Link

Goodreads Review Link

I’d also like to extend an offer to you all to be a part of my ARC group and receive copies of my future books before they are released to the public.  To do this you just have to review this book then send me a link or screen capture of your review to belartwright@gmail.com along with a request to receive an ARC of my next book, which will be Average Joe and the Beauty.

Again, thank you and many blessings to you my glorious reader.

Acknowledgements

No man is an island and so I'd like to thank a lot of people for being involved in my life.  I'd like to thank my whole pantheon of family and friends.  Though I consider myself a loner, these folks have proved me wrong time and time again with so much support and understanding.  None of the folks in my sphere were naysayers and most supported me and my ambitions through and through.

I want to thank my friends, mainly my brothers at FlubberKnuckle Studios.  My core group of "brothers" has mainly consisted of Mark our ifso-facto leader, Ryan the brains of the outfit, and Alex the heart of it all.  Our friendship has continued strongly since those days eagerly debating and swapping videogame and anime knowledge at our 9th grade 4th hour lunch table.  We've since become best friends, business partners, co-creators, and mainly brothers.  Beyond these four are the solid additions of Lloyd who is working on a special novel of his own, Will who like Alex is also the heart of our little group, Gabby who is forever the troll and also the first reader of my novel Hell Warriors, and Sophie who is for all intents and purposes FlubberKnuckle's first lady but beyond that an incredibly big hearted person and gifted smartass.

I want to thank my family the Blacks from whom Average Joe gets his surname.  The talent of my siblings bolstered my own confidence in myself.  Seeing that they all held so much talent in some way, shape, or form over the English language helped me search inside of myself for a greatness that could match theirs.  To all of my wise beyond their years brothers: Shannon, Billy, and Anthony.  To my beautiful and gifted sisters: Ari and Bridgitt.  To my cousin Maurice and my nephew Aric who are both so close to my age and heart that they are like brothers.  To all my lovely young nieces and nephews: Alyssia the brainiac, Ayanna the troublemaker, Jovantae the gentleman, Auji the genius, and Jovae the little powerhouse.  To my gracious mother Regina, my loving aunt Elaine, and my wise and powerful granny...umm granny.  Thank you all!  This book is dedicated to you and your struggles.  Thank you all for being there for me and with me!

I also want to thank Michael Holladay the man behind this very cover design.  He was so nice to not charge me anything but the cover was so good that I felt compelled to pay him, even when he objected, multiple times. I can be surprisingly persuasive when it comes to blowing my own money.

Special thanks also to my friends and extended family Al, Pete, Mike, Tamara, Dalia, Christy, Deanthony, Jason, Amir, Brittney, Krystal, Greg, Joe, Justin, Willis, Michelle, Mo, Thony, Solomon, Sydni, Twuana, Shacola, Heather, Renae, Earl, Earl Jr., Jasmine, and Zaynab.  All of you have inspired me at some point throughout the years (and probably distracted me from writing at the same damn time.)  Without you characters in my life I don't think the heart and soul of these books would be the same.  To quote a great T.V. theme song, “thank you for being a friend.”

Average Joe and the Extraordinaires

Extras

Fun Facts and Story Changes

-Average Joe and the Extraordinaires was originally going to deal with Joe, a normal kid taking on an evil corporation that wanted to bulldoze his neighborhood and take over the land.  Joe was originally going to have to rally his neighborhood together and convince them all that this conspiracy was going on.  After I added more supernatural elements, the plot changed slightly to accommodate that and expanded beyond the initial concept but it still was nowhere near the plot of what this book turned into.  For plot reasons (because some of these elements are still in the sequel) I can't really reveal what the second "draft" of AJ turned into but for the planned sequel I may reveal more of that draft but at this point it's not all that important.

-Fleez and Dozz were not originally planned to be in the story until the very chapter I wrote them in.  After that, they took on a life of their own and were so Badd Azz that I was forced to write more of them.

-Joe purposely has no physical description.  I originally wanted him to look like me (though I'm in no way average) then I wanted him to be a typical brown haired kid until I realized that average is mostly affected by our own perceptions.  My average is not your average.  So Joe's canon appearance is that of the reader, since a lot of people may identify with Joe’s values.  Or Joe may look like whatever the reader considers average.  I’m curious as to how you imagined Joe.

-Joe was originally going to be older along with Kate.  Both were going to be roughly 19 – 20 and in college.  Even when I de-aged Joe and Kate I was going to keep Dahlila in her twenties but decided instead to put her closer to Joe's age.  She's still older though.

-Some elements that appear in this story come from my first (yet to be released) novel Hell Warriors.  The term for magic (craftes) as well as how it is implemented comes from that story.  The use of an arcade/children's entertainment center in one of the action scenes also appears in both.

-Dahlila was originally to be kidnapped with Melissa towards the end of the novel.  She’s too tough for that Damsel act though.

-Average Joe is an experiment for me.  None of my other stories have featured a main character so physically weak and uninformed.  It was a challenge writing that and keeping him relatively capable even amidst all these extraordinary people.  I still don't fully know if I fully struck that balance but I feel I did a good job overall.

-If you didn't know, Orangetown is based on an archetypal small town in Florida.  It is entirely fictional.

-I first added the clock tower in the scene where Joe first finds Mod there.  Initially Joe found Mod at the Malington's house where Mod was wallowing in self-pity.  The rest of the scene is virtually unchanged except for the lyrics of the song the boys sing.  Like Fleez and Dozz, the clock tower was so awesome that it took on a life and mystique of its own and became an integral part of the story.

-Originally the rap song Joe and Mod sang was Scarface's "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta."  I changed it because I didn't want to put in any explicit lyrics and there was no way I was going to water down the lyrics just to fit my story.  Great song btw!

-Average Joe originally had a comedic narrator telling the story because I thought a story with a main character that I considered "boring" would need sprucing up.  Joe eventually grew into someone that I found interesting and thus the need for that obtrusive narrator became unnecessary.  I stuck with the comedic narrator idea until chapter 8.  The narrator had some funny bits and I planned to include some chapters with his thoughts on the story as far as he had read it but the idea was creatively taxing and began to feel like I was writing two separate stories.  I'm not the most confident in my comedic writing either so all in all I had enough ammo to scrap that whole idea.  Though in the future (in another story) I may use it again, who knows?

-I found out that mannerable wasn't a real word as I was writing a few of the Villain View interludes.  I decided to use it anyway because I don't feel like using "well mannered" to describe someone I consider mannerable.  I've gone my whole life believing mannerable to be a real word and I will continue that delusion stubbornly.

-We've only scratched the surface of this crazy story called Average Joe.  There's much more on the way.  This tale goes far deeper!

Alternate/Deleted Scenes

(Narrator Hates My Book Script)

Chapter 1

Something Exciting This Way Comes

Pinned to the inescapable and high tech wheel of death as he was, the dashing space captain Don Daniels could only pray for a miracle.  He needed to escape for his crew’s sake and he needed to do it fast.   He had only one chance and if he didn’t do it right the metal cutting lasers would make sure that he never did it again.  He had taken the key he needed and nestled it between his cheeks and we’re not talking about those on his face.  Luckily the captain had taken extreme measures just in case a situation like thi-………..

Hmm?

The script just stops.

Where is the rest?

Umm? Huh?

So…what do you mean it’s not that kind of story?  That's the wrong script?  Oh it’s a WIP.  So you want me to start over?  So this flimsy thing over here is the script?  Ok ok.  Just give me a moment to look it over.  Mm-hmm.  Mm-hmm.  Mm-hmm.  Okay.  That is uhh, ok I guess.

Okay!  Well I damn sure can’t in all seriousness narrate this!  It’s a piece of crap!  Nothing interesting happens and the way it ends is just abysmal.  Have you ever read a book, watched a movie, or played a videogame in your life?  Listen!  The only way that I’m narrating this is if you let me make a few alterations to this, this…series of happenings.  I need to spruce it up (like Henry Ford would spruce up a horse carriage, sheesh!)

So do I have permission?.......Yes?  Okay, well here we go!  Welcome to my spruced up adventure.

(Narrator's Bad Jokes)

"The day was hot as hell and the crowd was rowdy and rambunctious.  Such conditions made me glad that I had this disembodied narrator’s position."

"Let’s say hi to Joe and his friends! Not there.  Nope not there.  Bear with me for a moment folks, Joe is actually quite hard to find.  He doesn’t really stand out too much.  Hold on for just a second.  I’ll just look for something Mod would wear and bingo!  Where there’s Mod there’s his sister Kate and where there’s Kate there is our protagonist Joe.  Hi guys!  Well our protagonists are, wait I think that they’re about to say something."

Joe: “This line is long.”

"He speaks and what a voice!  I wish he had more to say but oh well.  Well these three are here to support their hometown team, the Pickers.  Joe and Kate are pretty set on going to Orange Town University, mostly because they didn’t even think about the alternatives.  Okay here’s some action, it looks like the line has moved a little.  The game starts in only thirty short minutes."

"The crowd started to move forward now faster and the group’s shady acts were cleverly hidden from the security staff.  I, your faithful narrator, could barely make out what they were doing with all the secrecy.  Mod had taken what looked like a dead albino baby seal and placed the thermos in it before attaching it to Kate and hiding it under a sweater that he had worn.  Well in hindsight that probably wasn’t a dead albino baby seal because that would be a ridiculous and smelly thing to attach to someone, even more ridiculous than attaching a regularly pigmented dead seal to someone.  Mod had attached a fake pregnant belly to his sister by the look of it."

"Inside they all had a pow-wow about where to go and if they would get snacks.  Very boring and mundane stuff but eventually they got it all together and found their seats.  They all sat down and waited for the game to begin.  It began with the singing of the national anthem which got everyone all riled up and patriotic so much so that I felt the need to wear this stylish powdered wig and petticoat which, too bad for you, you can’t see.  But if you close your eyes and think of the coolest person you know dressed as the founding fathers then you’d have an idea."

"Mod pulled a couple cans of Double Dog brew for himself and handed another to Joe and then to Kate.  Now this narrator in no way recommends actions like this from our amazingly bright youthful readers but I just report it as I see it.  These kids liked to get lit up like the fourth of July.  They downed their first cans almost instantly.  This narrator was even surprised to see Kate doing better than the boys and belching the loudest when finished.  They all had seconds while sharing stories of a time when Mod had accidently soiled his underwear during a camping trip.  Mod tried not to laugh but couldn’t help himself."

"So as not to confuse you glorious readers I guess I’ll call miss perky dark tresses Beauty from now on.  I really did like Dark Tresses though *sadness*.  Anywho, Beauty ran her fingers through her long…dark tresses and produced what seemed to be a key card.  She took the key card and inserted it into a small slit on the other side of the elevator.  Three glowing squares popped up in the middle of the wall.  They were marked UG5, UG6, and UG7.  Beauty had pressed the square for UG6 and as if touch activated the elevator began to move and the display disappeared.  The card reader spit Beauty’s card back out and she picked it up and placed it back amongst her dark tresses.  Joe wondered, as did I, where the hell she put that thing but neither of us lingered too long on that thought for the elevator had stopped.  For some reason Beauty was still facing the wall.  Joe went to tell her that they had reached their stop but was halted when the back wall of the elevator suddenly slid completely open.  Joe gaped down the hall to see if there was anyone there but didn’t see or hear anyone."

“'Hey look!  This guy’s the terrorist from the news,' said some guy in the cells.  Joe looked at the man and then to the T.V. and saw himself, face up, being put into a cop car.  'This kid blew up the Picker stadium?  Evil little scumbag, get over here!' And that was the end of Joe."

"Remember when I said that was the end of Joe, well…I embellished a bit.  I like to keep you readers pumped up and turning the pages.  It’s a compulsion really, I’m getting help for it.  What I meant to say was: and that was the end of Joe…sharing a cell with the others.  They pulled him out and placed him in a room by himself after those guys tried to thrash him."

"And thus went the conversation with Hanky Panky Borland and Sir Josephus Black.  Now it was done and our story could progress with action, intrigue, and suspense.  Now let’s proceed ladies and gents…"

"Joe marveled at the man’s tiny feet and thought they could’ve easily been confused for tic-tacs in those shoes.  This narrator could confess to that.  My nearly omniscient eyes have never witnessed feet so tiny on an adult male before."

"They were going to turn Joe into swiss cheese and that would make things terribly difficult.  This book is kind of named after the poor fellow.  I supposed we could find another Joe but it just wouldn’t be the same.  Not many Joe’s have as much heart as our Joe here has.  I’ll miss the guy.  Oh come on Joe!  Survive this you crazy kid!"

About the Author

Belart Wright was born and raised in Detroit Michigan with a short but adventurous stint in St. Ignace during his childhood.  Always poor, Belart had to learn to use his imagination to fuel the fun he had.  Whether it was drawing cool and dangerous looking heroes to creating fully fledged storylines with his action figures to writing stories about kids similar to himself with fantastic abilities and destinies, Belart was always an expert in delving into other worlds that were not his own.  Always naturally talented at writing, it took the advice of his brother, and a little creative boost from his high school creative writing instructor to get him to realize that writing was something he could do really well and pursue as a career.  To this day he revels in building worlds and characters from the ground up such as the worlds of Hell Warriors, Story of K, Cyborgs and Deadmen, and Pannam which are all working titles.

In his spare time Belart writes on his two blogs and ‘facebooks’ (now replaced with ‘goodreads’) far too much.  As a huge gamer he plays a lot of games online and off with his favorites at the time being Borderlands 2 and Dark Souls.  He just wishes he had more time to whittle his impossibly long gaming list down.  He and his buddies at FlubberKnuckle Studios are also working on several new game IPs.

He also wrote this himself, in third person, so he’s probably a bit of a jerk face.  An awesome self-deprecating jerk face.

Links

My Personal Blog:

www.belartscorner.blogspot.com

My Tumblr:

http://belart-the-illiterate-reader.tumblr.com/

Flubberknuckle Games:

http://www.flubberknuckle.com/wordpress/

My Cover Artist’s Page:

Alexandra Engellmann (cover 2)

http://bit.ly/1CEVF4Z

Michael Holladay (cover 1)

http://www.nerdpromotions.com/

Xbox Live Gamertag:

kidNihilnom IV

Coming Soon

Average Joe and the Beauty

Book 2 of An Average Joe Series

R&D

Liandra was beginning to sweat and so she decided that she had enough of her helmet.  She had no reason to hide her face at this point anyway.  She took it off and compressed it into the form of an earring with just a mere thought.  The warm night wind of the Floridian fall blew her hair from her face to her neck and back again as she pushed upwards of ninety on her motorbike, which tonight was clad in white and brown owl's wings on the body and frame.  Her helmet was also typically adorned with wings.  The wings were symbolic of her, she thought, unfettered and always in flight and able to do as she pleased at any moment.  The wings were, however, a tribute to the Order of the Owl.  She had found a true home amidst the Order and missed them all dearly.  The owl perfectly described her.  She was most at home prowling during the night.  Tonight was no different.

What was she prowling for?  Answers.  She needed answers to questions she didn't even know.  Her quest for answers had taken her all over the sunshine state in a very brief period.  Now she was heading roughly a hundred miles from where the man she'd been keeping her owl's eyes on had set up his main base of operations.  That man's name was Grabas and he was the one responsible for posing so many of these questions that she needed to answer.  She was headed to another town which held yet another base for Grabas' operations.  Here she hoped to knock some of those questions from her list.

Answers never came cheap or easy but if Grabas was keen on playing games then she would at least enjoy them.  She soon found herself in the town of Flatland which was deeply inland with no prayer of touching either coast.  It was very plain and mostly unpopulated but many businesses had set up manufacturing operations all around.  There was building after building of textiles, metalwork, fasteners, and other such developers.  There were also plenty of bars but not a lot of homes.  At this time of night most of the factories looked to have closed production for the day and so the bars looked to be where all of the people were.  Luckily her destination was well away from all of that.

When she neared her destination she turned off her bike's headlights.  The building was tall.  It had five floors from what she knew of it and no telling how many underneath.  She wasn't surprised in the least when she saw that it was bustling with activity even at this late hour.  She had come a while back during her initial search for Grabas and remembered that only a select few were given the honor (or misfortune as she thought of it) of working overnight.  They had special security clearances.  She didn't have those same clearances so she opted to try a more creative approach.

She rode further on down the street from the facility and parked her bike near a cluster of trees.  From here she went to her messenger bag, tied at the rear of her bike, and pulled binoculars from it.  She scoped the facility out from afar and saw that it was nicely secured with high barbed fences, foot patrols, and patrols in cars that circled the area in intervals.  There was only one apparent way in and that was guarded by a shifty and formidable looking guard.  That was only the entrance they wanted the everyday layman to think was there but Liandra knew better.  She was no layman.  She was trained in the espionage arts by a teacher at her former Order, to her master's chagrin.  So now she could spot not one, not two, not even three, but four ways to get into the facility.  She found them pretty quickly too.

She tied her hair into a ponytail in a single smooth motion then silently ran closer to the building where she found the perfect pair of trees.  Looking at them and taking note of their reasonable height and distance from one another, an idea quickly came to her mind.  She almost laughed out loud at the thought.  She removed her left earring and cupped it in her left hand.  In her mind she echoed the phrase: "elastic, tough, resistant, yet stretchy."  She pictured a giant coiling rubber band and quite suddenly had it in her hand.  She could've wrapped the thing around her body like twenty times.

She unwrapped the giant rubber band and laid one end near the first tree to the north.  It was cut at the center, which made it simple to wrap around the tree to the south.  She walked around and pulled the elastic band over to the first end and connected the two.  The elastic was too loose and so Liandra touched the band and thought the words "tighten" and just like that her makeshift human catapult was complete.

Liandra: "That's the absolute perfect length.  My eyes are in tip-top condition tonight.  On the flipside, it looks like I've been hanging around that boy too much, this is downright juvenile."

She laughed to herself, thinking of Joe, and briefly wondered how he was doing.  Despite his murderous principal being back at his school, he seemed to be in very little danger as of late.  The necklace she had given him, to detect danger, hadn’t relayed that message to her.  It seemed Patrias was constantly trying to assault the boy with craftes but he had proven that he wasn't the most powerful crafter so she assumed that he didn't have the means to break her enchantment.  The man was "tricky" though, so she still had her concerns for the boy.

She walked between the two trees, placed her back against the elastic band, and pushed herself backwards, as far as she could, at a downward angle past the point of the band's tautness, to its maximum resistance.  She thought the words "velocity and lift" and muttered the chant aloud to increase her focus and hopefully precision.  She then slackened her feet and let go of the bands and suddenly found herself airborne.  She swiftly flew over the fence and towards the building in seconds.  She was unseen under the guise of night but now she needed to land and quietly.  She thought of her sneakers and the word "float" came to her mind.  That slowed her descent greatly and allowed her to land in the quietest way possible.  Once there, her earrings rematerialized on her ears as they were simply Life Force constructs.  She pulled her trusty lock pick from a compartment in her watch and popped the lock without any craftes, as she always liked to do.  She walked into the building from the side entrance and disabled all the cameras she came across that she remembered from her last visit.  She disabled them each of them with just a tap or an electrified earring.  She only left one operable since didn't want to be completely anonymous to Grabas.

She walked into the halls completely confident: her head high, shoulders back, and all in black.  She was a lovely prowler with her sun-kissed skin, long ebony locks, and full rouge noir painted lips.  She strutted around like she owned the place, a catwalk burglar.  There were others in the halls that either ignored her or gave her the briefest of glances.  They were mostly scientists in white coats.  None had told her that she was in a restricted area.  She chalked them up as having the keen insight to know that she was trouble.  None had even stopped to call any security personal.  She knew where she wanted to go but needed to figure out how to get there.  She also wouldn't mind at all if she got to into a skirmish or two in her search.  Some exercise would do nicely for her.

Liandra: "I'm going to need to liven this place up a bit.  I know!  I'll just grab the next white coat I see and..."

She honestly couldn't believe her luck just now.  A young scientist rounded the corner and nearly jumped out of his skin when Liandra grabbed him and hemmed him against the wall.  She put her finger to his lips and took note of his familiar face.

Liandra: "Shh.  Don't make a scene."

It was an absurd thing to say, given the situation.  He nodded his head in agreement however.

Liandra: "What's your name and don't hesitate or I'll kill you."

Loudly and clearly the young scientist said his name.

"Marc Jamison."

Liandra: "Very good, Mr. Jamison.  Take me to whoever runs this show."

He boldly looked her in the eye and dared to question her.

Marc: "Why?"

Impressed, though a little annoyed, Liandra decided to answer him.

Liandra: "I have some questions that only that person can answer."

He nodded.

Marc: "Follow me."

She did just that, following his deliberate pace down the long bare corridors.  There were offices everywhere and enough paperwork to cover the building over.  The color of choice by the decorators looked to be tan with matte brown accents all around.  The hallway's walls and ceilings in this area were covered in these colors in what looked like a purposeful effort to make the surroundings look comfortable, laidback, and sort of sophisticated.  The tan and brown backgammon-like design of the patterns on the floor tiles seemed to back that idea up as well.

Marc finally came to a stop at an office in the middle of the hall and looked inside.  He shook the doorknob a few times trying to open it.  He was forced to gawk in from the outside after he loudly declared it to be locked.

Marc: "I'm sorry but it looks like he's not here tonight."

Liandra: "Who?"

He looked unsure.

Marc: "Our head R&D guy."

Liandra smiled and closed the distance between them.  They were now face to face, almost nose to nose which suddenly made Marc very uneasy.

Liandra: "Marc was it...?  I'll fill you in on a few things.  First, I have no interest in your operations above ground.  I want to go where the real research is taking place, the research this facility is made for.  Second, I'm a very dangerous person and third, the person I'm looking for is the scientist heading your testing division which would be the Head of Applications.  Fourth, I want you to lead me to him because you're the Head of R&D and to get what I want I'll need you both.  Try me for a fool again and we're going to make a test subject out of you.  We'll see how you like being experimented on."

The young scientist was sweating profusely.  He was covered in a nice sheen in no time at all.

Marc: "Please, follow me to Mr. Girino's Office.  It's in the subbasement."

Liandra: "Yes, along with your own.  Now lead on."

He led her to the back of the facility, through a pair of double doors.  The room was filled with shelves so tall they reached the ceiling and stacked with boxes galore and other useful supplies.  There were multiple rows but he simply led her straight ahead to the large service elevator.  He called it and they waited for about thirty seconds for it to arrive.  They stepped unto it and as she expected there were only buttons for the five floors above ground.

Marc: "This is a strange request but can you keep your eyes closed?"

Liandra scoffed.

Liandra: "I can't begin to explain to you all the many many reasons why I won't do that.  I suspect that you want to pull out your keycard and place it in a hidden slot in this elevator which will then display another set of buttons, one of which you'll press to take us down to the lower levels.  Now if you don't want me to see that you can rest assured knowing that I already have.  If you want me to close my eyes so that you can kill me then you are a colossal idiot.  Now carry on."

The man quietly pulled out his keycard and slid it into a slot under a diagram of the building's upper floors.  The diagram lifted up and there were three more floors listed as numbered subbasements.  There was a small button next to each number.  This elevator wasn't as high tech as the one at Picker's Stadium but its purpose was the same.  It was built to hide secret and terrible things.  Marc leaned over and pressed the button to the second subbasement.

They came out of the elevator to a hallway where Liandra saw men in plain clothes, gloves, and long sleeves moving large flat beds around.  She saw other scientists around too and more laborers.  Some of the scientists directed the laborers around.  There was a lot of space and the whole floor looked unfinished.  Liandra looked around at the dirt and scrapes all over the bottom of the walls and could tell that this was a high traffic area.

Marc: "This way please."

He walked towards the end of the hall and turned down into a dead end hallway with four rooms, two on each side.  He opened the door to what Liandra supposed was an office.  It looked more like the inside of a file cabinet with papers bundled and stacked on top of everything.  There was a small old man seated in the middle of it all behind a tiny paper covered desk.  She was barely able to make out his nameplate on his desk that was buried amongst the various papers.

Mr. Girino: "Dammit Jamison!  Can't you see that I'm eating a goddam sandwich!?"

The old man didn't even seem to notice Liandra.

Marc: "I'm sorry sir but this is important."

Liandra waved at Girino, wriggling her fingers as she did.  The old man finally took note of her.

Mr. Girino: "Who is this?"

Liandra: "I'm an associate of the owner of this place.  At his behest I've come seeking answers."

Mr. Girino: "Listen miss.  I don't know who you are or why he brought you here but I need you to leave right now.  And you Jamison, I'll make sure to let the boss know about what you've just done."

Liandra smirked and sat down on a stack of papers that were bundled on the floor in front of the man's desk.  He looked at her contemptuously and wiped his hands with a paper towel.

Mr. Girino: "I don't have any time for this."

He pressed some sort of button on the side of the table.

Mr. Girino: "That's security.  They'll be here shortly.  Feel free to try to run."

She continued to sit and looked at him coolly.

Liandra: "There's no need for that.  I'll just enjoy the pleasures of your company until they arrive."

Mr. Girino: "Suit yourself."

A group of men, four from Liandra's count, had arrived about twenty seconds later.  They all wore the familiar blue W-Sec padded uniforms.  Liandra recognized the agency from just about all the buildings she had infiltrated that were linked to Grabas.

Liandra: "Hello gentlemen."

They rushed at her and she vaulted over the old man's desk and landed behind him.  Two of the men approached from her left and right knocking over all the papers in their paths and giving Liandra one remarkable idea.  She quickly hopped atop the desk and thought one word which she instinctively said aloud.

Liandra: "Ensnare!"

She spoke her commands to the mountains of papers scattered throughout the room and they silently obeyed.  Pages upon pages of office stats, graphs, charts, and various reports bound themselves together and slithered around the room looking for four targets.  When the paper snakes found their victims they coiled up the poor men's legs all the way up to their necks and twisted tightly around their bodies.  Their legs were bound so tightly and so suddenly that all of the men fell to the ground.  Only Liandra, Jamison, and the old man remained standing and of the three only she was not in a state of shock, awe, and fear.  She used the remaining stacks of paper to create a towering blockade at the door.

Liandra: "So now that we are unburdened with unnecessary company, let's have a talk.  Marc Jamison, Head of Research and Development."

She pointed to the younger scientist and he nodded.

Liandra: "And Edgar Girino, Head of Research Applications or as your subordinates call it: testing, or as these poor subjects call it: hell."

Shivering, the old man spoke up.

Mr. Girino: "If it's hell then it's one they've created.  We only take volunteers and they know the risks."

Liandra: "Well even if that was the case Mr. Girino, it doesn't excuse you from your sins.  You're the devil holding their feet to the fire, forcing them to choose between death and whatever twisted prize you've promised them."

The old man couldn't hide his contempt, even with his silence.  Liandra could see him slowly grinding his teeth.

Liandra: "You'll be happy to know that I'm not here to pass judgment on you, as fun as that sounds.  I'm here to get information about the element Ichor and the tests that you've all been conducting with it."

Both men looked at each other and then back at her.

Liandra: "Let's get started, shall we?"

Table of Contents

- Something Exciting This Way Comes
- Chapter 1 Fun at the Game
- Chapter 2 BOOM
- Chapter 3 She Can Do That!?
- Chapter 4 Do what now!?
- Chapter 5 One More Thing
- Chapter 6 Stranger Danger
- Chapter 7 Joe the Terrorist
- Chapter 8 An Effort of Futility
- Chapter 9 The P.I.
- Chapter 10 Then Who's Protecting Me?
- Villain View 1: Old Friends
- Chapter 11 The Must Have Candy Bar
- Chapter 12 Clear My Name???
- Chapter 13 That Can't Be Sanitary
- Chapter 14 The First Revenger
- Chapter 15 Extraordinaires Assemble
- Villain View 2: A Powerful Motivator
- Chapter 16 Team Badd Azz
- Chapter 17 The Price of Popularity
- Chapter 18 Old Faces
- Chapter 19 Occupado
- Chapter 20 Home Sweet Clock Tower
- Chapter 21 Zero Tolerance
- Chapter 22 The Dating Game
- Chapter 23 Making Things Right
- Chapter 24 The Plot Thickens
- Chapter 25 Scarlet Comeuppance
- Chapter 26 Hero?

- Chapter 27 A Good Deed Never Goes Unpunished

- Chapter 28 The Conference Call
- Chapter 29 The Deadly Speech
- Chapter 30 Of Killers and Lizards
- Chapter 31 Meet the Press
- Chapter 32 The Olive Branch
- Chapter 33 The Bloody Edifice
- Villain View 3: Marching Orders
- Villain View 4: The Daily Grind
- Chapter 34 The Glamour Conference
- Villain View 5: The Spotted Tail
- Chapter 35 The Fun Zone
- Chapter 36 The Truth Hurts
- Chapter 37 The Right Kind of Hatred
- Chapter 38 The Wrap Up
- Chapter 39 Busy Day
- Epilogue
- Thank Yous and Reviews
- Acknowledgements
- Average Joe and the Extraordinaires Extras
- Fun Facts and Story Changes
- Alternate/ Deleted Scenes
- About the Author
- Links