"You alright?" Isabela asked, sitting on the couch next to me.

I shook my head. "Harvey and Sabrina..."

Isabela widened her eyes, taking a sip of her lemonade. "Who's Sabrina?"

"A friend," I sighed, leaning on the backrest. "We saved her back in Westdale when she was about to be kidnapped by the Goon."

"Westdale?" Isabela asked, confused.

"Did you lose your memory too?" I facepalmed, too tired of this crap. "Same old story. The town we lived in... before Neon City."

Isabela's face was blank.

"Never mind, never mind," I groaned, turning away, then looked back at her. "We need a plan to set them free, anyways."

Isabela winced. "Call the cops! Just tell them that Hutchins is an impostor! Goon arrested... and... we all live happily ever after. End of story!"

"No! No don't call the cops! We need to find a way to end him ourselves," I said firmly.

"But why?" she asked, all worried.

"Grandpa... said-"

"Alex, he's dead! Who knows, if he's alive maybe he'd call the cops! Tell your father!" Isabela said, grabbing her phone from the center table. "That's it. I'm calling the cops, and you can have peace of mind, kid."

"No no no!" I shouted, trying to grab her phone from her.

Isabela held it up high. "It's my phone. My right to call them."

"Fine. Your call, your loss," I mumbled, crashing back on the backrest.

Isabela humphed and sighed, but later nodded. "One more sentence." 

I haven't thought of that. What if Isabela was right? Grandpa was dead. Maybe at his time, it wouldn't have made sense to call the police, but now...

I sat up straight. "We can't," I repeated firmly. "Look, if we do, if the cops are alerted about the Goon... they'd arrest him, yes. But the Goon would just escape again like he did last time."

"Who knows? Maybe they're better now!" Isabela protested. "One sentence over. That's two, actually. I'm calling the-"

I raised my hands in the air. "No! Dot dot dot, not to mention another possible shootout, coma, more deaths."

Isabela frowned, leaning her head on her hand.

"How about Westdale? Coma, once the cops get to the Goon's house, they're gonna lock up the house! Dot dot dot, that's just gonna put the Porter 3000 further away from our reach," I coughed.

"Okay, that's it," Isabela said. "By the way your grammar sucks. And I'm really gonna press this call button now. You're talking gibberish."

I straightened up. "You just lost your memory, Isabela."

Isabela humphed, dropping her phone down. "Alright, whatever you say. I won't call the cops, but don't count me in on that plan of yours."

"C'mon," I said. "Remember how Harvey saved that little band of yours?"

"Remember how I saved you and your pathetic best friend from the badass Goon?" Isabela crossed her arms.

I frowned. 

Isabela raised her chin, grinning. "Okay, smartypants. Fine I'll help you poor li'l guy. But under one condition."

I smiled and nodded.

Isabela stood up, walking to the kitchen. "You three... will be officially the new Leftovers members."

I winced. "Including Sabrina? What happened to Piper... and the twins?"

"Well, they just backed out. Figured Sabrina whom I've never met could replace her."

I smiled. "Well then let's do it." 

—

"Three-pointer by Hutchins!!" the TV blared.

"Yes, we're coming home now. I'll tell Harvey. Bye," I said through the phone.

I crumpled my soda can, chucking it in the trash bin. "Right, Harvey's mom is now asking where the heck is Harvey. And if we don't get them back safely, I'm dead meat. We're dead meat."

Isabela tossed my car keys to me, and we made a run for the van under the rain.

We got in and buckled up, turning right into the main street. I parked the van a few blocks away from the Goon's house.

"You got this? They're in the basement," I told Isabela.

She nodded.

I took a deep breath. "Good luck."

She smiled.

Our eyes locked.

The rain poured outside.

Silence.

What was she waiting for? Was she asking me to...?

She gave me a thumbs up and pulled on her hoodie, creeping out.

Never mind.

I thrust my head back on the cushion. Girls. I got out into the trunk, grabbing a box with containers of oil.

I spilled a line of oil on the road, emptying all the containers. I threw them back to the trunk, shutting it close.

Then I grabbed two rocks from the lawn beside, place one on both sides of the line of spilled oil on the side.

I shook the dust off my hands, walking over to the Goon's house.

I rang the bell, then ran off into the bushes.

The assistant opened the door, looking out. Seeing no one, he slammed the door shut.

Then I did it again.

Ding-dong ditching is what you call it.

The third time, the assistant had steam coming out of his ears and nose.

I stood in the middle of the street, waiting for him to come at me. "You!" he shouted, walking out of his porch.

I backed out. "Hello zir," I said. "Whatz iz your problema?"

He crossed his arms. "No, you. What is your problema?!"

I watched as a shadowy figure crept out of the bushes and silently but swiftly tip-toed into the house.

Perfect.

"My my, za problema iz you too slow to open za door," I said, stalling.

"Huwat?" he yelled.

I walked over to the lawn, keeping a distance. "Who are you?"

He shot me a scowl. "Hey, I'm the one asking questions here."

I laughed. "I'm a big fan of mm... Hutchinz?"

He rolled his eyes. "A sucker is born every minute." He turned around and walked back into the house.

I gulped. No no!

Stall, find a way! It's not working!

I ran to him, sticking out my foot before he could reach the porch.

Boom! went his head as it hit the wall. He fell to the ground, holding his hand above his head.

I backed out into the street, a little surprised about how things went.

"You little..." his whole face flared.

He started running, then me next.

He was gaining on me, and I caught speed as I dashed straight further into the street. I eyed the two rocks as I neared the thick line of oil.

I jumped over it, still not too high to give away a hint. I skidded to a halt, splashing a puddle of water into the air.

I turned around, and I couldn't help but grin.

The assistant ran over the oil, slipping into the ground, head bonking on the ground once again.

And behind him was a sight so pretty.

My three friends running free towards the van.

We ran to the van, slamming the doors shut behind us and locking it.

I started the engine immediately, then pulled out of the street. I looked behind the mirror and watched as the assistant struggled to get up.

I stopped the van and rolled down my window. "You good bruh? Just getting back my friends... like the way you took them."

I rolled my window back up then sped off, just like a regular, normal civilian would.

Our job was done.

—

Just go to the cafe and wait.

There I sat, waiting for the unknown, sipping at a cup of hot coffee. I glanced at my watch.

How long?

Who?

What?

Why?

And I needed answers.

The bells on the door rang as a man with dark brown eyes, a tall nose, brown lips, a trimmed beard, and fairly neat hair walked in.

Wasn't that oddly familiar?

It was Mr. Hutchins.

At least who he says he is. He is the Goon.

I watched as he took his order, walking to the table I was sitting on.

Not before long, he had already had the attention of everyone in the cafe.

"May I have your autograph?" they yelled.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but-" they all swarmed over him.

"People!" he said, raising his hands in the air. "Won't you punks give me some space!"

They all got back to their seats, but still started whispering to each other.

Hutchins pulled out the chair in front of me and sat on it, lowering his voice. "Okay. We meet again, Anderson."

I put down my coffee cup on the table. "You asked me in. Don't waste my time."

He grinned. "Or maybe... it's the other way around."

"Seriously," I scowled.

He took away his grin, choking. "Well. How does it feel? First days here in Neon City?"

I sat back. "It's bad. I miss Westdale."

"What are you gonna do? Break the Porter 3000?" the Goon smirked.

I shot him a look, wincing.

"I know. You and your little girlfriend broke into my house last night and took back your dear friends. That's pathetic," he said, chuckling.

I slammed my fist on the table. "If you little... little-"

"Don't worry, you can have those good-for-nothing kids. But you taught us a lesson."

I raised my eyebrow.

"We're moving, kid."

"Enes Hutchins! Drinks ready sir!" the lady called.

He got up and picked up his order, then walked back to the table. "One more thing before I leave," he said, opening the lid of his coffee, coughing on his palm. "Your grandpa was a genius. They all were. But I came here to claim the victory I deserve... and don't get in my way."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "You deserve?!"

He grinned. "It was an injustice. And I came to finish my job here... when you least expect it." He took a sip of his coffee. "Laters amigos. Have fun here in Neon City, 'cause you might spend the rest of your life here."

He closed the lid of his coffee cup then walked out of the cafe, leaving me alone at the table.

I frowned, slumping into the couch.

He was coming after the third kid.