To the right of the podium was a display filled with autographed pictures of Falstaff and Tracy. Tracy’s autograph matched the ornate handwriting.

Cheryl looked at her phone. She rummaged through her coat pockets, then dropped her head and grunted.

“Right. I threw the key at Sophie. I’m a fucking idiot.”

20:43

Tracy entered the lobby and made her way toward the hall leading to the rooms.

“Tough break, Pep Squad,” Cheryl said over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, but I’m late for an appointment.”

“Right back to work. What a trooper. Hey, let me ask you, what mascara do you use? I have terrible allergies and when my eyes water it runs like a motherfucker.”

“What? Look, I’m late.”

“I just know after finding two dead bodies, I’d be a wreck. My shit would look like the saddest clown you’ve ever seen. Whatever you’re using is goddam waterproof.”

“I have to go,” Tracy did a limp sprint down the hall.

Cheryl looked at the time.

20:47

Cheryl turned the corner down a long hall to the room she was sharing with Sophie. At the door was Tracy, hunched over and leaning on the door frame, sliding a credit card into the jam.

“Have you tried knocking?” Cheryl said, standing behind her.

“Sophia signed up for an appointment.”

“Really? And she signed up as ‘Sophia’?”

“Yes. It’s in the book. You can go look if that nosy.”

“I’ve known Sophie my whole life and not once has she ever referred to herself as ‘Sophia’. Not even on her driver's license.”

“Well, she did tonight.”

“In your handwriting?”

“She asked me to pencil her in. So I did.”

“Look, lady, what is your deal?”

“I’m getting tired of being asked that.”

“I can see why you get asked that a lot.”

Cheryl put her hands on the wall on either side of Tracy and leaned in, “Look, cheerleader. I get Max Fehrle, the guy was a scumbag, but Pam Francis, world’s greatest Edie McClurg cosplayer? And now Sophie? I’m more curious about your deal.”

Tracy kicked Cheryl’s foot, spun her around and put her in an armbar. Cheryl pulled her taser and zapped Tracy. She backed away and settled into a fighting stance.

“I normally prefer the subtle approach,” Tracy sneered. “Placing pressure on key nerve clusters. The victim doesn’t realize a thing until their heart explodes.”

Cheryl assumed a stance of her own and held the taser like a dagger, “So much for the cheerleader act.”

“Call me Pressure Point,” Tracy sneered.

“No,” said Cheryl.

“Why not?”

“One, because it's dumb and two, what's the point of an alias when I already know who you are?”

“You tell me, Cheryl ‘Fanny Alexander’ Ellers.”

“How do you know that?”

“A combination of the news and your registration forms,” Tracy replied. “What good are aliases if you use your real names while bickering with each other in the middle of the war zones you help create?”

“It’s my turn to ask somebody what their deal is. What’s yours.”

“Pam Francis was the heiress to the Purnell fortune. The corporation that poisoned three midwestern towns. Babies died.”

“So the sins of the father?”

“Somebody had to pay. Because her father didn’t.”

“Max Fehrle ran a plant where hundreds of his employees developed the same cancer. And now he got his karma.”

“Like I said, I get why you’d off Fehrle.”

“Which brings me to you. I read your blog. It inspired me. I looked up to you. You were my hero.”

“There’s been a theme today.”

“You were out for the blood of Simon Vyx, but when your chance came you not only let him go, you saved his life.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s really simple. You sold out. You’d rather chase criminals around like you’re in a fucking comic book. I’m retiring you. Replacing you with a younger better-looking model.”

“You’re finished, Blondie.”

“At least I'm natural.”

“Oh, I'm turning this thing up all the way,” Cheryl cranked a dial on her taser, “You’re into karma? A cardiac arrest should be sufficient.”

“You need toys to fight? Cute. You may be in the wrong line of work, grandma.”

After a series of blows, parries, and dives, Tracy disarmed Cheryl and sent the taser smacking against the door. Tracy struck Cheryl with her finger several times up her arm, shoulder, and neck. Cheryl went stiff. Only her eyes remained mobile. The door to the room opened and Sophie stepped out bleary-eyed.

“Cheryl?” she said rubbing her eyes.

Tracy winked at Sophie and tapped Cheryl on the forehead. Cheryl tipped backward like a plank and hit the floor.

“Cher,” Sophie shouted.

Tracy struck Sophie in the nose. She fell backward into her room, slid away from the advancing Tracy. She covered her nose with one hand. Blood streamed between her fingers. With the other, she pawed the top of the nightstand until she found one of Cheryl’s compact mirrors.

“The High Priestess can't take a punch? Maybe she should’ve stayed hidden in her library.”

“Do you know what flash is?” Sophie said through her hand.

“What?”

“It's when you get sunburn on your eyes.”

Sophie faced the mirror at Tracy. The hallway became dark as the light channeled through the mirror and focused on her eyes. She turned away dazzled and mashed her palms into her eyes. Regaining her poise, she grabbed Sophie off the floor and tossed her in the hall. She struck her in the belly, then kicked her feet out from under her. Sophie pushed herself along the wall, backing away from Tracy. Tracy stalked over her, kicking her in the legs.

Tracy walked to Cheryl and crouched over her, “You guys are so disappointing. You gave me so much hope. I saw someone was finally taking a stand against the evil people in the world. But all you do is cause more hurting and chaos. You saved the miserable life of Simon Vyx. That can never be forgiven. So, how do I finish you two? A cardiac arrest would be nice and painful. No. I know. A stroke. There's a certain satisfaction in knowing you'll be vegetables for the rest of your useless lives. I'll give Simon Vyx your regards right before I do what you couldn't.”

She lifted Cheryl’s arm and began pressing points along her wrist to her elbow. Halfway up the bicep a palm the size of a hubcap grabbed her by the head and flung her several feet down the hall. She backflipped and landed in a crouch, sliding backwards. Carl and Ian stood between Tracy and Cheryl. Sophie emerged from her room with her bow and drew it. Tracy leaped and kicked off the wall and landed on Carl’s shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter how big you are,” Tracy whispered in his ear. “You have the same nervous system.”

She twirled around Carl’s frame like a gymnast, punching at his pressure points. Carl plucked her off and whipped her to the ground. He staggered backwards, holding his head. Ian whirled his flutes around him in wide circular patterns. He twiddled the keys and strange melody drifted through the corridor. Tracy became transfixed, but snapped her head and engaged Ian. As they fought she struggled to focus, but still held firm. Sophie took shots at Tracy as she eluded Ian’s attacks by running up and along the walls. The arrows missed, leaving charred craters in the wall. Tracy disarmed one of Ian flutes, then the other. She grabbed him and wrapped an arm around his neck. Ian rocked back and forth.

“Just relax Piper,” Tracy cooed, “It'll be quicker that way.”

In Ian’s struggling, he positioned Tracy’s back to Sophie. Sophie released a silver arrow that struck Tracy in the shoulder. Tracy gripped her shoulder and singed her hand on the smoking wound.

“Shit,” Tracy looked at Sophie like an enraged dog, “You bitch.”

She charged at Sophie. She leapt over Carl’s prone body. Carl snagged her leg and snapped her on the ground like a wet towel. Tracy’s head hit the floor and she fell unconscious.

Sophie knelt down next to Cheryl and supported her head in her lap.

“We still suck at teamwork,” Cheryl croaked.

“Are you okay?” Sophie said holding Cheryl's head.

“Are you?”

Sophie nodded but her face showed her lingering sadness.

“No, you're not. You can't bullshit me. I'm your sister.”

Sophie smiled and let out a small laugh.

“I'm sorry, Sophie. High Priestess. I'm so sorry. You were right. I'm full of shit. Things got real and I freaked out. I’m not supposed to be someone who freaks out.”

“We don't have to talk about this now.”

“We should before my near death experience induced a feeling of charity and self-reflection goes away.”

They laughed.

“I'm scared and I'm taking it out on everybody. Having a team form around me made everything real. I'll also try to be less sarcastic toward everyone.”

“Don't do that. I love you, sarcasm included.”

Cheryl sat up, “You don't think I'd actually be able to keep that promise did you?”

“Nope.”

Cheryl took Sophie's hand. “You are my sister. Since the day Ed Danvers brought you to live with us until the day you die...before me.”

Sophie gave Cheryl a playful slap on the hand and laughed. They hugged.

“Love you,” Cheryl said. “Savor that one. I'll be coming to my senses soon.

“Good lord, Ellers has feelings besides anger and derision,” Ian said.

“Shut the fuck up, Roland,” Cheryl snapped to her feet, then smiled at him, “I’m glad you're on the team.”

“You're scaring me,” Ian said.

“Oh, would you fuck off? Don’t we have a ‘workshop’ to go to or some shit?” she said ‘workshop’ through gritted teeth.

“Uh. I don't know. It kind of seemed like a bunch of bullshit.”