***ALEX***

"Do you know where Josh is?" I ask Ahmad as we finally find a space large enough for all of us to gather and regroup. It's a break room with several small tables on one side and, on the other, a cubby lined with two vending machines.

"Hold on," Ahmad says. "Let me plug his DNA into the system again, see how many more doors he's gone through."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I eat kid for breakfast," Ahmad fires back. "Just kidding. I only eat fully-grown goat meat. You should try it sometime."

"I have. It's delicious."

"Well, there you go. But don't talk to me about meaty meat goodness again till you've had lamb saag."

"There's a place at Stanford that sells them in spinach wraps," Michael says in an undertone. "That's the place to go. But the wraps always fall apart and that's a promise."

Gideon suddenly pounds one of the vending machines in frustration. "Dammit, for a guy who doesn't follow a lot of San Francisco values, this Kristoff sure likes to feed his people with quinoa and wheatgrass juice."

I stand by his side and silently point to one tasty-looking treat. It's a granola bar infused with café mocha, a popular choice of snack at Smythe and Darknell's. So much so, in fact, that Lana Smythe makes it a point of only putting it up for sale on Fridays. "Otherwise," she told me one day while I helped clean grubs out of her sink after Coldfire Creek flooded, "my customers would demand them all the time and riot whenever I ran out."

"A riot? In this town?" I threw some grubs into the large bucket which I was filling up alongside Aron and Kelly.

To this day, I'm still surprised that I managed to get Kelly to say one of my favorite phrases: "Perish the thought."

"I just wanna get it over with," Gideon growls as he feeds the machine money for the coffee bar. "Can Mr. G just do his little Godly body-surf already? Or is he too busy schmoozing the shit out of Kristoff?"

"Literally, I bet."

Gideon scowls at me while picking the bar up from the machine and unwrapping it. "There's no call for that kind of crudity while I'm eating. And I say this as a guy who once saw Russell Aspen pissing on a bunch of bad guys." He tears off a huge chunk of coffee bar with his teeth and chews on it for a bit before adding, "Them's were the days, Alejandro de la Nieve."

He hands me the other half of the bar. Or, more accurately, other 45 percent. Whatever, I'll take it. "Thanks," I mutter as I cram my bit of bar into my mouth just like he did.

"You have an impressive mouth capacity," he tells me.

"Trained myself eating Costco hot dogs all the time as a kid," I say.

"Would that you were gay or bi or otherwise inclined to put that training to some real use."

I feel almost robotic as I reach out to hug him and ruffle his hair, but that's better than being frustrated as fuck like I've been since we left Joey's. "Wrong Snow Bro, sweetheart. Though I'm not gonna lie. Sirius Black? Man-crush goals."

"Should've said Lupin, man. I gotta break the mutual over this."

"I'm surprised. You seem more like a Sirius fanboy than I do."

"I don't need a little edge in my life the way you do yours."

I point to my ears. "Remind me, who had whose pierced again?"

"Do yours after Christmas like you promised and then we'll talk."

"Why is this the first I'm hearing of this?" Mom asks. But then she winks, just like when she told me how Josh had accidentally sexposed the way I Snapchat. Another thing I need to protect for myself - living with the mellowest Mom I can. If Kristoff triggers some sort of apocalypse, she's probably going to really get strict with the rules. In the name of survival or something. And then she'd probably claim that I shouldn't pierce my ears lest they make me too distinguishable, too noticeable. Or too vulnerable to getting my ears torn to shreds. Or maybe not, given she's had next to no objections to my tats. I was afraid she would when Gabe and I first got them, but by the time she saw them a month later, on spring break, she'd made no big deal out of it. "Just gotta let my boys grow up as they grow up," she said. "Even if you have terrible, terrible taste in ink. No Maltese crosses? Seriously?" She's always been so hung up on that, because she's said that design is the only tattoo she'd ever get herself.

"Something wrong?" Mom asks. She, Firdaus, and AK all get up from their table at once and come closer to me.

"Not really," I say.

"Not really true," Firdaus says.

"Yeah, dude," AK chimes in. "You're crying a bit."

Gideon blushes harder than I do, as if embarrassed by how the hell he missed seeing that.

"'Cause I was thinking of Gabe again," I say. As always, that immediately gets everyone else to not pursue the subject any further. "Ahmad, where's Josh?" I ask. "I just wanna find him before someone else does."

"Or before someone finds us," Michael points out. "Ahmad, how well are you keeping them running around everywhere but here?"

"Tripping a ton of alarms on the furthest corners of this place from, uh, this place." Ahmad wipes a bit of sweat from his brow. "Of course, they're eventually gonna figure out they're getting the runaround."

"And then you flood the rooms they're looking in with sleeping gas?" I ask.

"They don't have that around here, that I know of," Ahmad says sadly. "But I like the way your Artemis Fowl fanboy brain thinks. Have I mentioned that?"

"Maybe you have."

"Like I said." Gideon pretends to lick the last of his coffee bar off his thumbs. "Kristoff don't follow San Francisco values, except where it counts. 'Cause he's an asshole and our fair city doesn't deserve him."

"Now who's being crude, huh?" Firdaus asks with a small laugh.

"It's not like we're not pissing Kristoff off any less by talking like we're here for bloody tea," I mutter.

"Don't drink tea," Ahmad says. "Not when Kristoff serves it."

Firdaus chuckles again. "He'd be the worst chaiwallah ever."

"No milk," Ahmad mutters.

"I don't drink tea with milk," I say.

"Bloody colonial," Ahmad retorts. "Never mind that you're almost dark enough to blend in, you wouldn't survive a day on the subcontinent."

Mom takes her opportunity to launch into Perfectly Embarrassing Parent mode. "My boy doesn't like milk, for some reason."

"You made me and Gabe drink two glasses a day and wouldn't let us drink water if we didn't," I point out.

"And I eventually outgrew that nonsense!"

"Yeah, a hell of a lot slower than we did." I wipe my eyes reflexively, but my fingers come away dry. Am I hardening up again? Maybe I should, given we might have to go into another major battle. Better not to let my emotions get the better of me, in that case.

"Where's Josh?" I ask again.

Michael rolls his eyes. "Dude, you're really ridiculously fixated on my little brother."

Ignoring him, I wait a second for Ahmad to give me an answer, but he has none. I guess he's busy sending Kristoff's goons around the facility. So instead, I turn to AK, whom I've just realized has been silent pretty much all this time.

"What's up?" I ask. "You regret agreeing to that body-surf shit?"

He wrinkles his nose at me. "No!" But as I look at him a little longer, he shrugs and says, "Actually, I am. A bit. Wouldn't you if you were in my shoes?"

"I wouldn't be, 'cause I'd have said no, no matter what."

"Well, that's just you. You're you and I'm me."

"And as Arya Stark once said, 'Nothing is just...nothing.'" I shake my head. "Allen K. Grant, what the hell point are you trying to make here?"

"I'm just saying, what happens, happens."

I steer him over to the door. "What happens doesn't have to happen here."

"Got him!" Ahmad announces to the room at large. "He and the big man are in Kristoff's office as we speak."

"Surprised we couldn't just figure that out sooner," I say.

"Or guess," Gideon says. "But now we gotta get there without getting caught."

"Not to be Captain Obvious, but that's usually easier said than done," Mom says. I may not have a dad who's ever actually there for anything, but she's for sure getting into the spirit of one with this kind of joke.

"Usually," Firdaus says. "But that's what we have our friend the hacker for."

Ahmad perks up long enough to say, "I have a name, you know."

"I'm sorry, Ahmad," Firdaus says gently, "but I think now's the time to cut the jokes back."

Ahmad swallows, then looks into his pocket and fishes out a few little earwigs. "Everyone put these on," he says. "I'm gonna stay here and play Mission Control."

"Alone?" I ask incredulously.

"Nah, Michael's gonna keep me company."

Michael looks around as if expecting to find that Ahmad's talking about another namesake of his. It's a common enough name that he could be, but remember, nobody else has joined us in this room. So this assbutt Michael remains the only Michael.

"You really think I just wanna stand around and let my brother go into danger all by himself?" Michael growls at Ahmad.

"He's not by himself," Mom points out.

Michael scoffs at her and rolls his eyes. "He's with our father, so he might as well be."

Mom opens her mouth to fire back some kind of protest, but she has none to give. None of us do, except Ahmad. "Listen here, blondie. You and your brother may not see completely eye to eye, but y'all still love each other's guts to death. And even beyond that. What if you come up to that office and Josh is dead? Are you gonna go archangel-nuclear and melt the place down? I bet you would."

Michael mutters something to himself so low that no one can hear it. I can't speak for the others, but I, for one, can still hear his thoughts. You would too, you empty ballsack. I have no idea what the heck kind of insult he's going for, but if it were directed to me, I'd just laugh in his face.

Ahmad, currently blessed for his lack of telepathy, presses on undaunted. "So I'd rather have your heavenly fire here, keeping me safe while I keep everyone else safe. Savvy?"

"Paradisian fire," Michael corrects him grumpily.

Before I can hear any more argument from Ahmad or Michael, I beckon everyone else forward, and we all creep to the door. "Is it safe?" I ask Ahmad.

He types a couple more lines of code on his keyboard. "Go! Now!"

And so we do, into the corridor where it's still suspiciously empty save for us. If I actually knew what most military-type hand signals even meant, I'd use them. But I don't, and one thing I know for sure, it's rude to fake sign language of any kind. I make do with what I can, but that "can" is only simple gestures. And the occasional raised fist - that one, I know very well.

Not to talk about Doctor Strange again, but I do envy Cumberbatch's ability to learn all those precise finger movements. Just goes to show, I need more bodily awareness.

"Where do we go?" I ask Ahmad in as low a voice as I can. "And should I speak louder?" I ask now that I think about it. "Can you even hear me?"

"Yeah, I can hear you," Ahmad chirps in my ear. "Trust me, those earwigs are super good. You can subvocalize if you need to, and I'll hear you loud and clear."

"Bueno," Gideon mutters at his end. I actually turn around and see his lips move, but the sound gets piped directly into my earwig ear only. Not my other ear, in which I only hear the hissing of air vents.

And the sound of Firdaus powering up her weapon again. "You sure about that?" I ask. "I don't see anyone coming our way."

"Yet," she says. She's got her Taser hanging low by her side, but it's still sparking every so often, ready to volt up anyone who gets too close. "Don't mistake my preparedness for recklessness. And don't mistake me for someone less anxious than you."

"I should mask better," I say.

Around two more corners we go until finally, we meet someone who's very surprised to see us. Well, it's his fault for being turned around until the last second. Guy just needed a break at the water cooler, and I was only too happy to oblige by cooling the water a little more than he needed. Okay, a lot more. Because of his own mask, I can only imagine the look of surprise on his face when he flips the switch on the water cooler and nothing comes out because I'm freezing its contents inside the blue plastic barrel.

Freezing until the whole bloody thing explodes from the pressure. And expansion. Ice, you're so dangerous, it's scary. But I'll play with you as long as you don't touch my genitals without permission. Consent is key, don't you know?

To cap it all off, right after I blow up the water cooler, Firdaus slides around me and opens fire with her Taser, shocking the shit out of the guy and his navy-blue armor.

It's a fun surprise attack.

But it's a hell of a lot less fun when a ton of armored assbutts start spilling out of all the doors ahead of us.

"Oh crap," Ahmad breathes. "I'm sorry, I should've seen this coming-"

"Doesn't matter that you didn't," Gideon says as he charges past me and Firdaus. "What matters is, can we take them down?" And so he tries, spreading his arms to get better elemental control.

"Are you gonna go for their guns?" I ask.

"Can't do that, not when they're 3D-printed plastic." He kicks the gun dropped by the one guy Firdaus and I just took out, which doesn't make a metallic thud against the floor. "Now cállate and watch the master at work." Metal railings tear themselves out of the walls at his command, forming tripwires to impede Kristoff's private army. Also impeding them: the nuts and bolts that fly into their armor at a high enough speed to penetrate like they're high-heat sabot rounds.

"Go around if you can!" Ahmad calls out.

"Where?" asks my mom.

"And who?" I ask.

"Split up!" Ahmad says. "Two or three of you, go back till you get to the nearest unmarked door on the right." He pauses. "It'll take you right up to the outside of Kristoff's office, but you gotta be careful. That antechamber's heavily guarded."

Gideon and Firdaus continue with their attacks on the guards, and my mom joins them throwing all the ice she can from the ruptured water cooler. That leaves me and AK to take the deadly shortcut on our own.

"Should I send Michael out to help you?" Ahmad asks us.

"No!" I hear Michael cry somewhere in Ahmad's background.

"Sorry," Ahmad says. "Michael's otherwise occ..." And then Ahmad fades into eerie silence, no doubt from having to take cover and hide under a table in the break room.

But that's not the last communication we get from him. He finally texts me a blueprint of the building, specifically focusing on the part where we are right now. We're halfway down the passage to Kristoff's antechamber, but now we get to see the exact place where we need to go.

Where I can take us now. If I can focus my teleportation power enough.

I pocket my phone, hoping I won't destroy it like I did my old one. Merry Christmas to me. Then I place my hands on AK's shoulders.

He reads my mind. You sure we can do this?

Just don't try and pull away till we're both on the other side. I tighten my grip, then screw my eyes shut.

Dude, you look like you're ready to take a-

AK's thoughts slam back down his throat when the snow surrounds us both, whipping us out of the corridor and into Kristoff's office.

Right on time to hear a dull squelch and a loud, ragged gasp.

Mr. G is on his feet, pushing Kristoff Scoville towards the panoramic window behind him, but Kristoff's big enough to put up some resistance.

As for Josh, he sits in one of the two chairs facing Kristoff's desk.

Bleeding horribly from a long gash in his side and chest.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I run to Josh's side, but I already know it's too late. Blood's coming out of not only the wound, but from his mouth and nose as well.

But he's supposed to be stronger than this! How the hell...

"Why didn't I act sooner?" Elliot Graziadei whispers to himself.

Josh looks to his side. I only know because I feel his blood falling from his mouth onto my head. "Alex..." He can't say any more, not when his lungs are so compromised that he coughs even more blood all over me like a plague victim.

I don't care how many of my friends tell me I'm too reckless or stupid or angry.

I'm all of those things and more right now.

That it's not the first time it's been so personal for me doesn't matter.

Kristoff finally pushes Elliot aside. "Take that performative regret," he tells him, "and shove it up your arse. I just did you a favor. Without that rebellious little fucker dragging you down, you can help me reshape reality just like you said you wanted."

Elliot says nothing.

AK does, however. In a deeper voice than his own. "This wasn't the plan, Kris!"

"And you!" Kristoff notices me for the first time. "Another jumped-up little shit cut from the same cloth as Antichrist here."

He gasps when I form a long ice blade and bring it within a hair of slitting his throat. "Say that again," I hiss, surprised I'm not screaming.

"Remind me, is this one of yours too?" Kristoff asks Elliot.

Again, AK speaks in Elliot's place. "Technically, all mortals are mine. Or so they believe. But no, he's not one of mine in the same sense as..."

Kristoff bursts out laughing. "Can't even say the boy's name, can you? I knew it. You always did say he was your worst failure."

"I did, didn't I?" AK sounds even creepier imitating Elliot's laugh, especially when it's as forced as this. "Not anymore, it's not. Entrusting you with my confidence was worse." He then turns to me and sends me a thought. Alex, he's wired into the system. He's got a chip in his brain. He knew you were coming. That's when he struck.

"Shut up, you two-faced cunt!" Kristoff lashes out, spraying the room with lightning that hits both me and AK.

I almost expect to fall to the ground, paralyzed and shocked into a heart attack.

But I don't, because AK is absorbing the brunt of Kristoff's lightning.

Unfortunately, as enhanced as AK may currently be thanks to Elliot taking over his body, I already smell his hands burning.

I look at Josh, who's stopped breathing. A quick feel of his neck with two fingers gives me no pulse. So there's no point worrying what will happen if I take the knife out of his chest now.

I throw the knife at Kristoff, who directs one hand's worth of lightning away from AK to vaporize it midflight.

As that arc sweeps out, I duck to avoid it. From below, I freeze Kristoff's hands, but it doesn't do much good because his lightning is strong enough to vaporize my ice too.

Hit him with the ice again when I say! Elliot yells at me through AK's head.

I roll over under Kristoff's desk before he can hit me with more lightning. I still catch a few thousand volts, enough to singe my jeans and my leg hair, but I'm a big boy. I'll shake it off as long as I can.

NOW!

On Elliot's command, I slide out from under the desk and ice Kristoff's lightning hands once again. And once again, my attack dissolves into mist.

Steam.

Is that what I'm supposed to do, blind him with the-

Nope. Elliot's got other plans.

Now that one of AK's hands isn't busy absorbing Kristoff's lightning since he's got two targets, Elliot has him grab something from his pocket.

A disposable lighter.

AK smokes? Well, maybe weed. He's from Oregon, after all. Even though he's not old enough-

And that's when I figure out Elliot's new plan.

I crouch and jump at Josh, pulling his body with me into another teleport, right back to the place from which AK and I came in. The shortcut to the antechamber.

Then I go back for AK and for Elliott, but it's too late.

They and Kristoff are gone.

As are the windows, which blew out in an explosion that's charred a large part of the floor by Kristoff's desk.

I could stick around to try and locate the others, but Kristoff's security forces the door open, and I leave the scene as quickly as I can.

Not quickly enough to avoid taking a bullet in my shoulder - the very same shoulder, in fact, where Uncle James shot me by mistake six months ago.

That pain wrings a scream from me as I hold Josh's corpse.

Even when Gideon, Firdaus, and my mom hear me and join me in the passageway, I'm alone.

Alone in my latest physical wound.

And my latest spiritual one too.

Another one from which I fear I'll never recover, because those have left too many indelible scars on my soul already.

Fionna.

Gabe.

Josh.

Their names digging poison thorns into my heart, forever.