Location: Quicksilver Academy High School

Time: Monday, October 14

Weather: Warm

The alumn lead Thomas, along with the shaky classmate behind him, down a dim corridor illuminated by a flickering blue light.

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"Absolutely not," Thomas put his foot down outside the sleek, white door. Blaise had rounded up the search party there and was currently jabbing a tiny screwdriver used to fix phones and such inside the keyhole.

"You want to find your friend, don't you?" The older shot back.

Colin was gnawing down what was left of his thumbnail. "Not that badly."

The door swung open with a ratcheting noise. Blaise held it open wide. "After you."

"I refuse." Thomas ground out.

"Look," Blaise started, "you 'refused' to go into the toilet and what happened? You got scolded anyway. What ever happened to 'she might be hurt'?"

"The answer is no, Blaise! And don't think I won't report you! You're not a student anymore, you can get charged as an intruder just for being here—"

A vice encircled his wrist and shot forward, throwing his feet out from under him. Colin fumbled to catch him and they both ended up in a heap well inside the doorway.

Before Thomas could even think of getting up the door clicked shut, separating the three of them from the two underclassmen on the other side.

"Burglar protection," Blaise said with a smug look, "It locks from both sides. Only people with the key get in or out. Of course, I can unlock it with this," he dangled the tiny screwdriver, "but I'm not gonna until we've looked around for a while."

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They wound down corridors formed by walls of white computer servers, past blinking touchscreens and trays both open and closed, past flashing lights, buttons, and switches of all sizes. Not many people knew why the computers at Quicksilver Academy took up so much space; Thomas wasn't sure himself. The days when computers needed to be big to be powerful was long since past, practically more ancient than ancient history. Some of the most powerful computers were no bigger than an iPhone or Galaxy S19. But for some reason the core of Quicksilver Middle, Quicksilver High, and Quicksilver University were all stacked floor to ceiling with computer towers.

On a tray lay an assortment of papers Thomas surmised to be schoolwork. Charts, blank worksheets, even an answer key fired methodically out of a long slot that might've been a printer.

He hadn't stopped his protesting, nor Colin his nail-biting, but Blaise strode onward, running one hand along the walls. At his touch, clusters of multicolored lights fired off. Thomas could only cringe as he thought of the potential hiccups they could be causing.

One of the larger screens winked on, the bubbles in the screensaver replaced by an image of several hundred brain scans displayed side by side. Each one had a number beneath it, and they lit up in bright colors as different synapses fired.

"That's what all the girls in the school were busy with," Colin murmured. "The Hub's conducting a government experiment by monitoring brain activity. The target group was supposed to be high school girls."

"Like some B rated sci-fi movie," Blaise muttered in reply.

"Gemma was helping to pass out materials for the test with the rest of student council. She left to get something from her locker and we kept waiting but she didn't come back for hours."

The eldest glanced over his shoulder, where Thomas had come to a stop, trying to work out how to separate his brother from the screwdriver. At the moment the device in question was still clasped in a tight fist in his front pocket. No openings so far. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Well Gemma doesn't appear to anywhere in sight, so—"

Blaise waved him off. "Nah, we'd better keep looking to be sure."

As if it even mattered to him where she was. He just wanted to snoop. I bet if there were tours of this area he wouldn't even be interested. He's just got a nose for being where he's not supposed to be.

The search party ploughed on, past servers and capacitors, up ladders and down stairs, past dials and gauges and tiny USB ports, further and further down the winding, mechanized rabbit hole. For all of his concentration, Thomas could only barely remember the way they came.

"Guys?" Colin spoke, "we're not lost, are we?"

"Not yet," he hissed through his teeth, "but we're a little too close for my comfort."

He turned back to his brother just in time to witness him pitch forward without warning. A swinging robotic arm had been at work pulling unidentified doodads off of a conveyer belt and had swung back in just such a way as to hit their leader below the belt.

Blaise was forced into a crouch, eyes squinched up in agony. The robot, being a robot, neither knew nor cared about its victim, or that its victim had shifted the target from his groin to his forehead. The second strike was just as hard as the first, knocking Blaise flat on his back in front of Thomas.

"What are you doing?" He demanded. "Get up." He aimed a kick at the elder's ribs.

"I'm deeeaaad," Blaise moaned from the floor.

Realization hit Thomas and he wasted no more time digging the screwdriver from his brother's pocket. He turned back the way they came. Blaise latched onto his ankles, but he continued on, dragging him down the dim corridor on his belly, kicking him every once and again to keep him down. He retraced their steps all the way back to the sealed door with the tiny pin lock.

He rattled the screwdriver in the keyhole harshly but to no avail.

Blaise smirked from the floor. "You think lock picking is like using a key? You can't just stick it in, you actually have to know what to do with it."

Frustrated, Thomas rattled harder, kicking the base of the door as well. To his surprise, it worked. The door swung open with ease. It wasn't until the door swung outward completely that he realized why.

Just outside the door stood the building chairman, a ring of various keys dangling from his fingers. Behind him cowered the fearful forms of Derek and Maverick, alongside a girl with long, dark hair. At the head of the group was Ms. Weller, her expression livid.

Thomas's blood chilled, the severity of what he'd just been caught doing crashing down on him. Mouth suddenly dry as cotton, he croaked, "You found Gemma, I see."

The counselor's lip twitched. Her look didn't change.

"She didn't wanna do the experiment so she climbed out the bathroom window and walked home," Maverick answered, his voice small.

Behind Thomas, Blaise clapped Colin on the back. "See? I told you she was just skiving."

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The last remains of yesterday's rain had finally cleared, leaving the sky a deep blue. Thomas was beginning to sweat as he was hit with a rush of hot air exiting the high school building.

"I wondered why it was taking you so long to come out, Thomas!"

Thomas and Blaise followed behind Fin silently, deliberately not speaking to each other. Not that that was anything unusual. They had managed to keep as little eye contact as possible with each other by shoving Colin and some peculiarly dressed friend of Fin's in between the two of them.

"I waited but you never came, it wasn't like you, y'know?" Fin continued. "I bet Dezi's already home by now."

"Well, I decided to drop by and then some stuff happened so we got delayed," Blaise yawned. 

Some stuff indeed. Thomas's jawbone began to throb and he realized he'd been clenching it since they left.

"Hey Ob, you think we could get stuff for our model at that junk shop in Red Leif?"

Fin prattled on to his friend about some project or another before the kid had to depart. Thomas didn't notice when Colin had left them, but somewhere along the line he'd disappeared too. It was just the three of them.

"Oh!" Fin snapped his fingers. "By the way, mom called me 'cause she said she couldn't get ahold of you. She's got an errand to run so she wants us to pick up Meg from her handicrafts club."

Blaise stopped short. "Um, wasn't that all the way back at the high school?"

Thomas bit his lip until he tasted blood. Today of all days. And he hadn't even started on his homework yet.

Blaise snorted. "Dude, are you gonna be okay? You look ready to blow a gasket."

Fin was looking back at him sheepishly. Breathe. You have to breathe. It's not Fin you're mad at. Thomas forced himself to smile. "It's fine. Anyway if it's anyone's fault it's mine for not being able to answer my phone." Or maybe if Blaise hadn't been there in the first place.

Without Fin and the one called Ob's chatter, the walk back to Quicksilver was strained and silent.

Thomas sighed. So their mother had been running errands that afternoon. That would mean she hadn't received the call from school yet. Thomas' stomach churned as he thought of her finding out that he was, once again, in major trouble.

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The detention centers of Quicksilver Academy were little more than large white boxes.

The chairman's office may seem austere to some students, but Thomas, being both a four year student council member and an ASOC, had come to see the room as a relaxed environment. Though at first it may seem foreboding, observing the room would reveal it's more human components: the chairman's ergonomic seat, the hickory and leather furniture, a watercolor painting of the night sky.

The detention centers, however, were the very definition of austere. They were a series of rooms branching off of the main office that Thomas had also unfortunately come to know, though not on pleasant terms. Everything about them was designed to monitor the student inside. The door, when shut and locked, blended in with the walls perfectly, creating a complete, seamless cube on all sides. There were no lighting fixtures; the walls, floor, and ceiling themselves glowed. Neither was there any counselor to oversee detention; that too came from tiny cameras hidden within the walls. The only furniture was a single glass table and one stool per room. Each room was only designed to hold one student, like a form of solitary confinement. It was here that the three adolescents had been placed to await the chairman. Blaise had taken the stool, leaving Thomas to stand and Colin to balance precariously on the glass desk. They were forced to hold that position seemingly for hours.

The door didn't squeak or groan like most other doors when the chairman came to open it. It popped away from the wall with a suction-like noise, then silently swung inward and closed.

And then there were four. "Detention," the chairman breathed, like the utterance of a prison sentence, "is too good for you."

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That being said, the school board had a hard time deciding what wasn't too good for them. Thankfully, miraculously, the school wouldn't be filing criminal charges. The three had left with a delayed sentence and student-counselor meetings all around. That wouldn't be the end of it, of course. Thomas would be lucky to get away without a mark on his permanent record.

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Coca-cola Light.

Chocolate-covered pretzels.

Dorito chips in three flavors.

Assorted candy mix.

It looked like he'd gathered everything. Patting his hair dry, Dezi spread himself out over the length of the den couch. A small pile of homework lay spread out on the floor beside him, finally abandoned after nearly an hour of puzzling over it.

Graph the sine wave and cosine wave and use them to answer questions 12-32.

Choose one of the following historical events and create a comparison to the discovery of magnium: the Industrial Revolution, the Opium War, the ancient Civil Rights movements, the Enlightenment.

Convert the following Fahrenheit temperatures to Celsius and Kelvin.

Explain the author's use of symbolism in the short story, "The Boy and the Chainlink Fence."

Dezi could grind out something halfway decent in history and science, but he didn't even know where to start on the rest. It was more than time to take a break.

So the towering stack of books had been replaced with a towering stack of snacks (a stack Dezi much preferred), and he'd flicked the channel to one of his favorite primetime dramas. Since then he'd been scrolling through the show's fan site on his phone.

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Cuppycakes: the new Trapped episode is making me question my life choices

Des-Is-For-Desire: but can we talk about poor Kuro

Des-Is-For-Desire: I mean it's like he knows he only exists to get axed in a future episode

Cuppycakes: he's become self aware

Des-Is-For-Desire: seriously like he literally called himself a side character

Jean&SkyeShouldx0x0: lol what fourth wall

FreeWithMagnium: "We're all caged here in these three walls, because Kuro just ducking obliterated the fourth wall."

sparkledarkprincess: You wouldn't believe how many people in the Hub are watching TV— while you pay their salaries! Click here to see a list of government officials who've done more watching than working!

LJ_99_36 has reported this as spam.

JeanCrowlyTrash: but r we going to ignore that Jean could b dying and they just suddenly cut to Kuros backstory

Im-A-JEANdarme: creators: lol lets show Jean getting stabbed through the gut w a sword

creators: lol lets spend the next thirty minutes talking about his friend's inferiority complex

creators: lol

Des-Is-For-Desire: but they wouldn't kill Jean

therealMindyFramer: HUSH U DONT U DARE SAY THAT DONT U KNWO HOW BAD LUCK THAT IS IM SO SHOOK HES PRACTICALLY IN THE GRAVE NOW

Des-Is-For-Desire: im just saying why would they just kill him when they can still make us suffer

Des-Is-For-Desire: he's got the main character gene

IShipKureanMoreThanU: the main character jean

FreeWithMagnium: @IShipKureanMoreThanU get out

banananananabread: @IShipKureanMoreThanU sit in the corner and think about what you've done

Cuppycakes: I'm more worried about Kuro

Cuppycakes: if Kuro dies we riot

Im-A-JEANdarme: if Jean dies we riot

Crowlywinkyface: everyone should read my Jean x reader fanfic. its called Missing You in the Twilight. http: //missing-you-in-the-twilight/read/fhlzg9.96(&)959()9!99gfjficb

Des-Is-For-Desire has reported this as spam.

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It was about a third of the way into a character monologue when he heard the front door.

The way the Anderssen house was built, getting to the staircase from the front door required cutting through the den. One by one a parade of siblings trailed between Dezi and the TV. Because walking around the couch is suddenly so hard?? First Thomas, who looked about like a Coke that someone had shoved Mentos in, shaken up, and screwed the cap on. Then Blaise, with a massive bruise across his forehead. Then Fin, still with his nose shoved in the same report he'd been working on since yesterday, and finally Meg with an armful of wool yarn.

Meg paused at the base of the stairs, balancing her wobbly pile. "Dezi. Why is your hair black?"

"Nobody's into redheads these days. Besides, I think it looks better this way." It was just a small part of his transformation. He was already a sophomore in high school and still he hadn't had a single girlfriend. He wasn't smart or popular enough to be elected to student council. He was athletic but not a sports star, had gotten detentions but wasn't a bad boy. Diagnosis: average. Doomed to pick up a girl last minute after the guy she really wanted rejected her. But that would soon change. He would become the kind of man that women flocked to. He'd achieve the distant dream of being attractive, nay, of being desirable. His career as a bachelor would end this year.

Of course that was all easier said than done. Dezi thought he was off to a decent start, but he was fumbling in the dark here.

Shouts from upstairs wafted down to where they were sitting. That would be the Coke and Mentos. "Might as well make yourself comfy down here. I dunno what happened this time, but, like, it sounds like they're just getting started up there."

Meg dropped her pile to swipe one of Dezi's pretzels, biting into it. "Ugh, I don't see how you can eat these, Dezi. The vanilla ones are so much better." She grabbed another handful.

She switched the channel to a cooking show. He changed it back.

"...Desmond."

"Huh?"

He popped a chocolate pretzel in his mouth. His words garbled around it. "I said, call me Desmond. I'm gonna start going by my full name."

Meg wrinkled her nose. "Why Desmond?"

"But, like, don't you think it sounds sexier?"

His sister just rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Dezi."

"D-e-s-m-o-n-d."

"Your concern has been duly noted and filed." She uncapped the two liter of Coke— his Coke— and took a sip.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute! That's mine! You drank all the Mountain Dew yesterday, I get first rights to the Coke!"

"Also noted and filed."

Thomas descended the stairs, his movements stiff and controlled like a soldier. Dezi waited for him to step in to his and Meg's fight to mediate like he usually did (oh Thomas, let them be, their mother would always laugh, in a family as big as this one, it's more concerning if there isn't some quarreling now and then.), but he seemed too busy exercising his jaw bone. Clench, unclench, clench. Whatever happened, it's bad this time. The last time he'd seen the second oldest so mad was when their sister Ada glued the urn of their dad's remains to the hearth.

Thomas didn't even say anything when he saw Dezi's hair, just closed his eyes and shook his head. R00d. The elder trailed not far behind him in a less orderly tromp. When Thomas stopped next to the couch, Blaise muscled his way past, clearly not in any mood for conversation.

The problem with Blaise stomping past all of them in a huff was that he happened to stumble upon Dezi's homework mountain. His foot landed on a worksheet and flew from beneath him, his head smacking against the couch as he went down. He ended up with his back arched over homework mountain and his head somehow beneath the couch; a position so impossible Dezi actually found himself impressed.

"Uwooooh, I'm deeeaaad— agaaain!" Blaise was emitting a weird sort of noise between a groan and a wheeze. "Uwooh... This's the second time today I've died! Man if that didn't hurt!" He flicked his eyes upwards. "Your hair looks stupid."

"Shut up. At least it's only my hair that's black. Like, what happened to your head?"

"I got punched by a robot."

A rapping noise made the family turn their heads. Caroline Anderssen stuck her head and shoulders into the room, a grin filling her entire face.

Their mother was always cheerful. Even on the darkest day of her life, when she was forced to wear the black veil of a widow, she managed to pull through with a smile. But now, her blue eyes sparkling and an excited flush to her cheeks, she was simply radiant.

"Kids, a friend of mine is visiting from out of town. They're going to be having dinner with us, so I want all of you on your best behavior, okay? He and his son are outside right now."

She disappeared and returned with a pair of olive-skinned men; or rather, a man followed closely by a tall boy. They were both covered in some sort of crusted grime. The man had piercing blue eyes inset above a Roman nose. The boy, for some reason, wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes.

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Des-Is-For-Desire: so my mom just walked in with some stranger and his son

Cuppycakes: lol that sounds like something that'd happen on the show

Platypeople: soooooooo jealous I live out in the sticks and literally nothing ever happnes to me

1896437pirates: maybe someday you'll get lucky and you'll get caged within four walls and wonder day to day if you'll live or die

FreeWithMagnium: no it's only 3 walls remember Kuro busted the fourth one

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The man spoke, "My name is Jean Winters, and this is Tito. It is a pleasure to meet you." The boy, Tito, offered a tight-lipped smile.

There was a long round of introductions as all five of them were brought up to shake the Winters' hands. (The one on the floor is Blaise, he just moved back in with us not too long ago— oh, honey, what happened to you this time? You look like you've come back from the grave! The one standing at attention is Tom. Excuse me, sorry Thomas. Y'know, I named him thinking it'd be cute to have a little Tommy, but ever since he could talk it's always been 'Thomas' this and 'Thomas' that. Ahaha, Blaise used to call him Tommy gun. Yes, yes, I know. You're so serious, Thomas! The ones on the couch are Dezi and my little Nutmeg. No, they're not the twins, they're nine months apart. Yes, yes, you're right, I did mention twins before, you're not wrong. And the little one sitting on the stairs is Fin. Fin, take a break from that homework, you've been at it for days. If you're not careful you'll start getting wrinkles in your forehead like Thomas.) "This is most of them," their mother chimed, "and then I have the twins setting the table." To the kids, she added, "Jean's a childhood friend of mine. He's come out to visit all the way from Goldenrod!"

"He just decided to visit after so long?" Thomas probed, his expression hard to read.

"Oh, no," their mom laughed, "we've been keeping in touch through letters for years."

Letters, huh? Seems like a romantic setup to me. Goldenrod was a pretty long way just to meet up with a friend. Dezi noticed the stranger wasn't wearing a wedding ring either.

Not that there was anything wrong with that at all. Whatever made their mom happy, he guessed was okay with him. Or, made her happier, he supposed? It was a little weird thinking about his mom going on dates, but at least he's be able to count on her to be understanding when he started taking girls out himself. He hoped, anyway.

"We have a lot of catching up to do, Caroline," Jean spoke. "A lot has happened since we last met."

She glowed wordlessly back at the stranger. Tito was starting to look uncomfortable, but maintained his polite silence.

"Is there anything in particular you and Tito would like to eat?"

Jean smiled. "If you cook it, I'm sure it will be lovely."

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Des-Is-For-Desire: the strANGER'S NAME IS JEAN GUYS ITS HAPPENING

Cuppycakes: WEEWOOWEEWOO

Platypeople: GIVE ME YOUR LIFE PLZ

Des-Is-For-Desire: BUT HE'S LIKE OLD ENOUGH TO BE MY DAD AND IDK HOW IM SUPPOSED TO FEEL

SideCharactersRppl2: Jean can be my dad

Cuppycakes: k but just imagine Jean being your hot dad. Imagine him picking you up from school in front of all your friends. Imagine your friends asking for rides home bc they want to see your hot dad

Im-A-JEANdarme: wait wait hooooooooooooold da f up

Im-A-JEANdarme: you said some stranger and his son

Im-A-JEANdarme: does this mean Jean has a kid

JeanxSkye: guys it's canon spread the word

Des-Is-For-Desire: so many jean headcanons i swear

FreeWithMagnium: but where'd the kid come from?

thegreenridgegoons: Skye of course

IShipKureanMoreThanU: Kuro of course

Des-Is-For-Desire: k this conversation went from 0 to 100 in like 2 seconds

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Juno shut the hotel door with a soft click. He nearly groaned at the sight of the pillow top mattress, cotton quilt folded on top of it. A short hallway branching off the room lead to what was surely a hot shower. Yes, Ineeded this.

"Why am I Tito?" Hitoro griped from behind him. "Out of all the names you could've picked, Tito?"

"It was the first thing I thought of." He raised an eyebrow. "Had I known you'd be coming with me on this trip, we could've decided on a name beforehand."

Hito flumped down onto the bed. "I told you didn't I? I had no idea I was coming either."

Another wave of uneasiness hit Juno. The sooner they were done in this territory, the sooner he could check back with Saffra and Ingo. He was getting the beginnings of a very bad feeling. He filed it in the back of his mind to deal with later. First things would be first.

He waved Hito away from the mattress. "Don't think you're going to be sleeping on that bed. You get the floor."

Hito jerked his chin haughtily. "I don't need to sleep on a bed. If I can endure rocks, I can endure carpet."

Juno laughed. "Yeah, let's hear you say that after sleeping in the forest for a week or so." He tossed a sleeping bag and a pillow onto the floor. "Lights out," he instructed, "tomorrow we really get down to business."

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As Blaise was changing into his pyjamas, he slipped a tiny blue flash drive from behind his belt buckle and taped it to the bottom of his underwear drawer. His electronic screwdriver had been confiscated by the school, but he had plenty more.