There are unsmiling faces and bright plastic chains
And a wheel in perpetual motion
And they follow the races and pay out the gains
With no show of an outward emotion

And they think it will make their lives easier
For God knows up till now it's been hard
But the game never ends when your whole world depends
On the turn of a friendly card
No the game never ends when your whole world depends
On the turn of a friendly card

"The Turn of a Friendly Card" Alan Parsons Project

Friday, May 11, 2007 - Late Afternoon
"The Flying Blue Squirrel" Pub, Teachers' Residences, Whateley Academy

"Is Liz coming?" Tatsuo Ito asked, glancing around the table to read the reactions of his table-mates, Assistant Head of Security Sam Everheart, Assistant Headmistress Amelia Hartford, Dean of Students Michiko Shugendo, Gunny Bardue, and Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson. Far from the decor of the conference rooms of the offices, this was a relaxed, informal setting, more like a small restaurant or a pub, and not on the main campus but in the teacher's residence area - a cluster of apartments and houses with a few amenities like the 'pub.' The residence area, known to the residents as "The Village," was separated from the main campus and cottages to give the instructors a break from the on-campus antics of over six-hundred students.

Amelia Hartford, hair down and having shed her harsh, librarian-style glasses, shook her head. "No. She's on a telecon with Roland and Ty."

"Is it something we should be concerned about?" the wily Japanese martial arts instructor asked the question on everyone's mind.

"The MCO is bringing three new agents into the Berlin office - Marlene Clinton, Jim Whells, and Vanessa Brown," Amelia replied, the news causing her emotional control crack just enough that she displayed a momentary look of disgust.

"Problems?" Gunny Bardue was a crusty, old, retired Marine, but deep down he was very protective of the students at Whateley; he just had a funny way of showing it.

"Maybe," Ms. Hartford answered with a few worry lines wrinkling her features - features that were usually hidden behind her stern librarian facade but were in reality quite pretty. "Since ... someone ... got some MCO crypto keys to Ty, the DPA has been taking full advantage of their ... ahem ... security breach and by now they have pretty good records of MCO personnel. They're briefing Liz on what to expect from the newcomers."

"Anything we should know about?" Sam asked, worried about troublemakers like the last agents.

"Clinton seems pretty clean. Brown is new, so they don't have any info. Whells?" Amelia rolled her eyes. "I think he's going to be a problem based on his past record. Hopefully not as bad as Haustin."

"Well, let's get on with this, and I'm sure Liz will call one of us to give her a summary briefing." As head of the combat finals organizing committee - a position he'd been drafted into by missing the initial organizing meeting - Sensei Ito had to concern himself with all aspects of the finals.

"Apart from the pairing," Amelia switched into business mode, "which the team will handle, the biggest issue we have is the betting ..."

"More specifically," Gunny interrupted, "you're talking about students betting on their own finals and throwing them, right?"

"We think we can control the on-campus bookies," Mrs. Shugendo replied cautiously, "since they have money at stake ..."

"We have to keep them from getting the pairings and scenarios in advance," Gunny said. "We thought we had it last year by meeting two days before, but somehow, the match data still got to the bookies and outside to Vegas!" There could be no doubt that Gunny was disgusted that they hadn't kept the match arrangements secret.

"I'll double-check the firewalls before you input the data," Amelia said confidently, "and we'll have the offices swept for bugs again - both conventional and magic."

"You'll have to get my office, Gunny's office, and the arena control center," Sergeant Wilson added, "since we'll be inputting the data."

Bardue nodded. "And it's going to be tough organizing the data this term. We have to have the matchups and the associated scenario, and then document our expectations for each student in the match." He shook his head, frowning to express his distaste. "I do not like this set of scenarios. They're going to be a huge challenge to grade."

"And it will take several days to get all that figured out and documented," Ito said, shaking his head as he contemplated the task before them.

"Everyone who voted for this challenge is going to help!" Bardue growled.

"Once we start, the data is in the system and vulnerable," Ito added. "Nothing personal," he glanced apologetically at Hartford, "but I don't trust any firewall or computer defense to keep these kids away from the data."

"What if we use student ID numbers instead of names?" Michiko suggested.

"Too easy for them to figure out," Ito replied quickly. "Every student knows his or her ID, and they know the coding scheme we use."

"But if a different identifying number was randomly assigned," Hartford suggested, a wry smile on her face, "then there would be no easy correlation between the combat final scenario and matchups."

"Unless someone intercepts the ID list." Bardue threw an icy dose of reality on the idea.

Ito, though, knew what Hartford was driving at. "We'll work from hardcopy only."

"And we can have the house-parents distribute the student numbers the day before finals begin - Monday, the twenty-eighth for the freshmen and sophomores, and Sunday, the third for the juniors and seniors," Shugendo caught on quickly.

"That won't slow down the bookies," Wilson noted. "We give the students half an hour to report to the arena, and that's plenty of time for them to work."

"It should slow the off-campus betting, though," Hartford noted. "We don't allow much time between when the students' names are announced and when the match begins."

"And we'll let the bookies know that there is a zero tolerance policy to off-campus wagering," Shugendo added. She had a questioning look. "If you can monitor the internet connections?" She directed the question to Amelia, knowing the answer would be affirmative. As expected, Hartford nodded. "What about cell phone traffic? Or landline phones?"

"Everything from the landlines goes through the central switch so I can set up a program to track all outgoing call destinations."

"That leaves the cell phones," Ito said.

"That's tougher," Hartford replied.

"You tracked it for Pejuta's hearing, didn't you?" Wilson interjected.

Hartford shook her head. "We tracked a pattern of data usage that confirmed video had been sent from campus," she corrected the Sergeant. "We had to get the video directly from the gambling houses' data servers in Vegas." She saw the man start to speak. "And Mr. Paulson has tried putting blocks and limiters on channel usage to the area cell relays. The signal frequency hops and compensates too much to jam or track."

"So all we can do is narrow the window of betting?" Ito asked. Hartford nodded grimly. "We'll take what we can get." He turned his attention to Hartford. "How soon can you get us a master student-ID list?"

"I'll have it in your hands half an hour after I get back to my computer," Amelia answered confidently.

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

Saturday, May 12, 2007 - Morning
Lillian Dennon's Apartment, Whateley Academy

The door opened and Lillian Dennon's face appeared. "Ah, Billy," she said warmly when she recognized the person. "Do come in." She opened the door wider and stood aside, making way for her guest.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he apologized to the gathering of instructors seated around the living room; it was most of the martial arts department. "I had an urgent call from HPARC."

"Not a problem," Amanda Tolman said with a smile, gesturing to an open spot on the sofa. "We were just getting started. Drinks and snacks are on the kitchen table; help yourself."

"We'll have barbequed brisket and fixings delivered for lunch, so don't worry about that," Sensei Ito added.

Billy grabbed a coke from a large cooler full of ice and soda. "Sounds good. How much do I owe?"

Lillian chuckled. "This is planning for school activities. It's expensed, so don't worry."

"The only time anyone said anything," Harry Junzo added with a grin, "was a few years ago when we had a couple of working lunches catered with prime rib. Mrs. Carson was ... not happy."

"I would imagine not."

Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson cleared his throat. "As I was about to say, we have significant randomness in this year's finals because of the scenario, which is hostage rescue ..."

"I still think it's a bad idea," Gunny Bardue grumbled.

Wilson ignored the irascible old Marine. "...set up in a way that the students almost certainly must cooperate to accomplish the rescue. Part of their grade will be how well they work with their opponent ..."

"Or try to cooperate," Ito added.

"And part will be based on how they use their powers," Wilson continued.

"Later ones are going to learn from the earlier sims," Chester Fitzgibbons frowned.

Wilson and Bardue both shook their heads. "Not likely," Wilson said, smiling. "We'll program six different scenes, each of which will have three different hostage locations. Each hostage location will have a primary access point and will use one of two different secondary escape routes. That gives us thirty-six settings to work with."

Ito picked up the explanation for the committee. "There will be five different levels of villain, and we can vary the number of henchmen as needed to provide suitable challenge. Part of the difficulty will be how well we camouflage the henchmen. In total, we could run over one thousand different combinations."

"We figure if we rotate through the scenes and the hostage locations, we should surprise everyone except maybe a few exemplars, and that's only if they have eidetic memory," Wilson added.

"Like Phase?"

"And that would be only if their matches were late enough and they had watched every previous match." Wilson smiled smugly. "On top of that, we'll be getting those students in the sims very early, so their memories won't do them any good."

"We'll use Larry and Cliff's program to analyze the scenario and adjust the difficulty level for the particular match," Sergeant-Major Burlington-Smythe, the formal head of the ranges, added.

"Who do we have lined up for team simulations?" Genevieve Beaumont, the karate instructor, asked.

Bardue looked at a small notebook he had opened. "The Grunts," he began.

"Naturally," Kasai Tetsuko scoffed. The Junior ROTC cadets loved to fight as a team.

"Wondercute," Bardue continued, although he cringed visibly at that one.

"Put them last," Wilson said, scowling. "We'll need time to rebuild the Arena when they get done."

"That and we'll need to crank up the difficulty to eleven!" Smythe added sarcastically.

"And Venus Inc."

"What?" Genevieve Beaumont's eyes were ready to bug out. "You're kidding!"

Bardue shook his head. "No. Apparently, Poise wants to go out with a bang, so she volunteered the club for a group simulation. And we got a special request from an outside party to do a crash with Star League Junior," he added.

"One of their parents, no doubt."

"No doubt."

"The Bomb scenario?" Lillian Dennon asked, an evil twinkle in her eye.

"Bomb scenario?" Kayda's tutor Billy Two Knives asked, a little puzzled.

"Lots of booby-trap bombs, and the hostage is wired with an explosive vest," Bardue explained, grinning. "It's fun. And they've never seen that one before."

Ito's impassive expression held a hint of a deep secret. "Let's hold on Star League Junior for a bit. I've got a better idea. How about we give the Bomb Scenario to the Capes?"

"Sounds good to me. What about the Grunts? Are we giving them a crash again?" Tolman asked.

"I feel like spreading the love," Bardue said with a wicked grin. "Yeah, let's hit the Grunts with something badass."

"I've got a special twist on the SWAT standoff," Wilson beamed. "The hostages' are some of the bad guys, and so are several 'innocents' on the street, like some of the cops."

"Evil."

"I haven't gotten to the really nasty part yet," Wilson chuckled. "It's a trap. When they move in, they'll be hit from behind - hard."

"That'll put Mule and Bunker in two finals," Fitzgibbons worried. "Unless they're not doing individual finals."

"What about Venus Inc.?" Dennon asked, curious about how they'd torture the beauty queens.

"Who all did Poise volunteer for that?"

"Poise, Solange, Heartbreaker, Pejuta, Fey, Lifeline, Loophole ..."

"Now there's trouble!" Genevieve Beaumont said with a scowl. "There's some serious friction between the two of them."

"And Fey isn't exactly at the top of her game," Lillian added needlessly. Everyone knew how Fey was moping and depressed, and her class and magic and modeling performances were lackluster. "She's ... kind of coasting."

"Hit her hard to snap her out of it?" Bardue suggested.

"Might work," Lillian replied. "Or it'll break her and possibly unleash her pent-up frustration and anger."

"No breaks for the princess," Ito said, his face impassive. "She gets hit just like everyone else."

"How about this for a scenario: multiple simultaneous terrorist attacks, all with potential kidnapping victims - but only one is the real target?" Smythe offered a suggestion. "The rest are all distractions."

"They'll have to split their force," Ito observed, and then an evil smile grew. "Works for me. Poise wanted a challenge? That'll give her one."

"You're a cruel man," Genevieve Beaumont chuckled.

Ito nodded, a wicked grin on his face. "Thank you. I like to think so."

"Now for Wondercute."

Bardue and Ito exchanged a glance that worried the other instructors, no matter how hardened they were by years of combat final planning and execution. "Let's give them to Star League Junior. That ought to be fun." Wicked, approving grins spread through the room.

"That's not fair," Wilson cautioned.

"No, it isn't."

"I'm not talking about being unfair to Wondercute," Wilson explained.

"Neither am I," Ito said with a malicious grin.

"How about hitting the new guys with one? The Ghost-Walkers?" Fitzgibbons suggested.

Bardue shook his head. "Pejuta is already in a solo and the crash with Venus Inc. We're trying to torture her, not kill her!"

When the chuckling died down, Beaumont spoke up. "So, where do we start with the students?" In past combat finals, the individual matchups were done purely at random. In theory, the student had an equal chance of being set against a deadly enemy, their closest friend, an arch-rival, someone who was almost perfectly their equal, a mere acquaintance, or someone they'd only seen in passing.

In theory.

In practice, the instructor team was far from adverse to 'crocking the crash', or carefully choosing a particularly difficult opponent for a student who wasn't living up to what the instructors thought was their potential. Or one they thought was gaming the system. Or they thought needed to be taken down a peg. Or one who'd just pissed them off a bit.

Sergeant Wilson rose and began passing out stapled bundles of paper. "Tatsuo and I have penciled in a few of our ideas," Bardue said.

"I really don't like your third pairing," Amanda Tolman said, frowning. "That's a disaster waiting to happen."

"Do you have a better idea?" Ito asked calmly. "The goal is to have unlikely pairings that would be unlikely to cooperate."

"She'll try to kill him," Amanda replied. "We all know that."

"These are supposed to be a challenge," Bardue reminded her.

"And from what I've heard, since she started dating Nitro, she's a lot less ... volatile," Ms. Beaumont added. "It'll depend on whether she remembers her meds or not."

Sergeant Wilson frowned. "Gunny, do you think Phase is still feeling so guilty about the whole thing that she might not defend herself against Tisiphony?"

Gunny winced, the first outward display of emotion for the day. "I don't think so, but we have to find out sooner or later. In the arena, we have a little control. On campus and in the tunnels? Not so much."

"I have a student who really needs to be taken down a peg," Kasai Tetsuko, the Aikido instructor and the mostly-unseen and unacknowledged supervisor of many of the Sims missions, said. "She-Beast. Jadis smartass Diabolik."

"What?" grunted Gunny Bardue, "Are you still pissed at how she played the Secret Squirrels and that little nutcase Nemesis just before Spring Break? I thought that you won that bet."

"That's not the point!" Kasai said a touch too sharply. "You saw how she gamed that duel with Nemesis! She-Beast tricked her into precisely following She-Beast's battle-plan."

"Tetsuko-chan," Ito-sensei objected, "what is that, but good tactics? I spend most of my time trying to hammer it into plate-steel skulls that strange powers are not the best solution, but that planning, preparation and information are. You want to punish one of the few students who already understands that?"

"She gamed the duel system to discredit the Spy Kids and almost got Nemesis expelled," Kasai maintained firmly. "She needs to learn that she can't manipulate everyone and get everything her own way."

"Ah, Tetsuko?" Wilson drawled, " everybody knows that if she isn't a clinical high-functioning paranoid, she could still fool 7 out of 10 Sophomore Psych majors. So, you want us to bushwhack a high-functioning paranoid with control issues, to teach her the lesson that she can't be in control of everything?"

"Actually, Ryan," Sgt. Major Burlington-Smythe, the firing range honcho, drawled, "What I think the lady means is that when toffee-nosed little barracks-lawyers weasel their way around the letter of the regs, it's bad for the general discipline. When this happens, it often falls to those of us in the trenches, who aren't quite as bound by the letter of things, to pound it into their pointy little heads that cunning tricks with words do NOT change the way the world works."

"Yeah," Wilson grunted, "if we don't do something, people will say that we're scared of her dad or something. So, who do we stick her with? The obvious thing is to put her in a position where she'll have to cooperate with Nemesis, but that's just a tad too obvious."

"What about Loophole?" Burlington-Smythe offered. "I've heard that there's bad blood between those two, and if anyone could out-lawyer She-Beast, it's Loophole."

"Bad idea," Bardue said flatly. "Remember that 'Wicked' affair that 'officially' never happened? After that, Loophole and She-Beast may not be going to any sleepovers together any time soon, but for a good grade they'll cooperate to the point that it won't be a matter of how well they do; it'll be a matter of whether we've got a stopwatch fast enough to time them."

"What about Iron Star or Magni-Girl?" Wilson offered. "In the past couple of weeks, the Capes and the Seeds have been getting pretty bitchy and nasty toward each other."

Kasai snapped her fingers and grinned evilly. "Not Iron Star or Magni-Girl. The fix would be too obvious. No, there's a Cape who also needs to learn a thing or two about taking dangerous situations seriously."

"That's almost ALL of them," Bardue sneered. "Exactly who are you talking about?"

"Do you remember that big smash-up in New York on the Spring Break, with the Drow and the Karedonian Imperial Jewels?" Kasai asked rhetorically. "Well, according to my information, She-Beast was in that mess up to her hips - as usual. Also, according to my source, Mega-Girl -"

"That little blonde airhead in Poe that the ECG is always complaining about?" Wilson asked.

"Right. Well according to my source, Mega-Girl somehow got She-Beast arrested and almost thrown in a cell without a key. When the dust settled, She-Beast walked, but the District Attorney was throwing roses at Mega-Girl. She-Beast swears up and down that she got reamed, but the Cape Squad has been beating her over the head with it ever since."

"So we throw them in the crash together," Bardue summed up, "and either She-Beast spends the time pounding Mega-Girl and trashes her own GPA, or she competes against Mega-Girl to rescue the hostage and still trashes her own GPA, or she figures it out and has to help someone she's furiously pissed at." He nodded. "Not our best work, but it works."

"The important thing is that She-Beast understands that we can lower the boom on her," Kasai said sturdily.

"And now for the really important part," Ito said. He laid a $10 bill on the table. "I'm putting ten on She-Beast to mop the floor with Mega-Girl."

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

Saturday, May 12, 2007 - Noon
Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

Work study on Saturday morning really sucked, but a job was a job, and Whateley was an expensive school, so a student did what a student had to. In this case, it was light janitorial duties in Kane Hall that occupied the boy. He'd just finished sweeping the second floor classrooms so he carried the broom back to the janitor's closet, checking his watch as he did so. Seeing it was lunchtime, he sighed with relief at being finished with the week's tedium.

Inside the broom closet, he snapped on the light, and with a quick glance up and down the halls, he pulled the door shut after himself. The shelving unit that held cleaning supplies was a heavy-duty model, which was perfect for his intended use; he scrambled up like he was climbing a ladder, turning so he was sitting on the top shelf. He twisted his body toward an air vent and undid two thumbscrews, popping the vent cover off and setting it beside him. Reaching inside the vent, he found a small irregularity in the metal, which he used like a thumb catch, opening a hidden panel in the side of the vent.

He'd done this so often that he didn't need to look; instead, he reached in, pressing a finger into the opening left behind the panel and depressed a button. Released from its cradle, a small removable hard disk, measuring about two and a half inches by four inches by one half inch, slid straight out from a receptacle an inch or so; the boy grasped it and slid it the rest of the way out with one hand, while the other hand dug in a pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out an identical drive. The electronic connector on the rear mated with the connectors inside the socket, and the boy pressed the device home, hearing and feeling a faint click as it seated.

From there, it was a matter of seconds to replace the vent liner, screw the vent cover back into place, and scramble down the shelves. Solidly on the ground, he slid the disk he'd retrieved into his cargo pants. Satisfied, he went back to his original chores of putting away the broom and dust-pan.

Finished with his work-study, he took an elevator from the second floor down into the tunnels, looking about cautiously but not nervously; looking nervous was a good way to arouse suspicion, or so he'd been taught. His tutoring by an unknown mentor also included watching around himself at all times while appearing casual.

The boy walked into a lab, pausing to greet friends, and went to a particular bench where he spent a little time idly chatting with Widget, a girl he made no secret of admiring and wanting to get to know better, but she was still obsessed with Thunderbird so he wisely didn't press, staying a friend until such time as Widget realized that Thunderbird wasn't going to dump Chaka and race to her, her heart would be broken, and he'd be there to comfort her. A rebound relationship didn't scare him at all; it was better than nothing, which was what he had.

As the two kids talked, the boy glanced surreptitiously around the room, and satisfied that everyone was heads-down into their own gadgets and work, he slipped one hand down, taking the hard drive out of his pocket and sliding it unnoticed into a convenient receptacle underneath Widget's bench. Then, when Widget was looking away, he turned a small latch on a cabinet.

As usual, he asked Widget if she was going to lunch, and no matter how many times she said no, he was still a little disappointed. With a pleasant farewell, he trudged back to the tunnels and to Schuster - where lunch awaited.

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

Monday, May 14, 2007 - Late Morning
Lab beneath Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

The girl walking past the lab glanced inside, as was her habit, and she did a quick double-take. Her course reversal was so abrupt that she nearly collided with Chelsea Horton, better known as Little Bee, who was, as usual, fiddling with a piece of her latest gadget as she walked down the halls. The precocious eighth-grade gadgeteer looked up at the last second and started.

"Sorry, Tweak," Chelsea, little sister of the better-known Yellow Queen, Patti Horton, said contritely, "I didn't see you there."

Linda Fowler - Tweak - smiled pleasantly. "No, it's my fault," she apologized. "I cut back and almost hit you because I wanted to have a quick word with Widget." She looked at the ... thing ... in the girl's hands. "What are you working on?" For several minutes, time which was well spent camouflaging her true intentions, Linda listened to the excited junior high girl from Whitman go on and on about her latest prototype. Because of the age difference and living in different cottages, Tweak seldom had much interaction with Little Bee, despite them both being 'labcoats' and sharing some interest areas in their gadgeteering focus. Finally, Tweak smiled. "I need to catch Widget, and then I've got to get a bite to eat."

Little Bee gawked at her for a moment. "Oh, yeah," she said, looking at her watch, "it is lunchtime." Still holding her creation, the younger girl scurried off toward Schuster.

Tweak wandered casually to Widget's desk. "I'm almost done modifying the PID controller for you. When do you need it?"

"Next week should be fine," Widget answered without looking up from her workbench.

"Oh, good!" Tweak sighed with relief, and that wasn't an act. Gadgeteers and devisors helped each other out, and trading favors was a sacred obligation. If a gadgeteer or devisor promised something to another gadgeteer or devisor on Tuesday, they had better deliver on Tuesday. And not at one minute before midnight, but at a reasonable hour! Otherwise, the one who failed to fulfill an obligation would never be able to get a favor from anyone else in the labs.

"That'll give me time to finish up my video encoder/decoder prototype before I get to your controller."

"I probably won't need it before Wednesday," Widget said, still not looking up from her work. "I suppose I could wait ...."

"No, I'll have it for you Tuesday noon at the latest," Tweak promised. Her hand slipped down to the hidden cache, and she slipped the small hard drive out from under Widget's desk and into a pocket of her labcoat. "You going to lunch?"

"No," Widget answered. "I'll just get something at the snack shack."

"Okay. Catch you later." Tweak sauntered out of the lab, working hard to suppress her smile. Taking the elevator down, she turned to her private lab, a perk of having two patents on electronic equipment that was being used by Security. Of course, they hadn't really considered that using her equipment opened them up to whatever hidden capabilities she'd installed. Considering that she'd aspired to joining the Masterminds from practically her first day on campus, it wasn't surprising that's she'd included some surprises. It was only surprising that no-one had bothered to search for undocumented 'features' in her equipment.

At her lab, Tweak went through her ritual check for unwanted intrusions, snoops, and bugs, and then she sat down at her workbench and took the small storage device out of her pocket. "What do we have today?" she asked herself with delight.

The previous spring, she'd managed to inherit a very sophisticated spy system from Farsight, a genius optics gadgeteer who'd graduated in 2006; sleeping with him was a small price to pay for the surveillance system she'd gotten out of the tryst. And using sex? After a romance a senior fin the fall of 2005 had brought her out of her shell, she'd begun to learn the wily ways of playing the femme fatale, and sex was just another tool in her arsenal. And the payoff? Farsight's system was the only one on campus which fooled all electronic and magical sweeps because the active components were located far away from the passive sensor head. Farsight had managed to invent nearly perfect, lossless, coherent fiber-optic cable which allowed him to build a fiberscope over fifteen meters long instead of the usual one meter length of fiberscopes. With the image-processing electronics located so far away, there was nothing in a room to trigger an electronics detector and since it used no magic, those detection methods failed as well. Further, he'd made an optic crystal that turned vibrations into light pulses, so one of the fibers in his scope was a passive microphone. The result was a high-resolution fiberscope which was almost impervious to being caught by standard 'bug sweeps'.

Farsight's system had passive sensor-heads at several locations on campus - sensitive locations that students were not supposed to routinely observe, including Gunny's office, Hartford's computer, Ito's office, the security monitoring office, and the control booth of Arena 99. The remote electronic component at the sensors tapped into the campus network and sent the data in irregular, disguised streams to a central data collection and reduction component located, of all places, directly above security in Kane Hall. For a little spending money, a student swapped a fresh storage unit into the system and did a dead-drop of the full one, which Tweak had just retrieved.

Tweak plugged the removable hard disk into her computer. One file at a time, off-the-shelf freeware did scene identification, such as when a person came to a desk and sat down or left, and an easy recognition program identified which of the scenes had a person in them. That cut down on the raw data by well over two-thirds. From there, it was significantly more labor-intensive to scan the video - at very high speed - to see when the person was actually using their computer. From that, scene markers were selected and the process was turned over to a program she'd gotten from Askey for a little customization of his gaming computer. Of course, he didn't know the real purpose, and she'd added many modifications, so when she fed the resulting software a scene that included a computer screen, it essentially copied every character typed - a very passive and sophisticated key-logger.

Fifteen minutes after the program started digesting data from the sensor that looked down on Ms. Hartford's desk, it spat out a file. In the meantime, Tweak had identified several more scenes to feed the program.

The girl's brow furrowed when she began to examine the first output file. It looked like Ms. Hartford was working on a program; Tweak scanned the resulting file - a relatively simple program to read records from an input file and output four fields appended with what looked like a random number. She frowned; without the seed number, which was generated from the system clock, it'd be nearly impossible to recreate the number sequence. What was more puzzling, though, was why Hartford was messing around with such a simple program. It had to be something important.

Linda mentally filed away the program and began to look at the second file. A second program looked equally simple - take inputs from two files - one of which had five fields, and do a search against two fields of a second input file; if there was no match, the third, through sixth fields of the first input file were output, but if the fields did match, only the third through fifth fields of the first input file were output.

"What the hell?" Tweak asked herself. Two very simple programs to assign a random number to all data items in a list, and then strip the number from some of those items? It made no sense to her.

And then the mystery deepened; the output recording of Hartford's computer showed that she ran the first program against the student records database, and filtered it with a second file that was also an output from the student records, but with a query with a specific flag set to "True". All the results went into a file on Hartford's computer, which was behind a very sophisticated firewall that Tweak was definitely not going to attempt to penetrate.

Tweak leaned on her elbows, staring at the computer monitor through steepled forefingers. There was something very intriguing going on, a level of mystery from with student files that she'd never seen before. But she also knew that, absent a screen print of whatever the file was, she was not going to be able to reproduce the output file.

Suddenly, Tweak started; she noticed movement in the captured screen images. Bolting upright in her chair, she focused, not on Hartford's computer, but on the printer to its side where paper was spewing out, sheet after sheet of data. Could it be whatever data file Hartford had created? She grabbed her mouse and clicked on the screen, zooming in on the face-up pages as they emerged into the printer tray.

"A list of students by codename?" she asked herself, perplexed. "And numbers?" As she scanned the image, puzzling over its possible meaning, she noticed a few student names that had no numbers beside them. "This doesn't make any sense."

It only took a few minutes for Linda to modify her original program and to focus on the printer. The difficulty was translating the oblique view of the paper into something that her character recognition program could actually digest, and then she had to manually sort through the image file to find when the printer started and stopped. As soon as she started to run the program, a list of code-names, class, and a number scrolled up her monitor. Some of the names, as she expected, had no number by them.

Despite her growing curiosity, her computer interrupted her with a beep and a popup warning at her, informing her that the program wanted more data. Sighing, she turned her attention back to scene identification and selection. Someday, she told herself, she was going to have to automate more of the process. For the moment, the mysterious list of numbers and names was filed in the back of her mind for later consideration.

The answer to the mystery would come, of that she was certain. She just had to be patient, like she had been when analyzing the data feeds from the remote security cameras. Given enough data, the riddle would unfold practically by itself. She continued scanning through the files, marking them for her computer to chew on, while in the background, a software program of her design monitored both the video and her selections. With enough time, the expert system would acquire enough training that Tweak could turn over the entire task to a fully automated system. Then her ability to monitor events on the campus would be constrained only by her ability to replicate Farsight's scopes. And that wasn't really a challenge, since after one particularly enthusiastic round of sex which had left him totally exhausted, she'd copied the entire contents of his computer's hard disk, giving her all of his secrets.

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

Saturday, May 19, 2007 - Very Early Morning
Office, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

After flipping on the lights in the darkened office, two technicians flopped the bulky cases they were carrying onto two empty chairs and opened them with a practiced ease that spoke of much experience. Sensitive electronic equipment was extracted from the specialized compartments in foam-lined cases and assembled with a bored ease that bespoke of much experience.

"What's the deal this time?" one of the techs asked as he powered on his equipment and let it warm up and self-calibrate. "Daily sweeps in several offices? They're acting like they're dealing with top secret stuff."

The other technician shook his head as he placed 'samples' around the room. "Nope. I dealt with that shit for six years when I was in. This is worse. Sweeps every morning, random sweeps other times during the day. I heard magic is right behind us doing magic sweeps, too."

The first technician nodded his agreement. "I know they always get ginchy at finals, but this year it's nuts." He pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Security, team Hotel Four, request you deactivate camera Bravo-November Four-One. Clearance code ..." He glanced at a device that resembled a pocket watch. "Code Niner Six Three Niner Eight Zero Two." He released the 'talk' button.

"Hotel Four," a bored voice sounded from the walkie talkie, "code confirmed. Camera Bravo November Four-One powered down."

"Comm unit is going cold for ten minutes." He released the button and put the walkie talkie and the pocket-watch into one of the cases, closing it and latching it shut. "Clear."

With that, the tech holding the equipment began to scan the room, pausing to call out each 'target'. "Got 'em all," the second tech replied as he collected the samples. It took less than a minute to lock them away in the shielded case so they wouldn't interfere with the scan for real monitoring devices.

For the next five minutes, the tech scanned the room, his pattern familiar and quite routine. He paused at the security camera; even though it was powered off, the electronics still absorbed the RF energy of the scanner and involuntarily radiated it back, giving a signal to the detector. In the same way, any electronic bug would stick out like a candle in a dark room. But like all electronic equipment, it had a known 'signature' in the scanner. Any deviation would be noted and the equipment would be investigated for unauthorized 'modification'.

"Clean," the tech reported as he powered off the scanner and began to repack it.

As his partner was stowing the scanner, the other tech took out the walkie-talkie. "Security, Hotel Four. Check complete. Reactivate camera Bravo November Four-One."

"Hotel Four, confirmed. Reactivate Bravo November Four-One."

"Range control next?" the first tech asked, latching his case shut.

"Sure. Then we'll do Laird before we get Schuster."

"Ten bucks we draw Laird for the random check this afternoon."

"You're on."

Overhead, in a tiny hole in the acoustic ceiling, one of millions of similar holes in all the panels, photons from the room lighting traveled into a miniature lens and thence into nearly a million almost microscopic fiber cables, each only a couple of microns in diameter and all gathered into one very small cable bundle. The gathered light sped through the nearly flawless fibers across the ceiling, a few meters down a hall, and into a janitor's closet, where the fiber bundle ended in a small electronics box hidden in a small ceiling cavity. Photo-detectors converted the light into electrical signals, and the resulting image was compressed and then sent out another cable into the Whateley network.

Packet upon packet of data, all disguised by the converter box into seemingly innocuous and normal network traffic, passed through the complex maze of cable runs in the tunnels until another box - hidden in the second floor of Kane Hall, accepted the internet packets and stripped out the valuable data, performing further compression and then sending it to a tiny, removable storage unit.

None of it had been detected. Not one of the sweeps had picked up the purely passive optical monitoring device, and no network sweeps had ever noticed the disguised data. The advanced fiberscope continued to monitor the room, its lens focused on the computer monitor on Gunny Bardue's desk.

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

Saturday, May 19, 2007 - Morning
Gunny's Office, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Gunny glared at a large jelly-bean jar beside the monitor atop his desk. "Damn techies," he growled.

"What now?"

"Bastards have been after my jelly-beans again," the former Marine complained. "Probably during their last sweep."

Tatsuo Ito examined the jar. "How can you tell? It doesn't look any different to me than last night."

"I can tell," the Gunnery Sergeant replied.

"How? Did you name them all and do a roll call?" Ito chuckled.

"Very funny!" Gunny retorted. "If it was your jelly beans, you'd be pissed, too!"

"Okay, so you expense some jelly beans to the combat finals," Ito said. "Let's get this data in the computer." He shook his head wearily. "I wish we didn't have to go to these extremes and could just give this to your range-rats to input."

"Yeah, I know," Gunny said, nodding. "But Sam and Liz think the odds-makers in Vegas are getting too close to compromising our students' names. Liz is serious about finding and plugging the leak before one of the kids gets identified and hurt."

"We've never shut them down before," Ito countered, shaking his head. "So we work our asses off in a fool's errand and lose a few weekends?" He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to center himself, to regain his focus. "I suppose if we get sandwiches and work through lunch, we might get the evening free."

Gunny chuckled. "I take it you didn't hear the change of plans?" Ito frowned, a sense of dismay overtaking him. Bardue continued. "Billy Two Knives got a big chunk of bison, so he and Amanda have had it on the grill smoking since last night. Everyone else is getting fixin's - potato salad, cole-slaw, sodas - so we're getting together for lunch."

"That sounds like a nice change."

"Plus, I figure if we get through Thursday's matches, we can take the rest of the day off. It's a nice day and I haven't been fishing for quite a while."

"Then let's get going. I'll read 'em off and you type?" Ito offered.

Bardue logged into his computer and started a program, then opened a file. "Okay," he prompted the other man. "I'm ready when you are."

"Students five-one-three and zero-eighty-six," Ito recited from a notebook.

"Five-one-three and zero-eight-six."

"Scenario C two-one." Ito read the code corresponding to the simulator set design number, the hostage location on that set, and the exit combination.

"C two-one. Difficulty?"

"We decided on a seven for them."

Bardue frowned a little, then clicked on the application and typed in. He scanned the screen. "We haven't used the Wiz and Energizer combo yet."

"Sounds good. Five-one-three is a Wiz-2," Ito read off his notebook. "The other one is a brick."

"Six baseline henchmen, Wiz-4, En-4?"

Ito nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. Students would not have been surprised to see him seeming to enjoy torturing the students in their combat final settings.

"Okay," Bardue finished that entry. "Next?"

Overhead, a very small, undetected seeing-eye watched Bardue's computer screen, while its brains several meters away dutifully recorded every second of every image that flitted across Gunny's screen.

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

Saturday, May 19, 2007 - Mid-Afternoon
Control Room, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Larry yawned as he stretched back from his control console, his arms extended over his head. "Damn," he swore to himself. "It'd be easier if I'd have gone to Hollywood to do set design."

"No, it wouldn't," Chuck, sitting beside him, chuckled. "Been there, done that. It really ain't fun when you've got a director screaming at you to do one thing with a set, the producer screaming to do something different, and the money guy screaming that you've already blown the budget."

"Instead, we get a psychopathic ex-Marine screaming at us to make the sims harder," Goldie, the lone woman in the control room, chuckled. "And Ito fussing about how realistic it all looks." She was no beauty by even non-Whateley standards, with unkempt brown hair, a large-ish nose, and several extra pounds beneath her Whateley labcoat, but she was well-respected, and even desired a bit by her nerdy male co-workers.

"Yeah, we get spared the screaming money-man," Chuck laughed, "but we get the same impossible deadlines."

"At least on a movie set, you're only doing one production at a time," Larry grumbled. "Not doing a regular sim schedule and doing sim design for finals!" He shook his head. "It's all the weird extra stuff we have to put in that makes this such a pain in the ass."

"Suppose we'll have to get another hundred-fifty squirrels again?" Goldie asked warily.

"It's not on the list ... yet," Chuck said, scanning a computer file of 'extra' set dressing besides the hydraulically-operated building levels.

Each ten-foot by ten-foot section of the simulator floor could be raised independently up to four stories in height, complete with intermediate floors, stairways, and elevators, so the set could be rapidly changed from one configuration to another. Some partitions between the sections were fixed; others were the new hard-light hologram system that they'd just installed. While it was a power-hog and still a bit finicky, it greatly simplified dressing the sets for simulations. The real heart of the simulations though, as far as Chuck and Goldie were concerned, was the detailed 'dressing' of the set, the extra bits that made it seem realistic. And despite their grumbling, the trio - indeed the entire team of simulator technicians - took great pride in the way they 'personalized' each simulation so it didn't seem dull or lifeless, but was as realistic as they could achieve within their budget and time constraints.

The door of the control room opened, startling the trio; they spun almost as one to see who was entering, relaxing a bit when they saw four of their compatriots. "You guys are jumpy," Cliff Moffet chuckled, leading in KC, Jack, and Ted.

"You would be too if you had security popping in every couple of hours to do a bug sweep," Larry grumbled. "Every time they do, it sets us back half an hour."

Cliff shook his head. "In all my years, I have never seen security and the administration so paranoid about security with combat finals."

"Yeah, well, it's a pain in the ass, and the way I figure it, we're behind schedule."

"Well," Jack said with a wry smile, "you guys can pick up again after we run the afternoon sims."

"Who have you got this afternoon?" Goldie asked. "Anyone interesting?"

"A lot of the usual. Got the Grunts, Kimbas," KC read from the schedule. "Oh, this one should be fun. Wondercute against the Vindicators."

"Ten bucks on Wondercute!" Larry offered a wager quickly.

"That's a sucker bet," Goldie scoffed. "No-one is going to take you up on that."

"Generator is either totally insane, or a genius," Chuck guffawed. "Be glad she's not a power fighter like Stormwolf!"

"With her head on his shoulders, they could wreck civilization," Goldie deadpanned, which elicited knowing laughter from all the techs. Generator had a reputation for schemes that were utterly impossible and so mad that they couldn't possibly work - and yet they did with a track record of success that had to cause Gunny heartburn.

"Let me finish another couple of details, and then the room is yours." Larry turned his attention back to his console. In less than five minutes, he stood up after saving his file. "Let's go guys. Much as I'd like to stay and watch Wondercute drive you all nuts, I'm in need of a little rest after hours of sim design."

"I'm with you," Goldie said, stretching in a way that displayed rounded bumps beneath her labcoat and not really aware that all the control room nerds were gawking at her. "See you in the morning?"

"Yeah," Chuck said grudgingly. "I guess so. Unless you'd like to go get a drink in the pub. Or in Berlin."

Goldie smiled, ignoring all the other techies gawking that Chuck had found the nerve to ask her out. "Sounds good."

Cliff, KC, and his team sat down in still-warm chairs, taking over the consoles as they began to configure the simulation systems for the day's run. Unlike combat finals, the afternoon simulations would use the full-immersion virtual simulators, but they'd tie up the consoles and computers so that Larry and his team wouldn't be able to continue their data entry. Besides, after nearly ten hours, they were all shot anyway.

As the trio wearily filed out of the control room, a tiny fiber-optic eye watched, it's main focus on the computer screens. And like its compatriots in strategic locations on campus, it dutifully fed its data to a master unit, where it could be stored until the system owner could digest its contents.

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

Friday, May 25, 2007 - Late Evening
Private Lab beneath Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

The frown on the girl's face seemed to be permanent as she stared at the computer screen, the displayed image unwilling to give up its secrets no matter how much Tweak scrutinized and mentally analyzed the data. She had file after file of raw data, but the information underlying it was hidden, obscured in cryptic letters and numbers.

She knew that Gunny and Ito had to be working on the combat final pairings. But it made no sense. She had no clue who was being paired with whom and in what scenarios. There had been rumors that this spring's finals were a big change, but that was all anyone had - rumors and idle speculation.

Tweak thought hard. Ito and Bardue were always in charge of running and grading the simulations. She cued up a marked file from Ito's desk, and the frustrating image showed nothing sensible. Just numbers and letters in a meaningless pattern. And a check of the simulation schedule compared to the files being worked on in the sim control room were most likely simulation scenarios, but again, they were cryptic little sequences of numbers and letters and simulator control inputs.

Weary, in a brain fog from having concentrated on the puzzle so long with no results, Tweak shut down her computer after locking away the files in a doubly-encrypted disk, and then she trudged through the tunnels toward Dickinson cottage. There had to be an answer. She was dead certain of it. And she had a lot riding on tickling out that answer; an anonymous contact from security was desperate for the data, offering a substantial sum for the combat final pairings and scenarios.

As she prepared for bed, brushing her teeth in the girls' bathroom, Washout entered, humming to herself in a happy tone that, given her frustration level, was irritating to Tweak. "Oh, hi, Linda," she chirped happily.

"Hi, Mindy," Tweak answered unenthusiastically, her mind focused elsewhere.

"Are you okay?" Mindy asked as she hung up her robe to shower. "You look like something's wrong."

Tweak shook her head. "It's a technical problem I just can't get my head around," she replied.

"Oh, speaking of that," Mindy turned and pranced to the sinks, ignoring the fact that she was buck naked. "You know a few things about computer programming, right?"

Tweak resisted the temptation to roll her eyes in disbelief at Mindy's stupid question. Of course she knew about computer programming! She was a wiz at it! "Yeah," she answered, trying not to sound snarky or sarcastic.

"We've got finals coming up, and I've got a programming assignment, and I just don't understand something." Mindy said, sighing heavily. "I have to get it right on the program, and I just know it's going to be on the final!"

Tweak sighed. "What is it?"

"It's direct and indirect addressing," Mindy said unhappily. "I get direct addressing - when I have a variable, it's whatever it is." She shook her head. "But I don't get indirect addressing! It doesn't make sense to me."

Tweak closed her eyes a second. She'd explained this over and over to countless students in her nearly two-years at Whateley, and some of them still didn't get it. "Okay," she said, going through the rote explanation again. "Say you're dealing with different kinds of fruit. I have a container with something in it, okay?"

"Yeah?"

"You open the box and you see an orange."

"Okay."

"That's direct addressing. The container has the actual item in it. Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

"Now if I want to tell you 'apple' instead, I have to throw away the orange and put an apple in the container instead, right? In either case, the box has the actual piece of fruit in it." She saw Mindy nodding her understanding.

"Now what if I scatter the fruit around the room, and instead of the actual fruit being in the box, I put in directions to where you can find the particular piece of fruit?"

Mindy scowled as she thought. "But ... how ... I mean ...." She thought a bit. "I ... think I get it .... It's like ... a set of directions to the answer?"

Linda nodded. "Instead of the answer, it's ... a ...." She got a far-off look in her eyes, and her jaw dropped. "That's it!" she mouthed softly. "That's IT! It's an indirect reference!"

"What?" Mindy was totally confused by Tweak's behavior, and even more so when Tweak dashed out of the bathroom, leaving her toiletries. Mindy followed her out the door, watching as the gadgeteer dashed down the hall in her flimsy nightie, robe, and fuzzy-bunny slippers. Shaking her head, she went back to finish her night-time chores. It wasn't the strangest thing she'd seen a labcoat-type do.

Completely oblivious to how she was dressed, and not realizing that she was minutes from the curfew, Linda ran to the nearest elevator down to the tunnels, and then dashed as fast as her feet would carry her to her lab. For the first time in a long time, she stood impatiently by the door, tapping her foot nervously as she waited for the electronic locks to recognize her code and thumbprint. No sooner had it opened than she darted through the door, not even looking to see if it had closed behind her, and she powered on her computer. She never ignored her own security protocols, but then, Tweak had never had a real Big Idea moment like the discussion with Mindy had inspired.

"Come on, come on," she softly urged her computer over and over, waiting for the system to boot. Finally, her fingers danced rapidly across the keyboard; two files opened, and she gawked at the data as she compared it. "I GOT it!" she screamed happily. "I got it!"

Another hunch paid off when she compared yet another file the first one. "And the scenarios!" Tweak started laughing maniacally. "This should be worth a fortune!" But then her expression soured; she didn't know the right contacts on campus that could give a big payoff. Sure, she knew a couple of bookies, but what they'd pay was chump-change compared to what such data would be really worth. What she needed was an information broker for both on-campus and off-campus sale of her data. She knew someone who could get her such a contact, but did she want to play that card, especially when she wasn't yet officially in the Masterminds? No, she figured, it would be far better to present it as a fait accompli as further proof of her worthiness.

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

Saturday, May 26, 2007 - Before Dinner
The Quad, Whateley Academy

"Linda," a rather nondescript boy of about five-eight said by way of minimal greeting as he sat down at a bench beside the gadgeteer girl. "Nice day."

"Yup,' Tweak replied easily. From having scanned her surroundings, she knew how few people were nearby. "I thought about asking Cueball on a picnic tomorrow. But he's got some project going on."

"Too bad," the boy said. "Shall we continue the small-talk and pleasantries?"

"Direct," Linda laughed. "I like that." She casually glanced around once more. "I've got a hypothetical for you, RJ," she said lightly.

"I'm listening."

"Suppose someone were to get some real sensitive information that would have real significant value to ... outside parties. And they needed to find a way to get this information to a buyer."

Booker arched an eyebrow. "Depends on what kind of information that person might have," he replied cautiously.

Tweak smiled. "It's very ... hot ... information. If it were to fall into the right buyer, odds are they could use it in very profitable ways."

The boy's eyebrows shot up as he homed in on her choice of phrasing. "If it were me, I'd want to understand the pedigree and value of the data," the boy replied.

"Fair enough." The girl thought a moment. "What would you do in a combat final if, let's suppose, your opponent were someone like Quyen Nu?"

"She hates me!" the boy snapped angrily. "And she's a freakin' brick! Given a chance, she'll try to kill me!"

"Yeah, that's what I figured, especially after you called her on throwing a sim," Tweak chuckled. "So ... I can tell you even more details if you're interested. How much would that be worth - to you, or to anyone else who's in a combat final?"

Booker's eyes widened. "That information is a veritable gold-mine," he whistled. "Any one of a number of students would pay ..."

Linda nodded, cutting off the boy. "Yeah, yeah," she said dismissively. "Chump change. I suspect that there are others - not necessarily on campus - who would pay a small fortune for the data, right? I mean, the matches always end up on pay-per-view and there's a lot of betting on the results."

"Hmmm ," Booker thought for a moment, scratching his chin. "I can make contact with a party that has a great interest in wagering," he mused.

"And how much are you going to extort from me?"

"You wound me!" the boy protested with a pout. "That word is so ... negative!" A moment later, he put a smile back on his face. "No, actually, I was thinking more of a business arrangement, a partnership as it were. Say ... forty-five percent?"

"Get real!" Tweak snapped at him. "I own the data! Fifteen."

"But you don't have a contact that can pay you it's true worth, or we wouldn't be having this discussion! Thirty-five?" Booker counter-proposed.

"Twenty-five, and that's my final offer. And I get twenty percent of your proceeds from your ventures."

Booker gawked at her a moment, and then closed his mouth and nodded. "Deal," he said, holding out his hand. "I don't know who the head man is," he whispered conspiratorially after glancing around, "but Carruthers in the Third Platoon is my contact to get things to and from Vegas betting."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands then," Linda said with a smile, standing up. "Since it's a nice day, I think I'll get my books and study in the quad." She started to walk off, but then she suddenly turned. "By the way, since you're my partner on this ...."

"Yes?"

"What the hell does RJ stand for anyway?"

The boy cringed. "Royce Joshua," he said, an expression of disgust on his face. "I was named after my two grandfathers,"

"Royce Joshua Woodruff?" Linda couldn't help but smirk. "No wonder you go by Booker or RJ!"

"I trust that my partner can be ... discrete ... about certain things?"

"Just like I know you wouldn't dare stab me in the back or try to short me," Linda commented with a smile as she rose and walked off.

RJ - Booker - leaned back, and it was only then that he noticed that Linda had left a paperback novel on the bench where she'd been sitting. He scooped it up and started to rise to chase her down, but then he reconsidered. Opening the book, he discovered a hollowed-out pocket containing a thumb drive. He let the book close and then stood, smiling.

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

Saturday, May 26, 2007 - After Dinner
Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

Sergeant Clay Buxton wearily climbed into his pickup. His shift hadn't been too eventful, but he was tired nonetheless. The ignition key bounced off the switch when he tried to insert it, and he cursed loudly. Just like the fates to mess with him when he was leaving work. He tried again as he leaned to his right, to see why his key wouldn't fit.

In the center of the ignition switch was a small thumb drive, adhered neatly over the key slot. With a glance around to see if someone was watching him, he jerked the offending device off the switch and shoved it into his pocket, then resumed his normal routine of starting his truck. He didn't know what someone had left for him, but he'd soon find out

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to his house, shut off his truck, and trudged inside. After a perfunctory kiss to his wife, he walked into his 'man cave' and sat down at a computer. Logging on, he typed in a web address from memory. A series of challenge codes and fictitious IDs got him logged into the site, and then he uploaded the sole file that was contained on the thumb drive. After a confirmatory pop-up, he logged off the site, cleared his browser, and moved to his easy-chair, automatically turning on his TV as he did so. The data was now in the hands of his contact, and he was going to get a piece of the action. Of course he'd have to pay off Caruthers, and whoever he got the data from, but that was routine business.

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

Monday, May 28, 2007 - Early Afternoon
Private Lab, Beneath Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

After a brief stretch and yawn necessitated by a long period of sitting in one position hunched over her computer, Tweak opened a new browser window and typed in an address from memory. It took a few seconds for the website to come up, and when it did, the very first thing it displayed was a request for a user ID and password. No sooner had that been entered than the browser navigated to a second site, which again prompted for login credentials. Only after that was done - the second anonymizing server in a chain to help protect her identities and activities, did the girl direct the browser to the main page of iPayoff, a far less common website for money transfers than that other one, but transactions were nearly impossible to trace, and being overseas, it avoided all potential 'requests' for information from the government and law-enforcement agencies.

Tweak typed in her user-name - a totally random mix of characters to ensure there was not even a vestigial hint of her real name, initials, code-name, or anything else that could identify her, and then typed in an equally obscure password.

Linda couldn't help but smile as she read the popup declaring 'you have received money'. Clicking on that notice opened a window displaying recent transactions, one of which was highlighted in bold, so she clicked on that.

"Fifteen hundred?" Linda chuckled to herself. She read the information, and seeing what was obviously a student ID, she opened yet another window on her PC to display a list of student names and ID numbers. A quick scan brought up the name she was looking for.

That student name was quickly translated into the random number, and that was indexed into her illicit combat finals lists. "Okay," she muttered to herself. "Fantastico - you've got ..." Tweak did a reverse lookup to find his opponent, "Traduce?" She chuckled to herself. That should be an interesting match. She began to type a response note. "Wednesday, June 6, two P.M. Hostage rescue," she muttered aloud as she typed. "Too bad you're so cheap, or I could have given you all the details!" Fantastico hadn't met her price for all of the details, which were considerably more verbose - the number and types of henchmen, their positions, the powers of the villain, and so forth. With a flourish, she hit the 'send' button. "Nice doing business with you," she chortled to herself, thinking about the money she'd already banked - a tidy nineteen grand. It was a good start - no doubt as the finals went on and word of her information stash spread, the demand would increase, and with it, her profits.

Of course, not all of her 'customers' wanted to pay for the full package. Overload, for example, had tried to get cheap and bargain the price down, and then got pissy and bought only for the 'economy package' - just name of his opponent. And then there was Render - who'd paid a premium for not only all the details, but had included two grand to wager against himself, when the odds clearly favored him over the underdog he'd drawn. Tweak hoped he wouldn't be so stupid as to be obvious throwing the match, but then again, it wasn't her problem - so long as she didn't get caught. With all the precautions she'd taken, that was hardly likely.

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

Monday, May 28, 2007 - Afternoon
Woods west of Laird Hall, Whateley Academy

Admiral Sam Everheart glanced up, noting the figure hovering around the treetops, which brought a frown to her face. Knowing who she was dealing with, she wasn't surprised. A few dozen steps put her beside a person who was obviously waiting for her. "Good evening, Phase."

"Good evening to you, too, Admiral," Ayla Goodkind replied casually.

Sam glanced up again at Tennyo. "Is she really necessary?"

"I think so," Ayla answered. "When money is involved, some people will go to extremes. I'd prefer to be cautious and alive."

"You won't get an argument from me on that," Sam chuckled.

"Now, you didn't ask to meet with me to discuss philosophies of personal security," Ayla got to the point. "I presume you're about to tell me what interests you."

Sam couldn't help but smile faintly at Ayla's deductive reasoning. The young mogul was very, very sharp, and seldom could anyone put something past her. Him. Damn, but it was always confusing to talk to Ayla; despite looking like a really hot girl, Ayla was very much a boy and preferred to be addressed as such. "Take a look at this and tell me what you think," she said, unfolding a paper and handing it to Ayla.

As Ayla read the paper, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched involuntarily. "This looks like gambling odds for a series of contests." He handed the paper back, looking up. "Mutants, from the power listings, and scenarios and odds. Combat finals?"

"That's what we think," Sam agreed, nodding grimly. "We've gone to great lengths to keep this data secret this year, and we've still got a leak."

"That would explain the magic department and the electronics techs scanning offices daily, and sometimes multiple times daily," Ayla postulated.

Sam suppressed a chuckle. To students like Ayla, the daily 'bug sweeps' would be very noticeable. "And Hartford watched the network traffic as well as double-checked every single administrative and faculty computer for malware. And they still got it." Sam was clearly very highly frustrated.

"I didn't see anything that's harmful," Ayla said cautiously.

"If the pairings and scenarios are known, a student could throw a match after wagering on it. That compromises the integrity and purpose of combat finals."

"I could see that."

"And last fall, we came perilously close to having personal identifying information about students get out with the combat final data. You know what that would mean, don't you?" Sam didn't have to ask; blanched at the thought of outsiders - like Uncle Herb or the MCO - getting their hands on student information.

"Liz wants it stopped before some student gets hurt or killed by a data leak."

Ayla nodded, more appreciative of the administrations' and security's logic than most students his age should have been. "Okay, I'll see what I can find out - starting with the bookies. If there's anything funny going on with on-campus gambling, they'll know."

"Have you got a line on what Thuban knows?"

Ayla shook his head. "No, but I don't need to." She saw Sam's eyebrows rise. "Thuban is an information broker, but he seems to have a strong sense of honor. He'd never sell it to outsiders. If you were Faction 3 and wanted to know who you were fighting? Sure, he's the one to go to." He shrugged. "But outside campus? Not likely, because it would be a threat to all students, including Faction 3. He's very protective of Faction 3."

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

Monday, May 28, 2007 - Mid-Afternoon
Private Lab, Tunnels Beneath Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

The cell phone buzzing in her pocket annoyed Tweak - right up to the moment she saw the originating phone number. In yesterday's disk exchange, she'd used the opportunity to 'push' a new filter to the data collection computer - now, it did the pre-sort with a motion-detection algorithm and a default 'blank scene' template for each of the cameras - if someone wasn't in the picture, the video would be discarded. And if there was no motion in a scene - not even the faint motions of hands on a keyboard or of a display on the computer changing, the video would be discarded.

So when the collection unit reached out to 'phone home' and announce that it had a good-sized set of data to be collected, it surprised Linda. After all, this was a three-day weekend and the teachers were trying to take a break from the normal school insanity. With upcoming combat finals, academic finals, and grading, the data on the disk was going to get increasingly valuable.

Tweak sat down at her computer and called up a very small program which did one tiny, innocuous little thing - it sent a few cryptic but critical characters to one of the servers, which in turn reacted to the message. The message was short and simple: pick up the laundry, please. The recipient would never know from whence it came, whether it was received by e-mail or by cell phone text message, and he didn't need to know. The only thing he courier had to do was swap the full hard disk in the collection unit for a fresh one, and then drop off the full disk in their drop point, picking up a fresh, clean disk for the next time and pocketing a small "finder's fee."

Forty-two minutes later, Linda strolled past Widget's lab, noticed the tell-tale sign, and casually went in to visit Widget, using the excuse of checking up on the control unit she'd provided to the other gadgeteer. Ten minutes after that, her computer sat happily digesting the video she'd retrieved. She idly started to read the output file.

"No way!" she exclaimed suddenly, eyes bulging at what she was reading. "No freakin' way!" she continued to mouth over and over again.

Her next action was completely predictable, at least to someone who knew of her dealings. She pulled out her phone. "Booker," she replied when the other end picked up, "get down to my lab ASAP. I've got something huge!" She hung up the phone, still goggling at the computer screen. "Everyone knows she hates Lanie!" she muttered to herself. And it was a commonly known fact - the two former best friends were now bitter enemies, at least since Kayda got the redhead that bear spirit. Even the administration couldn't be so blind as to miss that! So what the hell was Ms. Hartford doing personally changing the combat final lineup - at the last minute, too - to put Lifeline and Loophole in the same sim?

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

Monday, May 28, 2007 - Late Evening
Room 216, Poe Cottage, Whateley Academy

Phase sat back in his chair, pondering the information he'd received - or not received - from the bookies. Yes, they were making book on the combat finals, both with wagers on individuals' opponents and on a 'bracket' of all Freshman/Sophomore pairings, which was totally unsurprising. But none of them had any information about the pairings.

And yet ... something seemed odd. Of all the bookies Ayla had met with, two seemed a little more confident of the odds they were offering. Shaking his head, Ayla sighed. - a hunch and a gut feel weren't enough to give to Sam. And all of his information sources were coming up dry, which was incredibly annoying. There had to be a source that would tell him what was going on, because he very strongly suspected that someone was brokering information about the combat finals. They always did. It was too lucrative for someone to not get involved with.

And not finding that source annoyed Phase - greatly.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

With Cueball at her side, where she wanted him, Tweak sat with a huge throng of other students in the stands at Arena 99, safely protected from the arena floor by a powerful force-field. The arena floor was dressed like a city-scape - a medium city with two- and three- and four-story buildings tightly packed together in several city blocks. It was all stage-setting; the 'buildings' were clusters of ten-foot by ten-foot platforms hydraulically raised from beneath the arena floor, with all the intermediate floors in place and 'decorated' with appropriate interior details such as walls and stairways and doors. The sets were further adorned with holographic imagery, giving the uniform building blocks the character of whatever set the simulation required.

In a neat row at the top of the force field were several large displays on which the simulation team could project views from any of the multiple cameras covering the action so observers in the stands could see the entire simulation, no matter where it was on the arena floor.

At that moment, the stands were pretty full, it being the first simulations of the first day of combat finals; every student wanted to get an idea of what the week held, hoping and trying to discern anything which could give them a slight edge in their own final. Most held out hope that they'd see people they'd rather not fight in the arena with someone else.

Beneath the grandstands, in a tunnel that opened into a concessions area and restrooms, the campus bookies were holding court, taking final bets on the 'lineup' brackets and all waiting for the mad rush of wagering that would occur as soon as the lineup for each final was announced. Booker glanced around, a smug smile on his face. He had spent long hours the previous few days and nights - including much of his time on the holiday - studying the simulation scenarios and pairings to figure the odds of each fight. And unlike the others, he was already prepared with basic options for each fight, in two categories: the two contestants went it alone, or they cooperated. If they went it alone, the possibilities were that contestant one would win, contestant two would win, or neither would win. If they cooperated, the team would either win or lose.

All the bookies knew they were in a contest with each other to have the most accurate odds so they'd attract the most betting and would consequently have the biggest payoff for themselves. The intel that Booker had gave him a huge edge, but once the basic premise was announced and a few finals were held, it wouldn't take long for the other bookies to figure out what he already knew - that cooperation was the only way to win. And knowing the pairings, he thought with a smug smile, very few of the contestants would choose to cooperate with the known rival with whom they'd been paired.

Gunny Bardue and Tatsuo Ito strode from the side of the grandstands along a broad walkway between the stands and the force-field, stopping in the center of the grandstands. Of course, as soon as they made their appearance, the raucous chatter in the stands hushed to a muted roar and then slowly ground to a halt when the two stopped and Gunny picked up a microphone. All eyes were focused on the sadist twins, every ear cocked and listening to get information about the combat finals about to happen.

Gunny cleared his throat, and what few whispers among students that had remained died instantly. "Good morning," Gunny boomed in a commanding Drill Instructor voice. Though the words were a polite greeting, no-one dared to reply. "Welcome to combat finals for Spring, 2007. This term, the theme of the finals is Hostage Rescue." He paused letting the words sink in and giving the students a few moments to mutter questions among themselves. "You will have some variation of that theme in your individual finals. Of course, as you all know, in the crash scenarios, anything goes." He smiled a most evil grin, and between his and the matching sadistic smile on Ito's face, nearly every student gulped nervously.

"The hostage takers are apt to be armed. When confronted, they may kill the hostage or flee at the first sign of trouble; you don't know which."

Ito leaned toward the microphone. "For those of you deprived of logical thinking skills, the death of the hostage is a very undesirable outcome."

Bardue nodded his agreement, still with the smug, sadistic smile that made the students increasingly nervous. "The hostage takers may have a few or many henchmen. The hostage taker may or may not be super-powered. The henchmen will be primarily baselines, but some of them might be super-powered." He let those details sink in; if asked, he and Ito would swear that they heard over three hundred nervous gulps.

"Your goal is simple," the former gunnery sergeant continued. "Rescue the hostage and deliver him or her to law enforcement. How you achieve this rescue is up to you. Any strategies short of damaging or manipulating the simulator systems are fair game. If in the course of your simulation you damage the simulator systems in any way, you will fail immediately and will be called to a disciplinary hearing where you may attempt to justify your continued presence at Whateley Academy."

Several students craned their necks, looking down the bleachers to a particular tall redhead who was sitting nonchalantly next to the hulking senior Wyatt Cody. Elaine Nalley's 'solution' in the fall finals was well-known, and now explicitly forbidden in the combat finals.

"The administration and faculty are well aware of the tradition of betting on the outcomes of the finals. Please note that this is very strongly discouraged as noted in the student handbook," Gunny continued gruffly. "As all of you Freshmen and Sophomores know, you were given a code number yesterday by your house parents or academic advisor. This number was randomly assigned, by the way. Unlike in the past, students will be summoned thirty-minutes prior to their final by that number. Approximately five to ten minutes before the final begins, the students will be identified by code-name and MID projected on the displays and shown throughout campus."

"We are not so naive as to believe that we can stop all on-campus wagering," Ito chimed in. "But in the past, off-campus betting has become quite problematic and could pose a threat to the personal security of our students. The measures we are taking should hopefully minimize the ability of off-campus enterprises to wager on the finals."

"As in the past, costumes and / or masks are absolutely required," Sensei Ito said solemnly. "Despite our best efforts, we have never completely eliminated illicit video feeds, and the pay-per-view gaming industry makes significant revenue from these matches, which means they are going to significant ends to broadcast the video feeds."

"No matter where you are on campus," Gunny growled, "you must report to the arena within thirty minutes of your name being called or you will fail your combat final. Is that clear?" He waited a few moments for that to sink in - just in case anyone didn't realize the enormous importance of being prompt.

"Are there any questions?" Gunny asked in his booming voice. Of course, there were none; he was such an intimidating presence that few dared to question him.

"Very well." With that, he handed the microphone to a nearby flunky, then he and Ito strode back to their lair.

Overhead, the loudspeakers blared to life. "Students four twenty-six and one-seventeen report to the arena. Students four twenty-six and one-seventeen, report to the arena."

Several students scrambled to look in their wallets or purses, extracting a paper to see if either of the numbers belonged to them, while others had simply memorized their numbers. There were many sighs of relief, but two of the multitude rose and slowly trudged toward the main tunnel that led to the concessions and restroom - and the locker rooms. A throng followed, and moments later, the rumors spread through the stands like wildfire - the matchup was Hippolyta and Belphegor.

Beneath the stands, in the bookie's area, Booker smiled to himself, being careful to look as studious as his compatriots as they calculated odds. After a few moments, he turned to a whiteboard behind his head and scrawled up numbers. Immediately, a throng of students crowded around his table, eager to place their wagers. It was times like this where having an eidetic exemplar memory came in handy; he remembered precisely all the odds he'd painstakingly computed and had committed to memory so there were no telltale traces of notes or other records which could, if things went to shit, compromise his and Tweak's entire little arrangement.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Cyberspace, Whateley Academy

<Is that what you're looking for, Boss?>, Blue asked from his usual cyberspace hangout. Before him was a display created out of nothingness, on which appeared several distinct groupings of data.

Sam sighed to herself. <Yeah>, she replied, staring at the numbers as if by sheer willpower she could tease some sense out of them.

<Six places have odds on some kind of mutant battle>, Blue reported. <Do you think it's our combat finals?>

Sam nodded grimly. <Yeah.> She scowled at the board. <I can't see any kind of pattern that would reveal inside information. They're all kind of nebulous.> Reaching out, Sam touched the display and zoomed in on one area. <Look at this one, for example. There are five 'power ratings' for each contestant, and three outcomes - A wins, B wins, Neither win.> Sam shook her head. <Three of the groups look like this. The others are variations on the theme. And none of them have anything that would point to a leak somewhere.>

<So ... we don't have a leak?> Blue speculated hopefully.

Sam shook her head. <Can't rule it out, either.> She thought for a moment. <Can you look at international sites? Macau? Paris? Monaco? St Martin?>

Blue nodded. <I'll see what I can find.>

<Just ... get the odds. No need to break in,> Sam reminded the boy.

<Okay.> Blue sounded a little disappointed that he wasn't going to get to snoop.

Blue's avatar shook his head. <She's watching everything she can. You know Hartford's not happy....>

<Is she ever?> Sam chuckled. <File all the data; I want to see what changes when the code-names and MIDs get out.>

<Hunch?>

Sam nodded. <If one set of odds doesn't change, it might be a clue that they had inside information.>

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Snarling and glaring like she wanted to rip Belphegor apart before they even got into the arena, Hippy stood, hands on hips, ostensibly listening to Sergeant Wilson briefing the two contestants, but no-one really thought she was paying attention. From her mood - angry and sullen ever since the disappearance of Sara - it looked like Hippy wanted to do nothing more than go into the arena and tear the shit out of anything in her way, and since she was a powerful brick, that was precisely what Belphegor feared.

Masked, with Belphy floating in his hoverchair, rolls of fat spilling over his belt at the sides and onto his lap in front, the two entered the arena, being led to their starting locations. And then the air horn sounded and the simulation began. Hippy stomped toward the fat devisor, who decided running away was better than fighting the angry brick, and when Belphy scooted away on his chair, she stalked around the arena by herself, looking for anything that promised a fight.

A gasp went through the crowd when the students recognized the villain as Titan, holding his hostage on an upper floor of a new office building in an area being developed or renovated; there were signs of construction all around the arena. The Amazonian girl spotted a group of construction workers who seemed focused on the office building and were definitely not on the adjacent construction site - very likely henchmen for the kidnapper. With an angry growl, she charged headlong into the goons by the building entrance, hitting one so hard that he was very unlikely to be any further threat.

Around her, the other goons raced toward the berserk Amazon girl, drawing their guns and shooting at her, but being a high-level exemplar, the bullets had zero effect, simply bouncing off her tough skin. Ignoring the pesky henchmen chasing her, she dashed into the building. Another guard by a bank of elevators didn't have time to draw his gun before he was literally torn in two, and then the girl ripped open an elevator door, reached through the opening, and tore the cables in two as if they were weak thread instead of high-strength steel cables. One of the goons, having emptied his gun at her, tried to grab Hippy, but she shrugged him off, tossing him into the elevator shaft only a fraction of a second before the plunging elevator car, no longer fastened by the cables, squashed him like a bug. One by one, alternating mechanical and human destruction, Hippy tore up the other two elevators and dismantled the goons trying to stop her.

Outside, Belphegor was using his chair to 'fly' up the side of the building, peeking through the windows to try to locate the hostage. As he looked through the third-floor windows, the raging girl burst through the stairwell door onto that floor, tearing the door from its hinges and running headlong into a very large man, bowling him over, before charging at the villain - Titan. Scowling with increasing anger, Hippy charged at him, but the villain easily absorbed her charge and grappled with the girl.

As this was going on, Belphegor rammed his chair through the huge plate-glass windows of the floor, and as the remaining henchman turned toward the new threat, the devisor shot some kind of energy ray, which caused the goon to freeze, immobilized. It also hit the hostage, which the fat kid scooped onto his anti-grav chair and darted back toward the shattered glass.

Realizing finally what was going on, Hippy turned to see the hover chair zipping out the side of the building, and in that moment of distraction, Titan smashed into her, knocking her through the glass.

Screaming in a mixture of rage and terror, Hippy plunged three stories, and by ill fortune landed on a partially-completed concrete footing with four steel re-bar pieces protruding up. Her scream of agony startled everyone in the arena and in the stands as two pieces of the steel impaled her - one through the chest and one through the neck.

Several students lost their breakfast at the gruesome sight, while the medical teams scrambled to her assistance. Even two healers from the audience dashed to the scene. Under the stands, the bookies, normally a relatively unemotional, detached sort that seemed rather heartless, cringed at the sight of Hippy with re-bar sticking up through her body.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

"Admiral, this is McGraw," the radio spoke.

Seated at her desk, studying her computer, Sam Everheart thumbed the mic button without looking or even thinking. "Go."

"Ready to copy the final numbers?"

Sam didn't bother to put her hands near the keyboard; her nanite Hive would interface with her computer far more quickly and efficiently. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Security Officer McGraw recited some numbers that she'd written down from all the bookie tables. "Got 'em, or do you need a repeat?"

"I've got them," Sam replied. She'd sent Officer Robin McGraw, an officer she knew beyond a doubt was honest, to the area under the stands by Arena 99. McGraw's job was to watch for anything unusual and to report what the bookies were offering for odds. It was a long-shot, but Sam was hoping to find a pattern that would suggest that someone had access to information and had adjusted his or her odds appropriately. "Anything strike you as unusual?"

"A couple of things maybe," McGraw reported. "Booker had lower odds on Hippolyta winning ...."

"No surprise there," Sam said, shaking her head even though McGraw wasn't actually present. "She's been itching for a fight since Carmilla disappeared. She'll take out her anger in the sim."

"...and he had a little higher odds of Belphegor actually winning."

"No surprise. Belphegor is a sneaky one. Probably figured that he'd take advantage of Hippy's work when she got tied up in a fight. Anything else seem odd?"

"Negative, Admiral," McGraw reported back almost immediately. "The betting was spread among the bookies pretty evenly, and the odds they offered were all over the board."

Sam scanned the numbers on the computer. "Yeah, that's what it looks like to me. We'll have to watch and see if a pattern emerges. Everheart out." Sam stared at the number a bit longer, shaking her head. This was a game that was going to require patience to see if patterns emerged, but with the potential safety of the students on the line, Sam was having a hell of a time remaining patient.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Room 216, Poe Cottage, Whateley Academy

The French girl sat in Ayla Goodkind's lap, arm around the teen mogul's shoulder, leaning her head against Ayla's, a very contented look on her delicate, classically-Gallic features. "Oui, Papa," she spoke toward the desk, where a speaker-phone connected them to a phone in France. "I have reviewed the numbers with Ayla, and I think they are conservative projections."

"But at such a price?" the elder Vitesse, on the other end of the phone in Chaniers, France, asked incredulously.

"Our research suggests that even with a ten percent price premium over the most similar competing brand, an advertising campaign which highlights the awards your cognac has won will attract significant market attention and demand," Ayla cited the data he'd gotten from AJG Premium Beverages, the subsidiary to AJG Consolidated of which Ayla was the chair.

"It all sounds so ... impossible!" the elder Vitesse commented disbelievingly.

"The novelty of a new brand will help attract attention," Ayla replied, ignoring the fact that Adalie was nibbling his ear playfully. "And the quality will keep the 'curious' customers, while word of mouth among the elite customers will further increase the Vitesse brand's reputation and demand."

Ayla and Adalie Vitesse could almost hear her father's look of surprise followed by a wry grin. "You know the market and your business skills."

"I don't like surprises when I do business, Monsieur Vitesse. I am looking forward to meeting you in person in July to finalize a deal," Ayla offered. "I'll have my firm send you the proposed contract and some ideas they've worked up for a marketing plan."

"I look forward to meeting you in person," Jacques Vitesse said warmly. "In the meantime," he added almost as an afterthought, "I trust you will take care of my little butterfly, non?"

Ayla's eyes widened in surprise at what Jacques had said, and he gawked at Adalie. "Oui. I will take care of her. Au revoir, Monsieur Vitesse," he said, not taking his eyes off the girl sitting on his lap.

When the phone clicked dead, Ayla scowled at his girlfriend. "How much have you told him?"

Adalie flinched. "That you are my very special friend," she admitted. "Nothing more."

At that moment, Ayla's SPOT tactical communicator - the tiny dot which Bunny had invented and which all of Team Kimba wore just in case - sounded at the same time a popup window appeared on his computer. <Ayles?> It was Toni.

<Go ahead,> Ayla replied, reading the popup.

<You've got number three-eight-one, right?> Toni asked, referring to the random number all students had been assigned and which Team Kimba had shared with each other so they could alert one another if their final was called.

<I just got a popup on it. I'm up for a final, right?> Ayla asked. <Any idea who I'm against?>

<You ain't gonna like it, Ayles,> Toni said cautiously. <You got your flame-proof underwear? Cuz I think it's Tissy.>

<Crap! Why do I always get the crazy fire-bitches?> Ayla sighed, which Addy noticed and perked up, looking at him with concerned. <I'm on my way.>

"I got called for my combat final," Ayla reported with a very tightly-schooled expression.

"But ... we were 'aving fun ... studying!" Addy pouted. She sighed and shook her head, her hair dancing temptingly about her pretty face. "Well then, I shall 'ave to give you a kiss for luck 'ere, before we walk to the arena, non?" She didn't wait for Ayla's response, but instead gave her boyfriend a very passionate kiss.

Less than five minutes later, Addy and Ayla quick-stepped into the tunnel outside Range 99. "You'll do just fine," Addy said warmly, giving Ayla a huge embrace. "Bon chance!" she added, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

As Ayla turned toward the locker room, he saw Team Kimba arrayed before him. "Be careful," Fey fretted. "Your opponent is confirmed to be Tissy."

"Is it a hostage rescue scenarios like the rumors postulated?"

Hank shrugged. "The first one was Hippy and Belphegor, and it was a hostage rescue, but ...." He shrugged. "Might have been a crash for Belfatso. Didn't you watch it?"

Ayla shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. I was in a business discussion with Adalie's father. The time-zone difference constrains our telephone calls, after all."

"Uh, yeah, Ayles," Toni said with a knowing grin, "business!"

Ayla frowned, and then accepted 'good luck' hugs from Fey, Toni, Jade, and Jinn, then walked briskly into the locker room.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Tunnels beneath Arena 99 Stands

"Interesting odds you've got there," Lanie said calmly, looking at the whiteboard on the wall behind Booker.

Booker smiled wryly. "That's the way I figure it," he replied.

"You're the only one who has odds of mah friend bein' hurt by Tissy," Lanie sounded a little upset by Booker's speculation. "And two-hundred to one on them cooperatin'?"

"You tell me the odds are higher? Or lower?" Booker laughed. "We all know she blames him, even though she started it. And she's off her meds about half the time."

Lanie grinned. "You're forgettin' that Ayla helped her out with a date night for her friends and TNT," she reminded him. "And since she and Nitro have been hookin' up, she's on her meds a lot more regularly."

"Rumor is that she's not on her meds today," Booker commented.

"What?" Elaine Nalley gawked at him in disbelief. "I've got to tell Sergeant Wilson!" Lanie turned away, determined to stop the sim and protect her friend Ayla. Before she could move, the air-horn sounded, signaling the start of the match.

"Too late now," Booker said with a shrug.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Wearing his costume - a blocky-looking design with dark gray arms and legs with a light gray torso, trimmed in black with a white belt and his special mask, courtesy of Bugs - Ayla trudged into Room 3, the general briefing room. He halted in the door, recognizing instantly the two most sadistic instructors at Whateley - Ito and Bardue - and also his opponent, Tisiphone. She glared at him with pure hatred in her eyes; Ayla - Phase - couldn't help gulping nervously. Tissy was a little nuts, and she blamed him entirely for her condition - GSD that made her look like a red demon with batwings and scaly skin. Her lips were curled up in a disdainful sneer at him, and everyone on campus knew that Tissy wanted nothing more than painful revenge upon the young mogul.

"Be seated," Bardue said in his usual tone, which was somewhere between an angry growl and a stern order. Obediently, Ayla sat down at behind a table, as far from Tissy as he possibly could. Satisfied that he had the attention of the two bitter foes, Bardue continued. "Mega-mage has kidnapped the mayor's son and will kill him unless the mayor releases his three partners from the prison. Mega-mage's known associates include a lower-level brick and a telepath, and it is suspected that he has hired four or five henchman. The gang is holed up somewhere in the neighborhood in which you'll operate. Mega-mage's deadline expires in fifteen minutes, at which time he will kill the hostage. Your job is to rescue the hostage from Mega-mage. Apprehending the villain is secondary to the hostage's rescue and safety." Bardue looked back and forth between the two. "Any questions?"

Ayla shook his head, but Tissy, still glaring at him, growled, "You're going down, Goodkind!"

"Okay, if there are no questions, to your places." Ito and Bardue walked out a door toward the simulation control room while assistants escorted the two combatants out of the locker room. As they walked past the milling through of students, the voices of TNT - Truck, Tissy's boyfriend Nitro, and TK - and her friends of the Furies - Alecto and Megaera - were easily discernable cheering on the demon-girl, and letting loose a stream of hateful invective and ill wishes against Ayla. There were times that having a large number of enemies was less than encouraging to the Goodkind, and this was one of them. On the exterior, Ayla shrugged off the insults, but inwardly, it still hurt. He was definitely not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing that they were getting to him. Straightening his shoulders and schooling his features, he marched past them into the arena.

Inside the arena, behind the force field and out of sight of each other, the two waited, alone in their thoughts and plans and schemes, until the air-horn finally sounded to start the simulations. Immediately, Ayla went 'heavy' and did a quick scan of his surroundings. Seeing nothing, he started scouting around, looking for both the bad guys and Tisiphone.

Coming around a corner, Ayla noted a man in a dark suit, which was very out of place in the run-down, lower-middle-class neighborhood. Pausing and sidling up to the side of a building, Ayla continued to scan the scene. Almost immediately, the very observant tycoon noticed another man who didn't fit in the scene, a storekeeper who was a little too large and bulky and who had a noticeable bulge beneath his shopkeeper's apron. More out of place, the latter man was paying no attention to the customers behind him checking out his wares, but was carefully scanning the street.

Figuring he'd circle the block and enter through other buildings by going light, Ayla rounded the corner, and ran headlong into Tissy. It took both of them a moment to recover from their surprise, Tissy by winding up to torch Ayla, and Ayla going light and diving through the side of a building, barely avoiding the fireball which Tissy had thrown at him.

"Come out and fight, you coward!" Tissy screamed at him, throwing fireball after fireball at the wall. "You're going to pay, you bastard!"

The angry girl's screaming attracted attention, but not from Ayla. One of the men in the street - the suit - called out to some cohort, "Supers!" Immediately, two others came out of the building to join him and the trio dashed down the street toward the girl who was beating on the locked door of the building Phase had disappeared into.

A shot rang out, and a projectile smashed into Tissy's shoulder, causing her to scream in pain. She turned, and as she fought the agony radiating from her wound, she tried to focus her energy, letting loose a fireball at the man with the gun. He went down in a heap of smoking ash, but one of the two others stopped abruptly and stared at her, not bothering to reach for a gun.

Suddenly, Tissy's vision wavered, and then she saw a group of schoolkids playing on the street. She hesitated before letting loose with another fire attack, and as she tried to puzzle out the sudden change, a man suddenly appeared as the children vanished, the mental illusion broken. The brick which Gunny had warned the two about smashed her into the side of the building. She heard and felt bones cracking from the massive blow, no small feat for the villain to accomplish against an exemplar-3. Fighting pain, she manifested a curtain of flame between herself and the brick, then turned and hobbled down the sidewalk away from the two villains.

Ayla, still light, dove through another wall inside the building and found himself in the store, behind where the out-of-place storekeeper had been standing. Pausing, he saw the storekeeper still in front, back to the interior of the shop, head swiveling up and down the street with an oddly-shaped pistol in his hand.

Knowing that the opponents were ANT-simulated people, Ayla launched himself toward the front of the store, then adjusted to 'disruption light' just before he hit the storekeeper, passing through the man and dropping him like a stone as all the electronics in the ANT were shorted out by Ayla's phasing power. Going heavy again, he dropped to the street and was immediately scanning up and down the street.

A scream from around the corner caught his attention; it sounded like Tissy was in trouble. For a moment, Ayla considered using Tissy's distraction to rescue the hostage, but Ayla couldn't do that. No matter how much Tisiphone hated him, no matter that she'd tried to kill him several times, he simply couldn't let her be hurt. He raced to the street corner, and his jaw dropped when he saw Tissy hunched over, obviously in pain, her costume bloody. Her eyes darted around wildly like she was totally confused. A large man was reaching for her, and a second man stood bit back, focused intently on the girl.

The large man was a brick, no doubt, and the one standing back was probably the telepath Gunny had briefed them about. He didn't hesitate, but went light and launched himself toward the probable telepath. As he flew rapidly toward the one who was confusing Tissy, the brick got ahold of the girl, dodging a fireball launched in desperation, and threw her over his hip to smack very hard onto the ground.

The sound of her hitting the arena floor with a sickening thud made Ayla wince. He went disruption light just before he hit the telepath, and that quickly, the second ANT was down.

The brick heard or saw something, and spun toward Ayla, who was settling to his feet, one hand in a pouch at his side. As the brick charged, Ayla went heavy and tossed a large ball-bearing at the man even as his left hand pulled out and extended his tactical baton from another pouch. The ball bearing, still temporarily heavy and flying with significant velocity, smashed into the brick, knocking him back. As he staggered to recover, Ayla darted forward, the baton swinging. With Ayla in heavy form, the bat hit the brick with the impact of a tank round, knocking him down. A second and third blow ensured that the brick stayed down.

Satisfied that the threat was neutralized, Ayla turned to look at the broken girl on the arena floor. She was bleeding heavily, her lower leg was bent at an unnatural angle, and one of her wings was folded in a way that it shouldn't have. There was no hesitation on Ayla's part; he scooped up the injured girl, cringing at the cries of pain from her as he moved her, and began to trot toward the simulator exit.

Every step was agony for Ayla; Tissy was in severe pain, and every little bump and jostling made her cry out. On top of that, Ayla had turned his back on the simulation goal. By getting his enemy to medical help, he was risking losing the sim match, and Ayla hated to lose.

Handing off the barely-conscious girl to the medics, Ayla turned and ran back to the scene where he'd first spotted the hired help. Making a logical deduction, he ran into the shop and up the stairs in the back of the store two at a time. Going light, he ran through the walls and rooms, and finding nothing, ran quickly up to the third floor, repeating the search.

In the second room he searched on the third floor, Ayla found plenty of evidence that the hostage had been held there - pizza boxes and take-out food bags strewn about a very sparsely furnished apartment. Two cots, a small table with a half-played solitaire game on it, and four wooden chairs were all the furnishings present, and on the floor were the remnants of what had probably been restraining cords on the hostage. A dark hood with no eyeholes was also left behind.

Cursing inwardly, Ayla went light and sank back to the ground floor, catching himself and going heavy just in case. Fingers in a pouch at his waist, Ayla ran toward the back of the store where a door stood ajar.

No sooner had Ayla emerged into the alley than a goon, who'd obviously been waiting, swung a pipe at his head. Had he not been heavy, he would have been seriously injured. As it was, the pipe bent, stinging the hands of the henchman as if he'd hit it against a pole. A hit from Ayla's taser glove put that goon down for the count.

With two possible directions to leave the alley, Ayla made a quick guess that most people tended to turn to the right, so he sprinted down the alley that way. Emerging into the street, he looked both ways, and seeing nothing, frowned. Again speculating that the villain would have run away from the front of the store, he dashed to his left. At the next street intersection, Ayla paused, looking in the three directions the villain could have fled, but there was no trace of the villain or the hostage. Unable to stand around doing nothing, Ayla trotted down the street to the right, hoping to find some kind of hint to where the villain had run.

The blast of the air horn hit Ayla like a hammer; he realized suddenly that he'd truly lost the combat final. Hanging his head for a moment as the reality of failure sank in, he shook it slowly in frustration, sighing heavily at the bitter taste of defeat. It was a taste that he'd always hated and strove so hard to avoid.

Feeling unusually weary, he trudged toward the exit, toward where he knew all his detractors would be jeering, mocking him for his very public failure, to where he knew Ito and Gunny were going to rip his performance to shreds. As he neared the portal in the force field, he steeled himself and narrowed his focus tightly so he wouldn't see or hear anything as he walked through the gauntlet of mockery to the locker room. He was so focused that he didn't notice a very eerie quiet in the stands, or see the faces turned toward him, not ridiculing him, but with expressions of surprise, and perhaps even a few looks of respect.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Late-Morning
Doyle Medical Complex

The irony abounded as Ayla peeked through the crack in the very same door where; so many months ago, he'd seen Alexis - Fireball - in this same room, in the same bed, looking in horror at what his 'disruption' had done to the girl as his disruption had altered her BIT, changing her from a very pretty redhead into the semi-demonic thing she now was. Now she was there again, and once more Ayla felt like it was his fault. If he hadn't been paired with Tisiphone in the combat final, she would have been able to focus on the mission, not on revenge.

The hand clasping his shoulder startled the young Poesie; he'd been so focused on his guilt - both past and present - that someone had walked up to him without him noticing. Ayla turned, automatically going heavy as he expected some kind of unpleasantness from one of his many detractors.

Instead, he found himself looking up into the face of Nitro. The boy looked nervous. "Um," he stammered, "thank you." Ayla goggled, and Nitro continued. "Why?" he asked simply, clearly not understanding why

Ayla stared at him, trying to figure out for himself what the answer was. But before he could say anything, a faint voice called out from the room. "Nitro?"

Nitro pushed past Ayla into the room. "I'm here," he said as he scurried to Tissy's bedside. "I was just talking to Ayla in the hallway."

Through the partially-open door, Ayla saw the girl stiffen, anger suffusing her expression as she turned a hateful glare toward the doorway. "Did you come to gloat?" Tissy snarled when she saw him, startling both Ayla and Nitro by the ferocity in her voice. "Or to tell me that we're even because you saved my life?"

Ayla, standing framed in the opening, shook his head slowly. "No."

"Then what?" Tissy demanded. When Ayla didn't reply, she continued, "Gunny and Ito came by to give me my grade and tear into my performance. They told me that you lost because you rescued me." She frowned angrily. "You could have won. You should have won! Why the hell didn't you?" She was starting to get a little agitated. "I didn't ask you to rescue me!"

"No."

"They why did you?" Tissy demanded, still very angry though also with some confusion tinging her voice.

Ayla lowered his gaze slightly. "Because I owed it to you."

The demon-girl glared at Ayla. "Damned right you do! After what you did to me!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Ayla shot back emotionally, his voice choking, something few at Whateley had ever seen. "Don't you think I feel guilty enough over what happened? That I'm not constantly tortured trying to figure out how I could have handled that without doing ... this ... to you?"

Tissy was winding up for a fierce rebuttal, but Ayla's words stunned her into silence.

"How the hell am I supposed to ever make up to you for ruining your life?" Ayla turned away sharply so the two wouldn't see the moisture in his eyes. "All my life, I was taught that Goodkinds fix things. But I can't fix this. Even if you did start it by trying to kill me, it doesn't mean I can wash my hands of what I did!" Ayla wiped at his face, still looking away from the two stunned teens.

"You ... you feel guilty that ... that you hurt me because you were defending yourself?" Tissy asked softly, her tone a far cry from the anger of only seconds before. Ayla simply nodded, still unable to look at the girl.

"Dr. Bellows wouldn't tell me anything," Tissy finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I ... was under the impression that you didn't care."

"Now you know otherwise," Ayla replied woodenly, trying desperately to control his emotions so as not to display them to Nitro and Tissy.

The silence was long and awkward. "We're not even," Tissy finally said firmly. "Every time I look in the mirror, I hate you for what you did to me." There was a nervous pause in the room. "But ... maybe I'm starting to accept what Dr. Bellows has been telling me - that it was my fault, because I started it."

Ayla turned, shocked at the words that had come from her mouth, unsure what to say.

"I guess what I'm saying is," Tissy continued, "you don't have to watch your back; I'm not going to try to kill you anymore." When Ayla nodded, Tissy growled, "Now go away before I change my mind."

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Late-Morning
Cyberspace, Whateley Academy

Sam frowned as she watched the replay of the final, and after deliberating with herself for a few moments, let the Hive slip into cyberspace.

<Blue?> Sam called out on the campus internet.

<Yeah, Skipper?> the boy replied milliseconds later.

<Took you long enough,> Sam teased the boy.

<Sorry, boss. I was getting data from Macau.>

<Just kidding. What have you got?> Sam queried.

The boy's cyberspace avatar frowned, shaking his head. <Not much. I got the odds you asked for. Each house had some generic description of the contestants, as well as possible outcomes, but there's nothing in the information that looks sensitive.>

<Will do, Skipper,> Blue answered with a sloppy salute. <Oh, and since I'm doing all the on-line work for the administration, do you think you could see your way clear to get me a pass for my final?>

<C'mon, Blue,> Sam said with a scowl, <you know I can't do that.>

<Had to ask,> the boy chuckled.

<But I can and will make a report to your comp sci instructors,> Sam added.

<Thanks!>

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

"... and Mule! " came the announcement over the PA system. The group of Kimba-ites looked at Ayla, who allowed his lips to curl into a wicked grin as he pulled out his phone, before Jade's friends burst into laughter and began dancing around a bit in their seats. Their eyes turned back to the arena to watch Jade take the field as Ayla stood and stepped away to make a call, "Yes. What odds can you give me on Generator?" His grin widened as he walked further out of their hearing, "Really? I would like..."

The girls chattered quickly among themselves as the two opponents took the field at different points in the map. The hostage rescue scenarios were all relatively similar and they knew Mule's capabilities as well as he knew theirs, from Team Tactics. Of course, what Mule didn't know is that the team had given Jade permission to cut loose. Their pint sized lunatic had been more upset by her low combat ranking than people outside the group knew, and if they were going to go into stealth mode as a team for a while to take attention off themselves, this was Jade's last chance to fix that minor misunderstanding.

"Is anyone else worried," Hank interrupted, "that Mule might not be a tough enough opponent to survive what she has planned?"

A half dozen light hearted smiles smoothed out into worried frowns as Generator began her set-up routine.

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

As the countdown clock hit zero, Generator began a magical girl transformation with flashing lights, cloth and paper streamers, glitter and confetti. The PA system even played some sort of 8-bit soundtrack with 80's power chords loudly enough to announce her location to anyone who might be within about four blocks, which was most of the sim area. The light and sound spectacular drew the focus of every eye in the arena and was heard by every simulated person in the scenario. Innocent civilians looked out office windows and stopped on the streets to look her way.

It took almost a minute for the girl's street clothing to be completely replaced with the frilly costume she had designed to team up with Wondercute. Everything that she had been wearing was now tucked away in her utility belt, which held more than a score of special compartments for materials, components, and gadgets of one sort or another. Mule was just arriving as she took her final pose in the spotlight shining down from the most recent version of the Hello Kitty compact.

Jade squealed, arms up, jumping up and down expectantly.

"Generator?" the large boy growled, "What are you doing?"

"Are you going to pick me up?"

"What?! No. Did you have to do all this... noise? They're all on heightened alert now."

"Of course they are. Aren't you going to carry me?"

"Why would I carry you?" While it was well known that Mule was impervious to most Psi and Magick attacks, more than a few people in the audience took careful note that he was also oblivious to puppy dog eyes.

"On your shoulder?"

"No. Look ... you Kimbas might not care about your combat rankings and play around in sims, but you should at least care about your grade." That got him a sour pout, but he dug in his heels and pressed on, "Stick close and I'll try to... "

Generator's attention shifted away from him as a cloud of glitter settled in her hair and on her shoulders. She seemed distant for a moment, as memories settled into place. The transformation had been effective, she had been able to get both clouds of glitter near enough to watch as all the mercenaries took position and checked their weapons. The instructors had even slipped a mutant into the merc team, acting as a hidden reserve. The clouds had remained to achieve their objectives and then returned with intel. It might have seemed like a waste of a minute... but Ayla had showed them all the value of good intel.

Then Jade glanced back at Mule, took in the sniper rifle resting on his shoulder and gestured at him with her scepter. Four strings of neon pink goo with all the appearance of silly string shot out to wrap in band after band around Mule. He struggled for a moment, clearly expecting to be able to break it or slip free, before toppling to the ground with a sharp huff as the wind was knocked out of him. The Gadgeteer who had created the goo rated it effective up to low PK-6, but hadn't found a good way to deploy it... short of just splash webbing someone. But for someone with TK or an ability to move around objects as if they were your own body? Perfect! And it was silly string! Everyone loved silly string!

She quickly checked the lines covering his mouth to make sure he could breathe and then stepped up on his chest, gesturing forward with the scepter, "Charge!" The restrained body beneath her rocked and strained a bit but didn't move. "Oh, right," the small girl noted, pulling a stylized toy pistol from her belt. She pointed it at Mule's chest near her feet and assured him, "Don't worry, this won't hurt at all," evoking a muffled cry of shock from her captive as she pulled the trigger. The pistol ejected a disk about the size of a quarter which hit the bindings around Mule and stuck solidly. The shout cut off abruptly as Mule realized that he really hadn't been hurt... and in fact, hadn't felt anything through his PK shell at all.

Generator gestured with the scepter again, and they moved forward quickly, Mule sliding down the street on his PK shell and the silly string bindings. The flying Compact kept pace, keeping the spotlight on Generator, sparkles flashing off the glitter on her hair and costume. The disks, of course, were another gadget her research had dug up. They were created by a TK/Gadgeteer named Handler who, like Jade, was limited by her mass capability. Her solution had been to produce mass displacement anchors. Supposedly, the current variations that Handler used personally were able to displace more than 90% of the mass of an object; the schematics of the versions that were available in the Whateley database were limited to just under 50% displacement and burned through their battery charge in about ten minutes. The effect was to temporarily take a large mass like the boy under her feet from too heavy to move down to something that she could drag around all day... or at least for the ten minutes that the battery on the disk lasted. Next time, he'd know to just carry her on his shoulder like she had asked.

Mule skidded to a stop beneath her feet and Generator looked up into the fire escape of the building on her left. The first sniper shot missed completely. A gesture with her scepter put a pink soap-bubble-like dome over them, just in time for a second shot to come through it and rapidly slow down like it was flying through some sort of kinetic gel... which, in essence, it was. She returned fire, using the pistol with the MD disks. The first shot missed, wide by almost eight feet, but then seemed caught in the wind and took a hard right directly onto the shoulder of the first shooter.

A moment later, the man tossed his rifle off the escape and appeared to be dancing the macarena. While his partner watched, jaw hanging open, Jade's second shot caught him square in the forehead, snapping his head back and dropping him to the ground unconscious. "Oops," she muttered to Mule. "I guess one dance partner will have to do."

After waving the scepter around to disable her soap bubble defense, Generator tucked the pistol back in her belt long enough to pull a clear glass-like wand from another loop. She waved it around, dancing on Mule's back for a moment, before pointing it in the direction they were heading. An enormous burst of glitter exploded out of it and flew out ahead of them. She replaced the wand in its loop and recovered the pistol just as they approached a building guarded by several armed men.

The girl gestured with the scepter, several strings of goo blasting forward in unlikely arcs to immobilize the guards. Several triggers were pulled but none of the firearms fired. Green silly string quickly strung the guards into marionettes, though not before they attempted to report that their position was lost or that they had been captured. Generator used her small pistol to hit each of them with one of the disks and then waved a hand as several sets of strings combined into control ropes and marched guards through the door into the building as puppets.

She turned a few steps of a ballroom dance and the marching guards stopped to match her moves. As her entourage danced its way into the building and Jade followed along on her contrived sled, the sounds of a ranting fanatic filled the place. A cloud of glitter settled on her, the sparkle reflecting throughout the room.

Under other circumstances, any one of the interior guards would be focused on making her life as painful as possible. Instead, each was checking his firearm for a misfire. Unfortunately for them, a cloud of extremely sharp metal fragments posing as glitter and under the control of an intelligent mind had already made its way through the room. Firing pins were damaged, ammunition was compromised, and even explosive devices had been disabled. While their focus was on restoring their weapons to service, several gift-wrapped guards were tossed into the room to provide further distractions. In moments, it looked as if the marionette controlled guards were trying to ballroom dance with the uncaptured guards.

Generator stepped off Mule and went straight for the fanatic and his hostage. As she did, she tucked away the scepter and the tiny toy pistol. In their place, she pulled out her Cobra and shot the Pyrokinetic on the balcony with a stun load before the woman even realized that her position had been compromised. As the young rescuer shot the known mutant opponent, the ranting fanatic tried to shoot her. Of course, that was to be expected... so she grinned teasingly at him as his weapon, like all the others, failed. Then, for the first time in the scenario; Jade got a bit of a surprise. The fanatic, still calling her things that the sims team should probably get in trouble for putting in a scenario for freshman girls, leapt forward at speeds far exceeding what a baseline should be capable of.

He picked her up, not difficult given her size... but the way he picked her up suggested that she had almost no weight at all to him. He was a paranormal... but not one that she had been able to see using speck-vision when she'd done the initial reconnoitering at the scenario start. And after a quick shake that would have seriously rattled anyone... he threw her... through the front wall of the building. In the air, she pulled the wand from its loop and pointed it. Even without any of the fancy gestures or dancing, it fired. She wasn't really a magical girl, after all. The cloud of metal shavings blasted forward as she went through the wall in a huge explosion of plaster and wood splinters.

The Hello Kitty Compact, to this point seemingly repurposed to spotlight duties for the entire scenario, seemed to do something of a double take, looking through the hole and out into the street and then back at the fanatic; who was turning back to grab the hostage. The devise whipped through the air, spinning at crazy speeds, passing the cloud of metal shavings, and went around the man's outstretched forearm in a quick spiral. Several pieces of limb dropped in place, the man roaring and pulling back a stump.

In the next moment, the cloud of glitter hit him. Like a swarm of bees... or piranha... the fanatic was torn apart in an explosion of tissue. One moment, he was a threat; the next, the largest pieces were just reaching apogee before beginning their last fall to earth amidst a rain of blood. The cloud and Compact hit the ground a second later, no longer motivated by an unseen force.

Generator walked back in, stretching as the last of her injuries repaired itself. She knelt down and patted Mule on the forehead as she passed, evoking an unintelligible yell from him. Then she approached the hostage, disconnected the remains of the explosives device and freed the man. A few mercenaries were still up and actively moving, mostly still trying to avoid being swept into the ballroom dance; but it was clearly over. The instructors must have agreed because a moment later, the air horn blew.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Tunnels beneath Grandstands, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

As soon as the rush of people placing bets for the next match had died down, Booker, with a huge grin, pulled out his cell phone. A few wagers were still trickling in, but most were past the cutoff time. Once he'd taken care of acknowledging the legitimate bets, he leaned back against the wall and dialed a number. When the phone on the other end picked up, he said simply, "So far, so good."

"Still five for every correct guess?"

"Yup," Booker said simply, aware that some would be trying to overhear his conversation. They weren't talking singles, either; Tweak knew the payoff from the two gambling houses would be five thousand dollars for each correct match they provided. "We'll have to figure out something there," he added. They couldn't readily transfer those kinds of sums without arousing a lot of suspicion. "I've got a few ideas."

"How are things going with your betting?"

"I can't complain," Booker answered with a smug smile. "We cleaned up on this one. Everyone, and I mean everyone, bet on Mule. Except Team Kimba and some of the Wondercute girls."

"Really? What were the odds on that match?" Tweak couldn't help but be a little curious.

"I had sixty-to-one against her winning solo. Boxcars and Hazard were a little higher; Risk was a little lower. A few people made out like bandits."

"Are we doing anything with the outsiders?" Tweak asked, certain she didn't want to gamble her money away but also more than slightly tempted by the inside information she and Booker had.

"Nope." Booker glanced at a monitor. "Gotta run - they're about to start the next match."

Tweak was silent for a moment. "Pejuta and Bladedancer?"

"Yup. Should be interesting. You ought to drag yourself up out of your lab and watch a few. Might get a few tips for your own final on Friday."

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99 Grandstands, Whateley Academy

"Do you know where she went?" Adrian asked Evvie and Naomi, frustrated because Kayda had just invoked her ghost-walking spell in the simulator and had disappeared.

"Nope," Evvie replied, "I don't know."

"Probably doing stealth recon," Laurie speculated, sitting next to Adrian with her arm around his waist. "They're supposed to rescue a hostage, and she's probably trying to avoid Chou and find the hideout."

"Boring!!" a student further down the seats shouted as everyone watched - nothing. He was joined immediately by a chorus of catcalls and boos.

"There she is!" Naomi called excitedly, pointing at the simulator.

"Where?"

"There! Didn't you see? The pedestrian just ... bounced off something!" the girl said.

"So .... wait a sec!" Evvie interrupted herself, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the simulation. "I think that's the hideout!" She could almost feel the quizzical looks she was getting. "Look there - that man by the deli? The one leaning against the wall?"

Naomi's stared at the man. "Yeah, he does look kind of fishy." She looked around some more. "Hey, shouldn't the grocery store guy be watching his store instead of looking up and down the street a lot?" she observed. "That kid just swiped some apples, and he didn't even notice!" The group continued to study the little assemblage of humanity, looking for those they suspected might be accomplices.

"Who else?" RPG after scanning the crowd. "Is man giving shoeshine normal in small city?"

"Nah, he looks okay," Laurie replied. "But ... his customer maybe?"

"Oh, hey!" Adrian called out, pointing down the street. "Here comes Chou!"

"I knew the guy getting his shoes shined looked suspicious!" Laurie replied as the man rose and walked very deliberately to intercept the girl.

"And ... we missed one!" Naomi lamented. "The guy from the steps." She shook her head. "Chou's in deep shit right now."

"What?" Evvie asked in astonishment, looking away from Bladedancer. "What the hell is Kayda doing?" The group turned as one, following Evvie's stare and pointing, to where Kayda was walking happily along toward Chou, acting like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Maybe she is going to take advantage of Chou's distraction?" Vasiliy speculated. The crowd began to murmur when Kayda 'rescued' her opponent from the two goons and then led her around the corner. Moments later, the two shook hands over something.

"Oh, no!" Evvie said in dismay. "Now they're really going to get it! Just like Loophole and Sizzle last fall!" She was speaking of the disastrous attempt by Loophole in the fall combat finals to avoid fighting entirely, which had ended with Gunny turning the sim against both of them. Brutally so. After some lengthy - and sometimes animated - discussion, Chou nodded, and Kayda cast spells on both of them, causing them both to disappear.

When things started happening, they happened fast. Almost simultaneously, the two girls dispatched two 'rear guards' in an alley behind the store. Several seconds later, Chou suddenly appeared, bow in hand, quickly firing four arrows toward the goons they'd identified. Three were immediate kills; the fourth guy - the man by the deli - ducked just enough to only be wounded. Chou's bow was dropped and she charged across the street, drawing her sword as she ran, while the man reached for and retrieved a weapon.

A glance at the screen showed Kayda charging through a rear door, and suddenly, surprisingly to her, she was visible again. A large gorilla of a man was reacting to Chou's disturbance out front when Kayda rushed in. He turned, just in time to be hit with a vicious combination attack by the Lakota girl and her tomahawks.

Out front, Chou discovered to her dismay that her remaining opponent had not a gun but a reinforced nightstick which he was using expertly to parry blows from her sword. If that wasn't enough, he was also counter-attacking with martial arts with his feet and his free hand.

"No! Third floor!" Evvie and her friends chanted loudly as they watched her kicking in doors and scanning empty rooms in a vain search for the kidnapper and hostage. Precious seconds ticked away, while Chou fought the man in front, Kayda cleared the second floor, and all the spectators saw the villain grab the hostage - a small child - and carry her to a window.

"He's getting away!" Laurie cried helplessly at the scene unfolding in the arena and on the display screens.

The Lakota girl charged up the steps - right into a hail of gunfire from yet another henchman who'd been waiting for her, alerted by the noise out front and on the first floor. Miraculously, she emerged unscathed, and her weapons quickly ended that threat. She dashed through an open door, surveyed the room, and ran to an open window. One could almost sense her frustration to see the villain on the second floor fire-escape landing kicking his way through a window to the interior of the room.

In front of the building, Chou finally removed the fourth threat - just in time to be attacked from behind by yet another stooge, receiving a side-kick in the kidneys which made her sprawl forward to the ground.

"That's just too cliché!!" Adrian snorted. "I mean, c'mon!"

Chou rolled to her feet even as she was hitting, but shoeshine man tossed something at her face, temporarily blinding her. He followed up with a kick to her legs which made her collapse again, this time dropping her sword.

In the rear of the building, Kayda dropped off the second-floor fire escape to the alley and dashed in the rear entrance, stopping and gawking at the big goon who was pulling himself up from the floor, his wounds having mostly healed.

"Shit, a regenerator!" Naomi growled at the complication.

Kayda let the goon have another quick attack and then dashed toward the stairs. The villain, with the kid under his arm, stood at the base of the stairs, glancing out the front of the building and seeing and hearing the commotion of Chou's battle. He turned instead toward Kayda, who being focused on him and the hostage, missed seeing the gorilla-goon rise yet again as she shoulder-blocked the villain while simultaneously scooping the child from his arms.

She turned to escape out the alley, but pulled up short at the sight of the monster of a henchman stomping angrily toward her. A cry of pain arose when a shuriken embedded itself in her arm, tossed by the villain.

Kayda was lost in a flurry of activity as she wheeled, punched, and chopped at the two opponents who had her boxed in, and just when it looked like she would escape out the alley, the villain teleported in front of her, a large gun in his hand pointed at her face.

And then the hulk smashed into her from behind, pushing her into the villain; all fell in a tangle of bodies just as Chou entered the building from the front. Seeing her partner, Kayda practically threw the girl to her, screaming at her to save the kid while Kayda stabbed the big guy with her knife, then turned, disarmed the gun-wielding villain, stabbed him, and then dashed out the front of the building, the regenerating hulk hot on her tail.

"They're gonna win!" Kayda's friends began to cheer as Chou ran toward the 'finish line', a police station down the street, with Kayda limping along behind her and the hulking bad guy chasing her.

The air horn sounded when Chou entered the police station and Kayda slowed. A moment later, the big hulk of a stooge crashed into her, having launched himself just as the air horn sounded. Kayda went down hard, her face contorted in pain and most likely screaming in agony.

As one, the crowd rose to its feet, angry screams and boos directed at the control booth because of the late hit on Kayda. Evvie and Naomi dashed down the steps two at a time toward the portal in the force field, concern etched on their faces as they watched, helpless, while a medic tended to their hurt friend. After a couple of minutes, the medic helped Kayda to her feet, one arm in a sling, and escorted her to the portal, to where her room-mate awaited to carry the stricken girl.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Security Offices, Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

Sergeant Buxton's frown was deep as he glared at the two video feeds. One was fixed on Arena 99, while the other showed what appeared to be an electronic info board displaying gambling odds. With a growl, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket as he rose and walked outside, glancing around to be sure he was alone. From the way he dialed, he was obviously very familiar with the party he was calling.

"Hello?" he snarled. "Yeah, it's me."

"You know you aren't supposed to call ...."

"Listen!" Buxton snapped, interrupting the man, "This is an emergency! You pinheads are blowing it!"

"What?" The person he was talking to seemed quite startled.

"I was watching your feed at the same time I watched the arena. You idiots had info from the MIDs up before it was displayed on the arena screens!"

"What?"

"Any idiot with half a brain is gonna figure out that there's a serious leak, and then trace it! Are you trying to get me caught? Is this the thanks I get for getting you the inside info?"

"Er, um, I'll look into it and make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It fuckin' well better not!" Buxton snarled. "Oh, and for this little fuckup that I had to fix for you guys, I expect a little bonus!" Angrily, he hung up and slid the phone back in his pocket. With a couple of deep breaths to cool his outer demeanor, Sergeant Buxton walked as casually as his anger would let him back to his desk.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Tunnels beneath Grandstands, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

"Hey, Gateway! I hear you won," Booker called out to Molly as she practically skipped from one of the bookie's tables.

Molly turned at the sound of her name. "Yeah," she grinned broadly. "A little."

"And you didn't do business with me?" the boy said with a mock pout.

Molly shrugged, blushing a little. "Boxcars gave me better odds against them cooperating."

"A little inside information, since you all train together after classes?" Booker asked wryly before glancing around and seeing the other bookies all staring into space or into laptops or smartphones. "Thanks to your friends, I have to redo my strategy! I was sure they were going to get smacked hard by Gunny for cooperating."

"They still might have," Molly replied. "We don't know their grades yet."

Booker chuckled dryly. "Yeah. For all we know, they might have failed for that stunt."

"But they beat the scenario, and I won my bet!" She paused only a moment. "I'm going to see how Chou is doing. Catch you later."

"Yeah, later." Booker watched the girl practically skipping toward the locker rooms. She had to have had some foreknowledge that Chou and Kayda would cooperate. Campus rumors were rife that the two were bitter rivals on the training field.

As he took bets for the new round, Booker noticed a commotion on one of the video monitors. He frowned as he focused on it. "What the hell?" he mouthed to himself.

As everyone watched the 'set' being built, murmurs of disbelief circulated; this looked like the setup for Operation Eagle Claw - Lord Paramount's rescue of the hostages from Tehran, and one of the nastiest simulations Gunny had unleashed on unsuspecting students. It was most definitely not on the schedule! This scenario was going to eat Lifeline and Loophole for lunch, even if they did manage to somehow put aside their sudden dislike and cooperate.

"The setting is Operation Eagle Claw, and more specifically, the attempted rescue of Colonel Athem," the loudspeaker announced from overhead, "and the combatants are Loophole, Solange, and Pejuta."

"Loophole is fighting with Tansy and Pejuta!" An audible buzz spread around the stands faster than the speed of sound, circulating among the bookies and causing everyone, Booker included, to scramble to get new odds calculated as the gamblers flocked to their tables. This was most unexpected, and Booker was as lost as any of the bookies.

"Pejuta again? She's injured!" Risk said unhappily.

"What the hell is going on?" Boxcars demanded. "How are we supposed to get odds for this?"

Booker thought a moment, then scribbled on his board. Gone were all the options of who might win in what combinations. In their place were two simple options: win, and lose, with his estimation of the odds posted. Based on the odds, he was not expecting the trio to win. Neither were the other bookies.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Security Offices, Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

Buxton's phone ringing was not unexpected; he'd seen the lineup on the monitor and he was as baffled as Whateley's bookies were. This was not on the schedule; while he wasn't an exemplar, he had memorized the crash scenarios, and this was not supposed to be one.

"Hello?"

"What the hell is going on there?" the voice demanded

"I don't know. Last minute changeup, I guess," Buxton answered softly.

"What do you expect us to do now?"

"Just a sec," Buxton tried to buy a few moments. He picked up the hand radio. "Caruthers? Control."

A moment later, the radio was answered. "Caruthers."

"Are you near Arena 99?" Buxton asked impatiently, knowing that real money was riding on the information he desperately needed.

"Right by the bookies," Caruthers answered immediately.

"Gimme the odds they've posted." For a couple of moments, Buxton wrote as Caruthers dictated. "Good. Out." He picked up his cell phone again. "It's a changeup, and a crash. The bookies here are basically in a win/lose proposition. You want our odds?"

"Can't hurt."

Buxton recited the numbers, keeping his voice down as he did so and glancing around nervously. He really, really hated doing business like this because it was too easy for unwanted eyes and ears to see and listen. "And the third girl is still injured from the last round," he added.

"Okay, that gives us something to start with." The phone clicked dead.

Dammit! Buxton swore to himself. If Ito and Bardue pulled too much of this crap, it'd ruin his credibility, and with it, his rather lucrative income stream.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99 Grandstands, Whateley Academy

"What the hell?" Evvie asked, slack-jawed in astonishment. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Why are they making Kayda go into another combat final?" Laurie asked, angry and shocked at what she was seeing.

"What's going on?" Evvie asked again, dumbfounded. "Unless ...."

"Unless what?" RPG prompted.

"Didn't Lifeline go down about the same time as Loophole?" Evvie queried. "If she was supposed to be with Loophole, you don't suppose ..."

"... that maybe she refused, and Tansy and Kayda volunteered?" Adrian speculated.

"That would be just like Kayda - even if she is hurt," Naomi lamented.

"And Lifeline is really hating on Loophole since she got her spirit," Laurie observed.

"That girl's gonna be the death of me!" Evvie grumbled. "She's openly carrying her bow into the sim? This is a crash, then."

"We have a bit of a changeup here, folks," Peeper's annoying voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "There's no mistaking Loophole's bear form - with its ginormous ... lungs!" Peeper said that with an audible leer thrown in, "and there's no mistaking her part-time lover and co-star of a film we'd love to get our hands on, the star of the last final, Pejuta ..."

"I'm gonna rip his lungs out!" Evvie snarled, starting to rise before Naomi and Adrian pushed her back to her seat. "Asshole!" she spat distastefully.

"... but that third curvaceous delight is Solange? Greasy, have you ever seen her in that outfit?"

"Tansy? No!" Greasy sounded almost frightened to be pronouncing the bitch-goddess' name; after all, she had nearly killed him earlier in the year.

"I wanna know who made that skin-tight suit that shows off every curve and bump on that luscious body of hers - and have them make one for every girl on campus!" He gave a wolf whistle in appreciation. "So what kind of surprises do our resident sadists have for this delightful trio of womanly curves? Maybe they'll get into a three-way, winner-take-all wrestling match in a wading pool full of jello?"

"Someone should put a silence spell on that little asshole," Laurie griped, glaring in the general direction of the radio booth. She turned and watched as the three girls walked gracefully through the portal into the arena, which was done up like a middle-eastern or Persian city.

"They're in serious trouble," Adrian said, shaking his head and grimacing.

"Yeah," Laurie agreed, nodding with a worry-wrinkled brow. "Kayda's hurt. Look - she's limping."

No sooner had the air-horn sounded to start the sim than the whole arena heard the sound of distant gunfire and explosions. On the projected horizon, plain for all to see, were palls of smoke rising from other action in the incredibly lifelike simulation of Tehran.

The girls, scanning around themselves for trouble, approached a large warehouse-like building. For a moment, it looked like Loophole was going to simply rip the door open with wicked-looking hand-razors attached to her hands, but Tansy fished out some tools, and in moments, she'd picked the lock and opened the door. In the stands, others stared at Tansy, either astounded or wary that she was far more capable than everyone had understood.

No sooner had the girls entered the warehouse than a group of about a dozen Iranian soldiers who started to attack them. Before they could do anything, while Kayda stood, shocked, Tansy and Loophole tore through them like a buzz saw. Kayda did some type of incantation and vanished. Because they were inside the simulated warehouse, most of the action was from cameras, and surprisingly, while two cameras remained focused on Tansy and Loophole, another display seemed to be following something, cutting from camera to camera.

Naomi snorted. "Looks like Ito finally remembered to put the beacon on those who could become invisible."

"What?" A couple of the group were surprised by her words.

"Last year, a few students used invisibility spells or charms or devises, and no-one could see what they were doing or where they were," Naomi explained. "They quickly made a couple of beacons that the students would wear so cameras could always track them and us lowly spectators would know where they were."

Adrian snorted. "Yeah, and in Kayda's first combat, they must have forgotten to use them."

"What's going on, do you think?" Laurie asked; as a healer, she really wasn't knowledgeable in tactics.

"Kayda's using her invisibility spell to do recon," Evvie answered as if it was obvious, which to her, Vasiliy, and Adrian, it was.

The camera view tracked through the lower floor of what seemed to be offices, and then up the stairs - where, to some surprise and with great viciousness, Kayda dispatched an officer in the hallway and six soldiers in a barracks room. Then she investigated the warehouse, apparently from catwalks, and then returned to Tansy and Lanie's position. From the reaction in the stands, it was evident that some had underestimated Kayda's capacity for violence.

"Do you suppose they're planning their attack?" Laurie asked unnecessarily as the girls huddled. Suddenly, they looked up toward the main warehouse area; a few sharp words from Tansy led to Kayda re-casting her invisibility spell.

The two visible girls strode confidently toward a circle of light in the cavernous warehouse, stopping to gaze at the three men. On the stool, the colonel sat, bearded and with scruffy hair from long captivity and clad in a bare uniform, hands tied behind his back. One of the captors stood confidently, almost arrogantly, sneering at the two girls and waving a pistol toward the colonel's head, ordering the girls around disparagingly.

The second man, looking like a caricature of an Arabian Knight, suddenly drew an oversized scimitar and leaped toward Tansy, but Lanie was faster, intercepting the sword-wielding brute and slashing him viciously with her razor-claws. The man, however, seemed to ignore it and pressed an attack on Lanie, his wounds closing even as the students watched in shock. A high-level regenerator would be a tough opponent for anyone - except maybe Kodiak.

The man with the pistol began to rant at Tansy, waving his pistol toward the hostage, while Tansy stood calmly, smirking at him.

And then Kayda appeared by his side, her tomahawks flashing as they cut into the opponent. Her first blow literally cut the man's hand off, it and the pistol clattered to the floor before he could react.

Every male in the crowd winced, involuntarily crossing their legs and letting their hands drop across their lap as Kayda slashed upward with a tomahawk into the man's crotch, viciously splitting the man's groin open in a spray of guts and blood. He had no time to react, however, as the hilt of her other tomahawk bashed into his forehead, knocking his head back in time for the blood-covered first tomahawk cut the exposed neck hard enough to decapitate the man.

"Holy fuck!" Vasiliy exclaimed loudly as he winced from the spectacle, echoing what nearly every other student in the stands was thinking. Naomi looked a little green, and more than a few students dashed frantically toward the restrooms, holding their hands over their mouths to try to forestall vomiting in the grandstands. Only the ultraviolents cheered at the brutal spectacle, demanding more bloodshed.

In the arena, after freeing the hostage, Kayda hustled him to the stairs and up toward the roof while Tansy and Lanie tag-teamed the strong regenerator. Even as Kayda dashed up the stairs, the focus of students was drawn to the roof, her destination. Atop the warehouse and a few adjoining buildings were soldiers armed with AK-type assault weapons and several RPGs. Groans of dismay rippled through those left in the stands.

"No way they're going to get through that," Adrian said sadly.

"After that snake demon?" Laurie asked in response. "You think a few soldiers and RPGs are going to stop her?"

On the ground floor, Lanie and Tansy continued to battle the hulking regenerator; Lanie was bloodied and starting to get fatigued. One side of her suit glistened with fresh blood - and quite a bit of it - from a serious cut. Backing away from their opponent, Lanie suddenly took Tansy by the hands and slid her along the floor directly between the man's legs. Her force pistol blasted him upward - literally - and as he fell, Lanie swooped in, decapitating the man with her razor claws.

On the roof, Kayda and the colonel burst through the doors, Kayda shooting magically-enhanced exploding arrows at the remote soldiers, while Colonel Athem shot nearby Iranians and then scooped up their AK-47s and continued to fire. In moments, the soldiers realized they were under attack, and the colonel pulled Kayda down behind an air conditioner on the warehouse roof to avoid gunfire. Kayda popped up to quickly shoot her bow, but the second time she popped up, her face contorted in agony, and the shot went wild as her shoulder gave out.

Most of the spectators groaned; the trio was so close to their goal, but now things had gone south. And then a huge shadow passed over the scene, and a Vindicator air-assault vehicle swooped in, its Gatling cannon barking as it shredded the enemy groups on the nearby rooftops. A moment later, the door opened and Tansy half-carried Lanie onto the roof.

The stands erupted in wild cheering as the air horn sounded, signaling the end of the simulation. Against impossible odds, with injuries and never having worked together, the unlikely trio had beaten the scenario. Evvie, Naomi, and Kayda's other friends leaped to their feet, cheering loudly, clapping each other on the backs at their friend's success. It took a couple of minutes for them to realize that Lanie's boyfriend Wyatt, the big senior and leader of the Alphas, was in the middle of the celebration, whooping and shouting and celebrating along with her group.

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

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Morning
Tunnels beneath Grandstands, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Sam Everheart strolled casually through the crowd of students, some dashing to or from the restrooms during the break in combat finals, some milling around the bookies placing bets or getting their payoff, some by the small concession stand getting snacks. She was interested in none of that; instead, her eyes scanned the small displays the bookies all had, diligently letting the Hive record all the displays, both of the completed final with Tansy, Kayda, and Lanie, and the upcoming one.

A couple of the bookies noted Sam's presence and her attention on their actions, but continued their business. Eventually, as the contestants came out of the briefing room to the arena, the throng thinned considerably as the students raced back to their seats.

"How are you doing, Risk?" Sam asked, approaching one of the bookies, an exemplar boy from Poe who was notorious for being accurate with his odds-making.

The very good-looking blonde-haired boy smiled, shrugging. "Meh. Some good, some bad."

"It looks like you guys were a little, um, shall we say surprised by the last final?" Sam prompted, leaning against the wall beside Risk.

He shrugged. "I didn't do too badly. Some of the others? Not so much."

"You only offered win or lose?"

Risk chuckled. "With three of them, including Pejuta who'd just had a final and was hurt? I didn't really have time to figure odds for anything but that."

"What else?"

"Tansy's been holding out all these years," the boy laughed. "I think that took everyone by surprise. Fortunately," he lowered his voice, glancing around as if afraid to be overheard, "with Kayda's injury, Tansy, and the whole thing with Elaine and Maggie, there weren't many people who wanted to bet on them winning."

"Who were some of the winners?"

Risk shook his head, laughing. "Come on, Admiral," he chided the deputy security chief, "you know I won't give out the names of my ... clients."

"I could look at the security footage, and then question the students," Sam challenged.

"And ask them about what?" Risk countered. "If I recall correctly, betting is merely discouraged, not banned."

Sam glanced around, then leaned a little closer, back still against the wall casually. "Risk," she said softly but urgently, "I need to find a security leak that we think is getting combat final data to outside bookies - before it ends up compromising a student's identity and causing somebody to get hurt."

"I understand and sympathize," Risk noted, glancing at the video display to see the progress of the ongoing combat final, "but that's security's concern, not mine."

"It might become your concern," Sam warned, but seeing that her words had no effect on the boy, she changed tacks. "Is there anything ... unusual about the odds? Like maybe someone has inside info? Or has more accurate odds?"

Risk laughed out loud, causing a bit of a stir. "Admiral, I'm too busy calculating my own odds and figuring payoffs and profit to worry too much about everyone else's problems." After thinking a second, he shook his head. "Sorry, I can't help you out here."

Shaking her head, the betting data captured by her Hive nanocomputer, Sam pried herself off the wall and walked to the locker area, going straight to the control booth where Gunny and Ito were supervising the ongoing final.

The old marine noticed Sam's entry. "Good morning, Admiral," he said in his usual gruff voice.

"Mind if I borrow a computer?" Sam asked. When Gunny simply pointed to a vacant machine, Sam sat down and interfaced to the computer and thence to the network. She could have let the Hive read the data directly from within the machine, but she was puzzled and allowed the data to show on the display.

"Something bothering you, I take it?" Sensei Ito asked from his chair, barely turning from the arena.

Sam sighed heavily. "We think we have a data leak somewhere, but I can't see anything that would help us track it down."

"Combat final data?" Bardue growled. "Even after all we did to keep it secret to the last minute?"

"Yeah. That's what's frustrating." She thought a moment. "The last final - was that a change-up, or a planned crash?"

"Last-second change. Lifeline refused to fight Loophole. Why?"

"It drove our bookies crazy. Their odds were all over the place. I'd expect the same from Vegas and the other gambling sites, but I don't have the background in statistics to even begin looking for a correlation."

"You wouldn't have a big enough data set to be statistically significant yet, anyway," Bardue said gruffly. He felt the eyes of the other two on him. "What?" he complained. "So I took a statistics class while I was active duty. So sue me."

"Can you help me figure this out?"

Gunny shook his head. "Negative. A, it was one class, and B, I'm kind of busy right now."

"It was a thought."

"And not a good one," Gunny chuckled. "Check with the math department and find someone who knows statistics inside-out and backwards. Or maybe Kurt Anderson, the survival teacher. He is damned good with odds and statistics."

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

(to be continued in part 2)

Odds and Ends (part 2)

Author:

Elrod

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Fiction

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Odds and Ends

Part 2 by Elrod

(with contributed scenes and ideas by:
EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken,
Gen2 author Neomagus, and fanfic author Domoviye)

More Whateley Academy tales can be found on the Whateley website, whateleyacademy.net

There's a sign in the desert that lies to the west
Where you can't tell the night from the sunrise
And not all the king's horses and all the king's men
Have prevented the fall of the unwise

Oh, they think it will make their lives easier
And God knows, up till now it's been hard
But the game never ends when your whole world depends
On the turn of a friendly card
No, the game never ends when your whole world depends
On the turn of a friendly card

But a pilgrim must follow in search of a shrine
As he enters inside the cathedral

"The Turn of a Friendly Card": Alan Parsons Project

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Mid-Afternoon
Devisor Tunnels beneath Kane Hall

The phone ringing interrupted Tweak; frustrated, she pushed aside her keyboard and punched a button on her phone. "Tweak."

"Hey, partner," Booker's voice came through the speaker-phone. "Just thought I'd update you on things."

"What's up?"

"Did you see anything on changes or such?" Booker asked bluntly.

"Just that someone put Loophole against Lifeline," Tweak replied, a little impatient.

"Yeah, I got that. And then it ended up being Loophole, Tansy, and Kayda." Booker gave her a quick recap of what had transpired. "We got hammered on that one. Everyone down here did!"

Tweak sighed. "You can't blame me. Nothing was posted on it as of last night, and I haven't gotten anything from today."

"Well, maybe you should go check your ... sources ... for today so we can stay on top of this! Our contact is going to get pissed if this crap keeps happening!" Booker growled.

"I'll push an update to the system so it'll notify me immediately."

* * * * * * * * * *

Tuesday, May 29, 2007, Late-Afternoon
Fixer's Patio behind Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy

The girl with spiky black hair walked casually, but a knowledgeable observer would note how carefully she payed attention to her surroundings. As she walked, she noticed a white-haired girl seated casually at a table, studying a book, or at least to the casual observer, she was studying a book. Ayla changed course toward Jadis' table.

"Good afternoon, Ayla," the white-haired daughter of the supervillain said, her dulcet voice friendly and warm.

"You're missing the finals," Ayla said as he sat down across from Jadis Diabolik. "There've been some good ones."

"Including yours?" Jadis asked, arching an eyebrow. She saw the tiniest of emotional responses from the Goodkind. "You do know that Jayne switched out Tissy's meds so she'd be ... a little unstable."

"So I heard," Ayla replied calmly. "I'm not surprised, considering she'd actively disliked me from last fall."

Jadis' laugh was soft and pleasant, despite the subject. "I'd say that's the understatement of the day."

"So how much did you make on my final?"

Jadis laughed again, her smile warm as sunshine. "Touché," she replied.

Ayla tried to frown, but considering his long-standing friendship with Jadis, it wasn't convincing. "You knew I'd be matched against Tissy, you knew Jayne would do something like that, and you knew Tissy would get reckless," Ayla accused.

"If I'd have thought you were in danger, I would have given you a hint or two. As it was, the only question was whether you'd rescue her from her own stupidity and anger."

"Which you no doubt bet on." Ayla scowled at his friend. "What kind of odds did you get?"

"Good enough." One of the Diabolik girl's eyebrows arched. "What happened with Aquerna? I missed it, but it sounded like Jayne got pretty rough."

"That's another understatement," Ayla snorted. "I didn't think she was so petty that she'd transfer her anger at me to Anna just because Anna is my friend."

"For a while, I was worried that you weren't going to patch up your friendships after that mess with Chou. I'm glad this isn't like that unpleasantness at Franklin Academy all over again." Jadis smiled pleasantly to soften the reminder. "So what happened?"

Ayla shook his head sadly. "As soon as they started, Jayne went vertical and found Anna. She tried to torch the park area so Anna couldn't do what she did to Buster."

"At least she demonstrated that she can learn from others' mistakes," Jadis commented dryly.

"Anna dodged several of Jayne's energy balls, but Jayne wasn't trying to hit her. She was herding Anna away from the park into a dead-end alley. Once she was trapped with no way out, Anna got hit pretty hard. Jayne must have figured she was down, because she left her and went looking for the hostage to rescue."

"That's how most students figure the finals will go - knock out the opponent and then take on the villains."

"But you know otherwise," Ayla said wryly, watching for a hint on Jadis' face which was not forthcoming. "Well, it hasn't worked out well for anybody except Generator," Ayla chuckled. "The word is that the scenarios are set up to require cooperation."

Jadis smiled pleasantly instead of confirming Ayla's supposition, which was not out of character. No matter how good of friends they were, Jadis and Ayla each had their separate sources and both knew the value of information as well as when to share and when not to share that info.

"Jayne took out three henchmen on the ground floor with her energy attacks, and a sniper atop another building. When she went into the building through a second floor balcony, the main villain hit her with an energy cannon."

"Ouch!"

"I was told that she was hurt worse than when I hit her with a heavy ball bearing last term. In addition to the energy blast, she was hurt pretty badly by the fall," Ayla reported, wincing at the memory of how badly he'd hurt Golden Girl in martial arts.

"That had to hurt her grade," Jadis said with only a tiny bit of sympathy in her voice. If one wasn't in Golden Girl's social circle, she would be at best rude, if not downright nasty. "So they both probably failed?"

"No," Ayla replied with a grin. "I think Anna ended up with a good grade. Jayne left her down, but Anna's tougher than she looks. She climbed up a building to scout around and stumbled into a second sniper position. After taking the sniper out while he was trying to get a shot at Jayne, Anna used that rifle against the main villain while he was gloating over hitting Jayne."

"Did she take him out?"

"No, but she put a hurt on him and had him at a standoff where he couldn't get back to the hostage without exposing himself to more fire, but she couldn't move from her cover because of his energy weapon. She ran out of time." There was more than a hint of pride in Ayla's voice at how his friend had acquitted herself in her final.

"She hasn't taken any firearms classes, though," Jadis sounded a little skeptical. "How could she ...?"

"Apparently, Anna's dad ..." Ayla started to say, but he paused when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Sam Everheart approaching. He shrugged and finished his thought. "Anna's dad thought handling firearms was a very important skill for his children. She surprised a lot of people with that talent, Gunny and Ito most of all." Ayla turned slightly. "Good evening, Admiral."

"Good evening, Ayla," Sam responded. "Jadis."

"If I were to guess," Ayla said circumspectly, "I'd say you're rather concerned about something security related and you'd like to know if I've heard anything helpful." He watched Sam's eyebrows arch, while Jadis sat unperturbed; if anything, she was slightly amused by the fact that the deputy chief of security was about to ask Ayla for information.

"Reasonable inference," Sam replied, acknowledging Ayla's deductive skills.

"And as it's time for Spring Combat Finals," Jadis decided to join the conversation, "it stands to reason that there's concern about the security of the information relating to said combat finals, true?"

Sam shook her head, chuckling. "It's easy to see why so many adults around here underestimate you kids." She nodded. "Okay. Let's suppose - hypothetically - that certain external concerns who capitalize on wagering on our combat finals were to get ahold of information about the matches and the powers of the contestants for each match. How much do you suppose said information would be worth?"

Jadis didn't take the bait, but Ayla had no reason to not cooperate with Sam. "Based on what I uncovered for our fall finals, I'd estimate that the total cash flow for these two weeks is in the neighborhood of twenty to twenty-five billion dollars, counting pay-per-view and direct gambling, not counting the international casinos and betting houses."

"Billion?!?" Sam's eyebrows both arched nearly to the top of her head. "Okay, so it's a lucrative business."

"Margins are pretty thin, though," Ayla cautioned. "Gambling runs two to two-and-a-half percent margin for the house."

"More like three and a quarter," Jadis corrected him. When Ayla cocked an eyebrow at her, she shrugged. "But close enough for your point."

"So we're talking about over half a billion up for grabs."

"Anything that would tilt the odds in the house's favor, even a quarter of a percentage point, is millions of dollars of potential profit."

Sam sighed. "Enough of an upside to pay off someone for the data?" she asked rhetorically.

"And it'd be very difficult to prove conclusively," Ayla added. "You're talking about finding small differences in profits and showing a statistically significant correlation between the odds offered, the house profits, and the match pairings. And then you'd have to prove the leak of data and that said data altered the odds in the house's favor."

Sam nodded glumly. "How are your skills in statistics?"

"You're asking if I could do an analysis of whatever data you're collecting?" Ayla looked a little surprised by the implied request. He shook his head. "I haven't had statistics yet. You'd be better off asking the Math Department."

"I already did. With class finals, they're overloaded right now." Sam noticed a little smirk on Jadis' face. "What?" she asked, a little miffed.

"Hypothetically," she began, "if someone were to have cracked the extra security this term, they'd need a contact to feed the information to one or more big-ticket bookies. So it's doubtful that you're talking about a single individual acting alone. Otherwise, they'd be dealing with small sums of money."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Purely hypothetically," Jadis cautioned, "if the data was compromised, it could easily have been picked up by multiple parties. Not everyone would be well connected, so someone might sell the information to various ... interested students that could afford to pay for data about their finals before the fact."

"Which could lead to the leak," Sam concluded. "While it wouldn't necessarily finger the contact with the gambling houses, it would help us plug the leak."

"To do that, you're going to have to work with Sensei Ito and Gunny to compare expectations versus actual performance, and also try to trace all communications and money transfers among student accounts, and also track down the wagering," Ayla added with a grim expression.

Jadis nodded her agreement. "You won't be able to plug the leak this term, but if you find the source, you might - might - be able to stop it for future finals."

Ayla rose. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going back to the Arena to meet my team-mates and see if there are any more interesting finals."

Sam Everheart rose as well. "I'll walk over with you, Ayla."

Jadis nodded, a knowing expression on her face. "Catch you later, Ayla," she said simply.

As soon as they were out of range of Jadis, without losing a step or slowing, Sam asked, "What's on your mind, Ayla?"

"Am I getting predictable?" Ayla asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"To the observant, yes," Sam chuckled.

Ayla bit his lip for a moment. "Someone knew that I'd be fighting Tissy," he said hesitantly. "Jayne swapped out her meds - probably hoping Tissy would barbeque me. You don't maybe have a leak; you definitely have a leak."

A serious grimace flitted across Sam's features before she could properly school her expression. "That confirms what we suspected - that despite our precautions, somebody somehow got the data."

* * * * * * * * * *

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 - Early Evening
Arena 99 Briefing Room, Whateley Academy

Miasma jogged to the waiting room, almost bouncing with excitement. His combat final was the last of the day. They'd probably want to air out the arena overnight after he was done getting a B- this time, especially with all his new tricks. He'd been happy with his C- in the fall combat final, but just like Sensei Ito and the Gunny Bardue had recommended, he'd taken Survival Class, and had followed his own advice for holdouts. He'd begged Fixx and Bluescreen for some help with the holdouts and they'd come through for him - after he promised to lay off any beans, chili, salsa, and soda for a month. Under his coat were four gas grenades, each one holding a concentrated dose of his worst flatulence. The one time they'd set off the prototypes, the range staff had needed to decontaminate Range 5. These weren't as strong but they were still impressive. He also had a few other tricks involving sparks and flames; he was going to be one dangerous underdog now.

When he opened the door he was greeted by a shout of dismay.

"You have got to be joking!" the pretty sophomore model Pristine shouted. "You've teamed me up with him?"

The old sergeant smiled. "Think of it as a fairy tale, like beauty and the stink. Here's the situation, we have a supervillain in a tech lab with the head of research team being held hostage. They need him to gain access to the vault, which will take no more twenty minutes. Once they've completed that the hostage is of no further use and will almost certainly be killed. There are an unknown number of henchmen in the building, with weapons starting at light machine guns and going up from there."

"Please tell me," Pristine interrupted, almost pleading for mercy, "who did I insult to get him as my partner? I swear I didn't mean to do whatever it was I did wrong. Do you know what he did to the February Venus Inc. meeting? He melted eight rolls of film with one fart and I had to throw out a five hundred dollar top because I couldn't get the smell out. There has to be someone else I can do this with!"

Ito, who had remained silent up to that point, smiled; it was an evil little smile, and Miasma saw Pristine lean back gulping noisily. "There is one student we've had trouble placing. I'm sure Peeper would be very happy to work with you if we call him now," the evil little midget said.

Pristine didn't even blink, a dazzling smile came to her lips as she turned to look at Miasma. "So, my dear comrade in arms, we... should definitely... work together, right?"

"Uh, yeah sure," he agreed, never having a beautiful girl, or any girl really, smiling so nicely at him. Best combat final ever, he thought, as he let one rip making everyone in the room recoil in disgust.

"Now that you lovebirds have that out of the way, you have to get the hostage out of the building and to the police to win. Pris you're at the south gate, Miasma you're at the north one. Get going," Sergeant Bardue gasped.

* * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Running along the street, Miasma saw that Pristine was already outside the tech lab crouched down in an alley; she'd stripped out of her regular clothes revealing a skin tight cat suit underneath. She wasn't doing a very good job hiding, considering that the suit she was wearing was a brilliant white, while the shoulders and upper arms had a blue and white square pattern done up in beads, with a beaded blue and red belt set at an angle on her hips At least his suit didn't stick out, being a pair of tough jeans and a leather jacket with a simple domino mask. It was also more comfortable then his old gas mask he'd used in the fall finals.

Crouching down beside her, he looked over the building and tried to figure out the best way in. No ideas came to him; they hadn't covered running into a building full of henchmen in survival class. He knew how to run out of a building, but that was about it.

"Do you have any holdouts?" Pristine asked, almost afraid of what he might answer.

"Four gas grenades, a couple of sparkers I can throw to blow up the gas or blind people, and a lighter," he told her.

"Don't throw those unless we absolutely have to, and warn me first. I'm going to go in the front door. My force field will protect me from almost anything they should have. I want you to go around to the other side and in the back door when you hear gunfire. The hostage is probably near the top floor, so make your way up there as quietly as possible, and I'll keep the attention on me. Got it?" she asked.

"Shouldn't we stick together? In horror movies, when you split up bad things always happen."

"You're power is definitely one where working alone is better. Now get going. In one minute I'm going in."

He took off at an easy run.

* * * * * * * * * *

Pristine sighed with relief as her... partner took her advice. She might lose some points splitting up, but at least she wouldn't have to smell him, and there was a remote chance that he'd be able to actually do something useful coming in from the back.

When she touched a button on her wrist, the time appeared through the fabric. She waited precisely one minute before she leaped to her feet, her force-field surrounding and protecting her as she dashed across the street. There was movement inside the lobby and she saw the muzzles of some guns. She gave a silent 'thank you' when she saw that they appeared to be normal weapons - no sonics, lasers or gases; she still had nightmares about Halloween when she'd learned how limited her force-field really was against energy weapons. With a well-trained spin kick the door was knocked off its hinges thanks to her exemplar 3 muscles.

Bullets tore through the air at her, only to stop dead and fall to the ground a foot away from her body. Smiling at how easy this was going, she pushed her force-field forward, pinning the nearest henchman against the wall, while ensuring she was still protected. Walking up to him, she slid the invisible wall to the side and punched the man in the face before he could react, breaking his jaw and sending him to the ground out of the fight.

Without waiting, she walked as gracefully as if she were on a runway towards the other shooters.

* * * * * * * * * *

Miasma heard gunfire echoing inside the building, which was his cue. Without looking he opened the door and involuntarily screamed when a bullet almost took his head off. Leaping to the side, his fart - released accidentally from fright - temporally drowned out the guns and the call of the henchman for backup. He fumbled in his jacket for his first grenade. Pulling the pin, he tossed it through the door; a moment later came the sound of a hundred farts, and even he gagged for a second at the smell.

Stepping into the hallway he stepped over the pool of vomit and the unconscious simulated henchmen. The hologram that gave it shape on the ANT body flickered and died as the circuits corroded from the noxious and potent gases. There were cries for air from the stairs and two more henchmen fell holding their throats while trying to cover their mouths.

He made a mental note to thank his friends again for making the grenades.

Jogging up the stairs he wondered if it would all be this easy.

* * * * * * * * * *

Pristine looked at her watch; there was only five minutes left, and even though she was moving more quickly now, the henchmen had slowed her down. Reaching the top floor, she saw Miasma coming up the other way. His clothes looked dulled and worn out, even threadbare in places, and paint on walls and doors peeled as he walked past.

"What took you so long?" she demanded.

"I had to deal with some guys," he said apologetically, but then he grinned as he moved toward her. "But my gas grenades work great."

From fifteen feet away, she smelled him. "Oh God! Stay back!" she shouted, trying not to throw up.

She grabbed a mask from her belt, clamping it over her mouth and nose, and happily drank in the filtered air. Once her lungs were clear again, she clipped the mask on to her cowl to free her hands. Despite her watering, stinging eyes from what little gas penetrated and overwhelmed her gas mask, she could handle being near the stench engine.

"All right, they have to be holed up behind that door," she said pointing at a large metal door. "I'll go in first. If and only if we meet a lot of resistance, use your gas, but I want you to grab the scientist and run the first chance you get," she ordered him.

"Got it."

She kicked the door open and spread her force field outwards, shoving anyone waiting to shoot back as fast and as hard as she could. There was just enough time to yell as a laser beam struck her in the chest from across the room.

* * * * * * * * * *

Miasma watched Pristine go down like a limp rag. She was still breathing, but her suit was ripped open, revealing the armor underneath the outer layer. He panicked as the laser turned on him, and tossed his last two grenades as quickly as he could.

Before they went off the laser fired again missing him by inches, but the red beam was moving in his direction. With a scream of terror, he threw a small flash-bang grenade that was supposed to stun an enemy for a second or two as well as create a spark to light his gas.

Miasma didn't realize just how potent two of the gas grenades were, or how volatile the gas was. All three gadgets exploded at the same time. The last thing he saw before a ball of flame filled the room was Pristine raising her hand and shouting something he couldn't make out over the roar, but it sounded very similar to 'You idiot!'

* * * * * * * * * *

Every window on the top floor of the building exploded outwards with a mix of greenish brown smoke and flame. The audience watching from above screamed in horror, and the arena portals opened almost immediately to let medics run in; close on their heels were every available healer in the arena.

They all came to a screeching halt just outside the building, overcome by the smell from the wave of gas that overtook them, turning their clothes a sickly yellowish-brown and making it almost impossible to see.

From the choking, noxious brown smoke staggered a figure holding two people over her shoulders. The usually graceful exemplar Pristine looked terrible. Her suit was scorched, the white turned to a greenish brown, her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was smoking.

With a growl Pristine gave the unconscious Miasma to the medics. Stumbling to Sergeant Bardue she handed over the simulated hostage that was still functional. Barely. "Here's the hostage, He's alive," she rasped.

"Good job." Like everyone else, Bardue was trying not to breathe too deeply.

"I don't care what grade you give me, just Get. Out. Of. My. Way!" she demanded through clenched teeth. "My hair is ruined, I have to burn this suit, and I need a very long shower."

Bardue hastily moved to the side holding his hands up defensively; even a tough gunnery sergeant knew when not to provoke an incensed exemplar girl.

"I should have taken Peeper as a partner!" Pristine growled as she left.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, May 30, 2007 - Morning
Tunnels beneath Bleachers, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

The sight of four approaching security men caused a ripple of noise and then slowly silence descended on the crowd of students in the tunnels. At the head of the group was Admiral Everheart. She meant business about something.

"May I have your attention, please?" Sam called out, heard clearly in the silence. "Per fire code, congregating in the tunnels is considered hazardous because it might block fire exits. For that reason, you are asked to keep these tunnels clear. Is that understood?"

Immediately, the murmurs of disappointment and disgust filled the corridor, but the students began to shuffle to back into the arena bleachers or away from the area.

"Well, shit!" Risk grumbled as his 'customers', muttering under their breath, walked away from his area.

"That means you, too," Sam said firmly to the boy.

"You know, you're making it really hard to do business," Risk complained.

Sam shook her head. "Not my call. Someone higher up the chain wanted to make sure we adhered to safety rules, especially with so many students watching the finals." She suddenly had a thought; if she played 'good cop' with Risk, she might get some useful information from him.

"And they want to shut down gambling, too, right?" Risk asked sarcastically.

"It is discouraged in the handbook." Sam replied with a knowing smile.

"But not prohibited," Risk shot back. "And they're going to anyway. We all figure that the administration lets us do this to try to keep a handle on betting."

Sam simply shrugged. "Could be. That's not my call, either." She looked at the other bookies clearing the tunnel; most were going into the bleachers, where there would still be students congregating around them to wager.

"So what are you going to do now? Take betting in the stands?"

Risk shrugged again. "I don't know. I'll figure something out."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Tweak? Booker." The bookie spoke softly into his cell phone around the corner from the main tunnel and restrooms. "We got a minor problem."

"Oh? What?"

"Security shut down the betting in the tunnel."

"So what are you going to do?" the girl asked.

"Got an idea. How fast can you whip up a cell phone app that'll let me push odds to potential customers and take bets from them?"

"Hmm," Tweak stroked her chin for a couple of seconds. "Got a couple of apps I think I can cobble together and modify for what you want."

"How long?" Booker sounded desperate.

"Twenty, maybe thirty minutes."

"Do it. I need to get ahead of the betting, and I know from experience that it's too hard in the stands."

"How are we doing overall?" Tweak couldn't help asking.

"Pretty good. I've thrown a couple so it looks random, but I'm probably fifteen percent ahead of any other bookie. You get me that app and I'll pretty much own a few matches until someone else gets something equivalent deployed."

"I'm on it. I'll let you know when it's ready. Bye." Tweak hung up the phone and turned back to her computer.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, May 30, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

"What have we got, Bomber?" Deadeye demanded of his comm unit. With the exception of the flier, the Grunts were huddled near the police command post a block away from the cordoned-off city block where a notorious villain named Grosse Knall had twelve hostages in an office building and had provided video to show that they were all wired with explosive vests. Grosse Knall was a high-level gadgeteer specializing in explosives and pyrotechnics.

"No movement outside; just the police barricades and a few snoopy reporters."

"Any idea how many opponents?"

"Seven known accomplices, all inside. Reported to have squad automatic weapons and grenades," Breaker, huddled down with the group, echoed what the briefing had told them.

"Anything else you see?" Deadeye demanded.

"Buildings Bravo 2 and Delta 4 look like good sniper positions with a good view of most of the area and into the hostage area."

"Yeah, I was looking at Delta 4. It's probably got the best battlefield view." Deadeye looked around his compatriots.

"You're going to have to take out the villain before he can detonate the bombs," Mule said casually. "If we rush, he'll have time to blow the building to kingdom come."

"Do see the armored car?" Deadeye asked. As part of the demands, the villain had demanded an armored vehicle, which the police had provided to buy time.

"By the loading dock."

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'll get to the sniper post. Mule, Bunker, Slapdash, you're Alpha team; get in position on the north side. Lancer and Breaker, Bravo team, and you've got the south. When we're all ready, I'll take out Grosse Knall. That's the signal. Bomber, take out the armored vehicle when you hear the shot. The other two teams, standard breach and enter. Alpha, take out the elevators and then ascend the north fire stairs. Bravo, up the south fire stairs. And remember, we've got three guardsmen in power armor suits on the cordon line to help if we need them. Any questions?"

The team had worked so well together for so many sims that they knew precisely what each would do. "Okay, let's do this."

* * * * * * * * * *

"In position," Deadeye reported. "I've got a clear shot at Grosse Knall, and it looks like one of his henchmen is with him."

"Alpha team, ready to breach."

"Bravo team, ready."

"High cover, ready whenever you are."

"Still clear?"

"Everything looks clear," Bomber replied easily.

"Okay." Deadeye lined up his rifle scope on the villain's head. It was almost too easy; the villain had picked a spot that was very, very visible to his sniper post. "In three," he took a deep breath, "two," and exhaled, holding it out, "one," and squeezed the trigger.

No sooner had the first shot been fired than Deadeye swung the rifle slightly to align on the man by the villain who was carrying a submachine gun. Another trigger squeeze, another round sent on its way, and another opponent was going down.

* * * * * * * * * *

The crack of a rifle shot was the signal Alpha team needed; Bunker put a concussion grenade from her missile launcher into the entrance. Mule and Slapdash were running toward the shattered glass door even before the round went off. Their vantage point had a clear line of sight to the bank of elevators; a minor adjustment in aim and Bunker sent two RPG-like rounds into the elevator doors; the resulting explosions almost totally destroyed the elevator cars.

* * * * * * * * * *

As soon as Bunker's first grenade exploded, Lancer and Breaker dashed to the entrance. There were henchmen inside the door, but they were a little dazed by the trio of explosions, and before they could fire, Breaker sent a concussion wave at them, bowling them over. Lancer's M-4 carbine made sure they couldn't get up.

* * * * * * * * * *

The uneasy feeling that something was wrong really tugged at Deadeye; his two shots had been way too easy. And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of light and smoke rising into the sky. It only took a moment for him to recognize the signature trail of a surface-to-air missile.

"SAM - five o'clock, Bomber!" he cried frantically, even as the roof around him erupted in smoke and debris from a lethal hail of gunfire. Too late, he realized that his position was being fired on from a taller building - behind him and the rescue team. With a sickening feeling, he understood what had happened.

* * * * * * * * * *

Bomber was lining up on the armored car when by pure luck he noticed a white smoke trail. For a moment, he was transfixed, and then he broke hard to his right to hopefully evade the missile he knew was rising toward him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Slapdash was knocked forward by a massive hammer-blow to the rear of his armor. Stunned, he rolled as soon as he hit the ground, just in time to avoid several more high-caliber rounds which impacted the ground. "It's a trap!" he cried into his mic.

Nearby, Bunker had taken shelter behind a car, which was being ripped to shreds by gunfire - from behind them. "Taking fire from the rear," she reported, her voice a little strained. "I'm pinned down."

After being knocked over by heavy fire from the rear, which hadn't penetrated his TK shield, Mule turned and began to return fire to the attackers. It was haphazard; the attack was coming from multiple windows of the building to their rear. He allowed himself a brief bit of hope when he saw two suits of power armor clomping down the street, but that hope was extinguished the moment he realized that they were firing on Slapdash.

"Deadeye," he spoke in a calm voice that belied the situation. "Deadeye," he repeated twice more. "Bomber?"

"I'm taking ground fire," Bomber retorted immediately and frantically. "Missiles and machine guns!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Lancer recoiled from the brilliant flash as an RPG exploded at point-blank range; if it hadn't been for his PK field, he'd be quite dead. A glance to the side showed him that Breaker hadn't been so lucky; he was down.

"Breaker is down! Breaker is down!" he reported urgently. "Taking fire from all sides."

"So are we!" Bunker replied. "I think Deadeye is down, and Bomber is busy with triple-A!"

"Get inside the building and find cover!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Mule, with his nearly impervious TK shield, waded into the oncoming swarm of para-military thugs, ignoring their attempts to shoot him while his own weapon barked and mowed down a dozen or more attackers. Realizing that Bunker was still firing from her position, he began to back up toward her, still angrily shooting the oncoming mercenaries.

When a can sailed over his head, he ignored it; a grenade had no more chance against his field than rifle rounds or RPGs. But the can bounced and erupted in a cloud of thick white smoke which drifted toward him. He turned to run, but already tendrils of the neuro-paralyzing gas were seeping through his shield - one of its few vulnerabilities - and he got no more than a couple of steps before he was immobilized.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lancer hung in the air helplessly, an expression of pure shock on his face, as the man before him, wearing a silly mask, taunted him. Clearly, the man was a telekinetic, and as he was dangling in the air, unable to get a purchase on any surface and unable to fly away, Lancer had few options. He took one that he knew of; reaching slowly behind his back, his hand grasped the pistol tucked in a back waist holster.

The look on the telekinet's face was something Lancer would never forget. In milliseconds, he went from gloating and taunting to sheer horror, and then his facial expression froze as the .45 caliber bullet smashed into the opponent's head.

Instantly, Lancer fell as the telekinet's grip on him failed, and Lancer had a fraction of a second to realize what had gone wrong. With no purchase on a solid surface, the recoil of the 1911 pistol had him spinning end-over-end and twirling, which disorientated him enough that when the telekinet released his grip, Lancer wasn't ready to fly himself, and when he fell, it was head-first. Even though he was only ten or twelve feet high, and even though his PK field protected him against shock, the concussive force on his skull and neck as he hit the ground knocked him out.

* * * * * * * * * *

With Mule down from the paralyzing gas and with two power suits closing on him, and his own powered armor damaged from a barrage of energy and kinetic weapons, Slapdash knew that the situation was hopeless. Still ....

"Get in the building to the hostages," he barked at Bunker. "I'll cover you." He looked quickly to both sides, to the single suit approaching from his left and the pair closing from his right. "What was that line?" he asked himself rhetorically. "I always wanted to fight a desperate battle against impossible odds?"

Bunker raced up the stairs, knowing in her heart that the mission was blown, that it had all been a trap, and that the team was gone - except for her. Still, she could get to the hostages; surely that would count for something! She burst through the fire door onto the third floor, onto an open office space where a dozen or more people sat by the walls, each wearing a vest. In the center of the floor were two bodies, shattered by the sniper rounds from Deadeye.

"Are you here to rescue us?" one of the hostages, a meek-looking woman in her fifties asked.

Bunker nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Good," the woman sighed with relief, a sound which echoed around the hostages. And then she smiled curiously, wickedly. Too late, Bunker realized that something in the situation was very wrong. From the woman's waist, a large-caliber handgun appeared, and the business end swung to Bunker's face. "And so ends our pesky little hero team."

The gun barked, and darkness closed around Bunker.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, May 30, 2007 - Mid-Morning
Tunnel beneath Arena 99, Whateley Academy

When she saw the bookie heading for the restroom, the deputy security chief saw an opportunity to pry for more information. "Hey, Risk, can I talk to you?" She was still focused on the 'good cop' approach to the Poesie.

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"How long did the Grunts last? I was tied up on a security call."

Risk chuckled. "Two minutes, thirty-eight.

"So my wager of two minutes thirty ....?"

"You're within the fifteen seconds. Is it okay if I drop off your winnings at your office at the end of the day?"

"That's fine."

"You didn't have some inside information on that, did you?" Risk's question could have sounded snarky or accusatory, but it came across as light-hearted, as he'd intended.

"Who, me?" Sam guffawed. "I knew who was fighting whom, but not the details of the scenarios, so I was as much in the dark on that one as anyone. Speaking of the Grunts, how did you do on that one?" Sam couldn't contain her curiosity.

Risk winced visibly. "Not good. Everyone knew that Gunny was going to hit them hard, so my odds were heavily against them winning. But I got a little optimistic that they'd last longer."

"Problem?"

"Nah," Risk shook his head. "Ayla's covering me, and besides, I'm way ahead for the finals anyway."

"How did the others do?"

Risk shrugged again. "Boxcars got taken to the cleaners. Booker did okay - maybe a little better than me. Memo had it pretty nailed; she cleaned up I think."

"You think she had inside info?" Sam asked, eyebrows arching.

"If she did, some of her other odds would be red herrings, because she's blown several of the matches," Risk countered.

Sam nodded, and then walked away, thinking to herself. Betting wasn't against regulations, even for staff, and it did get her a little closer to the bookies and their action. But so far, those efforts had been for naught; despite winning quite a bit of money on the wagers, she hadn't learned anything or seen any patterns in the odds offered by the bookies.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, May 30, 2007 - Late afternoon
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Feeling like her whole body was trembling, Adalie forced herself to walk down the street toward her opponent, who stood in an intersection grinning with anticipation.

"I see y'all decided to get it over quick this time," Armadillo sneered.

"I am not 'ere to fight you," Adalie replied, her voice quavering.

"Just like last time, I see. Gonna run away? Or did you bring a white flag to surrender?"

"I am not 'ere to surrender, either," Adalie stated.

"Oh no?" The ultra-violent boy, in his manifested armadillo-armor, punched suddenly at the girl.

Only she wasn't where the punch would have landed - at least not when it should have hit her. Dodging to one side, Addy used the boy's momentum against him, flipping him over her hip just like she'd learned the hard way in basic martial arts.

Armadillo was experienced enough to roll back to his feet. Slowly, rage suffused his expression. "Y'all are gonna get a beatdown for that!" Using his telekinetic power, he held the girl firmly and pulled her toward him, fists cocked and ready to apply a lesson in pain.

What he didn't expect was for the girl to be grinning. As he swung, she ducked under the wildly-flying arm, grasping it and pulling herself to his side. Her motion interrupted Armadillo's concentration, and his telekinetic grasp of her vanished as she flung him once more to the ground, this time with one arm twisted painfully. In her other hand, to Armadillo's immense surprise, was a tomahawk just like everyone knew Kayda carried. Adalie's arm was bent and ready to deliver a nasty blow to the boy. He goggled at her, stunned and a little frightened by how easily she'd turned the fight against him. He was more experienced, but he'd made a possibly fatal error in underestimating her; after the fall combat final, nobody, including him, ever expected her to fight well and to carry some rather lethal holdouts.

Adalie grinned when she saw him staring at the raised tomahawk. "Oh, I bet you and your friends did not know that I 'ave been studying this ... interesting weapon with Kayda and 'er tutor. If you will listen to me, I will let you up. Okay?" She thought a moment before adding, "And in case you intend to deceive me, I do know 'ow to throw this quite well, just like Kayda does."

Still startled at the rapidity with which the girl had so effectively subdued him, Armadillo nodded. In response, Adalie lowered the tomahawk and released his arm, pulling herself very quickly out of his range should he change his mind.

"Aren't you gonna fight to see who gets to rescue the hostage?" Armadillo asked cautiously.

"Are you blind as well as dumb?" Addy declared in exasperation, frustrated and stupefied by his attitude. "'Ave you not been paying attention to the other finals?" she asked, shaking her head slightly. When he gave a tiny nod, she continued. "They you will 'ave noticed that the ones who try to fight alone never win! Only when the two fight together do they even 'ave 'alf a chance of succeeding!"

Armadillo gazed at her, puzzling her statement as he considered the previous finals. "Wait, so you're sayin' y'all think we should team up?" he finally asked.

"If you want a good grade like I do, oui! But if not, I can fight back. I can just run out of range of your TK, and then either avoid a fight or take you by surprise." She glared at the boy. "So which will it be? A fight on my terms, or try for a good grade?"

"I s'pose we ought t' try for a grade," Armadillo finally answered, sounding a little subdued and quite unsure of himself.

"Then let's see if we can't find out where the 'ostage is being 'eld."

* * * * * * * * * *

"'Ow are we going to approach the 'ouse?" Addy asked, her voice echoing her sense of hopelessness and frustration. The two stood by a building at the edge of a small field; the target' house where the kidnapping victim was being held was in the center of a very open area; the villain and his henchmen would have no difficulty spotting anyone approaching via the street near the house or across the open fields.

Armadillo grinned. "I got an idea. Come with me."

Perplexed, Addy followed the boy around a corner. Glancing around, he pulled something out of a pocket and jimmied the door of a car open. Another tool yanked the ignition key cylinder out of the steering column, and he had the motor started. Total time, start to finish - under twenty seconds.

"You do know how to drive, don't you?" he asked somewhat sarcastically.

"But of course," Addy replied.

"Then here's what you're gonna do...."

* * * * * * * * * *

The henchmen were a little more vigilant when a car drove down the road in front of their lair, but it wasn't out of the ordinary. At least, not until, with a loud pop, one of the rear tires blew, pulling the car out of control. It careened through a wrought-iron fence that surrounded the house, coming to a stop against a tree.

Inside the car, Addy wondered how Armadillo had caused the tire to blow at the critical time, but she was grateful. Now, she had to play the role of a banged-up, helpless girl. She slumped forward against the steering wheel, one eye open a crack as she watched two goons approaching.

The two were good, Addy had to admit. They circled the car from different directions, guns in hand, looking carefully in the back seat and on the passenger floorboards for any unpleasant surprises, one stopping on the passenger side while the other peered into the drivers' side. Seeing an unconscious girl, the one goon opened the door to check on the crash victim.

At the rear of the car, Armadillo gently eased the trunk open an inch or so; he couldn't see the house but he could hear two - no, wait, make that three - thugs. The third was farther away, probably near the house. He glanced down again at the inner fender of the car, now torn apart by the manifested claws of his armadillo shell. It had been trivial to rip that open and then, at a strategic time, use those same claws to shred the tire and cause a blowout. It wasn't as much fun as a good old-fashioned beatdown, but it still gave him a little satisfaction.

Now, though, it was time for some serious head-bashing. Popping open the trunk, he rolled out to the ground, coming up on his feet. Even as the startled goon at the passenger door swung his gun toward the boy, he used his TK to yank the gun from the thug's hand. The hired goon, open-mouthed in shock, was watching his gun mysteriously fly away, and only turned back to the boy just as Armadillo's claws tore half his face off. A fraction of a second later, the boy finished disemboweling the thug.

As soon as she heard the trunk open, Adalie grabbed the arm of the goon looking in the window, pulling inward even as she crashed herself against the door and into the henchman's body. Before he could even think of aiming his gun at her, she had him disarmed and landed five or six hard blows at his head. She let the thug sink to the ground, unconscious.

Seeing Armadillo having a little extra fun beating up the one goon, Adalie turned toward the house and saw a guy charging her way, a gun in his hand. The tomahawk she'd borrowed from Kayda - without telling anyone that it wasn't part of her normal gear - flew straight and true, embedding itself in the goon's chest. He dropped like a wet sack of cement.

"You go in the front," Addy said urgently to Armadillo. "I'll go around the back - in case they try to escape that way."

Grinning with anticipation of another fight, Armadillo charged into the house, right into a bulky goon. Instantly, the two were engaged in battle, the boy grinning malevolently as he let loose his violent side.

Adalie ran swiftly around the house, and when she saw two guys - one holding a hostage - running from the house, she kicked into high gear. At nearly ninety miles an hour, she ran in an ever-tightening circle around the two, one of whom made the mistake of trying to watch her. A few shots rang out - and all were way behind her since she was going so fast and the goon didn't lead her enough. He wobbled, and Addy swooped in, knocking him over before she administered several rapid blows to his head.

The head villain was backing toward the house again, the hostage in one hand and a gun in the other, pointing at the hostage's head. "One move and he's dead!" the villain hissed. Slowly, he backed up toward the house that was strangely devoid of the noise of a violent fight that had been so pronounced only moments before.

Addy looked helplessly at the hostage, knowing she'd never be quick enough to intervene before the villain pulled the trigger. "You should let 'im go," she said to the villain. "You know the police will be 'ere in moments to arrest you."

"Not while I've got a hostage!" the villain sneered, still backing toward the safety of the house.

And then from behind him, Armadillo yanked the gun away, tearing the villain's arm half-off in the process. Ready from having seen him in the doorway, Adalie darted in toward the hostage, yanking the kid free of the villain's arm even as Armadillo tore into him again. The air horn sounded, while the ultra-violent boy continued to pound the simulated villain, with simulated guts and blood spraying everywhere. Only when he realized the goon wasn't fighting back did the rage recede from Armadillo's mind.

"What ... what happened?" he asked, semi-dazed and covered in blood spatters.

Adalie swallowed hard, fighting her nerves. "I think we won."

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, May 30, 2007 - Late afternoon
Room 3, Range 99, Whateley Arena

"That was interesting," Sensei Ito commented unemotionally as he and Gunny Bardue walked into the room for the debrief. "It seems you learned something of fighting after all, Miss Vitesse."

Addy sat in a chair, trembling. "I do not like fighting like that," she said, ashen-faced. "I 'ate it!"

"Nevertheless," Gunny said, "you were able to fight when you needed to."

"What was the worst part?" Ito asked.

"I ... I was terrified!" Addy confessed, her eyes misting. "The men, and the villain - and even that ... 'e ... might turn on me." She glanced at Armadillo as she spoke the last bit.

"But you acquitted yourself reasonably well." Bardue handed Adalie a folded slip of paper.

"An A?" the girl asked, stunned. "I got an A?"

"You managed to convince Armadillo to team with you," Ito said, and then he arched an eyebrow, "although your method of persuasion was a little unorthodox. You worked reasonably well together. You showed some unexpected skills with Pejuta's tomahawk ...."

"It is my tomahawk," Addy replied sternly. "A gift from Monsieur Two Knives. So I could protect myself if needed."

Bardue nodded and then turned to the boy, handing him a paper as well.

"A minus?" Armadillo asked, stunned.

"You were resourceful in hotwiring a car, although I can't help but be curious as to where and why you learned such skills," Ito said wryly. "You partnered to perform the rescue, even though it was admittedly under duress. But you allowed yourself to be distracted a little because you were enjoying a good fight."

After the instructors left, Armadillo looked at Adalie. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For helpin' me get an A-minus. I ain't never had a grade that good before."

"It was my grade, too," Adalie said humbly.

"Sometime," the boy said eagerly, "I'd like to fight you - one-on-one, like the fall combat final."

"Non," Adalie said firmly. "I know 'ow to fight, and I can defend myself, but I 'ate it."

"That's too bad," Armadillo replied wistfully. "Coulda had a hella fun fight."

******

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, May 30, 2007 - Late Evening
Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

"Sorry about the time," Sam apologized toward the speakerphone.

"It comes with the territory." Liz Carson's voice sounded a tiny bit fatigued; the surprising thing was that she didn't sound even more tired given all the unusual events that normally transpired during finals. "Who have you got with you?"

"Just the Chief. Gunny and Tetsuo are still busy closing up the arena and doing prep for tomorrow," Sam answered immediately.

"I assume this is about the betting and our security breach?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, we'll get word to them when they finish if we need their help on anything. Amelia is in the office with me. What have you got?"

Sam couldn't help shaking her head out of reflex, even though Liz and Amelia couldn't see. "Nothing so far."

"You didn't find any disruptions in the betting patterns when you disrupted the bookies?"

"No. Blue and Cyberkitty were pulling data from the casinos the whole time. There was no discernable change in odds or betting for the two finals before our bookies were back in business in any major way. By the way, Amelia," Sam added, "you owe me fifty."

"Oh?" Amelia Hartford's voice echoed with curiosity.

"Booker was first on-line on the smart-phones in forty-seven minutes. Hazard took the longest at one hour thirty-five." Sam permitted herself a thin smile. "You said it'd take at least fifty-five minutes for someone to get on-line."

"I knew you wouldn't keep them out of action for long," Amelia sounded amused by the creativity of the students, even though she'd lost a small wager.

"I'd like to try something a little more extreme tomorrow."

"What?" The curiosity in Liz's voice was almost palpable.

"I'd like to take the cell phone relays in the arena off-line tomorrow."

"You didn't get anything this time," Amelia cautioned Sam.

"As soon as they're off-line," Sam added, "I want to have Gunny and Tetsuo pull a changeup."

"You have a hunch?" the Chief asked, one eyebrow cocked quizzically.

Again, Sam nodded. "The only data point that's ... unusual ... is the one from Loophole's final."

"Where Lifeline bailed, and Solange and Pejuta joined her in the crash?" Liz sounded like she already had a grasp of Sam's thinking.

"Yeah. The betting pattern before that was a little more complex - combinations of winners, losers, cooperation, injuries, and the usual. On Loophole's final, everyone, and I mean everyone, changed odds to simple win or lose. I know we caught our campus bookies flat-footed, but we caught the external gambling houses by surprise as well."

"You're hoping a changeup will flush out a rat, and that limiting communication channels will make it easier to track?"

"Yeah. And to be sure, I want security watching all the landline phones near the arena."

"Don't have to," Amelia Hartford interrupted. "I'll have Cyberkitty 'adjust' the phones so we record everything from those lines. If someone makes a phone call, we'll know about it in real-time."

"Okay," Liz agreed. "That sounds reasonable. And Sam?"

"Yes?"

"You don't need to run everything past me. You've got carte blanche to find and plug this leak. I'll let Gunny and Tetsuo know that if you make a request, they need to honor it as best as they can."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam reflexively stiffened, and it looked like she was repressing an instinct to salute at the phone.

"Keep Amelia informed. She can help a lot with IT resources."

* * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Morning
Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

"Buxton," the security Sergeant said curtly, already sitting bolt upright behind his desk because his phone had displayed the source number.

"I need the odds on the changeup," a familiar voice demanded.

"Changeup?" Buxton was a bit puzzled. "What changeup? I haven't got any reports of anything," Buxton said, already extracting his cell phone.

"The lineup isn't what we were promised," the deep somber voice said menacingly. "I thought you had fixed things after that last little fuckup."

"Hold a sec." He punched the 'hold' button on the phone and frantically dialed a number on his cell phone. It range three or four times without an answer. "Dammit!" he swore to himself. In a heartbeat, he was on his feet dashing toward the ops center. Without a word, he grabbed a hand radio. "Caruthers?" He patently ignored the duty officer and stormed back to his office.

"Caruthers. What is it, Sarge?"

"I had a report of a disturbance at the arena. Go check it out."

"A disturbance? What kind?" Caruthers wasn't quite sure what Buxton was up to.

"Odds are it's nothing, but go check it out pronto and report everything you see," Buxton snapped.

"Ah," Caruthers' voice had the 'eureka' tone in it. "I'm on it."

"Call me - on my cell."

"Copy." The radio clicked off, and Buxton put down the mic. What the hell else could go wrong this morning? His customer did not sound happy.

"I'll be in my office," Buxton growled at the desk officer.

He hadn't even sat down when he picked up the phone. "My man is checking on things now."

"He better hurry."

A moment later, the other line on the phone rang. "Just a sec." Buxton impatiently pushed the other button. "Buxton."

"Sarge, cell phone service is out."

"What?!?"

"The relays are out in the Arena. So I had to get one of the landlines. The odds ...."

"Shut up!" Buxton snapped. "Sensitive info; we don't want ... students ... listening in," he thought quickly. "Double-time it over here." He started to hang up, and then thought again. "No, wait!" he practically shouted into the phone. "Get your contact on line and get me the data immediately, using the campus wifi and code Bravo-Seven. You know the contact point."

"Bravo Seven?"

"Yeah, now move it! Our friends are waiting!" Buxton snarled to himself; this was a full-fledged Charlie Foxtrot, and his customers were not happy. There had to be a reason for the cell phones to be out. He punched the other phone button. "We always have a few changeups," he said smoothly, "and it just happened that we have a technical difficulty with our cell phone service in the arena. I've got my men working the issue." As he spoke, his fingers danced over his keyboard, opening his browser and going to a particular site. The seconds ticked by like hours until finally, some data popped up on the screen.

"Okay, here we go." He recited the data, making sure he didn't mention student names but only their powers, as well as the odds that Caruthers had found."

"Keep this up and your payoff is going to suffer!" the voice on the other end snarled.

"Hey," Buxton snapped right back, "I can't control what the schedulers do, and I sure as shit can't control technical stuff. I'm getting you the data as soon as I can!"

"It's hitting our bottom line!"

"I know that!" Buxton retorted angrily. "And I'm getting you everything I've got!"

"Well, it'd be better if you didn't have these surprises."

"Yeah, well sometimes life sucks. I'll let you know the moment anything changes." He hung up the phone, glaring at the offending instrument. It wasn't his fault that Ito and Bardue were changing things, although he was starting to suspect that the cell phone outage was not a coincidence.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Morning
Arena 99 Grandstands, Whateley Academy

"Okay, so do we think we've seen all the variants of the basic hostage scenario?" Jadis asked the other Bad Seeds.

"I think that they're using the basic templates from the Program on Negotiation at Harvard Law School," 'Cheese' said as his fingers flickered over the keyboard of his laptop. "The bad news is that if they're using the particular set of templates I think, then they're using a 'plug and play' variant with six different scenes, each of which will have three different hostage locations. Each hostage location will probably have two different escape routes. They'll probably have 6 different Bosses, varying sets of Minions, Hostages, Settings, and Obstacles, which can be combined in a very wide range of ways, mostly to confuse students who're watching and trying to figure out how to beat the scenario, but also so they can switch things around to make them harder for specific power sets. My best guess is they have 36 basic settings to work with."

"Personally, I'm just digging on seeing the telepaths having to cope with ANTs they can't read or control," Winter said with a wide jeering smile. Romeo gave her a censorious *ahem!* that barely dented her schadenfreude.

"We've got a problem," Jean-Armand commented, frowning at his cell phone. "I can't send the setup data to Hazard. Cell service is out for some reason." There was a minor scramble as the other Seeds quickly checked their phones, only to come to the same conclusion.

"Do we still have wi-fi?" Mal asked immediately.

Cheese nodded. "Yeah."

"Send it to Hazard encrypted e-mail, marked extremely urgent," Jadis directed. Though she wasn't technically leader of the Seeds, she nonetheless had a lot of cachet within the group, and they almost instinctively followed her lead, since she had an annoying habit of almost always being right.

"Do you guys always put this much effort into these combat finals things?" Vamp asked from where she was seated, possibly the only one of the group without a pair of binoculars or video camera or sensor or some other form of surveillance gear trained on the arena. Since helping Jadis with that big mess in New York during Spring Break, Vamp was generally considered as having 'made her bones' with the Bad Seeds, but she still wasn't quite up to speed.

"Well, you have to understand that they got it set up so that the grades from these bust-ups accounts for roughly a third of our Grade Point Average for PE or power-type classes for the semester," Mal, Jadis' brother, explained as he carefully adjusted the controls for the tri-barreled sensor arrangement he was aiming at the arena. "And Jadis is all about the grades."

"Hey, I have a good chance of getting an A on my Mystic Arts final this year," Jadis rebutted, never taking her eyes off the area. "I don't want anything to spoil that."

"Besides," Nacht, who was peering through what looked like a monocle on a stick with a triangle set within the circle of the monocle's rim, "Hazard is cutting us in for a percentage of the points she's getting from her contacts in Vegas, so we're feeding her as many factors as we can, so she can figure the odds better."

"You mean, bookies off-campus are betting on this? And the Administration is allowing this?"

"Nope," the assembled Bad Seeds said as one.

"Okay, we're getting a definite idea as to the next setup," Cheese interrupted them, staring intently at his laptop. "A Mantis unit with blasters for the boss, a bunch of armed red ANTs for mooks, three black ANTs with Impact patches for hostages, a simple slap-together reinforced concrete panel 'hut' with Messingite™ roof panels, a reinforced cinderblock wall covering the 'back' and a collection of 'boom barrels' out front. They're using the disposable villains for this one, so they're expecting the students to get rough, but the Mantis is equipped with a vox-box, so negotiation is an option on this one.

"What the hell?" Jay-Arm had a puzzled look on his face as he gawked at his laptop screen.

"What?" the group demanded in almost perfect unison.

"Hazard says that her contact doesn't need the setup data!" Jay-Arm reported in astonishment. "Her buyer isn't buying!"

"Impossible!" several of the Seeds echoed.

Jadis, however, frowned. "Maybe someone already sold them the data. Remember, despite the paranoid secrecy about the finals this term, someone is selling information about combat finals matchups through the SyndiList website with payment through iPayoff," Jadis reminded them. "So someone got the data and apparently they sold it to the Vegas interests first."

"Even with all the bug-sweeps and magic sweeps?" Vamp gawked at the implication that someone was powerful enough to defeat both magic and technology.

Jadis nodded slightly. "Yes, in spite of that."

"You know who it is, don't you?" Jay-Arm about half-demanded.

"Let's just say that I've got a very strong suspicion about who got the data and how," Jadis replied with a knowing smile.

Then there was a chime to inform the students that this arena was ready, and the contestants had been chosen. "Okay, let's see who the next two vict-" Jadis started to say, but stopped when the PA interrupted her.

"The next two contestants are numbers sixty-two and three eighty-seven."

Jadis scowled. "Sixty-two is me, but who am I up against?" She glanced at Mal, who was intently studying his cell phone, but Nacht tapped her on the forearm. Jadis followed Nacht's pointing arm, and her jaw dropped in shock.

"According to my source," Mal said, not looking up, "you're paired against Marty Penn."

Cheese had been watching, and when he heard Jadis acknowledge her number, he smirked and he sneaked his hands onto a video camera and had it ready. Whether it was Mal's comment or Nacht's pointing at Mega-Girl, he was perfectly positioned to catch a priceless moment of Jadis' expression as she realized she'd been paired with the girl who'd stolen her moment of glory in New York a couple of months earlier.

"Mega-Girl?" Jadis rose, anger suffusing her features for a brief moment before she schooled her expression, blank-faced with only her eyes darting back and forth to show that she was anything but completely stunned by the pairing.

Then she stood up and glared across the arena at where the Cape Squad had been sitting, some of them obviously closely watching what the Bad Seeds had been doing. "MEGA-GIRL!" Jadis shouted across the arena. When she looked, Jadis simply pointed two fingers into her eyes, and then pointed those fingers at Marty 'Mega-Girl' Penn, giving her the Horns of Malediction.

Marty, who was sitting there in her blue-and-white superhero suit, turned unheroically pale, and gave a wide-eyed gulp of barely restrained panic.

"C'mon, Marty!" Stronghold pulled Mega-Girl up to her feet. "The teachers must have decided to give you a chance to show what really happened in New York over the Spring Break!"

"What?" Marty bleated at him. "How would me going into the arena with She-Beast show anything?"

"Marty, this is not the time to be modest!" Stronghold said as he hustled her down the corridor with Lady Liberty and Magni-Girl following close behind. "She-Beast has been bitching and moaning that you copped all the glory for what happened with Miss Liberty and the Witch Queen and the Federal Reserve thing! Now's your chance to prove that she should have been left in that cell to rot!"

"Yeah!" Lady Liberty gushed, "You saved Miss Liberty!" Despite the similarities in their codenames- or maybe because of them, or maybe the other way around- Libby was a huge fangirl of Miss Liberty, the New York City superheroine that Mega-girl had met during the big mess with the Karedonian Crown Jewels. Well, 'met' was sort of overstating it. Yes, Marty had run into Miss Liberty, but all that she'd said to Mega-Girl was, 'Get out of my way, kid; you're spoiling my aim.' But she had spoken to Marty!

"And maybe if you show up that bitch She-Beast for the loser she really is, then Gloriana will stop pestering us to rush her, or that other weenie crap," Magni-Girl said. "I mean, Nightlord said that She-Beast tried to kill a little kid, and nobody says anything about it!" In stark contrast to the Miss Liberty thing, which was a lot less than it seemed, Marty knew that there was a lot more going on with that thing with the kid than it seemed. Not that Marty had anything to be ashamed of; she'd held her own against an A-List Supervillain! Or at least her henchmen ....

But Jadis had gone toe-to-toe with the Big Cheese herself, and for some reason, the news media never said anything about that ....

Then it registered with Marty: Jadis had gone toe-to-toe with a woman who had seven superhero kills on her sheet! Okay, she'd gotten her ass handed to her, but she not only walked away from it, but she got what she wanted! And then Marty remembered that she'd had Powers Theory with Jadis, their Freshman year, and Jadis got gotten an A. Marty, on the other hand, had been lucky to stay awaken long enough to scrape by with a D. They both had Psychokinetic based powers, but Jadis knew a lot more about how they worked ... and she was really pissed about the DA making a big deal about Mega-Girl, mostly so they wouldn't have to give Jadis any credit. But why was Jadis so mad at her about what Magni-Girl and Iron Star were saying? She'd tried to get the others to listen, but as per usual, nobody was listening to her!

Marty was in mid-blither when they got to the entry portal to the arena. Jadis was waiting there with two of her Bad Seed buddies. Somehow Jadis had already changed into her red-and-black 'Madam Hydra' knockoff outfit, with the jackboots and long gloves- and utility belt- with the deck of magic cards- and whip .... The part of Jadis' face that wasn't covered by the visor was calm and impassive, but her eyes .... How do you glare daggers at someone through a visor? Was that something that her mad doctor father taught her?

As soon as Steve, Steffi and Libby- oh, and Jadis' two buddies- left the staging area, Marty started spin-doctoring for all she was worth. "Oh Come on, Jadis, it is not my fault! It's Magni-Girl and Iron Star, and you know how they are ..." Jadis shot her a bitter glare and Marty hared off on another tactic, "Hey, you've got a great grade point average, Jadis. But is it so good that you can just blow off a third of your average? Especially to kick around someone who didn't do anything to you, and wouldn't prove anything?" Jadis just scowled at her, pulled a deck of cards from her utility belt, and started going through the cards. Marty kept nattering at Jadis, hoping to get her to listen to reason for both their sakes, but Jadis just ignored her, focusing on the cards. Then the light flashed, saying that the other combat final was over and the instructors were ready for their test.

* * * * * * * * * *

WARS Broadcast Booth, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

"Okay, Campers, we're going over to Arena 99, for a classic battle of Beauty and Beast. And don't give me any guff, that's her codename, she picked it - what was she expecting? It's Mega-Girl vs. SHE-BEAST! Yes, the catfight that's been brewing ever since Spring Break has finally come to a head!"

"It might not be a catfight, Peeper. Remember, the competitors DO have the option of cooperating, which is a much surer way of getting the hostage out in one piece and getting a better grade. Not that you'd know it, from the way that last pair acted."

"Of course it's going to be a catfight, you doltish minion! The mission briefing says that there's ONE hostage, which means that only ONE lethal lovely's going to get the props for dragging it out!"

"But fighting each other before going in is stupid! Everyone who's tried to take out the other guy before taking on the big bad has gotten chewed up. Even making a race of it is like going through a threshing machine!"

"SO? That just means the chances of Mega-Girl's outfit being terribly, horribly shredded goes way up!"

"And the countdown's beginning. Mega-Girl's still trying to talk to She-Beast, but the Devil's Daughter isn't listening."

"For those of you listening in on WARS, She-Beast is wearing her usual red sleeveless leotard with black boots, long gloves, visor and utility belt. Oh, and she's brought along her WHIP again! And Mega-Girl is wearing that blue legless bodysuit with the white mask, cape, boots and gloves thing that she's always wearing. Not that I'm complaining ... except for one thing: Megs, you're just wasting a great opportunity by cluttering up the space on that chest with that stupid 'M'! That is just SO Old School! C'mon, Power Girl is where it's at! Think about a nice keyhole or other cutout there! You'll thank me! God knows, all the guys will!"

"AND there's the bell! She-Beast is right out the gate with her whip!"

"Yeah, but she WASTED it! Instead of ripping Mega-Girl's outfit off, she just snagged Megs by the arm and is slamming her against the ground! What's the POINT?"

"I think for She-Beast, that IS the point, Peeper. Now She-Beast has thrown Mega-Girl against the, ah ... house, for want of a better word. Mega-Girl is getting to her feet, but- wow! She just barely dodged one of the boom-barrels that She-Beast threw at her. That one didn't do anything. Another boom-barrel, Megs dodges it too. Just chemicals out of that one, I think that Megs is pretty glad that it didn't go off ..."

"Yeah, but WHY didn't it go off? They're supposed to be BOOM barrels, right? That's half the fun of watching these things! So why didn't it detonate, Minion? That's supposed to be your JOB, remember?"

BOOM!

"Well, there's you answer, Peeper! Ja- er, She-Beast just barely missed Mega-Girl with a barrel, and it looks like the explosion blasted the front door right off its hinges! And Mega-Girl is stealing a march on She-Beast by ducking inside the door that She-Beast has so nicely opened for her!"

"OR, that little blonde wimp is just running away from that nasty old She-Beast as fast as she can ... Can't say that I blame her."

"Okay, now we have to rely on the big screen showing off what's happening inside."

"Why?"

"Peeper, the rest of us can't see through four inches of Messingite™."

"AND?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99, Whateley Academy

The second that Marty ducked around the corner, she immediately saw a group of red ANT units with energy carbines gathering into formation to attack. But Marty's first reaction wasn't, 'Oh crap, I'm in trouble'; it was 'More cover!' Mega-Girl scrambled, pulling the ANTs out of position so they'd shield her from whatever Jadis threw next. She didn't think of them as opponents, she thought of them as furniture, and that made all the difference, as she just barely got them arranged for optimum effect when another barrel came flying in the door. It hit the floor and exploded in a spray of resinous smelling mist and liquids. Marty managed to avoid getting splashed, but the ANTs weren't as lucky. The liquids and mists mixed, fizzed, bubbled, and were suddenly covered in a dull amber foam that quickly collapsed in on itself and turned into an off-orange gel that thoroughly trapped the ANTs.

For the briefest of minutes, Marty wondered if Jadis did that intentionally, just so that she could get at Marty, or if she'd just lucked out. Why was she so damn pissed? Then, realizing either way, her best chance of getting out of this thing with a face that wasn't pounded into hamburger was to beat Jadis to the hostage, put all the Boss' forces between the two of them, and let Jadis and the Boss keep each other busy. Marty ran around a corner, and found herself in a large central open room which probably took up the majority of the 'house's' area.

The area was cluttered with packing crates, most of which were probably empty, as there was also a lot high-tech looking junk scattered around the place, which was probably brought in the crates. There were also a lot more ANTs around than she remembered being marched in; the instructors probably hid them in more of the crates, in case the kids were watching. But what really got Mega-Girl's attention were the BFG and the Mantis. The 'BFG' was a large 'send to Special Effects' type energy weapon on a RC tripod that was hooked up to some serious power cables. The 'Mantis' was a tall, centaur-configuration encounter drone, a more elevated version of an ANT. While ANTs were supposed to represent everyday civilians or bottom-run thugs, Mantises were supposed to fill the niche of 'superior opponent', specifically 'acrobats' and martial artists. They were quick, agile and mobile, but like the ANTs, they were designed to fall apart if you hit them hard enough. The Mantis' mantid-style striker forearms had been replaced by energy carbines, and a speaker box had been added.

The ANTs began to move to surround Marty, and the Mantis started to say something. But far more importantly, the BFG had targeted her and appeared to be tracking her. Ignoring whatever it was that the Mantis was trying to say, she ducked behind one of the crates, lifted it, and flew right at the BFG using the crate for a shield. The ANTs reduced the crate to splinters with their energy carbines, but Mega-Girl still managed to get to the BFG before it unleashed its charge at her. She got behind the weapon, and saw that it was basically a standard energy emplacement gun that had a targeting sensor and aiming servo attached; the manual trigger and sight were still in place.

Well, Wilson went to all this trouble of putting a perfectly good blaster where she could get at it; he'd only just yell at her if she didn't use it. Tearing off the remote control unit, Marty turned the BFG around and aimed it at the Mantis. She waited for it to jump and reach the topmost part of its arc and then pulled the trigger.

A jarring, tooth-rattling vibration shook Marty, scattering her wits and knocking her back. The first thought that came to her mind as she snapped out of it was, 'I should have known that Wilson would never put anything cool where I could get my hands on it!'

Then Marty felt at least 15 points knock off her final score as she got hit by the Mantis' energy weapons. They hurt, but what really mattered was the fact that she got hit in the first place; that and the thought of one of Ito-sensei's 'In the real world, you would be on the floor bleeding to death!' rants.

Shrugging that off, Mary hefted up the bogus BFG and used it as a weapon in the only way that would actually work: she threw it at the Mantis. The drone nimbly jumped out of the way, and a fast-paced game of 'Tag' ensued, with the Mantis and ANTs none-too-covertly trying to keep her away from one corner with what appeared to be a significant control panel. On the panel was a large red button behind a plastic flip-up shield; the label read "Emergency Power Shutoff." She thought only a brief moment; if she could shut down power, the defenses would fail and the henchmen would flee in fear, and even if the Mantis didn't make tracks as well, she could still take it out hand-to-hand and find the hostage before the time ran out. Well, anyway, it beat getting zapped into an F, and still failing!

The problem was how to get over there without getting zotzed halfway to death, safety setting or no safety setting ...

BAM!

The entire building shook. Looking to the source of the crash, Mega-Girl saw that Jadis Diabolik had somehow knocked a perfectly circular hole in the wall that blocked off the main area from the door. Marty briefly wondered what had taken her so long. Jadis held up a deck of cards and did the '52 card pickup' spray with them, sending the cards all over the room. While the ANTs opened fire, the cards seemed to play havoc with their targeting systems. Trust a sneaky little witch like Jadis to have a dirty trick like that up her sleeve. Still, Jadis hadn't seen the Emergency Power switch yet, so there was no time like the present.

Using the distraction provided by Jadis and picking up the crate she was hiding behind, Marty ran for the control panel. She heard She-Beast yell, "Mega-Girl! No!" But even weighted down, Marty still smacked two ANTs out of the way, darted past three more who were confused about target selection between her and Jadis, and made it to the control panel, dropped what was left of the crate, and smashed the lid to push the button.

But instead of a warning klaxon and some flashing lights, there was a loud, rather rude *bthrrrppp!!* noise and a message flashed on the panel: 'SUCKER!' A pair of thick curved transparent doors snapped out from the sides of the panel, joining into a semi-circular tube that sealed Mega-Girl inside. Marty pounded on the lid, but it didn't budge; it must have been made of Wexlerite™ ... or Messingite™ ... or Hazardite™ ... or one of those other super-strong stuff things made by scientists with egos that demanded they plaster their name all over everything. Helpless, Marty watched through the not-glass as Jadis dashed around the storm of flying cards, grabbing ANTs and throwing them, and somehow setting off traps like a drop-net, a huge ball that swung down from a rope, a thick metal sheet that slid out, and a metal claw that dropped down, all the while scooping up up several ANTs. How was she doing that?

Then the Mantis did a 'supervillain copping a pose' bit and said loudly, "STOP! You will answer this riddle, or I'll fill that tube with a lethal gas!" It pointed at Marty, who had a chilly moment that it was serious, which faded, which was almost immediately replaced by a panic when she realize that if she 'died' in the test, she'd get an automatic F!

Jadis folded her arms across her chest and let out a mocking laugh. "Will I get extra credit if I finesse the bad guy into removing my competition?"

The Mantis visibly paused as the AI system that was guiding the drone tried to figure out how to get around that one. Jadis gave the Mantis the 'gimme a moment' gesture and sauntered over to the cabinet. She rapped on the glassine door and snarked, "So, how's the air in there, Megs?" Marty growled at her through the glass. Jadis leaned on the door, with one finger idly stroking at the juncture of the two tube halves. "You know what I want, Marty ..."

Mega-Girl let out an outraged squeak and snarled, "This is not the time, Jadis!"

"Oh, I think that it's the perfect time, Marty."

"We don't have time for this!"

"Oh, I have plenty of time. But then, I'm not the one in the airtight booth."

Mega-Girl made a 'chewing glass' expression and finally growled out, "Fine! Be like that! Okay, so I wasn't the one who saved the entire frickin' Global Economy, it was You! You took on the A-List Supervillain, you saved Miss Liberty! And I didn't arrest you, it was Bronze! And it was totally bogus, it wouldn't have stood up in any court, that ADA guy Garfield was just messing with you! And you- okay, I still don't know how you got out of that, but Garfield said that it was kosher! And the only reason that the New York Times said all those nice things about me was 'cause that Prescott guy was fucking with you! And I never said that I did all that, it was Iron Star and Magni-Girl, and I would'a said something but it's the first time that they treated me like anything but a stupid tagalong! There! Are you happy now?"

"Happy?" Jadis grunted, "Meh. But it's the best that I'm gonna get."

"Jadis, please! With my grades, if I fail this exam, I'll have to take this year all over again!"

"Marty, with your grades, that might be the best thing for you. But ..." Jadis gripped the curved slates of apparently impervious glass and effortlessly pulled the two halves apart with a minor pop of air equalization. "I do pride myself on keeping my promises, even the tacit ones. Well ... usually ...."

There was a loud "AHEM!" as Mega-Girl walked out of the booth. Turning around, they saw the Mantis and the ANTs, all with their blasters trained on the two. From its voice box, the Mantis said, "Now that you've got that out of the way, let me point out this: even if the two of you could batter your way through my minions and me, can you do it in time to ... save the hostage?" A wall pulled back revealing three 'black' (as in not 'red', or civilian instead of threat) ANTs tied to chairs, which were suspended ten feet off the ground from a rafter by cables, which were supported by pulleys and anchored to the ground. An LED panel was ticking off what appeared to be a 3 minute countdown. "But, I will give you a clue! If you can solve this riddle-"

"Ooohhh ... Gimme a break!" Jadis groaned loudly.

"If you can solve this riddle, you'll know which of those three is the real hostage!" the pilot of the drone continued with an annoyed tone.

"Let me guess," Jadis droned, "you worked real hard on this riddle, and you're going to use it, no matter what, right?"

"One evening-" the drone pilot started. But Jadis cut him off with a sharp whistle.

"Before you get into all that, I have a very important question."

"What?"

Jadis strolled up the Mantis with the Wexlerite™(?) panel tucked under her arm. She looked directly into the Mantis' main sensor pod. "My question is: Do you honestly think that I'm that stupid?" With that, she put up her 'beast-skin', whipped out the Hazardite™(?) panel and scooped up the Mantis (or at least its energy carbines) in the panel. Then she shoved the Mantis back to one particular cabinet along the wall and pinned it to that wall with the panel. Next, she hit one component on the cabinet, and a secret door opened up. Jadis nipped into the door and did something. Just as the Mantis was freeing itself from the panel, Jadis popped back out, grabbed the Mantis and shoved it into the door. The door slammed shut and a red light went on.

"Jadis, what did you do?" Mega-Girl shrieked as she dodged frantically, taking out what ANTs as she could. "Now we'll never figure out which of those things is the hostage!"

"Oh?" Jadis dropped her beast-skin and pulled out her expanding whip. With a snap to get the range, she used the whip to sever the cable holding up the ANT in the middle.

The anchoring base shattered, and there was the briefest of moments as the supporting mechanism stuttered before dropping the 'hostage'. Mega-Girl let out a 'gleep!' and launched herself at the fake hostage. She caught it a bare foot off the ground. As Marty gave a sigh of relief, there was another crash. Looking around, she saw that She-Beast, her 'beast-skin' up again, had ripped open another panel in one of the walls. Not bothering to put the torn-off panel down gently, She-Beast cast it aside casually as she pelted over to a large sheet of metal that had been one of the traps activated only minutes earlier. She ripped it off its rails and used it to block the rain of blaster fire that the red ANTs were shooting at her. Then she lugged the sheet over to where Marty was still holding the 'hostage' in its chair. "What are you doing?" Marty demanded.

"No, the question is, what are you doing?" Jadis demanded back. "There's our escape route; what are you waiting for?" Mega-Girl gave her a 'Huh?' look. "Did you honestly think that I'd blow my chance at a straight-A grade point average, just to knock you around some?"

Mega-Girl, still confused by Jadis' strange attitude, was smart enough to see an out and take it. She flew through the escape route door carrying the ANT still in its chair with her. Jadis followed, holding the sheet of metal between her and the red ANTs, and used it to block the escape route behind her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99 Briefing Room, Whateley Academy

"And what the hell was that?" Gunny Bardue demanded.

"We, um, improvised?" Mega-Girl answered with a slightly too-eager smile.

"Diabolik!" Wilson snapped. "You picked off 7 out of the 9 traps that we had built into that scenario, and trashed so many red ANTs that we only have five still functional out of the 30 that we allocated for that final!"

"What? You mean I missed two? Nertz!"

"How did you spot all those traps?" Ito demanded in his deceptively calm, and thus intimidating voice.

"Okay," Jadis started off, and Mega-Girl had a feeling that she was in for the long haul, "from what I spotted while you were setting up and your Mission Briefing, I had four basic problems going in- 1: Figure out where the hostage is. 2: Locate the escape routes. 3: Find the hidden traps and snares. 4: figure out the 'Gotcha' that I knew you were gonna throw at us. But I already had a good idea of what the 'Gotcha' was going to be-"

"How?" Kasai interrupted her.

"You made a production of showing us the three black ANTs with the shock indicators going in," Jadis pointed out, "but the Mission Briefing said there was a single hostage. The 'there can only be one' gag was almost a given; I'm guessing that you were going for the 'if you'd been paying attention, you wouldn't have been caught by surprise' angle. Well, I was paying attention.

"And, letting the kids run out with the wrong 'hostage', so they can fail the test is a little raw, even for this crew. So you'd booby-trap the two bogus 'hostages' to clue them in, even as their scores dropped.

"So my biggest problems basically boiled down to finding hidden things that were traps and hidden things that weren't traps." Jadis pulled out a playing card. "As you know, I usually carry a deck that's been spelled with a range of various useful effects. But most of those effects would be useless against robots and drones, so prepped my deck with two kinds of cards: ones that had been charged with the Sigils of Saturn and Ares, and ones that had been charged with the Sigils of Saturn and Hermes."

"What?" Burlington-Smythe bleated. "What does that Astrological hooey-"

"In orthodox Thaumaturgy, Saturn is associated heavily with Secrecy," Jadis started to lecture, and Wilson and Bardue let out martyred groans, "and the Sigil of Saturn factors heavily into concealment and detection of concealment spells. Hermes, besides being the Messenger of the Gods, is also associated with travel and Passages. Do I have to explain the associations for Ares, as in Mars, the God of War? So, Saturn plus Hermes equals 'hidden passages', while Saturn plus Ares equals 'hidden traps'. When I sprayed the room with those cards, they sought out hidden doors and traps. That's how I found the secret exits, the booby traps, and the two bogus 'hostages' - they all had card stuck to them."

"Would you care to explain why you didn't simply listen to the riddle that the 'Boss' was trying to tell you?" Kasai asked sharply.

"First of all, the First Rule of Being a Supervillain Kid:" Jadis reeled off, "Never let the other side set the terms.

"Second, I already knew which one of the ANTS was the 'hostage': the one without a card sticking to it. I didn't need to answer the riddle."

"Why waste the time, or put the hostage in any more danger?" Marty piped up in support of the person who apparently wasn't psychotically angry at her after all.

"And third," Jadis firmly took back the train of conversation, "you keep telling us to treat these things like they were Real Life. In Real Life, taking a hostage is major. It's like using a gun in a crime - it bumps up the legal consequence big time. Anyone serious enough to take a hostage wouldn't just hand them out like prizes at a carny. So, he had to be pulling a fast one. And, in Real Life, the one people who do pull the 'Riddle Me This' gag are flakes, psychos, cranks and wiseasses, none of whom are what you'd call dependable."

"But," Marty cut in, "since you seem to be so keen on telling us this riddle, how about this? You tell us the riddle; if one of us guesses right, we both get an A; if neither of us get it right, then we get a C."

"What?" Jadis yelped.

"No," Kasai said with an evil grin, "If you can answer the riddle, the two of you get A's. Not She-Beast. You."

"Okay!" Marty said chipperly.

"Hey, I did not agree to this!" Jadis complained.

"Now you know how it feels, Diabolik!" Kasai said with smug triumph. "Okay, here it goes: One evening there was a murder in the home of a married couple, their son and daughter. One of these four people murdered one of the others. One of the members of the family witnessed the crime. The other one helped the murderer. These are the things we know for sure:

1. The witness and the one who helped the murderer were not of the same sex.
2. The oldest person and the witness were not of the same sex.
3. The youngest person and the victim were not of the same sex.
4. The one who helped the murderer was older than the victim.
5. The father was the oldest member of the family.
6. The murderer was not the youngest member of the family.

Who was the murderer?"

As Jadis sputtered, Marty paused, visibly thought it over and answered: "The mother." She smirked at Jadis for the briefest of moments, and then explained, "We know from (3) that the youngest person was not the victim, from (4) that the youngest person was not the helper and from (6) that the youngest person was not the killer. The youngest person can only have been the witness."

"That works!" Jadis blurted out, gobstopped. "The youngest had to have been the witness, it was the only role that she hadn't been disqualified from by the six points, and it follows that she was the daughter, since the youngest was not the same sex as the oldest who was the father, and from there, it sorts out that the mother murdered the son, with the father helping."

"That's right," Kasai said, frowning angrily with disappointment. "How did you figure that out?"

With a smug grin, Marty explained, "My Dad's a NYPD officer. Do you know how many 'Riddler' wannabes come through the Five Boroughs in a year?"

"Z-Listers," Jadis said with a snerk.

"Okay, your grades."

"We get A's, right?" Marty asked warily based on the tone in which Ito had spoken.

"Mega-Girl, you get an A," Ito replied with a nod to her. "You may leave now." It was abundently clear that Marty was dismissed, so with a nervous glance at Jadis, she rose and stepped from the room.

Once the door had closed, Ito turned to Jadis, his expression hardening. "As for you, She-Beast, F."

"What?!?" Jadis exclaimed in shock and disbelief. "But ...."

"You made it abundantly clear that you wanted no part of Mega-Girl's wager," Kasai said with a smug grin. "So in keeping with your wish, you do not benefit from her solution to the riddle. And an F is the usual grade for cheating."

"Cheating?" Jadis sputtered.

"Would you care to see the video that shows you in the grandstands identifying Mega-Girl as your opponent when only the random numbers had been announced?" Bardue prompted.

"But ... that's not prohibited!" Jadis said defensively. "There's no rule that I can't get information like that ...."

"It's the same as if you found an answer key for a test lying around and you memorized and used it," Kasai smirked. "It's still cheating."

"Perhaps ...," Ito said reflectively, thinking aloud as he gazed toward the line separating the ceiling from the wall. "Perhaps there's something ...."

"Miss Diabolik," Bardue said with a wicked grin, his laser-like gaze fixed on Jadis,"perhaps we can come to an accord."

"You want to deal ... for my grade?" Jadis asked warily.

"You no doubt know of the extra security precautions we've taken in the interest of protecting student data. Perhaps if you were to help, with, shall we say, information about your source, we could come to terms about your grade."

Jadis glared daggers at the three men. "That's blackmail."

* * * * * * * * * *

As expected, Marty was waiting outside the briefing room, and she winced at the expression on Jadis' countenance, "Well?" Marty asked simply. :"What did they want? What did they end up giving you?"

"I got an A," Jadis growled.

"Then what was all ...?"

"They were messing with me," the white-haired girl grumbled, "hoping I could tell them something related to their security leak."

"So you told them?"

"I do not want to talk about it!" Jadis muttered angrily. The two walked a few yards down the hall before Jadis spoke again; clearly she did want to vent about it - to someone. "The source is so many steps removed from whatever leak they have here that it probably won't do them any good - even if they can get past the three anonymizing routers." Marty understood why Jadis was telling her - it wouldn't help her standing and mystique if word got out that she'd been successfully blackmailed by the faculty.

Jadis hastily changed the subject. "I have to admit, Megs, that I'm impressed. My GPA is nicely secure, even though the instructors are still honked off at me. I'm feeling good enough that I'm not gonna play the recording that I made of your confession in that deathtrap for your Cape Squad buddies."

"Oh?" Marty said. "That's ... generous of you." She wondered precisely what Jadis was up to, and that in turn got her thinking about the entire simulation. "And what was with all that with the yelling and the attitude?" Marty mimed glowering at Jadis and making the Horns of Malediction. "You got me so rattled that I was bumbling around like an idiot in there! Why were you gaming me like that?"

"Oh, I wasn't gaming you, Marty," Jadis said as Vamp and Nacht walked up. "I was gaming the bookies. So, Alex, how did it go?"

"You wouldn't believe the odds they were giving for a Tag-Team Victory," Vamp smirked as she handed Jadis a wad of bills.

"You were fixing the odds for our match?" Marty asked, looking at the thick fold of money. "Won't the local bookies get mad?"

"Not the local bookies, Marty," Jadis corrected her. "The bookies in Atlantic City and Las Vegas; the guys who aren't even supposed to know about this, let alone be making book on it." Jadis handed Marty the money. Marty looked surprised at the money in Jadis' hand and made a squeak of confusion. "I gave Alex here a couple of grand to put down on a bet for you. I knew that it was going to be a little raw, and you'd deserve more than just a B average GPA for going through that. And, you're always complaining that you need money, so ...." Marty looked at the money, unsure. "Hey, I'm still making out. Hazard's getting us some major points on the spread for the Drows' matches."

Marty took the money. "The Drow?" Marty remembered some of the moves that Jobe had made during that mess with the Karedonian Crown Jewels. But the Media had portrayed the Drow, let alone Jobe herself, as just weird exotic, slightly kinky socialites ... "Any chance that I could get in on that?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Lunchtime
Cyberspace, Whateley Academy</strong>

<Blue?> Sam called out in the vast, blue-and-silver domain that was cyberspace, her Hive doing all the work of interfacing her physical body to the network.

<Yeah, boss?> Blue answered, his cyber-avatar appearing almost instantly beside him.

<She's out there somewhere> Blue replied.

Sam's avatar frowned. <She knows we've got a tagup scheduled.>

Another avatar drifted down one of the glowing silver pathways to join them. Ms. Hartford looked around, although, compared to the others, she seemed to be moving in slow-motion. <Where's Paige?>

<Right here,> Cyberkitty's voice rang out as her avatar drifted toward the trio.

Unlike the plain slightly girlish avatar she usually used in cyberspace, this avatar form closely resembled Paige's 'fuzz' form, partially between human and panther, enough to be a very cute kitty-girl. Amelia wondered briefly if she wasn't going to have to have a chat with Paige about cyber-flirting, which she seemed to be doing more and more with Blue.

<Have you got anything?> Sam asked bluntly. No sense wasting time.

<There was a drop of volume through the nearest cell relays> Blue reported immediately.

<The network traffic picked up by a few hundred messages, but there isn't anything on the mail server or the packet sniffers that looks overly suspicious. I've got the filters triggering on a lot of possible keywords, but the only ones that have triggered are innocuous, plain-text messages between the arena and other parts of campus.> Amelia added.

<That's what I was afraid we were going to find,> Sam replied in a somewhat-dejected tone. She turned to Cyberkitty. <Did you find anything?>

<The odds-makers were scrambling this morning at the changeup,> the kitty-girl answered.

<How about timing?> Sam asked. <How fast did they change their lineups and odds?>

<Most?> Amelia picked up the key word immediately. <Not all of them?>

Cyberkitty reached up, opening what looked like a 'bag of holding' in the cyber-realm, and a moment later, some data was displayed. <Here's the time-lapse of the odds.> Slowly, second-by-second, the odds for each establishment appeared in thin air, like a computer holographic display, and then suddenly, all of them jumped and fluctuated wildly.

<Stop!> Sam called, and immediately, the data froze in mid-air. What's the red mean on those two?> Sam asked, looking intently at two of the rows of data.

Cyberkitty and Blue shook their heads. <I don't know,> the girl answered.

Amelia Hartford, though, was scowling. <Hmmm,> she muttered to herself, staring at the red numbers hanging in space. <Paige, can you access the volume of betting on each of those?>

The girl nodded, puzzled. <Yeah. Admiral Everheart asked me if I could get any other data on the wagering, so I kind of sneaked into their systems and found their gambling data.> She reached into the 'pocket' in cyberspace and began to pull out data packets.

<Get a cumulative total versus time for each establishment,> Hartford directed without explanation.

Giving her advisor a quizzical look, Paige reached into the 'pocket' with both hands and fiddled around with the data. In mere seconds, she extracted a file. <Done.>

With a shrug, not quite understanding why, the girl caused the holographic display that was in existence to vanish, and another took its place. Slowly, the data ticked through time, and then the odds for the two houses turned red. Still, time ticked on, and as they watched, Hartford nodded in understanding.

<That's what I thought,> she announced. <The betting is frozen at these two houses. Notice that the totals on the others keeps rising, but these have held steady?>

Sam started to answer, and then the lightbulb in her head lit. <They're not scrambling for new odds like the others. Because they know they're going to get better data so they're reducing their exposure by freezing the betting?> she asked, but it was no idle speculation; Sam and Amelia knew the answer to that question was definitely yes.

<So there is an inside source,> Amelia said grimly. <And that source is getting them data in real-time.>

<It's not through the cell relay,> Sam said in a disgusted, frustrated tone. <We know that.>

<And not the landlines,> Amelia added. <We checked every outgoing number from the monitored phone lines and ran voice recognition software to get transcripts of everything, just in case a call went to a VOIP relay.>

<That leaves the network,> Blue said, stating the obvious.

<And there's no plain-text traffic relating to gambling,> Paige reported. <But someone could easily use an anonymizing intermediate server to relay messages, and a lot of the e-mail is encrypted so I can't read the content.>

<So we're right back where we started,> Sam said in disgust. <We know we have a leak, but we can't find it. We have strong circumstantial evidence that two gambling houses are getting direct data, but nothing that'd stand up in a court of law.> Sam shook her head. <Damn!>

* * * * * * * * * *

To Be Concluded

Odds and Ends (part 3 - final)

Author:

Elrod

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

17,500 < Novella < 40,000 words

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Odds and Ends

Part 3 by ElrodW

(with contributed scenes and ideas by:
EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken,
Gen2 author Wasamon, and fanfic author Domoviye)

More Whateley Academy tales can be found on the Whateley website, whateleyacademy.net

There are unsmiling faces in fetters and chains
On a wheel in perpetual motion
Who belong to all races and answer all names
With no show of an outward emotion

And they think it will make their lives easier
But the doorway before them is barred
And the game never ends when your whole world depends
On the turn of a friendly card
No the game never ends when your whole world depends
On the turn of a friendly card

"The Turn of a Friendly Card": Alan Parsons Project

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Early Afternoon
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Adam Lambert, more commonly known as Greasy, nervously looked around the arena where he'd just been called to perform his combat final. His eyes went to Gunny Bardue, who had a grim look that made Adam feel even more apprehensive than he already did. Sensei Ito stood beside him with an unreadable expression. And then his eyes went to the other student who had been called for this combat final. Kaiju.

Kaiju was an odd looking girl, with green skin and neon purple hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. Her face pushed out into a slight muzzle, though she still managed to look very cute. She had a long reptilian tail and digitigrade legs which ended in large, taloned feet. But in spite of these odd features, she still had a killer figure that easily drew the attention of boys, though most would never admit it.

Adam only knew Kaiju in passing, though he had a lot of respect for her technical abilities. After all, she took the advanced engineering courses and was a regular fixture of the workshops even though she wasn't a gadgeteer or devisor. She didn't have the benefit of her powers helping her, which as far as Adam was concerned, was quite impressive, though he'd never admit that to his pal Peeper. Peeper would never let him hear the end of it.

When Kaiju glanced at him, Adam quickly averted his eyes so she wouldn't catch him staring. However, in the brief moment before he'd looked away, he'd seen a dismissive look in her eyes.

"Figures," Adam muttered to himself under his breath. Even the GSD girls wanted nothing to do with him.

"Listen up," Bardue announced in a gruff tone that made Adam want to back away. "Your setup is pretty simple. A villain and his crew just robbed a bank and took a hostage on the way out. The villain is in power armor with unknown capabilities. The number of henchmen hasn't been reported, and whether or not any of them have powers is unknown. What is known is that they were just seen entering a large park, and once they leave the park and escape, they'll have no more need for the hostage and will probably kill her. Your mission is to rescue her before that happens."

Adam's eyes widened and he gulped at that, wondering if he could just quit now and accept the F. After all, there was absolutely no way he could do anything to a supervillain.

"At least this time, I have my stuff," Adam muttered, patting the satchel which hung on his shoulder. During the last combat final, Peeper had 'borrowed' all his stuff, which meant that Adam hadn't been able to use it for his own final. "Not that it will much good." Peeper had told him that all his stuff sucked, which was why he hadn't borrowed it this time.

"Your grade is based on how you apply your powers and training to rescue the hostage," Ito said.

"Got it," Kaiju said, using her clawed hands to tie a purple sash-type mask around her head, which made her resemble a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

Adam had almost forgotten about the rule that said everyone had to wear a mask, so he scrambled to put on a domino mask, though he thought it was kind of stupid since he was already wearing a mask. He wore a mask every day ... a skin mask that looked like his real face, but which hid the skin condition that had earned him the name Greasy.

Just then, the PA came on and announced, "In the next final, Greasy and Kaiju."

As he heard those words, Adam could imagine how everyone would be reacting to this matchup. They'd probably be laughing at him, just like they always did, and everyone would be lining up to bet against him. At least he could count on his best friend Peeper to cheer for him.

"If you have no questions," Bardue said, "Greasy to the south entrance. Kaiju, you get the north."

Adam went to the south entrance of the arena, feeling like he was walking to his execution. He glanced back at Kaiju, who'd already gone in the other direction, realizing that he'd forgotten to ask her if she wanted to work together. He'd watched enough of these spring matches with Peeper to know that this seemed to be an option.

"Too late now," Adam grumbled to himself in resignation. He was going to lose and lose bad.

A minute later, the match began and Adam found himself in the simulated environment of the arena, which was programmed to look like he was outside at the edge of a park. He looked around nervously, knowing that he was supposed to find the bad guys so he could rescue the hostage, though he'd much rather know where they were so he could run the other way.

"Why do I even have to go through this?" Adam muttered under his breath. "It's not like I'm ever gonna be a hero ..."

Adam carefully walked through the park, hiding behind one tree after another as he made his way through it. There were several large open areas which contained playground equipment, but he didn't see any sign of the villain, at least not at first.

Before long, Adam heard some men talking, though he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. He moved around until he could see a brief glimpse of some men, who were gathered around a large concrete structure that could be an oddly shaped building, playground equipment for children, or some really odd sculpture. Because of the structure, he couldn't make out how many men there were, or if the hostage was in it.

For a moment, Adam wished he had Peeper's powers. After all, if he could see through walls, then he'd be able to tell how many people were there as well as whether or not they had the hostage. Of course, Peeper would be just as helpless to actually do anything as he was.

Then, Adam had an idea. He dug into his satchel and pulled out one of his tiny robots, along with the remote control for it. This was one of the robots he'd made to help Peeper check out cute girls, but it should work pretty well here too.

Suddenly, a clawed hand grabbed Adam's shoulder, and he let out a cry of surprise, or at least tried to. Another hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him.

"Shhhh," Kaiju whispered as she crouched down beside him. "You don't want to give us away ..."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have snuck up behind me," Adam responded in a whisper.

"The way I figure it," Kaiju told him, "we have a better chance working together than by ourselves ..."

"True," Adam agreed, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do by himself, so any help was welcomed.

Before Adam could think of anything else to say, Kaiju picked up his tiny robot and began examining it. "Did you make this?" She poked at it with her clawed fingers. "Not bad at all ..."

Adam smiled, a little startled by the praise since he wasn't used to anyone complimenting his work. Peeper frequently told him that his stuff was a bunch of crap, though that never seemed to stop Peeper from using it or demanding that he make more.

"I was gonna use this to get a better look," he told Kaiju.

"Good idea," Kaiju nodded in agreement. "So, I bet this is how Peeper sneaks a lot of those pictures ..."

Adam just blushed and turned on the remote. He sent the robot creeping along the ground and around the structure, using the video camera on the robot and the small monitor on the remote in order to guide it. Kaiju leaned over his shoulder to see, making him uncomfortable with her close presence.

"Well?" Kaiju asked eagerly. "How many are there?"

"F ... four," Adam answered nervously. "And there's a guy in power armor ... and a little girl."

"Okay," Kaiju mused, looking nervous. "A supervillain and four henchmen. We can take them ...." However, she sounded skeptical, especially when she looked at Adam.

"So, what do we do?" Adam asked, not seeing much chance that they could do anything. "I'm not a fighter ...."

"Me either," Kaiju admitted. "But we have to figure out something, because I have no intention of receiving a failing grade." She pointed to another cluster of trees and added, "I think we'll have a better position over there ...."

Adam nodded, and as they began moving, he tripped over a rock and let out a loud yelp of as he fell flat on his face. He quickly got back to his feet, only to see Kaiju staring at him with an angry look.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"I tripped," Adam responded, slumping over in shame.

"NO," Kaiju snapped, gesturing towards the concrete structure, or more accurately, the four henchmen that were now running in their direction.

"Oh no," Adam gasped, his eyes going wide in terror as he realized that he'd given them away.

Kaiju leaped at one henchman, slashing at him with her claws while snapping at another of the henchmen with her tail. Adam turned to run, though he didn't get far. One of the henchmen leaped at him, slamming him to the ground.

"Got you," the henchman snarled.

"NO," Adam pleaded fearfully. "Let me go. I didn't do anything ...."

"You'll make another good hostage," the henchman snarled as he tied Adam's hands together with zip ties.

There was a suddenly flash of light and Kaiju dropped to the ground. Adam finally saw the supervillain, wearing gold and black power armor, hovering in the air a short distance away. His gauntlet was still glowing from where he'd blasted Kaiju.

"Now, what to do with you two?" the villain mused, looking over Kaiju and completely ignoring Adam. That was no surprise to Adam though, as he was used to being ignored by everyone, except his buddy Peeper.

Adam curled up on the ground, afraid and ashamed. Once again, his combat final would be a complete and utter failure, and everyone would laugh at him. But what was even worse was that his mistake meant that Kaiju was going to fail her final too.

"This isn't fair," Adam whined, wondering why he'd been sent up against a supervillain and a bunch of henchmen. This was way out of his league, and it seemed like a cruel joke that the school would make people like him go through this.

Adam struggled against his zip tied hands, wishing he could at least get them loose. Then, he realized that there was a way he might be able to get his hands free. He nervously looked at the villain, who still wasn't paying attention to him. Adam smiled faintly to himself. For once, the fact that everyone ignored him might be something he could use to his advantage.

Even though he was terrified, Adam still brought his hands up to his neck and slipped his fingers beneath the fold of his skin mask. His codename Greasy came from the fact that his skin secreted a substance that was similar to motor oil, and he was so embarrassed by this that he normally covered himself with a thin layer of fake skin to hide it. As with being ignored, this time his GSD might actually be useful.

Once Adam had coated his fingers with his oily secretions, he rubbed them over his wrists, which made it much easier to slip his hands out of the zip ties. As soon as his hands were free, he hesitated, not sure what to do next. Then he remembered the stuff in his satchel.

Adam threw a smoke grenade, which immediately exploded into a thick fog, giving him all the cover he needed to run away. Every instinct screamed at him to run and hide, but instead, he froze, looking in Kaiju's direction. With a wince, and a certainty that he was going to regret this, Adam hurried to her side instead.

"Come on," Adam exclaimed as he shook Kaiju. He'd seen her moving, so knew that she wasn't completely out of it. Unfortunately, the smoke was dissipating even faster than he'd expected. "We've got to run ...."

"You aren't going anywhere, kid," one of the henchman snarled, pointing a gun at them.

Suddenly, Kaiju snapped her tail and knocked his feet out from beneath him. As she leapt back to her feet, she pulled a stun gun from her belt and used it on the fallen thug.

"Look out," Kaiju yelped as she threw herself at Adam, knocking him aside just a moment before an energy blast hit the spot where he'd been standing.

The villain was hovering just a short distance away, with both of his gauntlets glowing as he was clearly preparing for another attack. Adam cringed, feeling like he was about to wet himself.

"I was really hoping I wouldn't have to do this," Kaiju stated with a grimace.

With that, Kaiju activated her manifested shell and began to 'monster out'. The quick release fasteners on her clothes all popped loose as she transformed into a seven foot tall reptilian creature, with armored scales, even more vicious looking claws, and jagged spikes all down her spine.

"Yikes," Adam blurted out, instinctively stepping away from the girl who now looked like some kind of miniature Godzilla.

Kaiju didn't hesitate before she threw herself as the remaining henchmen, slashing at them with her claws and tail. However, the armored villain rose higher into the air, out of her reach, and then fired blasts of energy from each of his gauntlets, hitting her in the side.

"Kaiju," Adam called out in horror.

The reptilian girl let out a yelp of pain after being shot, but she didn't go down or even seem to be seriously hurt. However, the villain was charging up for another attack, and he was well out of her reach.

Adam stared at the villain in growing panic, gasping, "What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?"

Though Adam knew that he should run away, he found himself reaching for his satchel instead, desperately thinking of what he had in there and whether or not any of it would be useful. He had his skin repair kit, which if he was lucky, might be able to blind the villain long enough for him to run away. And he had another smoke grenade. And he had ... Adam felt a momentary surge of excitement as he remembered what else he'd brought with.

With his hands shaking in fear, Adam threw a round grenade at the villain, though his aim was badly off and he missed. However, when the EMP grenade exploded a moment later, the armored villain suddenly dropped from the sky and Kaiju immediately leapt on him.

"Thanks," Kaiju said, still sounding like herself in spite of her frightening appearance. "That last blast really hurt, and I'm not sure I could have taken many more of them . ... "

"Um," Adam blinked, a little startled at being thanked. He wasn't used to anyone thanking him. Ever. "You're ... you're welcome ...."

Kaiju looked around, then exclaimed, "Hey ... I think we got them all ...."

She sounded surprised by that, and when Adam looked around and didn't see anyone else running at them, he was surprised too. While Adam was still trying to absorb this, Kaiju shambled over to the concrete structure and the little girl who was tied up inside. A moment later, a loud air horn sounded over the PA, signaling the end of the final.

Kaiju let out an excited cheer while Adam just stood there for a moment, feeling completely confused. "Did we just win?"

Several minutes later, Adam was outside of the main arena and standing in the 'debriefing room', still stunned over the fact that they'd actually managed to rescue the hostage. Kaiju came in a minute later, having already turned back to her normal self and put her clothes back on.

Almost immediately after Kaiju had entered, Bardue and Ito did as well. The big marine wore a grimace on his face, the kind of expression that made Adam sure that he was about to get yelled at. The small Asian man had a calm and unreadable expression, though he was just as intimidating in his own way.

"Greasy, you get a C," Bardue said as he handed Adam a folded sheet of paper. "Kaiju, the same."

"A C?" Adam blurted out in surprise. That was the best grade he'd ever gotten on a combat final.

"You did a good job performing surveillance before you moved in," Bardue grudgingly admitted. "And you two worked moderately well together ... but you gave away your element of surprise, got yourselves captured, and turned everything into a total cluster ...."

Adam hung his head as Bardue spent several minutes listing absolutely everything he'd done wrong, though admittedly, it was actually a much shorter list than his first experience in combat finals. As far as Adam was concerned, that alone made this whole thing a success.

"And you were both damn lucky that you just happened to have the one weapon you needed to take him out," Bardue finished up before giving them both a faint nod and then leaving with Ito.

"Wow," Kaiju said, staring after the two staff members. "And that was after we actually rescued the hostage. Imagine how much worse it would have been if we'd failed ..."

"I'd rather not," Adam admitted with a self-conscious smile. Then he said, "Thanks, Kaiju. I've never done that good in a combat final before ...."

Kaiju smiled at that, which only reminded Adam of just how cute she actually was. "You know," she said, giving Adam a curious look, "you're all right, when you aren't hanging around with that perv . ... "

Adam was about to defend Peeper, but Kaiju surprised him by coming over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Then she winked at him and walked out of the room with a satisfied smirk on her face, and with her tail swishing back and forth behind her.

For a moment, Adam just stood there, touching his cheek where Kaiju had kissed him and feeling stunned. First, he had a somewhat successful combat final, and then he'd been kissed by a cute girl. This was the best day of his life.

"I can't wait to tell Peeper," he started, only to pause and realize that this wouldn't be a good idea. Peeper was his best friend, but he was pretty sure that Peeper would only get jealous. Then with a grin, Adam told himself, "What Peeper doesn't know won't hurt him."

* * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Early Afternoon
Arena 99 Grandstands, Whateley Academy

As the combatants of the latest final trudged out of the arena, there was a sudden chorus of buzzes, beeps, pings, and other alerts rippling through the stands. Just as quickly, cell phones were extracted from pockets, purses, and backpacks, and some cheered as they suddenly received a torrent of call notifications and text messages which had been in limbo as long as the arena had had no cell phone coverage.

Booker read the text messages from his 'contact' and frowned; some people were very unhappy that the real-time updates had been interrupted because it made setting odds a much dicier proposition. With the restoration of data, he worked frantically to post the odds for the upcoming final to prospective 'customers', while he also scanned through the backlog of messages, responding to those he thought most critical. He posted his new odds on his cell app and then let the app take care of taking and acknowledging wagers, while he quickly strode to one of the tunnels and dialed a number.

"Tweak? Booker. Cell service is back," he reported.

"Yeah," Tweak acknowledged. "A lot of the gadgeteers have been doing nothing but work on an improvised relay since it went out."

"At least now I can notify our contact of any changes," Booker replied.

"Nope," Tweak cautioned him. "Don't use the cell phones. The relay might be fragile because it was cobbled together so quickly, or it might be infested with parasitic snoops."

"Okay, I'll stick to e-mails to you. But I can't e-mail our contact directly! I bet Hartford is tracking all e-mails from the arena wi-fi hotspots!"

"Yeah, good thinking," Tweak said. "Hey," she said suddenly as a light dawned on her, "give me five minutes and I'll set up a relay proxy. You can send e-mails to the proxy and they'll get forwarded automatically. Since the address is my PC in the labs, no-one would think anything of the e-mails, and if you encrypt the message, she couldn't snoop on that, either."

"Good thinking."

"Yeah," Tweak replied with a grin. "By the way, how are we doing?"

"Really well. The pairings is where we're going to make the biggest, percentage-wise, but the matches - I figure I'm about five percent better margin than the others - except Hazard. She's actually doing a little better'n me."

"She's a precog," Tweak snorted derisively. "What the hell do you expect?"

Booker shook his head, a gesture unseen on the phone. "I don't think that's it," he reported. "She's on her laptop constantly. I think she's getting data from somewhere."

"You want me to see if I can slip a worm into her system to see who she's talking to?" Tweak asked, a hint of malice in her voice. Hazard had been one who'd most vociferously objected to her membership in the Masterminds, and she wouldn't have objected too strongly to see the girl taken down a peg.

"No," Booker said firmly. "If she's got the best margins, then if someone starts looking, all signs will point to her. We'll let her be our decoy and be satisfied with the percentage we're winning."

"Okay," Tweak agreed reluctantly.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Afternoon
Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Clad in his silver and Kelly-green super-suit, his face properly masked, G-Force waited for the air-horn to signal the beginning of his final. He was looking all around himself in the few seconds he was idle, trying to get tactical awareness of the situation. He was on a corner of an average intersection in an average medium-sized city, just down the street from a Goodkind Bank branch office and in front of a corner restaurant. Judging by the crowd around him and the sun's position in the sky, it was lunchtime, and the smell of food cooking distracted him momentarily, reminding him that it had been quite a while since lunch and he was hungry.

No sooner had the air horn sounded than G-Force began to briskly walk down the sidewalk, all the while scanning around himself. Somewhere in this artificial city, Haywire was going to be trying to steal his grade and rescue the hostages, and Haywire wasn't a Cape. It wouldn't be right for him to allow a suspected member of the Masterminds to win the 'good guy' scenario; the name LeShawn Taylor would be an item of derision in the Capes for the rest of his career at Whateley. The further he walked and the more he thought about it, the more agitated he became. He simply had to beat the scenario.

Around another corner, he pulled up sharply, eyes wide as he looked at the scene in front of him. Two rather large gentlemen in dark suits, their expressions quite menacing, were leaning against a building, carefully watching a teenager as she strode nervously down the street. The whole situation screamed to G-Force that something was wrong here, and that the two men didn't belong, given how shopkeepers and pedestrians on the street kept glancing nervously at the two.

"Jackpot!" G-Force muttered to himself, knowing he'd almost immediately found the lair where the kidnappers were holding the three college-age girls. He leaned against a signpost, trying to look casual as he studied the scene. There had to be more than the two heavies; so far, no final had fewer than three henchmen and a villain, and at least one of those had powers. The pre-sim briefing hadn't given him much information about the villain at all - just that he had a long rap-sheet of quite brutal crimes.

LeShawn gulped nervously; given his powers, it was likely that the villain was quite powerful and experienced and ruthless. He'd seen the sim in which Scintilla had been thoroughly pounded by an exemplar warper; they'd only won because the villain hadn't noticed Scintilla's combat finals foe sneaking up behind the villain while she toyed with Scintilla. And Scintilla was a tough, experienced fighter. Ito and Bardue were certainly pegging the cruelty-to-students meter on this round of combat finals.

So focused on the setup was LeShawn that when he was tapped on the shoulder, he nearly leaped out of his own skin. "Boo!" a voice mocked him from behind.

LeShawn spun angrily, already assuming a fighting posture so he could thrash the person who'd startled him so.

"Calm down, bro," Haywire said with a chuckle as he watched the future superhero try to unjangle his nerves. "I've got a proposition for you."

"What?" LeShawn asked cautiously.

"I don't want to play this stupid game," Haywire replied. "All the fighting and running around. So I've got an idea to rescue the hostage and get our asses done with this stupid simulation."

"And fail?" LeShawn demanded. "No thanks. My grade is important to me."

Haywire laughed mockingly. "Dude, this is high school PE! Three years from now, no-one is ever going to give a crap if you got a C or an A in this class!"

"Well," LeShawn muttered, still glaring at Haywire, "maybe ...."

"Listen up," Haywire leaned closer, speaking softly and conspiratorially. "There's a really easy way to get the hostages. But it's going to require us to team up, and it's ... unorthodox. At least for you."

"Okay, I'll at least listen to what you're suggesting," LeShawn grudgingly agreed.

One minute later, he stood gawking at Haywire. "You can't be serious!" he exclaimed softly.

Haywire laughed. "I'm very serious.

"You know I can't do that!"

"Why not?" Haywire countered. "Is it against the rules?"

"No, but ...."

"Is it against your club rules?" the Mastermind boy further argued.

"It's ... it'd be a bad precedent," LeShawn sputtered, trying to find arguments against the absurd proposal. "I ... I can't."

Haywire simply grinned at the boy. "In team sims, they always do the Dark Phoenix scenarios, right?"

"Yeah, but ...."

"And you'll probably never get a chance to try something like this again," Haywire continued, sensing the weakening resistance of LeShawn.

"Well," LeShawn mouthed softly.

"Besides," Haywire leaned a bit closer, "girls love the whole bad-boy vibe!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Everyone, could I have your attention please?" Haywire announced as the pair of boys wearing masks stepped into the main waiting area of the Goodkind Bank. "This is a holdup. If everyone would be calm, nobody will be hurt."

To one side, a security guard reached for his gun, but immediately, local gravity soared to nearly 10 G's, causing the man to crumple helplessly to the floor. Smiling, G-Force picked up the guard's gun and then zip-tied his hands together. Even as he did that, he demonstrated his fine control of gravitic fields by simultaneously pinning the bank tellers helplessly to their crumpled chairs which had been unable to withstand the high G loads he imposed on them. Not a one of them was able to reach the hidden alarm buttons to alert the local constabulary.

"Now, if you would please?" Haywire picked out one teller, the prettiest of the lot, and handed her a pillowcase which the two boys had purchased at a shop just down the street. "I want you to empty the cash drawers and the safe. Large bills." He smiled pleasantly at her. "And no dye-packs, please. I can tell if you put in a dye pack, and I would be most displeased."

LeShawn, still focusing on his G-fields, moved behind the counter and zip-tied the hands of the tellers. Only when all were secure did he release his gravitic field. "Sorry about this," he apologized to an attractive young teller. "Nothing personal."

The girl smiled faintly, eyeing his muscular body displayed through the tight super-suit he wore. "That's okay. Um, you aren't going to hurt us, are you?"

LeShawn grinned. "Not unless you like your foreplay a little rough!" he shot back playfully.

The girl's eyes widened, and then she shivered slightly and a slight smile crept onto her face.

"I bet you can really dance," LeShawn continued smoothly, sliding his cell phone from his pocket. "Give me your number so you can show me how well you dance on Saturday night."

"Enough with the flirting," Haywire interrupted LeShawn. "We've got a sim to win."

LeShawn sighed, and as he turned, he noticed the girl's expression looked a little disappointed. "You're right," he said to Haywire as they walked out of the bank. "The chicks do go for the bad-boy vibe! She gave me her number and ..."

"And it's just a sim, remember?" Haywire shot back at G-Force, shaking his head at how easy it was to become totally immersed in the artificial world of the arena.

The two walked boldly down the street and were intercepted by the two suits who stepped in front of them, glaring menacingly, one holding his hand inside his jacket - no doubt on his gun. "You kids don't belong around here," one of the men growled at them.

Haywire put his hand on G-Force's arm so his temporary partner didn't do something stupid like try to immobilize the men. "We're here with a delivery."

The first man's eyes narrowed. "Of what?"

"The ransom he asked for," Haywire explained. "One million in cash."

The two men exchanged a surprised glance, and then one of them reached into a pocket and took out his cell phone. "Boss, I've got two kids out here who claim to have the ransom. They're carrying a sack of some kind."

"Give it a quick check, and if it's the money, bring them up."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99 Briefing Room, Whateley Academy

"See?" Haywire said as the two sat in the briefing room. "I told you it'd be easy."

"I guess," LeShawn said uncertainly. The sim had gone trivially well; they successfully exchanged the money for the hostages and then escorted the hostages to the finish line.

"What the hell was that?" Gunny demanded as he practically exploded through the doors into the room with Ito close on his heels. The two instructors were beet red with anger at the boys' chosen solution to their final.

"You said that we had to rescue the hostages," Haywire said with a grin. Beside him, LeShawn sat meekly, not looking at the instructors for fear of their reaction.

"Robbing a bank?" Ito snapped. "G-Force, you're supposed to know better than that!"

"You never said we couldn't rob a bank," Haywire shot right back. "Besides, it was only a Goodkind Bank."

"You're supposed to be one of the good guys!" Gunny barked at G-Force. "You aren't supposed to be robbing banks!"

"Aw, come on, Gunny," Haywire said with a grin. "Haven't you ever played 'cops and robbers'? Wasn't it fun to be a robber once in a while?"

The two men glared at the boys a few seconds, and then retreated to a corner to converse, which was obviously a very animated discussion. When they turned back, Gunny handed each of the boys a slip of paper.

"B-minus?" Haywire asked, a little confused. "We got the hostages out and nobody got hurt!"

"I'm not really surprised at your chosen course of action," Ito said, frowning slightly, "but you made a few mistakes."

"Mistakes? How? The exchange went perfectly!"

"I meant in the bank robbery," Ito retorted. He proceeded to give the boys a rundown of their performance, highlighting the errors.

"And you gave me a C-minus?" G-Force complained. "How come I got a lower grade?"

"Mostly because your mistake in the bank was worse!"

"But ... you just said ...."

"You let yourself get distracted trying to chat up one of the tellers!" Gunny roared at the boy. "If you're going to rob a bank, focus on robbing the bank, not trying to get a date for Saturday night!"

"But ... but ... but she was really, really hawt!" LeShawn protested. "And she was giving me the eye!"

"Not an excuse," Ito said flatly.

"Aw, come on, Sensei!" LeShawn pleaded to the diminutive martial arts instructor. "You were young once! You can't tell me that you wouldn't have tried to pick up a hottie like her if our places were changed!"

Ito frowned at the boy, and then glanced at Gunny. A silent interchange went between the two as they considered G-Forces plea. After a couple of seconds, Ito turned back toward the boy. "C. And that's final."

LeShawn Taylor nodded, accepting that he wasn't going to do any better, and the two instructors left to go back to prep for the next final.

"Hitting on an ANT! Man, that's just ....!" Haywire chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

"I ... forgot we were in the arena," LeShawn said by way of feeble excuse. His cheeks reddening with embarrassment, LeShawn glared at the other. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

Haywire shook his head no, a silly grin nearly splitting his face. "Probably not."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Afternoon
Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy

"Any news?" Hartford's called over the phone to the Deputy Security Chief.

"Nothing new," Sam replied. "It didn't take them long to improvise a repeater and get cell coverage back. So that's a dead end."

"Did you get anything useful while they were out?"

"Blue and Cyberkitty didn't see any change in the traffic pattern off-site. The only thing useful is that the betting houses were slower in getting their odds changed." Sam sounded a little frustrated by the lack of clues she wasn't finding. "How about on your end?"

"I've been looking at the network traffic by source and destination addresses," Hartford replied. "A lot of traffic on the campus wi-fi to and from the arena, but nothing going off-campus. Probably the bookies switching from cell coverage to wi-fi for their betting."

"Yeah, that's what I figured, too." Sam sighed. "If nothing else, maybe we're making them nervous enough to cut out some of the usual shenanigans."

"Hmmph!" Hartford snorted derisively. "If you honestly believe that ...." Even while talking, her fingers continued to dance over her keyboard as she scrutinized the computer display.

"We can wish, can't we?" Sam chuckled in reply.

"What are those two up to now?" Hartford demanded in her usual semi-imperious tone.

"Blue thinks he can get enough data from the gambling houses to see what their margins are for the various bets."

"Looking for one that ...." Hartford's voice trailed off. Both eyebrows arched and she stared at the screen. "Hello," she mouthed silently. "What do we have here?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, baffled by the interruption.

"Nothing," Hartford replied quickly. "I had an ... emergency note ... that caught my attention." She paused something on the display. "I presume you're trying to find one or more gambling houses whose margins are slightly better than expected?"

"It's kind of like grasping at straws," Sam admitted sheepishly, "but I'm running out of ideas."

"Well, keep after it. I'll keep watching the networks. We can tag up this evening." Hartford unceremoniously hung up the phone, her attention instantly riveted back on her computer screen. A mesh of network nodes was displayed, each a small dot in three-dimensional space, and on it, lines flickered between various nodes, indicating that a message had been passed. She backed up the display, watching at a high-level, and she noticed something she hadn't seen. Rewinding the data again, she slowed down the display. As it played, and she saw more anomalous events, her fingers typed frantically on the keyboard, changing display parameters and creating data filters. Once more she ran the data, and a wicked smile crept onto her face.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Afternoon
Arena 99 Briefing Room, Whateley Academy

Gunny and Ito looked around the room with sadistic smiles, intimidating a few, but not fazing others. "We have an interesting little situation," Gunny began, staring at Poise, the Venus Inc. leader to see if she'd flinch. "Intelligence reports that a terrorist group is planning to kidnap a prominent target who they'll then exchange for their jailed leader." He looked around the room to see if anyone flinched.

Loophole sat nonchalantly in her power armor, smiling pleasantly at the instructors in anticipation. Across the room, Lifeline sat, glowering at Lanie, having been 'persuaded' to participate by Mrs. Carson, the staff of the magic department, and her parents. Between them, Solange, in her stylishly-curvy sleek combat suit, watched Lanie warily. Fey sat near Lifeline, wearing her costume from Team Kimba and looking somber and a little detached. Freeze-Frame, like Lanie, had been invited to participate since she and Lanie were photographers, and thus de-facto members of Venus Inc. Heartbreaker, Chemtrail, and two other girls sat on the edges of their seats, nervously looking between the two instructors.

"We've got a state meeting which involves the German Chancellor, which is ...." Ito trailed off when another girl entered the room.

A collective gasp circulated as Pristine, in a severely-shortened hairstyle and wearing an ill-fitting costume from her sophomore year, marched in, glaring at the two instructors. Noticing the stares she was getting, she looked around. "Don't. Say. A. Word!" she hissed, her voice promising retribution to anyone who made a comment about her sudden, severe haircut or change of suit precipitated by her earlier single combat final.

No sooner had she sat than another girl entered. "Kayda!" Poise called out in surprise. "I didn't think you were going to join us! Solange said ...."

The Native American girl, in her nicely-adorned, Lakota-themed costume, sat down between Lanie and Solange. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good fight!"

"Well, you're apt to get one," Gunny interrupted with a wicked grin. "We have at least 3 high-profile targets in the area. The German Chancellor is at a state reception. There's some famous rock star ... Pink or something like that ... performing at a concert venue, and Bruce Goodkind is hosting a meeting of industrialists."

"Let's let them capture him," one of the girls, hidden in the ranks of girls, snarked.

Ito and Bardue glared around the room, silencing the titters and giggles. "There are other, lesser-valued targets," Gunny continued, "and intelligence reports suggest that the terror group may have planned a few diversionary attacks to distract from the main target."

"You've been drafted by the German security forces to assist in protecting the targets and foiling any diversionary attacks," Ito added ominously. "It must be noted that this particular terror group is ruthless and has, in past attacks, caused significant civilian casualties."

"Casualties are to be avoided at all costs." Bardue glanced around the room at the oversized team of thirteen girls. "You have two minutes for a team discussion, and then you will enter the arena. Any questions?" He was met with nervous gulps, even from Loophole and Poise. If they were being given time to discuss tactics beforehand, the sim was certain to be a bitch.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Gunfire erupted outside the ballroom in which Bruce Goodkind was hosting the business reception; even as the attendees all turned toward the disturbance, five masked men brandishing MP-5 submachine guns burst into the room. The leader's eyes scanned the room quickly, locking onto the well-known visage of Mr. Goodkind, and he barked curt orders in Arabic to his team, who were fanning out to cover exits and herd the industrialists into one group. "Silence!" one of the men yelled in accented English, firing a few rounds into the ceiling to emphasize his point.

Lifeline frowned. "There are too many of them!"

"Team Bravo is under attack!" one of her team shouted into a microphone at her throat.

The girls' speech attracted the attention of one of the terrorists, who swung the barrel of his weapon toward the girls. Freeze Frame, though, was a little quicker, activating a personal field generator at her waist, so that when the terrorist fired, the bullets splatted harmlessly into the energy barrier.

Screams of panic engulfed the crowd at the shots, and a couple of other terrorists panicked, firing into the crowd. "Damn you, Gunny!" Lifeline called as she activated a spell slip she'd slipped into Bruce Goodkind's pocket earlier when she'd been introduced. That might protect him, but the other hundred or so attendees were totally helpless.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Bravo Team is under attack," Lanie called to her small team. "Let's ...."

A nearby explosion interrupted her. The girls looked around and saw chaos and destruction at a restaurant a couple of blocks away. And even as the debris still fell, staccato bursts of gunfire punctuated the explosion.

"Diversionary attack!" Solange snapped as she broke into a run toward the disturbance. The others followed immediately after her, already preparing to deal with some of the terrorists. "Team Alpha is responding to a civilian attack!" she spoke into her throat mic.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"We've got attacks under way," Poise insisted to the head of security at the state reception. "I suggest you evacuate the Chancellor immediately."

The security detail was already thinking the same; several important VIPs were suddenly surrounded by bodyguards and being hustled toward exits.

"Something doesn't make sense," Heartbreaker interrupted Poise as the dignitaries streamed from the room, her features etched with concern. "They're attacking Goodkind, not us!"

Poise had the same dawning recognition. "Outside - in the motorcade?" Her team sprinted toward the exit, following the Chancellor's security detail.

Outside, dignitaries were being shoved into their armored limos, surrounded by gun-toting, nervous security details. In the distance, the sounds of gunfire echoed, making the scene sound like a war zone. But around the Chancellor's reception there was only the silent but frenetic activity of getting the VIPs away from the scene. If there were to be multiple attacks ....

"It's a trap!" Poise suddenly realized, too late.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Smoke poured out of an equipment room, and the panicked concert-goers screamed as they stampeded toward the exits. Pejuta jumped to the stage, where event security was hurriedly escorting the band to safety. Looking around, she saw the source of the smoke. But something wasn't quite right - the smoke smelled wrong, like a chemical mix, not like burning wood or wiring or ....

"Pristine!" Kayda yelled over the crowd's panicked screaming, "Out front with your shield!" She invoked her own shield spell and fought through the crowd toward the second main exit, a sense of impending doom overcoming her.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99 Briefing Room, Whateley Academy

The girls sat at the tables, fatigued, sore, and dejected. "Well," Heartbreaker said glumly, "that sucked." Her words and tone echoed the mood in the briefing room.

"We should have known Gunny and Ito would pull some shit like that," Naomi said wearily. Thanks to her PFG, she was one of the few survivors of the simulated debacle. Pristine, Loophole, and Solange were the others.

"That wasn't as bad as the other two," Kayda commented softly. "At least not until Tatanka got hit."

"At least you remembered your buffalo this time," Lanie chuckled.

"Not so much help when someone's shooting an AK at you," Kayda retorted. "Remember, when he gets hit, I feel it, too!"

Silence descended on the room as the two instructors filed in. "Well, ladies," Gunny said with a smirk, "did you enjoy your visit to Germany?"

Despite being tired and unhappy at the team's performance, Poise sat in her chair in a dignified posture, seemingly unflapped by the whole experience. "I would assume that the city isn't always this ... lively."

"We'll talk Berlin nightlife later. First, let's go down the results." Bardue looked around. "Team Alpha." Lanie perked up with the others on her team. "You spent the simulation chasing around a mobile terror squad. You failed to catch them. Further, you lost a team member. Net result - sixty-two civilian killed, one hundred eighty-six wounded, and you failed to apprehend all of the terrorists."

"They were mobile," Lanie complained. "We weren't."

"And yet, you stayed close to them. Didn't that strike any of you as suspicious?"

"Now that you mention it ...," Solange replied.

"Did it occur to you that you were being led away from the other attacks, and that they were moving slow enough to bait you?"

"But," Ito noted, "you did kill two of the four, and you disabled their vehicle. Net result - the Berlin police apprehended the other two."

"And not all of your team was killed," Bardue said, looking levelly at Solange. A lengthy, detailed, and quite biting evaluation of the team's tactics and errors ensued, leaving Team Alpha feeling like they'd totally failed.

"Loophole, with that power armor and flight capability, you should have been detached from your group as a mobile reinforcement - which would have left you able to support one of the other teams on very short notice. Which brings us to Team Bravo," Ito continued.

"Thanks to your forward thinking, Lifeline," Bardue said, "Bruce Goodkind survived. However," he added immediately, lest the girl get cocky, "sixteen of the world's top industrialists did not, and there were over fifty casualties." He smirked at the girls. "And though he survived, I doubt that Bruce Goodkind's opinion of mutants will be improved by the loss of his wife in the battle where mutants were supposed to be protecting him."

The girls murmured among themselves for a moment as they digested what Bardue had said. The events faced by that team came under equally-intensive scrutiny.

"Team Charlie." The girls snapped their attention back to the Gunnery Sergeant. "I will have to say, Poise, that of all the teams, I expected you to panic least. Thanks to erroneous tactics, three western European governments are in turmoil, having lost their heads of state." Their tactics had been severely lacking; as soon as the motorcades started to move away from the reception, they'd come under very heavy attack, including RPGs.

"In your haste to evacuate the dignitaries," Ito continued, "you overlooked the advice of the German security team to set up a perimeter and hunker down. Once the VIPs started to get in their limos, a very significant security force was split." Indeed, as the girls had watched in horror, four limos were hit with RPGs almost immediately, and machine-gun fire mowed down the security team trying to hastily get them out of the area. The critique continued for quite a while, since, all things considered, the losses there were most critical.

"And finally, not to leave anyone out, Team Delta."

"Yeah, we screwed up pretty bad," Kayda muttered loudly.

"On the whole, yes," Ito agreed. "But ..." he caught the attention of all the girls. "You recognized that the smoke was a diversion to cause an evacuation, and you got shields in the exits as quickly as you could."

"Yeah," Pristine grumbled, "but a hundred-fifty? One-sixty?" The casualty-count had been extreme; the terrorists had set up an ambush to slaughter the concert-goers as they exited. Only the quick thinking of Kayda and Pristine kept the count from being two or three times worse.

"And you remembered to use your buffalo this time," Ito noted to Kayda.

"For all the good he did!" the Lakota girl complained. "He is kind of allergic to machine-gun fire!"

"He provided enough of a distraction that you got two of the attackers at that exit with your bow," Gunny said.

"And he was so weakened it drained my essence, and then I got shot, too!"

The team spent what felt like hours in the debrief, even though it was only about fifteen minutes. "And your team grade?" Everyone groaned, expecting C-minus or D - or even lower.

"Maybe I'm getting ... ugh ...," Gunny shuddered visibly, "generous, but we're giving you a B-minus. Except for Kayda, Lanie, and Solange." He looked at Lanie and Solange. "For you two, five extra credit points."

Loophole frowned. "I thought it was ten points!"

"That was a different situation. Take 'em or leave 'em."

"Five for me, too?" Kayda asked eagerly.

"No," Ito said with a wicked grin. "You got your extra points. For your extra effort," he paused dramatically, "you win a cookie!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - Late Afternoon The Quad, Whateley Academy

Kayda frowned when she saw Sam Everheart on an intercept course with her. She'd had more than her share of encounters with security in the past couple of months, and she was tired of seeing security officers walking toward her or calling her because that inevitably meant trouble. She halted, waiting for the Admiral.

"What can I do for you?" she asked when Sam was a couple of steps away.

"Someone suggested you might be able to help us with a little statistics problem," Sam said bluntly, not wasting time with niceties. She'd learned that Kayda responded best to a direct approach.

"What kind of problem?"

Sam glanced around just enough for Kayda to notice her unease. "Can we go to my office?"

The Lakota girl shrugged. "Sure." She fell in beside Sam as the deputy security chief turned toward Kane.

Once they were in Sam's office and the door was closed, Kayda sat down opposite the Admiral's desk. "What kind of problem?" she repeated.

Sam eased herself into her chair behind the desk. "We've got a security problem and we need to make sense of the data we've been collecting for the past few days."

"Combat finals," Kayda said with certainty.

"You've heard something?"

Kayda shrugged. "Just rumors that some of the students already know who their opponents are, which would imply a security leak."

Sam didn't try to deny it. "Yeah. We're sure that we've got a leak, but we can't prove who's getting the data."

"The bookies?"

"Maybe," Sam admitted. "I'm more worried about off-campus betting getting the data, though."

Kayda sighed, resigned to helping - if she could. "Okay. What kind of data have you got?"

In response, Sam handed her a memory stick. "Everything we've gotten from watching the bookies' odds, plus what ... a couple of students ..."

"Blue and Cyberkitty," Kayda pronounced with a grin. "I do remember how those two were key in the computer investigations in my little ... incident."

Sam started, and then nodded. "A couple of students have collected odds from the major gambling houses worldwide."

"So you're looking for an analysis of accuracy plus correlation - if it exists - among the various sets of odds, right?"

"And check what our ratings are against what the gambling houses are advertising for the combatant's ratings." Sam scowled. "You do realize that I'm trusting you with access to all the ratings we have for every student who's fought. This could be considered sensitive data."

Kayda smiled. "As if an exemplar with eidetic memory - like Ayla - couldn't memorize that from the MID cards displayed at the start of every match."

Sam's frown caused the Lakota girl to gulp. "This is our testing data from our security files, not necessarily what's on the MIDs." She saw the girl realize the implications. "For that part of the analysis, I'll need you to work in the security offices proper. Not that I don't trust you; it's just that the data you'll be working with is very ... sensitive."

"I understand," Kayda said, nodding solemnly.

"And since you mentioned Ayla, I want you to work with her. Um, him," Sam added. Seeing the puzzled look on Kayda's brow, she explained. "Ayla has a lot of experience with business, which translates to understanding and evaluating data in ways that show patterns. Ayla understands security and intelligence and data gathering in ways you don't. Between your analytical skills and Ayla's other skills ...."

Kayda nodded somberly. "I get it. I don't have the same experience base Ayla has, so you want us working together so one of us doesn't miss something that the other one would spot."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, June 1, 2007 - Morning Arena 99, Whateley Academy

Alicia rolled her eyes when Long John, her 'opponent' for the simulation, paused after entering the arena to strike a heroic pose. Surely he'd offended Mrs. Ryan when he'd taken Costume Shop, and in reply to his sexist, obnoxious behavior, she'd steered him toward a suit that appeared to have been assembled by someone who was color-blind. Blue and gold would go together normally, but glittering gold lame trim on a neon blue skin-tight suit was beyond absurd. It was almost as if the boy had gotten fashion tips from Jericho. Worse than the lame stripes down the outside of his legs and arms, worse than the lame 'breast plate' with LJ in capital block neon-blue letters, was the neon blue cowl covering half his face, with eye holes trimmed in the ridiculous gold fabric. At least, Alicia thought to herself, he wasn't wearing a cape.

The air horn sounded, and Alicia gritted her teeth, thinking of Louisiana alligators to distract her thoughts from the comical outfit, and walked toward the boy. "Ah assume y'all want to partner, like everyone else has done?" Unlike the boy, her outfit was a simple cat-suit in dark blue, with a wavy moiré pattern in a diamond adorning her torso; simple movements could produce serious optical distraction and even nausea if someone were looking at her chest. A black diamond mask completed the attire, and she'd managed to convince Jade, through Addy, who convinced Ayla, to get her a pair of hair barrettes that had the nauseating strobe effect.

"Yeah," Long John replied simply. "Um, how do you want to do this?"

Alicia rolled her eyes again. "Let's split up and see if we can spot anythin' suspicious. We could cover more ground that way."

"Okay," Long John agreed readily. "I can cover a lot more ground without you slowing me down."

The temptation to use her power and her strobe barrettes on the arrogant, cocky boy was almost overpowering, but Alicia resisted the urge. "Meet back here in five minutes?"

"Yeah. You go that way," Long John pointed to his left, "and I'll go that way," he concluded, pointing to his right. A thought occurred to him. "Uh, what should we be looking for?" he asked hesitantly, afraid that he was looking like a fool in front of this Cajun girl - which he was.

"They gotta have guards around the building, just like every other final Ah've watched have had," Alicia said, shaking her head sadly and sighing at the ineptitude of her partner. "Weren't you paying attention to any of the other finals?"

"Uh, yeah," Long John said hesitantly, but he knew he was lying. He'd been watching mostly to see good fights and to leer at skimpy costumes on curvy girls.

"Look for anything that doesn't seem normal. Guys in suits by a warehouse. Storekeepers who aren't watchin' the store. Someone walkin' back and forth in front of a building. Stuff like that." With that she turned, and the two went their separate ways, Alicia grateful that she didn't have to look at Long John's hideous color scheme any longer. Maybe he was color blind, she thought to herself as she scouted the neighborhood.

Five minutes later, almost to the second, they rendezvoused back at their starting point. "See anything?" Long John asked.

"Yeah, there are two guys that look out of place outside a bakery entrance, and another couple of guys who looks like panhandlers at the rear loading dock," Alicia answered. "You?"

"Nothing, really," he responded. "So it's the bakery?"

Alicia sighed. "That's our best bet. So," she glared at the boy, "how do you want to go at this?"

"Attack the guys at the loading dock?" Long John suggested.

"How resistant are you to being shot?" Headrush asked sarcastically. "Because Ah object to having holes put in me that don't belong!" Too late, she realized she'd opened herself up to response dripping with sexual innuendo. "Don't you dare say a word!" she snapped at the boy, cutting off a response before he could utter a single syllable, while she stomped off toward the bakery, Long John scrambling to keep up with her.

"There are windows on the side," the boy observed as they looked upon the building.

"Too high up." Alicia looked at him curiously. "You're a stretcher, right?"

"I can't stretch that far," Long John replied curtly.

"Then hoist me up on your shoulder so I can see," Alicia replied with more than a bit of condescension in her voice, as if stating the obvious was necessary with this twonk.

Less than a minute later, Alicia jumped from the boy's shoulders to the ground, grateful beyond words that she wasn't wearing a miniskirt on her costume, because she knew that Long John would have been looking up at her crotch. While not as bad as Peeper, LJ was a first-rate perv, perhaps taking lessons from the campus Peeping Tom. "There's somethin' like a storeroom on the left, and a broad hallway, it looks like there are two goons standing at parade rest by a side corridor I could see a little ways down. And there's a large open archway into what looks like the main bakery work area. The suits standin' there might be guards."

"Could be."

"Ah think that side corridor is where our hostage is."

"So we rush a door to get in?" Long John suggested, "And over-power the guards?"

"Not bulletproof, remember?" the girl said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The two started when a truck horn sounded, and they looked up at a large delivery truck paused in the street, waiting for them to move aside so it could continue. "Hey," Alicia said, grinning suddenly. "Ah have an idea. Can you drive a truck?"

* * * * * * * * * * *

The truck backed up to the loading dock, lurching awkwardly, and LJ, clad in the too-large, 'borrowed' uniform of the delivery driver, clambered out of the cab. He walked toward the delivery door, noticing the panhandlers that looked a little too neat. Pausing to look at a clipboard he'd also liberated from the driver, he waited until both of the panhandlers approached him - which was perfect. Now shielded by the body of the truck, Headrush slipped from the passenger side of the cab and vaulted onto the loading dock itself, startling the two 'goons'. As one turned toward her, she activated a barrette, and the guy staggered, collapsing to his knees and hurling - or at least what ANTs simulated for hurling - at the optical sensory disorientation.

The other panhandler reacted a moment later, moving to push LJ aside to get to the intruder. LJ simply tripped him, and as he went down, grasped an arm and twisted it painfully behind the goon, a knee placed strategically in the small of his back as he rode the goon to the ground, using his additional mass to increase the force of the impact on the concrete. Having smashed his head against the loading dock, the goon didn't move.

Meanwhile, Alicia extracted a tactical baton from a pouch on her leg, swinging it expertly onto the base of the nauseated thug's skull, which caused him to collapse ungracefully to the ground as well.

"Okay, two down. But there are at least the two guards inside," Alicia noted.

"So what are we going to do?" LJ whined. "They'll see us coming if we try to rush them."

"I've got an idea," Headrush said, a wicked grin spreading over her face. She turned to the truck and opened the back, revealing a hand truck and several small barrels, probably containing flour or sugar or other baking supplies. "Help me with this," she ordered as she tackled one of the barrels. Dumping its contents on the floor of the truck, she set it upright.

Looking warily at the girl, even though he understood the plan, LJ helped Alicia squeeze herself into the cramped barrel, and then LJ set the lid on top. At least he didn't seal it, which would have been bad because she had a tiny touch of claustrophobia.

With the barrel on the hand truck and the goons safely dumped over the edge of the loading dock so they couldn't be seen from the door, LJ knocked loudly. A moment later, it opened, and the man in cooking attire nodded at him. "You're late," the man said simply. Without further word, he led the boy down the broad hallway to a plain door. "Put the supplies here," the man ordered before turning brusquely away and going back to his work station.

Once inside the store-room, Alicia pushed up on the lid, catching it so it didn't clatter, and clumsily crawled out of the barrel, covered in flour dust, while LJ sidled up to the open door and scanned down the hallway. They had to get to the short corridor where they thought the hostage was being held without alerting anyone. "Now what?"

Alicia's mind raced. "Go into the bake room and ask a couple of them for help," she commanded. With a dubious look on his face, the boy did as she ordered, and moments later, two of the baking staff were unconscious on the floor courtesy of Alicia's power - with a tap from her baton to make sure they stayed down. As she started to undress one of the bakers, she ordered LJ, "Get out of that uniform and into baker's clothes.

The two kids, now disguised as sloppy cook staff in their ill-fitting clothes, strolled casually out of the storeroom, or as casually as their tense nerves would allow. "Act like we're goin' on break or somethin'," Headrush whispered insistently to LJ. "Act confident, like you own the place and know what you're doin'." No-one in the bake room to the side noticed as they strolled down the hall, trying to be casual even though their nerves were jangled.

"Where are you going?" one of the two suit-clad goons challenged them as they walked down the short hallway.

"We need more cinnamon," Alicia said confidently, while LJ nodded nervously.

The one goon looked at his partner, confused, which gave the two teens enough time to act. Headrush tripped her barrettes, and the two goons fell to their knees, dazed and vomiting. A couple of 'love taps' with her truncheon and the two were in the land of nod. With LJ watching their backs, Alicia pressed her ear to the door.

"At least two people inside," she whispered.

"How do we do this one?"

"Ah'm gonna focus mah power, so y'all might wanna step back a bit," she said. Facing the door, she took a deep breath and concentrated. A few seconds later, there were a couple of soft thuds from behind the door. "Okay, let's go." She grasped the door handle.

"Okay," LJ said, joining her, wobbling a bit. "You need to learn to focus your power more," he suggested in a whisper. "I'm a little lightheaded."

"Sorry," Alicia winced. She yanked the door open and burst into the room, followed closely by the boy.

Two goons were prone on the floor, no doubt victims of her power. A hostage slumped in the chair to which he was tied, while a third goon staggered, fighting the effects of being completely dazed by Headrush's power. On the other side of the room, however, a man in a crisp, designer suit sat, glaring at the two as he pulled a gun from beneath his coat.

Headrush grasped the arm of the woozy guard, flipping him neatly over her hip, while LJ used his stretching power to knock the gun to one side even as the boss pulled the trigger, sending a bullet harmlessly into the wall. The boom, though, echoed painfully through the room. "There goes the element of surprise," Alicia said dryly as she face-kicked the goon she'd flipped and who had rolled to his knees to stand again.

LJ dashed across the room, his outstretched arm holding the gun away from him and Alicia, and grappled the 'boss'. The man, however, was much stronger than he looked, and slowly, he began to pry the boy's arms from around him.

Seeing her partner in trouble, Alicia took a couple of steps across the room and then delivered a combination of punches and a high kick to the boss, who seemed mostly unfazed, but it distracted him enough that LJ got free. The boy wasn't stupid, even though he sometimes displayed an astonishing lack of common sense and decorum; he lashed out at the boss with a vicious side kick to the guy's knee, making him collapse to the floor. Once more, the handy truncheon administered the coup de grace. "Let's get the hostage untied and get the hell out of here!" Alicia insisted. "Before the reinforcements arrive." She bent down and retrieved the boss' gun while LJ untied the unconscious hostage and flipped him over his shoulder.

The two dashed down the main hallway toward their exit, but that path was suddenly blocked by two more thugs in suits - the ones from the front door who were reacting to the gunshot. As one drew his own, Alicia grabbed LJ and tugged him into the main bakery room, where the sound of the gunshot had caused a lot of consternation. Most of the bakers were staring at the doorway. Alicia looked behind her, to where the goons were following her, leveled the pistol, and shot at one; all the years in the backwaters of the Louisiana bayous hunting critters paid off; the first goon went down like a wet sack of cement. She swung the gun toward the second, pulling the trigger, but the gun misfired. "Run!" she barked to LJ. "Find another way out of here!" She focused her power on the onrushing goon, and he staggered a little bit.

The surviving front guard and the two who'd been only dazed in the hostage room crashed into the bake room, one with his pistol drawn. It took him milliseconds to spot the trouble, and his aim swung toward LJ, who was dodging between tables of bakers with the hostage. And Alicia's gun had jammed!

Desperate, having been drilled on distracting a gunman, Headrush picked up the nearest object and hurled it at the goon. Her aim was dead-on; a chocolate cream pie hit the goon in the face with a huge splat. He shot a couple of more times, the bullets going wild because of the pie in his face, and then his gun clicked empty; without a gun, he picked up the nearest object to retaliate against the girl, and he hurled the pie at her.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on point of view, Headrush ducked, and the pie smacked into the face of one of the goons from the hostage room who had circled and was charging at the girl from behind.

Disorientated and unable to see, the goon stumbled forward, right past Alicia crouching behind a work table, and he crashed on the table, right on top of a couple more pies.

One of the bakers, hit with splatter from one of the pies, screamed in rage at his work being destroyed, and he picked up a pie, intending to throw it forcefully at the front-door goon. Unfortunately for him, a colleague tried to intervene and grasped the baker's left arm, which resulted in the baker spinning as he released the pie; it sailed across the room right into the side of the face of another of the bake staff.

The next thing Headrush and LJ knew, the room was full of flying pies; the bakers retaliating for being hit and the goons trying to duck, which resulted in more pies hitting and aggravating more bakers, and another couple of goons throwing pies toward the two kids, who'd rejoined forces.

"There's a door! Let's get out of here!" Headrush said insistently. She saw movement from the corner of her eye, and quickly, she side-stepped the flying pie. As a result, it hit Long John square in the face. With meringue and custard-like filling splattered all over his face and cowl, the boy was a comical sight, and Headrush started to laugh. Annoyed at the cackling girl having a chuckle at his expense, Long John grabbed a pie and swung his arm toward the girl.

Headrush ducked, and the pie hit another of the goons from the hostage-room right in his face. She gawked at him, and then extracted her truncheon and gave the henchman a solid whack on the back of his neck. Satisfied, she smugly turned back toward Long John - and right into a pie that one of the angry bakers had hurled at the pair of kids. This time, it was the boy's turn to laugh.

"Shut up and let's get out of here!" she growled. With pies flying everywhere behind them, making a total mess of the floor, the goons, and the cook staff, the two kids ducked a few pastry projectiles as they dashed out the door, even though they were already messy from the pies that had hit them and the splatter from near misses.

As soon as they got through the doors, the air horn sounded, and Long John started to grin, and then to laugh aloud. "We won!" he cried happily. "We beat it!"

"Yup," Headrush agreed, but her expression was less than joyful. "Oh, by the way," she began, one arm behind her back and glaring at her 'partner'.

"Yes?"

"You remember when you were harassin' mah friend Kayda in martial arts?" she queried the boy.

"But ... but ... I apologized!" the boy stammered, dropping the inert hostage to the ground.

"Yeah," Headrush said with a frown, "but Ah don't think you were really sorry." And with that, the pie she'd held behind her back swung out, splattering squarely on Long John's face.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, June 1, 2007 - Morning
Locker Room, Arena 99, Whateley Academy

"I'm a damned mess!" Alicia exclaimed softly as she looked at herself in a mirror.

Her roommate Addy grinned and swiped a finger along Alicia's neck, scooping up some pie filling and meringue, then ate it. "Not bad," she said with a smirk.

"That's 'cause you're not wearin' it!" Alicia countered. She slowly began to peel her costume off, wincing at the amount of pastry cream and such splattered all over her - including in her hair.

"How did you do?" Addy asked.

"Ah got B plus," Alicia said, half-grumbling.

"Only a B plus?" Addy gawked. "What did Long John get?"

A scowl flashed onto the Cajun girl's features. "He got an A-minus," she muttered angrily.

"'E got an A? That is so unfair! It was your plan, not that misogynistic idiot's! If it 'adn't been for you, 'e would have probably failed!"

Alicia winced. "Ah know," she said, nodding slightly. "Ah argued with Gunny and Sensei about it, but they were a bit upset with me."

"Why would they be upset? It was a good plan, and you won."

"They weren't happy that Ah hit Long John in the face with a pie at the end," Alicia said with a sigh. "Even though Ah explained why Ah did it."

"Why did you 'it 'im with the pastry?" Addy asked, her curiosity piqued when Alicia reminded her of the post-fight pie-splat. "Which, by the way, was a very popular action, based on the crowd's response!"

"Like Ah told Ito and Gunny," Alicia drawled, "Ah did it cuz of all the times he was coppin' feels in martial arts. And for what he tried to do to Kayda."

"Well, every girl was applauding very enthusiastically when you 'it 'im," Addy retorted.

Alicia pointed to her phone, sitting on her purse on a bench. "Yeah, Ah know. Ah've already had six text messages telling me one girl or another was goin' t' buy me pizza or lunch in Dunwich, or candy, or stuff like that!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, June 1, 2007 - Morning
Room 216, Poe Cottage, Whateley Academy

The door opened with a crash, catching Ayla and Charge in the middle of a prolonged and rather intense kiss, with one of each of their hands exploring the other's breasts. Both flinched like kids caught with their hand in a cookie jar as Toni and Fey charged in with sour expressions, and Fey's eyes burned with anger. "What did you do, Ayla?" Fey demanded.

Ayla winced. "What did I do when?" he asked for a bit of clarification.

"Jade is going on and on about how someone bet on her to win and 'donated' the money to her student account!" Fey explained rather sharply.

"So natch we figured it was you, Ayles," Toni accused, eyes equally furious.

"So one of 'er friends gives 'er a little present," Addy said, not quite understanding the girls' concern and rising to the defense of her boyfriend. "Is that so bad a thing?"

"It wasn't a 'little' present," Toni scowled. "It was more like a hundred sixty thousand!"

Adalie's eyes bulged at the figure, but Ayla looked quite nonplussed, which lent credence to the charge from the two girls that he'd done something.

"I just bet a couple thousand of change," Ayla protested, knowing that the two Kimbas were probably not going to buy such an excuse, "and my executive assistant at AJG was supposed to trickle the money into her account a little bit at a time." Ayla frowned. "How did Jade find out, anyway?"

"Girl had to get a few things for her latest devise," Toni said, staring warily at Charge. "But she wasn't sure if she had enough money, so she checked her account when she got to the bookstore."

"Is she upset?" Ayla asked, a bit worried.

"Upset ain't the word, Ayles," Toni said with a frown. "She told them to send it back, but they couldn't because there's no trace of where the money came from."

"Ayla, you know how Jade feels about taking gifts," Fey said reprovingly. "She needs to feel like she's earning her way."

"Can you not tell 'er that 'er friends secretly took up a collection to wager on 'er winning?" Adalie suggested.

Fey and Toni shook their heads at the same time. "Won't work. And you know why, Ayles, don't you?" Without saying anything to betray their friend's secrets and powers, Toni reminded Ayla that the J-team could read people's auras and would be able to tell when they were lying if she confronted them.

"I suppose you could tell her it's an advance to cover expenses for security and executive assistant duties starting this summer," Fey suggested after a long, awkward pause. "Just like your spring-break trip."

"Or I could tell her that the wager was her advance, which I invested because I knew she was going to win, and it paid better than I'd hoped ..." Ayla countered.

Adalie's eyes bulged noticeably, and her face bore an expression of shock and horror. "Are you suggesting ... that she come with us ... to France?"

"It would make her feel like she's earning the money," Fey noted with one eyebrow cocked over a neutral almost-frown, a look that was obviously learned from her mother, as it inspired a little extra guilt in Ayla.

Ayla sighed heavily, pausing to look at his girlfriend, who had a rather perplexed look on her face. "I suppose I can pay her as a security and executive assistant," he said slowly.

"France is not ready for Generator," Toni deadpanned. "If you take her, they might consider it an act of war!"

"I'd rather have France at war with me than Jade," Ayla said with a grim expression. "Okay, we'll do it that way." He turned to Adalie. "Just be ready for any kind of insanity on the trip, okay?"

"You mean crazier than all the things you 'ave done?"

"Compared to Jade," Toni roared with laughter, "we're all totally sane!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, June 1, 2007 - Mid Afternoon Arena 99 Grandstands, Whateley Academy

Harley "Reach" Sawyer was a big fan of numbers, now that her brain was up to the task of higher mathematics. There was an honesty to them, a simple element of truth in the way they worked out. Sure, a guy could twist them this way and that to prove most anything, but if one had the persistence to work through the Gordian knot and see the whole set, the numbers would always tell the truth, and then one would have the mystery or the equation solved. Her new-found facility with numbers had really helped over the past term, but it might not in this exact moment.

It was the fourth day of the Whateley Spring Term Combat Finals, and her number was up.

The notification beeped on her phone, a second before it got passed on to the HUD of her glasses. -Report for final-, followed by the code-number of her partner-slash-competitor for this fun little diversion. Frowning, Reach began to type frantically on her phone, accessing a site which the Spy Kids knew had the combat finals data - although they were still working to figure out from whence it had come. "Merde!" the athletic brunette gulped, hard.

"Qui est-ce?" her girlfriend asked. Geneviève "Spark" Etincelle, Jenny to her friends, looked up at the big display over Arena 99. The blonde girl was a devisor -- creator of the sometimes impossible, as well as a bombshell in every sense of the word -- and had been Reach's one-and-only for six months and counting. A lot of things had happened in that time, starting with Harlan's involuntary transformation into Harley, but they'd made their peace early on. And, Reach had to admit, life was better for her now - with the side benefit that unexpected shifts back to Harlan were very, very rare.

"C'est Razorback. Tu sais, le dinosaure vivant?" One more plus was that she learned much faster now, and six months was more than enough to learn her girlfriend's langue maternelle.

"Hey! Enough of the Frenchy-talk!" snarked Holdout. The members of the Intelligence Cadet Corps -- NOT the "Spy Kidz," no matter what the rest of the school said -- were gathered in that section of the stands, along with various friends and classmates. Most of them had done their combat final already, to varying degrees of success. Ace had, of course, aced his, while Kew and Rez had somehow squeaked by in spite of the idiocy of their respective partners in the exercise. A-plus and Holdout still had to do their finals.

"You know who you've got?" Ace asked quietly.

Jenny's final had somehow ended in a massive explosion, which she declared to be not her fault at all. Seeing as she'd been paired with Harlan's old roommate Glitch, Harley was inclined to believe her.

"They put me with Razorback," she announced, letting her Kentucky accent twang a bit.

"The raptor kid?" Kew squeaked. The little gizmo goddess shook her head. "I know Jericho down in the labs always stands by him, but still...."

"Better you than me," Ace said, clapping Harley on the back. "Go show old scaley-butt what for!"

"Should I tell Kaiju you said that?" Reach teased, just to see his reaction. It was more than worth it.

"You had better get going," said Jenny. "Oh, et je te dis merde, mon coeur."

Reach grinned, kissed her on the cheek, and left without saying merci. It was up to Jenny to explain to everyone else why she'd just wished shit upon her girlfriend. Some things just did not translate well.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Tunnels Beneath Arena 99 Grandstands

It only took a few minutes to get down to the staging area, and even fewer if one was an elastic shifter like Reach and capable of really stretching one's legs. She didn't rush, though. The people running the finals expected a bit of lag between the official summons and the student's arrival, as the call could come in the middle of meals, study sessions, or illicit romantic encounters (because hey, exams are stressful). So far they hadn't had to hunt anyone down for playing hookie, at least.

The short walk was good for her nerves, and it let her check her equipment. Currently she was wearing Jenny's Mark IV body suit, composed of fullerene nanostructures aligned to Reach's personal PK field. On the plus side, it stretched and bent every way she could. On the minus side, it left little to the imagination, even with the equipment vest, utility belt, and short skirt. The catcalls had been annoying at first, but it was rather liberating once she got used to it. And with an exemplar body, Reach knew she had nothing to worry about in the looks department.

It was also highly resistant to kinetic force, heat, cold, electricity, acid, and quite a few other things, while holding some fun tricks in its structure. The vest and belt that went with it carried all of the holdouts she couldn't attach to the suit itself. The fullerene surface was slicker than goose shit, and no matter how tight she cinched the utility belt, she could shimmy out of it in a second.

"Hey, got a sec?" Someone was waiting in the corridor, making no attempt to hide. Not that it would have worked. That eye-watering combination of bright puce paisley on ultramarine was proof positive for most that Razorback's roommate Jericho really was blind. The chartreuse and periwinkle plus-fours clashed with themselves loud enough to wake an entire cemetery of fashionistas.

"What do you want?" Harley asked, suspicious. For all that the guy was officially listed in school records as blind -- and again, look upon that wardrobe and despair -- something had never added up right. She would bet good money that he had ways around his handicap.

"Just needed to pass something along." Jericho felt around in his pocket, then produced a small gadget. "You know about Jack, right?"

"Razorback, you mean?"

"Yeah. He means well, and he'd never want to, but ... if things get out of hand, you might need this. It's a --"

"A sonic disrupter, I know. The whole campus knows he's weak to sonics, and I already got some in my vest."

"Spark's work?" Reach nodded. "Well, not to say anything bad about your girl -- because really, her stuff down in the labs is awesome -- but I doubt she's had a chance to test it against Jack himself. The problem with those things is that you have to get them really well tuned, or you miss the sweet spot where he gets knocked out, and head right to the part where he gets even more pissed off, and then..." Jericho shrugged, sending the paisleys into a nausea-inducing dance. "Look, do it as a favor, okay? Mine are proven to take him down quick, and then he wakes up five to ten later with a headache and a ton of remorse. This final's supposed to be cooperative, after all, and I'd hate to see him end up doing something he'd really regret later."

Reach nodded sadly. "Okay then. Hope I don't gotta use this."

"Me neither." Jericho looked her straight in the face with those perfectly blank white orbs of his. "Anyway, don't let me keep you waiting. Jack's already in there." And with that, he took his awful ensemble away.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Razorback was just as hard to miss as his roommate, but for completely different reasons. Jericho always made an effort to be seen, but Razorback simply was. A six-foot-tall dinosaur with razor-sharp teeth and claws tended to grab one's attention. In the back of her head, Reach tried to assign a name to the species. Jack was way too small to be a T. Rex, and while everyone on campus called him a Velociraptor because of the Jurassic Park movies, he was much too big to be one of those, either. She'd just have to look this up later, now that her curiosity was piqued.

Whatever the species, it was safe to say most dinosaurs did not have opposable thumbs or wear specially designed vests to hold stuff. Razorback had swapped out his usual gear, which was about as heavy metal as one could get, for something in vaguely official blue with a jaunty basket mask over his head. The plume-like spines that ran down his back had been painted a similar color.

"Hello." The voice was creaky and metallic, and came from a little box hanging from Razorback's neck.

"Um, hello yourself." She hadn't known he could actually talk, but she tried hard to hide the surprise.

Not too well, it seemed. Razorback chuckled -- not through the voice box -- then raised his crest, waggled his eyebrows, and grinned a huge, toothy, oh-God!-that's-a-predator grin.

Reach was suddenly very, very happy she wouldn't have to fight him. Probably.

"Okay, you're both here. In good time, too. Thanks for not wasting our afternoons like some people." Sensei Tolman did not sound happy. Reach recognized that tone of voice quite well; old Harlan had heard it often enough from her last fall. Not so much this year, though. "So, you've probably heard the basics of the scenario by now. Cooperating is one of the options available to you. You may fight each other if you so desire, but most students who've had their finals wouldn't recommend it. Your objective is to locate a hostage, free them, and return them to the designated safe zone, which for this variation will be their home. You may use any means normally at your disposal to do this, though some options will obviously impact your grade negatively. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sensei!"

"Rawrgh!"

"What was that, Razorback?"

"Yes, sensei." It shouldn't have been possible, but Jack managed to sound chagrined through his vocalizing gadget.

"Good. Your turn, Reynolds."

Lieutenant Reynolds was one of the Whateley Security officers, and was regularly put upon as the liaison to the Intelligence Cadet Corps. Reach didn't ask what he was doing here, since Security often helped run the simulations out of a mix of amusement and a sense of personal revenge towards the kids they'd been running after all semester. She could wonder, though.

"This way, you two," he said, walking towards the gate. "Since this scenario has more opportunity for role-play, I figured you might appreciate these." He handed them two name badges. The letters FBI were prominent on each. "Break a leg!"

She didn't say thank you to that either, but she did smile.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, ladies, gentlemen, and assorted other! It looks like we're about to begin!" Peeper's voice rang out from the commentator booth. "And what a pairing we've got this time! Beauty and brains, scale and brawn! It's a true lady vs. dragon scenario this time, because it's Melville's own finest artificially remodeled femme fatale, Reach, versus that scowling scaly scoundrel of Twain, Razorback!"

"Um, Peeper, Razor's not really that bad --"

"Quiet, Greasy. Don't you remember the time he and that roommate of his hijacked our booth here? Now! Where was I ... Yes! Weighing in at one-hundred thirty-seven pounds of lithe, supple, and oh-so-flexible flesh, Reach has a lot going for her, but can her curvaceous wiles overcome three-hundred pounds of smelly, scaly lizard meat?"

"They don't have to fight each other on this one..."

"So? Surely they can feel that this is what the public wants: a titanic clash of monster and maiden, his claws raking at her, her suit ripping open, that beauteous body spilling out..."

"They don't HAVE to fight each other ..."

"Oh, yeah, right! You're not impressed by these battling beauties after you had your 'up close and personal' moment with Kaiju!"

"I did not ...."

"Yeah, right! Tell our fans all about how she looks in her costume with a few strategic tears and ...."

"Cutting to commercial!"

"Huh? Greasy, we don't --"

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Let's have some fun with this," Reynolds said once he'd returned to the control room. After spending most of the school year riding herd on the Spy Kidz -- because no one else in Security wanted to -- he'd looked forward to "helping" with all their combat finals. The humor was cathartic. "I know these two. Reach has aspirations of police-work, and Razor's got a reliably short fuse."

"Sounds like the makings of a buddy cop movie," one tech snarked. "You know, 'She's stretchy; he's a dino. Together, they fight crime!' and all that."

"Exactly." Reynolds laughed. "This should be interesting."

* * * * * * * * * * *

"So," Reach asked as they passed into Arena 99. "Work together, or separately?"

"Together. Better for both."

"My thought, too. Here," she said, pulling a tiny gadget from her vest. "This is synced to my comm unit. We need to... hm..." There wasn't a good way to attach it to the voice box, it seemed, and it really hadn't been designed with non-humanoid mastoid structures in mind. "We'll fix this to your mask. You'll be able to hear me, at least. One click for yes, two for no, okay?"

"Crrik!"

"Wiseass."

And then they were at the start point. Not one hundred yards away was a stereotypically suburban residence representing a slightly higher than average tax bracket. It was surrounded by police cruisers.

"Let's start this, then." With a nod to Razorback, they walked up to the nearest officer. The man was really an ANT, of course, but the techs had done a good job of making this one resemble an actual human being. His skin had a plastic sheen to it, but that was all. "Excuse me, officer. FBI. What's the situation?"

The faux cop took a look at their IDs, nodded, and began the scenario exposition: "Home invasion. Three perps, all mutant apparently. Still establishing motive, but the father had a panic button with a really loud siren. Perps escaped with one hostage before we arrived."

"A kidnapping, then."

"Yup. That's why we called you guys. Good thing you were nearby."

"Yeah, really. Can we speak with the family?" At her side, Razorback was sniffing the air. "You getting anything?" she asked.

"Maybe," the voice box rasped. "Give me a minute."

The officer ANT shrugged and led them across the line of police tape and into the house. The inside was a mess. One wall was simply missing, while half the windows in back had been shattered outwards. The only piece of furniture still upright was the sofa, and by the looks of it that was only because they needed a place for the witnesses to sit. A family unit of ANTs -- father, mother, and son -- were speaking with another officer. They all turned to look at the "FBI" agents as they entered.

"Fuck this!" the father shouted, jumping from the sofa. "You guys have a fuck-ton of nerve, sending a fucking monster at a time like this." A finger stabbed towards Razorback. "A bunch of your friends did this!"

"Maybe if you hadn't written all those nasty letters to the editor..." the mother began.

"Shut up, Margaret! They're animals, all of 'em, and now... now they got Pamela..." The father slumped back down onto the sofa and wept.

"Razor," Reach said quietly. "Hate to ask you this, but could you go check the perimeter, maybe get a better lock on the perps' scent with that nose of yours? Ain't gonna do us much good with you here."

Sigh. It looked like someone was trying to push some Real Life Lessons™ into this sim. With crest flattened and shoulders slumped, he made such a pathetic picture (for a three-hundred pound dinosaur) that she just had to hug him before he left.

Wiseass gave her butt a squeeze, waggled his eyebrows like Groucho Marx, then slipped out.

Reach turned back to the witnesses. "Okay. Details, quickly. As soon as my partner--" She stressed the word hard. "--finds something, we're going after them. No time to waste."

The officer gave a cursory description of the three perps, which she quickly typed into the arm-mounted computer pad of her suit. It was SOP to report in and see if anyone had anything on file, and it never hurt to ask...

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Are we going to reply to that?" a tech asked Reynolds.

"The instructions did say 'any means normally available,' and I think this counts," came the judgment from Reynolds. "Give her the basic info, but leave out those items marked in red, okay?"

"Got it."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Razorback chirped in right as she was done with her digital request. Found something, all right. What? She'd just have to ask him. "If you'd excuse me," she said to the ANT family.

"Please, bring back Pamela," the mother ANT pleaded.

"Don't let those fucking monsters hurt her!" shouted the father. "ANY of them."

Reach didn't have any illusions about what he was implying. "My partner and I are on the case, sir," she said with her brightest, fakest smile. "And THIS mutant doesn't know when to quit." She was out the door before he could respond.

"Razor, do you copy?"

"Crrik!"

"Wiseass. Hold position; I'll meet you there." Her computer beeped. "Got some info on the perps."

Three dossiers appeared on her HUD, and she skimmed them in a few quick seconds. Suspect #1: Ratface. Six foot eight, but surprisingly limber. Exemplar 6 rating on physical strength. Suspect #2: Glop. Either an amorphous shifter or a manifester with a bad case of MATD. Suspect #3: Squeaks. Basically the chiropteran version of Ratface. The details were few on the ground, and practically nothing was said of what the hell they could actually do, but it was more than they'd had.

She was rushing this time, using every trick she'd learned from her not-big-sister Zenith when it came to free-running, as well as a few that only a stretchy mutant could pull off right. Thirty seconds after she left through the front door, she was slingshotting herself over a fence to Razor's position. He and the first officer ANT were waiting by a drainage culvert. The grate had been ripped aside.

The sewers. How appropriate. She looked to her partner, and he nodded back.

"Better you than me," the officer said. "Gotta hurry, though."

"I know. Every hour passed reduces the odds that the abductee is alive."

The officer nodded. "That, and someone passed word up the grapevine, and the Knights just sent word that they're en route."

Reach swore. "ETA?"

"About half an hour, I'd say. Best of luck."

"Don't wish us luck," Reach said as she and Razorback went in. "Wish us shit, because we're deep in it."

* * * * * * * * * * *

In the past, Jenny's friend Adalie had made numerous comparisons between Harley and Inspector Javert, the infuriatingly stubborn police officer who stood as the antagonist of Les Misérables. She meant it as an insult, but Harley had seen it as a compliment of sorts. Javert never gave up, always got his man...

And he'd had a climactic scene in the Parisian sewers. Somehow it'd seemed more exciting in the movie.

Reach had her suit's hood up, thankful for the air filters Jenny had built into the thing. These weren't sanitation sewers -- thank God! -- but even rain sewers built up a godawful stench after a while. Her nose burned a bit from the acrid gases. She did NOT want to know how the techs simulated this!

She and Razor took it as slow as they dared. At every turn, she stretched a hand around and used the optic-fiber camera in her pinky to scout. A digital request for sewer schematics went unanswered.

Razor's nose made the difference, more often than not. It was hard to say just what he was picking up -- the perps, or the stuff kicked up in their passing -- but they were making progress.

Through it all, the clock was ticking. She'd started a timer on her HUD, counting down from 30:00, the instant the officer had mentioned the time limit. And a real limit it was, she knew. The people in charge of the sim wanted them to move, not dawdle.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Gotta give 'em credit," Reynolds drawled. "They're clearing through the sewer maze faster than expected."

"Better than the last pair we put through there," Sensei Tolman agreed. This variation had only been used once so far, early on the very first day of finals. It had taken that long for the arena's self-repair systems to remove the obvious signs of napalm. "I'm curious to see what happens when they get there."

* * * * * * * * * * *

"This is the most boringest combat final ever!!"

"They can't all be flashy duels, Peeper."

"Seriously, Greasy! No fighting, no explosions, no wardrobe malfunctions, no robbing banks to pay ransoms! What do these two think they're doing!?"

"A serious attempt to save the hostage?"

"... shut up, Greasy."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Their ears located the hostage before their feet could. The girl's sobbing and wailing echoed down the tunnels, as did the vague growlings and grumblings of her kidnappers.

Reach swore and waved Razorback to a stop. Switching the lights on her visor to the UV spectrum, she crept up to the corner and snaked a long arm around. The corridor didn't open up for another twenty yards or so, and she was afraid she'd hit the limit of her reach before she found anything.

"I don't like this!" came a voice via her microphone. "We need to get moving!" It was high-pitched and nasal.

"Gloooooop!" This voice was thick and phlegmy.

"Nightfall ain't for a few more hours." The third voice was deeply bass, but with odd tones she'd never heard used in human speech. "I can fly us all out, but we need the cover of darkness to pull it off. And will you shut up!" Now the voice went shrill, like nails on a blackboard.

The girl's sobbing stopped for a few seconds, only to begin anew.

"You all right?" she whispered to Razor. The big lug had gone stiff for a moment.

"Yeah," he replied, once he'd dialed down the volume on his voice box. "Nasty noise, though."

The windows had all shattered outward, Reach recalled. Of course the witnesses hadn't volunteered the most important factoid... and she hadn't asked. Oh well, she'd have to assume this hunch was correct, because she'd hate to find out the hard way.

"Our third perp's a screamer," she whispered to Razor. "I'll go in first. Any objections?"

"Crrik, crrik."

"Wiseass. Wait for the signal."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Jenny's suit was filled with all sorts of tricks. All one had to do on some of them was to think hard for a few seconds, and the gimmick would go. Right now, Reach was thinking of thick, cold fog. In response, the suit went into camouflage mode. It wasn't quite invisible, but when she spread herself flat against a wall, like only a stretchy mutant could do...

Well, it was still slow going, because speed ruined the effect. In her HUD, the timer clicked down past 12:00.

The three stooges were still talking -- arguing, really -- as she slid around the corner and into the lair. Dumb luck, sure, but she wasn't going to waste it. The room was large enough that it didn't feel too crowded with three large mutants, and they'd set up some lighting, but it was a far cry from the Ninja Turtles' pad.

Ratface was, if anything, larger than described, with a fuzzy physique to rival Bronco, Reach's opponent in last winter's combat final. Pamela was a bit behind him and to the left.

Glop was... accurately named. That one was gathered in a puddle near the far wall.

Squeaks was nearest to the entrance, and his ears swiveled this way and that. "You hear something?" he said in that deep bass voice.

"No."

"Glo-glop!"

"You said it, Glopster," Ratface agreed. "Prolly a rat. My little cousins are all over the place makin' noise. But if the cops were after us, they'd be blundering and splashing, and we'd hear it loud and clear."

"Dunno. Thought I heard clickin' like nails on brick."

"The kid's screamin's messed with your ears," Ratface asserted.

"Gloop!"

"Mebbe..." Squeaks squinted his eyes in the lamplight, looking at the section of wall that Reach was now plastered against. "Mebbe not..." The bat mutant opened his mouth wide to scream --

And Reach put a fist right through his nose. Lots of screaming happened, just not the sort Squeaks had intended.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Move it!" Jack's head went up as the Melville girl's voice echoed down the corridor in stereo with the comm unit. Awright! He hadn't minded playing second fiddle to this investigation -- so far -- but now it was time to have some fun.

His body was built for speed, and it felt soooo good to let it out. The words hadn't finished bouncing off the walls by the time he was in the lair, blinking in the lights, and taking in the scene.

Reach, sweetie that she was, had Squeaks all tied up with her arms and legs, in what looked like a really complicated sleeper hold. Her hands were firmly planted across the bat's mouth.

Jack barely slowed down, barreling straight into Ratface. The mutant wasn't ready for one hundred thirty kilograms of dinosaur -- but then again, who was? Claws scratched at the be-whiskered face, and taloned feet bounced up and down as Jack jumped on the villain's belly.

Ratface howled with rage, and Jack screamed back. Then he pulled a spray can from his little vest and hit the villain with knockout gas. There were benefits to having a devisor roommate. The stuff diffused quickly, but a close-up spray could knock him out. Ratface didn't stand a chance.

That left Glop. The vaguely humanoid mound of muck was slow on the uptake, and hadn't budged an inch so far. Jack obliged with a swift kick to Glop's midsection.

His talons sliced right through, and the cuts melted back together without a trace.

He clawed at that lumpy, melted face with similar success.

Okay... Jack's crest raised in surprise. It was like slicing at Jell-O, and he didn't mean the girl in the sophomore class. As a test, he slammed his tail upside the thing's head, knocking it clean off. Glop's surprised face flew through the air, to splat against the nearest wall and slide down. It immediately oozed back towards the parent body.

"Gloooooop!" It sounded pissed, too.

"I don't think it's a mutant," Reach said. Behind her, Squeaks was down for the count, and now she was cradling a sniffling Pamela in her arms. "Maybe a devisor's creation, or..."

"Gloooooooooooop!"

"... or maybe we should get going. Now."

Jack did not need any persuasion. Glop was expanding, engulfing Ratface's unconscious body and ... he really didn't want to stick around to see. There was an exit in the rear, presumably the one the perps would've used that night, and they wasted no time climbing up and out.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"So, how would you rate that fight, Peeper?"

"Meh. Over too fast, and nobody's top got ripped off."

"They can't all be Heartbreaker fights."

"Yeah, I know..."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99 encompassed a microcosm of a city, which included its own compact version of Central Park. Reach, Razorback, and Pamela had just come up through a maintenance shaft.

The ANT girl was a little doll, in almost every sense: rosy red cheeks, sandy blonde curls, and a blue gingham dress. The only thing she lacked was an off switch for her mouth.

"Oh! Oh! That was so awesome! He went Rah! and you went Grah! and then you whacked him, and I thought Wow! dinosaur! because you are a dinosaur, aren't you? 'cause I always wanted to see a real dinosaur but Daddy never has time to take me to the Museum but have you seen the dinosaurs there I bet you have 'cause they gots T. Rex and Diplodocus and Shantaosaurus and Interceptor and Utahraptor and I bet that last one's your cousin or your brother or something 'cause you really look a lot like the model except you don't really have feathers why don't you have feathers?"

"I'm ... sorry?" Razorback said. His voice box sounded confused.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Okay," Reynolds asked. "Who's responsible for this one?"

The tech on the far end grinned. "They said they needed a new personality model for that age group, so I sat my daughter in front of a microphone and let her chatter on for a few hours. She's seven and obsessed with dinosaurs."

Reynolds chuckled. "Faithfully reproduced here?"

"Oh yeah. Think the administration would mind if I hired Razorback to work her next birthday party?"

* * * * * * * * * * *

"We really need to get you back to your mommy and daddy now," Reach had to tell the girl.

"Aww..." Pamela was still glomped to Razor's neck.

"I know, I know, but we have to hurry..." The timer on her HUD was reading 4:00 now. "They're worried about you."

The ground shook, and the lid blasted off of the nearest manhole cover. A burst of fetid gas followed, and a voice like an infernal belch welled up: "GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!"

"On second thought... Pamela, sweetie? Would you like to ride a dinosaur?"

"Yay!"

"Crrik, crrik!"

"Sorry, wiseass. You're the speedster. Get her home." She knew he could do it. He'd been giving rides to his little brother and everyone else's little brother last Parents Day, after all. As Glop squeezed and squelched up through the sewer manholes, she hoped he was fast enough. Her timer had 2:25 left on it.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Is this more like you wanted, Peeper?"

"Maiden versus monster? You bet!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

One of Reach's biggest advantages in a fight -- aside from her reach -- was how her body could take kinetic impact. She instinctively reacted by becoming stretchy or rubbery, and the punches just bounced off. The suit increased the defense and slipperiness by a large factor, but she was pretty tough all by herself.

She wasn't used to having an opponent with similar qualities.

Glop sent pseudopods crashing into the ground like spears, and if she tried to punch at them, they wobbled like jelly. Whatever it was made of, it was selectively hard or soft, not to mention very, very slick. The ground was covered in dozens of snotty little puddles ready to trip her up.

What she needed was fire, or energy weapons, and those she did not carry. So instead, she uprooted a tree and slammed its trunk straight through the center of Glop's mass. Perhaps it had a central core or something...

It stared at the makeshift impalement like it was a splinter, then quickly digested it.

"Ah, shee-yit."

But before it could rise up again, ruby red beams of energy lanced through it. Where they passed, Glop's material turned grey and brittle. A few more blasts, and it was immobilized.

"Thank goodness," she muttered, but then revised that opinion. Her Hud was flashing 0:00, and above her a Knight of Purity power armor hovered.

"Threat 1 neutralized." The voice on the communicator could've been discussing the weather. "FBI agent identified. Moving to intercept Threat 2."

"Wait a minute, what Threat 2?" she demanded. "That was the last kidnapper!"

"Negative, miss. Our cameras confirmed that one last perpetrator fled the scene here with the victim. No worries; we'll get it for you. Your bosses can thank us later." She knew the voice was a simulation, but damn if it didn't sound smug.

"One last... you morons! That's my partner!" But the Knight hadn't stayed long enough to listen. "Shit, shit, shit! Razorback!" she yelled into the comm. "You've got company!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Jack almost got the warning too late. Her voice reached his ears a scant second before the whine of the KoP suit engines did. His feet leapt for him, taking him in a zig-zag pattern instinctively. It slowed him down a bit, but the three craters in his wake were proof that the KoP was using the heavy guns here.

Crap, crap, crap... Normally when he was up against the wall like this, he'd just let go, let the anger out and let it shred everything. He could feel it building up in the back of his head, and his vision was already tinged scarlet.

On his back, Pamela was screaming. She may be an ANT, but what did it matter? Jack was a big brother, and this was just the sort of situation that could come up some day while he was playing at home.

He'd done a lot of bloody awful things while in the grip of a rage episode, a lot of things he regretted, but he'd never hurt his baby brother. That was one fact that had helped keep him sane through the worst of it. In his head, all fogged up with rage hormones as it was, here was a simple connection forged: Pamela = little brother.

When the rage burst forth, it had to go somewhere. His last conscious thoughts were to push it in the direction of the ANT girl's house.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Nobody could run like a stretchy mutant. Reach wasn't a speedster, not even on a purely physical level like Razorback, but when one's stride ate up six yards at a step, one didn't need to be. Her HUD had Razor's comm signal on the tracker, but she really just needed to follow the trail of destruction. The Knights never were known for their subtlety or concern for collateral damage.

She caught up with them less than a block from Pamela's house. The Knights had her partner bottled up in an empty lot. Pamela was no longer on his back, but she wasn't hurt, either. The little girl was huddled up behind Razorback, obviously scared of the big, scary, flying robots. Razor had his head low, his teeth bared, and his crest flared out as much as possible as he faced the KoP like an angry mother hen.

"Razor! Razor! Do you copy?"

The response was a roar. Not even a click from the wiseass, this time; there was only primal rage in there.

"Stand down!" she yelled at the Knight. "This is an FBI investigation that you're fucking up right now!"

"Way I see it," came that smug voice, "we got a dangerous mutant holding a poor little girl captive."

"For the love of..." She launched herself off the sidewalk, swung around a telephone pole for momentum, bounced off the nearest building, and hit the KoP suit just in time to throw its aim off. It torched a tree instead. "I told you, I have this!"

She landed right in front of Razor, who snarled ferally. This would've been monumentally stupid, only she had Jericho's sonic disrupter ready in her hand. Damn, that thing was loud. Her hood protected her, but he hit the dirt hard. Pamela was screaming again, with her hands over her ears.

"Sh... it's okay. You're safe, and he'll be all right in five or ten minutes, promise," she said as she hugged the girl tight. "As for you..." She raised her voice and turned to the Knight. Flashing her "FBI" badge, she said, "You do not have jurisdiction here. I'm taking them both into my custody as of now, and your superiors will be hearing from mine, understood?"

"Whatever you say, darlin'." The KoP suit lifted off. "Just, be more careful with your partners in the future. Hate to see something ... unfortunate ... happen."

Reach didn't take her eyes off the interloper until the suit was completely out of sight. Then she cradled the girl in one arm, lifted all three hundred pounds of Razorback under the other, and walked them home.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Arena 99 Tunnels Outside Briefing Room

Razorback was up on his feet seven minutes after the KO, much embarrassed and desperately relieved to hear that he had not in fact shredded little Pamela while his conscious mind was on holiday. Twenty minutes later, the two of them stepped out of the arena's debriefing room. Sensei Tolman's post-mortem of the final had been brief but very thorough, and Lieutenant Reynolds' own comments had been very on the mark. Harley stored them all in her mental notebook for future pondering and consideration.

"Yo, mi dinomigo! How ya feeling?" Jericho was right there to meet them when they let out -- or there to meet Jack, at least.

"Ô! 'Arley!" And then Reach's own fanbase arrived. Jenny launched herself straight at her girlfriend and landed with an explosive hug. "C'était incroyable, ça! Contre le chauve-souris, et ce monstre exécrable, et même le KoP!"

"She was on edge the entire time, dude," Holdout said, nudging Harley in the ribs with his best you-lucky-guy/gal wink.

"Je craignais que ton partenaire pourrait te blesser, aussi," Jenny whispered against Harley's chest.

"Hey, some of us are passing French this year," Jericho griped. "So don't go badmouthing people just because you think they can't understand."

"Ô! I am sorry, Jericho, Razorback. I did not mean to, but..."

"I am a big, scary dinosaur." Jack's voice box was now set to 'snarky'. "Rar, rar, rar," he added, again through the voice box. It was nowhere near as intimidating as his real growl.

"Euh, oui... Je suppose..."

Harley kissed her on the forehead. "Nothing to worry about, darlin'. Me and Jack got along great. Ain't that right?"

The dinosaur considered for a moment, then spread his crest wide and shrugged. "Crrik?"

"Wiseass." It was worth a round of laughter at least, and once it had quieted down, she continued: "Anyway, see you next weekend, right?"

"Crrik!"

"What's all this about?" Jericho asked.

"Oh, not much. We were just asked to work at a party next Saturday. Crazy, right?"

"Crrik!"

"Wiseass," said Jericho, swatting his roommate on the noggin.

"Aw, jealous?" Rez said. "I'm sure you could tag along. Every party needs a clown, right?"

"And you've got the outfit already!" added Holdout.

They cleared out of the hallway to a mixed soundtrack of laughter and grumbling. All in all, Harley figured that it hadn't been a bad day. School was supposed to teach one stuff, and she felt they'd all learned a bit. And they'd both gotten A's. Still, she thought as she walked arm-in-arm with her girlfriend, she was more than ready for the semester to end. She and her Aunt Connie had plans to visit Paris that that summer, for example.

Yes, things were really looking good.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Saturday, June 2, 2007 - Mid Afternoon
Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

"Have you got anything?" Sam poked her head into the office where Kayda and Ayla were working on the data Sam had provided.

Ayla turned and stretched. "Nothing statistically significant so far," he reported.

"You can't find any correlation among the different data sets?" Sam asked, wincing at the thought that her best lead might have evaporated.

"Let me show you," the Lakota girl said, turning the computer monitor so Sam would be able to see. "Look at this," she said, pointing to a bar chart; each cluster of vertical bars had the name of a major casino or gambling facility under it. "See, there's nothing significant," Kayda said wearily.

"Kayda did cross-correlations between each of the bookies and each of the casinos, too," Ayla added.

"What about these two?" Sam asked, one eyebrow cocked as she pointed at a couple of bars that were a little higher than the others.

"Anomalous? Slightly. But not statistically significant," Kayda stated matter-of-factly.

"That's the same bookie, if I read this right. Who?"

"Who do you think it is?" Ayla turned the question around.

Sam frowned. "I suppose that's fairer than me trying to put a bookie's name on a data point. From what I've seen, the one that seems to be doing best is Memo."

Ayla shook his head. "If I were to guess based purely on what I've learned through the bookies, these sets of bars," he pointed to the two higher ones, "are Booker's."

Sam frowned. "Booker? Not Memo? Are you sure?"

Kayda nodded her agreement. "Yeah, those are from the data you collected on Booker."

"My deduction is based on purely on who's asked for backing," Ayla explained further. "Memo has had a few really bad bets. Except for the surprise on Lanie's final, Booker is the most consistently successful of all the bookies in these finals. Not spectacularly, so he doesn't stand out, but consistently successful."

"That's interesting." Sam looked off at the trees for a moment. "Do you suppose if it is Booker, that he's thrown a few to keep a low profile?"

Ayla shook his head. "I'm not going to speculate about something I have no data on," he admitted honestly. "But those lines are Booker's correlations."

"Don't forget that they're very weak correlations," Kayda added before fiddling with the keyboard. "Now here's a different view - correlations among the odds offered by the casinos."

Sam studied the display, and whistled without realizing it. "Yeah," Kayda agreed. "Everything looks reasonably weakly correlated, especially when you see how tight the spread is on the odds, but these two ...." she pointed to two very high data bars. "These two are very highly correlated."

Sam frowned. "Just a sec." she seemed to zone out for a few moments. "Got some data from my ... sources."

"Blue and Cyberkitty," Ayla interjected with a wry smile.

"My sources have data they've ... obtained ... from the casinos," Sam didn't acknowledge Ayla's speculation. "These two are a quarter to a half percentage point higher in their earnings on all the betting so far."

"That sounds like they got some inside data, then," Ayla answered, frowning. "Those are huge margin differences in the gambling industry."

"I think this is convincing enough for Mrs. Carson to talk to the Trustees so they can ... apply pressure where needed." Sam thought a moment. "Why don't you two take a break? You've been on this for quite a while, and you do have studying to do. We'll take another look at the data when we get some upperclassmen finals next week." As the two walked out the door, Sam called after them. "By the way, if you do happen to hear anything ...." No doubt the comment was directed at Ayla, not Kayda.

"I know your number," Ayla said with a nod. "And you can trust me to bring to your attention anything which could impact student safety."

"Thanks," Sam replied. "I wish more students had your sense of priorities."

After Kayda and Ayla shut the door behind themselves, Sam picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Amelia?"

"Do you have something?" the assistant headmistress asked without bothering with formalities.

"Maybe. The statistical analysis Ayla and Kayda did produced nothing solid. Not more than hunches, anyway. But I got inside information about the bookies."

"Which one?"

"We can't prove anything about outside contact," Sam cautioned.

"Understood."

"You might want to track any activity on the network and ID tracer for the past few weeks associated with Booker."

"That explains a lot!"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, perplexed by Hartford's unusual reaction.

"I'm working on an analysis of network traffic, especially during the cell phone outages," Hartford replied enigmatically, "and a certain ID shows up quite a bit in a rather ... unusual traffic pattern."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Saturday, June 2, 2007 - Late Evening Elevator to Devisor Tunnels, Whateley Academy

"Hold up, please!" Tweak called out toward the elevator. When she saw the doors opening again, she quick-stepped into the lift, which had two gadgeteers already in it. "Thanks."

"No problem. Did you see Tennyo's final?" one of the two, Swordmaster, asked her as the doors closed again.

Tweak shook her head. "Nope."

"I didn't see it either. What happened?" Mechano Man complained.

"Tennyo lost. And you missed it? You owe me a hundred bucks, too!"

"Crap! I was doing detention. Now tell me what the hell happened, or I'm going to beat your ass down," Mechano Man growled.

"OK, chill. So the whole arena was set up like a mountain. They had to use cameras to show us anything. And there were crystals through the entire thing. Tennyo had to stop a bunch of nukes and save a general who had the codes for them."

"That wouldn't be a problem for her. I heard she already took down a mountain," Tweak observed cautiously. She couldn't help but be curious about the anime-girl's final.

"Yeah, that's what we all thought to. But as she went in she got hit by at least five RPG's. She shot her energy balls and we were all thinking she was going to blow them away when it was torn apart and the crystals just ate them up."

"What?!?" Mechano Man sputtered.

"Crystals?" Tweak asked, curiously. "That explains that ...." she said, her voice trailing off.

"Explains what?" Mechano Man and Swordmaster demanded simultaneously.

"Just ... Mr. Paulson was working with the power testing wonks for, well, since last fall, trying to come up with something to absorb her unique energy," Tweak explained. "I guess they figured out something."

"Anyway, she tried a couple of times as her clothes were getting shredded and the same thing happened," Swordmaster resumed his narrative.

"I hope one of you guys filmed it!" Mechano Man said sarcastically. "So what, she can just use her energy sword."

"Not this time, man. She made it and it looked like a strand of spaghetti getting sucked up by the crystals. Finally she started dodging and took out the soldiers with some martial arts. She could still make gravity her bitch and she swooped in like a hawk - even after taking a missile to the face - and she ripped them apart."

"Now that's what I'm talking about."

"But she took too long. By the time they were down, twenty more soldiers had come up. There were so many explosions and dust we couldn't see anything; we just heard what sounded like World War 3 going on. When she finally got through she was naked except for her metal bikini."

"And I missed that?!? Oh that geek is so dead for turning me in."

"Heh, it was sweet. So yeah, she started moving down the tunnel, leaving a trail of gore behind her."

"She was ripping people to shreds?"

"No. Well, yeah. She was beating and breaking anyone who got in her way, but the gore was all hers. She's got that scary-powerful regen, remember? Anyway, the bad guys were using rockets, claymores and grenades on her. Even with her regen, I don't know how she lived through that. But after fighting in the tunnels for ten minutes, she was so mad she was practically glowing. And she had started shooting people from a foot or two away, so even when the crystals grabbed the energy, it still completely fried the ANTs. Then she reached the final door."

"That had to be good."

"Oh yeah. There was a suit of power armor and they went at it hardcore. She was burning away the wires and trying to blast the joints by touching them, and it was slicing into her with plasma blades and tossing frag grenades like they were candy." Swordmaster chuckled. "She almost had it, when an alarm sounded and said there was two minutes left before the launch. She grabbed the suit's head and melted it between her hands. Then she ran for the door."

"And then?"

"She tried beating it down, tapping on the control panel, breaking the control panel, nothing worked. With thirty seconds left she went back to the door put her hands on it and lit up like the fourth of July. The crystals were eating her energy and she was still melting the door. The crystals were glowing and pulsing, some of them were cracking. And then ..."

"What man?! Don't leave me hanging."

"Boom. The whole arena shook, and the mountain blew up. The force field almost shorted out and that was with Carson and Circe and Grimes helping reinforce it." The elevator stopped and the door opened to the main tunnel level.

"Damn! I missed that! Where the hell is that little underdog? His ass is mine!"

"Hey where's my money?" Swordmaster said sternly.

"You'll get it!" Mechano Man growled as he marched toward one of the general-purpose labs.

Tweak chuckled. "I'll have to watch the replay. It sounds like it was good."

"Yeah," Swordmaster replied. "I heard she got a C, too, because even though she failed, she found a way to use her power despite the handicap. But she got docked because she used brute force instead of trying to finesse things. There were two other entries to the launch center, she could have taken out the power armor and kept the armor-driver alive so he could have opened the door - she missed some obvious shortcuts."

"I don't think I would have bet on her," Tweak observed. "Anyway, got to work. Later." She turned down a side tunnel toward her private lab, leaving Swordmaster strolling down the main tunnel.

She sighed to herself as she shut her lab door behind her, taking time to set all the security locks and codes. She turned toward her workbench - and started.

"I take it you weren't expecting to see me?" Ms. Hartford said, sitting in Tweak's chair with the wicked grin of a cat that was playing with a mouse.

"Um, no," Tweak stammered; none of her various alarms had sounded to alert her to Ms. Hartford's entry. "Can ... Can I help you ...?"

Ms. Hartford put her finger across her lips to silence the girl, and then she tilted her head to one side to silently indicate that Tweak should follow her.

"I ...." Tweak started to say, but a threatening, silencing scowl from Ms. Hartford stilled her tongue.

The two walked out of the lab, up the emergency stairs, and out onto the campus grounds, but still Ms. Hartford said nothing. Finally, when Tweak thought she could take no more, the pair strode toward the parking lot.

"Get in," Hartford said simply to Tweak. Nervously, the girl looked at Hartford's BMW, and then, with an almost-audible gulp, climbed into the passenger seat. With nary a word, Hartford joined her in the car, and the two drove off campus, still silent.

"I think you'll find," Hartford said when they'd passed through the gates, "that the little recording device you have is rather ... inoperative right now."

Wide-eyed, Tweak stared at her a second, and then retrieved a micro-recorder from her student ID badge holder. She examined it, and then, still goggling at the surreal nature of what was happening, she looked slowly back up to Ms. Hartford.

"Sometimes, it can be very important that your work remain secret from prying eyes and listening ears, wouldn't you agree?"

"What ...?" Tweak's voice cracked from her nervousness.

"Let's just cut to the chase," Ms. Hartford said as she pulled off the road and put her car in 'park'. "You've had access to certain ... data ... that you shouldn't have been able to see, and you - and your partner - sold this data. Right?"

"But ...." Tweak's eyes were about to bug out of their sockets.

Ms. Hartford shook her head. "Don't bother trying to deny it. You aren't as good as you think you are about hiding your fingerprints," she chided the girl with a smile. "I'll admit that you're good, but you still left ... fingerprints. Now, let's have a little conversation about your future."

"But ..." Tweak stammered, "I ... I wasn't trying to .... I mean, it's not explicitly ...." She fought a losing battle against tears. "Please don't expel me!" she finally begged.

"Expel you?" Hartford asked, astonished at the girl's reaction. "Why on earth would I want to do that?" She gave a soft laugh. "I was talking about helping ensure your membership in a certain ... informal ... campus organization, and a possible job opportunity for you for the summer." The girl goggled at her as she tried to understand what Ms. Hartford was telling her. "Miss Fowler," Hartford continued, a little less formally, "I have certain ... friends ... who can always use someone with your skills, rough and unpolished as they may be."

"Job?"

"You're quite talented, but it's raw talent. With the right internship, you can polish those rough edges, which is what you want to do, isn't it?"

"But ... why?" Linda was totally confused.

Amelia Hartford looked at the girl with a gleam in her eye, a knowledge of the game of cat-and-mouse that went with cyber-crime. "Admit it, Linda," she practically purred, "you loved the feeling of danger, the adrenaline rush of trying to stay one step ahead of security, the tension of your data drops and pickups, didn't you?"

Linda flinched; Hartford had nailed precisely how she got a rush out of cracking the computer security and codes. "Um," she tried to sound nonchalant, but it was a losing effort because the Assistant Headmistress' words had stirred those exciting memories. "Um, yeah," she said, blushing more than she ever had when talking about sex. And Ms. Hartford's words suddenly caused her to realize something she'd never considered - she got at least as much of a thrill out of computer hacking as she ever had out of sex.

"Do you know who the advisor for the Masterminds is?"

"Uh, no," the girl replied uncertainly. "There is one?"

"Of course," Ms. Hartford replied with an enigmatic smile. "Regardless of the job opportunity, you'll get into the Masterminds, no questions asked."

Linda's eyes narrowed. Hartford was admitting something to her that wasn't public knowledge and could be used .... She started when she realized that Mrs. Carson probably already knew that. And a lot of others on campus probably did as well. "And?"

"All I want in return for helping you in the club and arranging the internship is for you to tell me exactly how you got the data. And to give me access to your data source, in case I might ever need it."

"Oh." Linda's head spun; this was not what she had expected.

"I'll provide some bullshit cover for how the data was leaked. All you have to do is agree to my terms, which includes checking with me on future deals, to ensure we don't accidentally compromise student security. I'll provide you with a discrete way of contacting me."

"Okay." Tweak's head was spinning; this was a dream opportunity, coming from the last place she'd expected, and under circumstances that made her quite vulnerable to ... coercion.

"And you will take the monitor off my computer," Hartford added, her countenance stern and unyielding.

"Yes, ma'am." Tweak sat, stunned into silence, with a million questions swirling through her brain. "Um, ma'am?" she finally asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" Hartford replied as she pulled off the road and began to turn around to drive back.

"Um, the betting ... off-campus, I mean," Tweak sputtered. "I ... don't know ... who ... the contact is."

Hartford smiled coyly. "But I do."

Tweak thought her eyes were going to bulge from their sockets. "You ... know? And you didn't ...?"

"Stop it?" Hartford gave a chuckle. "Do you know what percentage of the revenue from the wagering and pay-per-view ends up in our scholarship fund?"

"But ...."

"Linda," Hartford chided her like a mother scolding a child, "the world isn't all black and white. It takes money to run Whateley. Lots of money. If we can get that without endangering students, do you think we'd turn it down?"

"But ... all the precautions ...."

Hartford laughed aloud. "Some of the faculty still suffer from the delusion that they live in a black-and-white world, and they need the pretense that they're wearing the white hats. So every term, we go through this little charade where they get incensed about security leaks, and other staff members make sure that no critical data gets leaked to the gambling establishments. In exchange, Whateley gets a generous stipend."

Tweak sat in stunned silence for a moment. "But ... you didn't know we were stealing the data," she protested. "Or did you?"

"I knew someone would," Hartford said smugly. "It didn't take too long to figure out that it was you. And just in case you had failed, I had a backup plan to make sure Whateley got its cut."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Sunday, June 3, 2007 - Mid-Morning Administration Conference Room, Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy

"It was what?" Sam asked incredulously. Around the table, Liz, Franklin Delarose, and Mrs. Shugendo shared Sam's slack-jawed expression.

Amelia Hartford sat confidently. "There was a combination of debugging utilities in the operating system which are normally left on - to assist with tech support calls. All data from any program sits in main memory, and by invoking the utilities in an unusual sequence, it's trivial for someone to get into the computer and read everything in memory - if they knew where to look."

"Like ... a keystroke logger?" Mrs. Shugendo asked.

"More than that. If a person knew what he or she was doing, they could access the main memory of any affected computer - without having to install malware. If you ran a program on your computer and someone knew how to access the remote debugging tools, they could get to anything that came through memory, even if you never did anything through the keyboard. Print jobs, file transfers - you name it. If you did it on an affected computer, it could have been retrieved."

"You're sure of this?" Franklin said skeptically.

"I double and triple checked it, and ran it past some of my hacking class students. That's the only option I can find which explains how the computers were bugged without tripping any of the magic or electronic bug detectors. And how someone got access to files which were printed through my computer," Amelia said firmly.

"And now?"

"I had the IT department push a new load to all faculty and staff computers this morning disabling those particular debugging tools," Ms. Hartford replied. "And the new student load for next year will have selected debugging features disabled by default when the year starts."

Sam leaned back slightly, studying the people in the room for a few seconds. "If you're certain you plugged the leak ...."

"I plugged a leak," Amelia countered firmly, scowling and peering over the top of her glasses in a quite intimidating manner. "That's not to say we won't have more in the future. In fact, given circumstances, I'd be surprised if we didn't." She looked at Delarose with a wry smile. "Given our student body, I'd bet that we'll find a different leak next term. And every term after that - just like we've plugged two or three leaks every term I've been here."

"Do you know who did it?"

Ms. Hartford shook her head. "It could have been anyone," she answered, answering truthfully, but not revealing the complete truth.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Sunday, June 3, 2007 - Mid-Afternoon Parking Lot outside Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

"Ah, good afternoon Officer," Booker greeted the man warmly as the security man was clambering into his car, his duty shift over. "Nice afternoon, isn't it?"

Caruthers stood back up, squaring his shoulders and puffing his chest out a little to try to intimidate the student. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Booker smiled pleasantly. "Yeah," he said plainly. "We have our little ... arrangement. It was weekly, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, that's what I remember, too." Caruthers shifted uncomfortably, glancing about himself. "Um, if you want cash, then ..."

"Nah, too bulky," Booker replied dismissively. He slid a business card into Officer Caruthers' hand.

The officer looked at the card. "iPayoff?" he mouthed silently.

"It's easier that way, wouldn't you agree? Your ... contact ... can put the money into the account, and my partner and I will deal with our own split."

Caruthers nodded, already thinking that he could stiff Booker a little, and the poor student would have no clue, and even if he did, he couldn't do anything about it. Nothing like a little extra payola for the middleman.

"I look forward to more future ventures," Booker said, starting to turn, then he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, and Officer?" Caruthers halted, halfway in his car. "A little birdie told me exactly how much the payoff was for you and your contact," he explained with a pleasant but threatening smile. "If you were to ... forget, or possibly miscalculate ... the percentage you promised to pay my partner and me, I don't think my information source would be very happy."

Caruthers glared at the impudent boy. "Is that a threat?"

Booker put on an angelic smile. "Threat? Oh, no!" he said innocently. "I just wanted to remind you that these kinds of ventures are profitable because we work together. And if something were to happen to that relationship, why, I'd have to find someone else to do business with. And that would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

Caruthers nodded, still frowning. "Yeah. It'd be bad for business." He climbed into his car, holding the door open a few inches. "You might want to check in a couple of hours. I know you'll get your due." He slammed the door, and as he screeched out of the parking lot, Booker smiled. "Nice doing business with you, too ... asshole."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Odds and Ends

Author:

Organizational:

Audience Rating:

TG Universes & Series:

Odds and Ends (part 1)

Author:

Audience Rating:

Publication:

Genre:

Character Age:

TG Universes & Series:

Permission:

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Odds and Ends

Part 1

by ElrodW

(with contributed scenes and ideas by: EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken, Gen2 author Neomagus, and fanfic author Domoviye)

(to be continued in part 2)

Odds and Ends (part 2)

Author:

Audience Rating:

Publication:

TG Universes & Series:

Permission:

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Odds and Ends

Part 2

by Elrod

(with contributed scenes and ideas by: EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken, Gen2 author Neomagus, and fanfic author Domoviye)

To Be Concluded

Odds and Ends (part 3 - final)

Author:

Audience Rating:

Publication:

Character Age:

TG Universes & Series:

Permission:

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Odds and Ends

Part 3

by ElrodW

(with contributed scenes and ideas by: EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken, Gen2 author Wasamon, and fanfic author Domoviye)

FIN

(with contributed scenes and ideas by:
EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken,
Gen2 author Neomagus, and fanfic author Domoviye)

(with contributed scenes and ideas by:
EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken,
Gen2 author Neomagus, and fanfic author Domoviye)

(with contributed scenes and ideas by:
EE Nalley, Morpheus, Bek Corbin, Kristin Darken,
Gen2 author Wasamon, and fanfic author Domoviye)