Weeks after the Homecoming game, Mecklenburg Academy returned to its routine. Both hero teams would start patrols in the city. For the Mean Girls, the homecoming game had left deeper marks and broken girls.

Misty Sparks, known at school as Melissa Muldune, finished the morning run. On the weekends the middle school students ran on their own. Along with Misty was Margret Douglas and Becky Murphy. Margret and Misty were the same height. Misty had thin brown hair, and Margret’s hair was a long thick black. Becky was shorter and slender for thirteen, with freckles and red hair. The three wore the school's yellow and black winter tracksuits. With the morning run out of the way, the girls walked to enjoy autumn. Margret walked on her toes. Misty thought it was to be taller, but Margret would do spins when she had the space. On the way back, they passed by the Grand Atrium.

A school car idled beside the curb with the Baseline girl at the wheel. As Misty walked closer, a blur passed. Margret's hair rippled in the wake. The Cooper girl stopped at the car. Misty's stomach clenched. As the three walked by, the car door opened and closed. Misty chanced a glance at Billhook's work. The Cooper girl's bruises had faded, but her lip on the left side drooped. Two fights in a row had not been kind to the Cooper girl.

"Who's that?" Margret said as Becky opened the door to the school.

"Mean Girls," Misty answered. The Car drove off down the driveway.

Margret watched the car disappear into the far wall of trees. "What are they doing out on a Saturday?"

Becky shrugged. "Going to fight with a supervillain?"

Back in the dorms, Misty made an excuse to lie down. Once alone, she teleported to her office. It had a desk, a chair, and a potted cactus. The desk had no phone or computer, only a three-column ledger. She kicked off her shoes and got to work.

One column was the location of the items. The warehouse in Philadelphia or the secondary warehouse in Antarctica. She knew every square foot of both buildings. The second column had the title of deliverables. These were in locked enclosures. The list included bags of money, sometimes weapons, cars; she sent a boat once as a favor, and, on occasion, people. The third column was the delivery sites. She had acquired the delivery locations, working for a cleaning service over the summer. It included safe deposit boxes, closets, and garages. A few places were under beds and warehouses all across the world.

Misty's dad had helped her set up this side business. Spark-Gap had underworld contacts the family had developed over three generations. She spent twenty minutes teleporting the items on the list. She checked off each delivery. When Misty finished, she teleported the ledger to the boss then leaned back in her chair.

"Do I want to keep doing this for the rest of my life?" Misty said to the cactus.

In the Mobile Dental Office of Doctor Enamel, Flat found the exam room sterile. Clear glass jars held cotton balls, medical alcohol, and dental tools. The tools were not standard and unnecessarily spiky. Go-Go sat in the dental chair. Brown leather straps not in use on the wrists and ankles gave the room color.

Doctor Enamel sat beside Go-Go on a stool. He wore a half-length white double-breasted medical jacket and pants. His skin had pulled tight and pale with age. A headband mirror flashed the light around the room as he talked. The lines on his face were deep as he spoke. A vacuum pump rumbled and huffed nearby.

"I knew your mother and grandmother," Doctor Enamel said while looking in the mirror.

"Hurrgle," gargled Go-Go as the medical suction ran into her mouth. Her lip had soured Go-Go's mood for weeks.

"Both are very beautiful." The mirror moved in her mouth.

"Gruugle?"

"Your grandmother? No, I chose to be an outlaw." He removed the suction and set the hand mirror on the tray. "Everything has healed. We never had a chance to talk when you were first here. Who did this to you?"

"Billhook," Go-Go said.

"The brawler from Kansas City? He's been in town a while."

"We've been looking for him," Flat said.

"The Dark Barista may have some information. But you're not the first I've repaired from this Billhook. He's beyond the junior heroes for now," Doctor Enamel said.

"We can't let it go," Flat said.

"He broke my face," Go-Go pointed to her lip.

"I understand. But…" Doctor Enamel set the head mirror down. "Billhook will run into the wrong person sooner or later."

"That wrong person will be me," Go-Go said.

"You sound like your mother," Doctor Enamel smiled.

Kimberly, the dental assistant, also the Doctor's wife, walked in with the partial denture on a tray. Two decades younger, she wore a white uniform skirt and a medical top tight enough to risk failure. Her platinum blond hair and perfect suntan added more color to the room.

"Doctor. The epoxy has set," Her voice breathy.

"Excellent nurse, Excellent. Let's get this fit. And prove to the world my dental genius.” The denture popped into the space between Go-Go's teeth. There was no screams or hand fitting.

Maybe this guy is the best, Flat thought.

Go-Go smiled in the mirror. The sag was gone. The glamour speedster returned. Go-Go rubbed her jaw at the denture.

"Stop touching it," Flat said.

"Honey, I got my smile back.”

The girls stopped at the discharge desk on the way out. On the desk was a blue Rolodex and files, but no computers. Kimberly opened up the Rolodex to remove a card.

"Jenny, I need to update your contact information," Kim clicked a pen. "Jenny Cooper?"

"Yes.”

"Still living in Raleigh?"

"Yes."

"Your real name?" Flat said.

"Honey. The Doctor has everyone's info."

"We respect privacy," Kim said. "You're up-to-date. Do you need more painkillers?"

"I have two months left," Go-Go said.

"Your down for a six-month follow-up.”

Go-Go smiled as they walked out of the mobile office. South's glamour speedster was back.

Susan and Colby watched with Binoculars as the Robo-Gorilla walked out to the training field. Susan had done away with her sweatpants and hoodie. A full-length white lab coat over the middle school jumper covered Susan enough to keep her from crossing her arms when nervous. And Colby's influence showed in her hair with a simple loose bun held low by a blue scrunchie. The school's straw hat had a banana leaf in the ribbon. Susan had become less feral. The improved hygiene helped.

Currently the weekend test flights had run into accidents. Robots and Gorillas are not natural flyers. Shown by the dozen craters on the school grounds. The Robo-Gorilla waited out in the field.

"Stage one. Start." Susan pulled out the remote's collapsible antenna and flipped the big red switch. 'Flight Mode' blinked on the LED screen. Her eyes were wide open and her breath heavy with excitement.

Brass wings jointed as a raven's unfolded from the Gorilla's back. Smoke puffed from the microjets along the wings. The buzz of a hundred miniaturized turbo fans kicked dust up from the field. The Gorilla lifted into the air; it gained speed. Up and up. The microjets sputtered with a pop, and the white smoke turned black. The winged Gorilla went into a loop. Microjets stopped as a few shook loose from the wing. It fell. Susan struggled with the remote. Whipping the antenna up like a fishing pole in the hope the radio waves would give lift. The Robo-Gorilla crashed into the ground with a new crater.

Colby lowered her binoculars. Well, she can build more, Colby thought.

"Test flights complete. Let's get some breakfast. I want bananas today," Susan said collapsing the remote’s antenna.

Colby held out a broom. "You should build a Robo-Gorilla to help us clean up the mess."

Susan's face froze. Her eyes fluttered as the Super Science activated. The girl went deep into her mind.

"A custodian Robo-Gorilla? Yes! We-can-do-it!" Her eyes, gazing at nothing in the distance. She ran out into the field. "I'll use the parts from this one. We shall rebuild, bigger, stronger, cleaner!"

Susan ran off. No stopping her now, Colby thought. "OK. I'll order us brunch," Colby called out to the girl.

Joel walked through the main gate of the slaughterhouse: Beef Rectum Express, LLC. of Locust, North Carolina. The cattle moved to the last pens before the slaughter. To the average human, an earthy manure smell filled the air. Joel Steward, a human canine, could smell fear. It always smelled the same. Beast Folk could never explain the smell of fear.

The Arc-Duke sat on a chair outside a work-shed. Blood pooled out on the gravel. His sleeves rolled up with an apron covered in blood. Joel never smelled fear from Arc. He couldn't determine whether Arc had courage or stupidity.

"Are you ready for another job?" Arc said as he wiped his hands.

"Will a girl one punch me like the last time?”

"No. It will be nothing like the last job," Arc said.

"I'll take it," Joel said. “Another few days in the slaughterhouse would be too much.”

Arc got up to walk back in side. "Your order came in. It's in the office on my desk.”

"That was quick," Joel said.

"We are the Gucci of Crime," Arc said.

In the office, Joel found a box marked with the manufacturer's logo on Arc's desk, a circled 'T,' Titan Industries. He opened the box with a smile. A China Lake pump action grenade launcher. The JM Special Edition with an extended ammo tube and accessory rails. It came with a case of brass and a reloading die set. The next few days would be busy.

Go-Go washed the dishes with the dorm phone on her shoulder as she talked. The brush scrubbed the dishes and stirred up a pile of suds.

"Whatdoyoumeanhe has togotothedoctors again?" Go-Go said as the scrubbing quickened.

"ShouldIcomehome? Whataboutgrandma?" The high-speed conversation went on until the sink ran out of dishes. Go-Go started to pace while she talked. Flat drank coffee and watched to see where this would go. Crested got up from the television to get a basket. She began to fold a pile of socks. Go-Go sat down and zipped through the socks in a moment. Crested smiled and carried the basket back to her room.

The phone call went on until lights out. Talks with her mother never helped Go-Go sleep. The last few nights, the Homecoming Game repeated in her half-sleep. Blinded by the lights, a fist came down to her face. It came slow and unstoppable. Adrenaline rushed in her, and she moved in slow motion. She could never escape the fist or Billhook's glassy black eyes. Go-Go zipped up from the bed.

Where am I? Did I sleep run somewhere? Go-Go’s hand fumbled in the dark. She opened her eyes and wokeup enough to find the switch in the moonlight. Go-Go walked back to bed. She was relieved not to be out on the road and still wore her nightgown. Sleep running happened to Speedsters.

The clock showed one in the morning. Might as well get up, Go-Go thought.

The lip mocked the face in the mirror. Go-Go pushed the side up, and it fell back. Nose and brow wrinkled. The drupe remained in the mirror as she tossed a pain pill into her mouth. It caught between her teeth as her tongue fumbled with the pill. She bit it in half. The NoNap followed with a drink of water. The denture fit into place, set her hair ribbon, and the smiling Go-Go returned.

Down in the Atrium, Go-Go had put on a tracksuit of blaze yellow and silver reflective stripes and a new pair of shoes. The building was quiet. She signed out for a run. Outside, the stars were out, and she did her stretches. The run started North with no place to go; Go-Go wanted to run and didn’t care where.

The speedster turned East down the I-485 Inner Beltway and let her mind get lost in the run. She kept pace with traffic and stayed on the berm. Her mother ran the I-485 every day until they moved to Raleigh. Go-Go's mind snapped out of the run. She had missed Route 49; it would have taken her home.

I-85, Go-Go thought.

The massive interchange came up. Go-Go would pass this way when she worked. Then she didn't have to stop. But now. Go-Go stopped beneath the overpass. The Celtic knot of roadways blocked the stars. A weave of road and ramps. She came to the spot. Go-Go leaned over the Jersey barrier where a new reef lay on the ground.

Mother must have replaced it recently, Go-Go thought. In the center of the reef a North Caroline State Patrol crest glinted in the moon light.

Go-Go started to run. She had to run to hold back the tears, to do anything else. Go-Go picked up speed on the empty beltway. The traffic cameras clocked her at four hundred on the beltway as she ran back around to school.

Once back at the school, the open road had run the emotions out. Go-Go zipped into the kitchen. She set the pans on the counter to start cooking. She reached under for a frying pan and a roaster. The saucepan tipped off the cabinet. It fell with a KLANG. She zipped back. And stopped when she bumped into Gyaru.

"Your jumpy today," Gyaru caught Go-Go by the shoulders.

"I'm tired," Go-Go pulled herself out of Gyaru's hands.

"Hyper-vigilance is not tired. You could have caught the pan before it hit the floor," Gyaru said.

"Honey. Don't start. I need to get used to the denture.”

"It's been a week. Your not paying attention," Gyaru said. Go-Go spun around, leaning into Gyaru's face.

"Shutup, don'tstart withme, justsettledown," Go-Go said, talking fast.

"OK, OK," Gyaru raised her hands.

"I have to get this ready before the run. Do you mind?" Go-Go said.

"Sure," Gyaru sat down at the table.

Twelve pounds of linked breakfast sausage draped the chickens that went into the air fryer. Go-Go placed the sweet potatoes and water in the pressure cooker. Cornbread loaves were on order with the cafeteria and would arrive after the morning run. She was getting the eggs out when Maple walked in without a word. The two girls stared at each other for a few seconds.

"What?” Go-Go said, setting down the case of eggs.

"You got another traffic ticket," Maple said.

Go-Go started to crack eggs into the bowl. Her hands zipped through the first dozen. "OK.”

"And your grades are slipping," Maple said.

"Well. Maple. I've been to the hospital twice," Go-Go pointed to her lip.

"This school has standards," Maple said.

"Stop with the petty rules," Go-Go said.

"You got a 'B' in Math last week," Maple said.

"Oh my. Honey, getting a 'B' in advanced calculus.”

Maple tapped her clip board. "We have twenty girls in therapy from the Homecoming Game. You never showed up. No one's grades have slipped but yours.”

"I'm getting a 'B' in advanced calculus?" Go-Go said.

"The last 'B' was two years ago.”

Go-Go said nothing. Maple started to walk out. She paused at the door and then left.