When my alarm wakes me, I happily skip out of bed and away from the nightmares. A half-hour jog and a breakfast of toast and eggs give me the energy that I need to go to work. I pack my phone and wallet in a sturdy purse that hangs from my left shoulder to my right hip (only the most secure form of purse carrying) and check my bike for flaws. Then, I am ready.

For once this week, I don't have to leave three hours early. Instead, I take my time, enjoying the morning's peace; While it lasts.

I lock my bike on the ramp outside the office and head inside. The outside wall is repaired if you are okay with walls composed of a wooden mold. I guess they are going to pour the concrete later today. I don't know anything about the structural pros and cons of a concrete building, but it feels safe, and it looks safe, so I'll let it slide.

Inside, the office is already bustling with activity. There is a frantic feeling in the air of two days missed work and a supervillain attack to boot. It spreads like a disease, filling my heart with unnecessary worry.

I barely sit at my desk before Aaron pops his head over the wall. "Hey, Ruby!"

"Yes?" I start logging into my computer.

"I got our request to go to Vocal's old hideout approved with the manager and our team! You ready for a road trip?"

"Oh." I had forgotten about this. Or maybe I wish I had. "That's... great." I can't back out anymore. "Wh- when are we going?"

"This weekend. I was thinking we could make it an overnight trip to really explore the place." Chills erupt down my spine. I start to store half-formed excuses on the back burner for when night falls. I already have nightmares without sleeping in a strange and creepy hideout. "Does 11 am tomorrow morning sound good to you?"

"Uh... sure." As long as it's not at night. Or ever. Can we reconsider the "ever" part? "And you're sure it's abandoned?"

"Yep. I already checked the sight out, and Electronica's robots are crawling all over the place. No way anything weird is in there."

Electronica? If possible, more dread fills my stomach. "Which quadrant did you say the hideout was in?"

"Oh! I didn't tell you! Let me send you the address real quick..." He trails off as his shaggy head withdraws. A message pings on my computer. I open it. And, of course, the hideout is in the central quadrant. The most villain-filled place one could think of. Oh, how lucky I am. The obvious sarcasm is obvious.

I put my head in my hands. I wish I could time travel and go to the future after we have already explored the hideout. Or to the past when I could've joined Group B instead of Group G. I heard Group B has a group therapist and a monthly retreat to the ocean. If someone in their team suggested that they should infiltrate a villain's hideout that may or may not be abandoned on an overnight trip to acquire a piece of technology that may or may not still be there, they would have sent that person to their therapist to discuss their apparent madness.

But, no. I chose Group G. So now I am desperately scrolling through articles about Electronica in the vain hope I can solve this nightmare before tomorrow.

Lunch arrives. My eyes sting from staring at a screen for so long. All that pain and nothing to show for it.

I trudge over to the food store and buy a Caesar salad (the thought of noodles makes my stomach churn). I open my store, change into Samantha's look, put on the new mask, and log into my blog.

The door swings open. I've contemplated putting a bell on it, but it's already loud enough. Despite the knowledge that I will lose the train of thought I have for replying to the question on my blog, I look up at my customer. My customers rarely need anything from me, but it's good to be safe. You know, just in case of a worst-case scenario...

Shit.

The complete darkness to his profile, the mask on his face.

Lucifugus is in my store.

Again.

I nearly choke on my salad, thinking what a shame it is that now salads and noodles are ruined for me. I hurriedly finish chewing my food in a way that is not quick at all and leaves food stuck between my teeth. "How may I help you?" I ask, hoping to delay a little.

He asks the question that all employees dread to hear: "I would like to speak with your manager."

This is the manager speaking. How may I help you? "He's not here right now."

"Surely you have a way to contact him?"

"If by 'contact' you mean leaving sticky notes in the cash register whenever I need to ask him a question, then yes." That could be therapeutical. Maybe I should try it.

"He's in danger." Big surprise there. Though, I do wonder what specifically he's referring to.

"I'm sure he's taken precautions."

"Precautions won't stop a supervillain from finding him."

I'm glad I stopped eating my salad, or I would've choked on it again. A supervillain? Surely my guide doesn't garner that much attention. I speak a lie to Lucifugus as if that would keep me safe. "Unless he also has superpowers."

"Does he?"

"Maybe. He sure avoids the public eye well."

"Nevertheless, I need to speak with him."

"That seems like a terrible plan. By speaking to him, you'll just bring him out into the open, and the villain will have a better shot at getting to him. I've seen that shit a million times in comic books."

"We're not in a comic book, we're in real life. The Gladiators and I can provide him the extra protection he needs."

"You don't bring protection, you bring publicity. I bet a news crew is lurking somewhere close by tracking you as we speak."

"There are tons of things the news doesn't know about us."

I raise a brow. "Really? Name one besides your 'secret identities.'"

"Uh... well... we actually have a third-in-command in case both Electronica and I are incapacitated."

"You mean Tutrix?"

"Oh, you know about that?" His face flushes. "Um... we once had a fight with a villain who could alter the memories of anyone she passed."

I sigh. "That would be Mind Boggler. The news hated her, but they still managed to get some good videos of the fight between you and her." That was a rough day. I kept losing track of things I was supposed to do. Only later when I found myself in the footage of the fight did I realize what had happened. Scary to think I was there, and I don't remember it.

"Well... the news doesn't know Ani's hair color!"

"Actually, they do. A strand of blonde hair escaped from his mask in a fight awhile back, and the news went nuts over it."

"I bet you don't know my mother's name!" He shouts.

I give him a strange look. "I think that is included with the whole 'not knowing your secret identity.'"

Lucifugus is stumped. Then, his eyes light up. "Ha! I bet the news didn't catch our fights with Vocal!"

Great. I can't escape that name. I frown. "Yeah... I guess you're right. They didn't."

"Haha!"

"My point still stands, you know," I tell him. "The news are everywhere."

"Still... we have reason to believe someone already figured out who Scriptor is. With that information, he could be targeted."

A thrill of fear shoots through me. "Who??"

"We don't know. Some villains told us about it two nights ago." I recall the two villains talking about burning down the store the other day. They had only stopped because they knew it wouldn't stick. But if someone knows my real identity? That could be a real problem. 

"Listen," I finally say. "I can see that you want to help, so I'll leave a message for the boss. But, I don't think he'll be too eager to meet with you."

"Great! Thank you. Do you mind if I write the message down myself?" I have a brief moment of panic wondering if I have sticky notes before remembering I bought some to give to readers who wanted to annotate my books without writing on them.

"Here." I hand him a bright pink one. He scribbles out a note and hands it back to me. I resist the urge to open it right then and there and place it in the cash register.

"Thanks." He turns to leave but pauses and turns back around. "What's with the mask?"

My hand floats up to my mask. "New store policy. To keep employee's identities safe and all."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yet you still wear a name tag."

"How do you know Samantha's my real name?"

"It's just a feeling. The name suits you." Yeah? Well—buddy—your feeling is wrong.

"Well, it's safer than risking someone recognizing the employees on the streets." Let him think my real name is Samantha. No harm there, right?

"I guess." He shrugs. "I'll see you tomorrow for the response."

I painfully remember my 'expedition' tomorrow. "We're closed tomorrow."

"Really? Why?"

I say the first logical reason I can think of. "It's Scriptor's birthday tomorrow."

"Oh. I'm surprised he told you." I am too. "Are you open Sunday then?"

"We should be." If I don't die a gruesome death before then.

"Great. I'll check back in then." He pauses again at the door to wave at me. "Goodbye Sam!"

I frown. "It's Samantha." But he's already gone. I come close to discarding my Samantha identity right then and there. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge that Lucifugus is expecting Samantha to be working at the shop on Sunday. I let out a pained groan. Why did I have to write this stupid guide? If I wanted to avoid conflict, I should have kept my tips and tricks to myself.

A memory of the tearful mother and her child surfaces in my mind's eye. I groan again. Sentimentalism is going to get me killed.

After checking to make sure Lucifugus is really gone, I open up the cash register and look at the note.

Scriptor,

You are in danger. You may think we are nothing but trouble. I would like one conversation with you to change your mind. Please consider. We are just trying to help.

-Lucifugus

I sigh as I read the words. Little did he know, he already had a chance to convince me.

I get another sticky note from the stack and write two bold letters: NO. I then stick it in the cash register beside the first note and close the whole thing up.