I dropped us down about a half mile out from Waconia. The flight was quick, a little less than an hour to get from the East Coast to Minnesota. Tuesday is sobbing uncontrollably, clutching the T-Jet and begging me not to deconstruct him. A flaw, if you can even call it that, with my powers is that when I dismiss my constructs, I can't absorb one hundred percent of the energy used to create them. It's a loss of about fifty percent, which isn't crazy, but it's unfortunate. The closest my abilities come to having a weakness. The sensations I get from absorbed energy are one of a fullness in an organ that is more metaphorical than corporeal. Despite the jet being outside of that organ, I can still feel it. A connection from creator to creation that I can pull on to unravel it. Pulling it, Tuesday falls forward through the space previously occupied by the construct.

"Miles," Tuesday whined as she fell face-first into the snow.

"Sorry, but it was too eye-catching. Boss said low profile and no talk of Cowl stuff," I explained.

"IT? You're really going to talk about Jerry like that? He's a member of the team and I shall mourn his memory until the day we reunite in the great beyond," Tuesday said.

"You're right, forgive me, Jerry. You didn't deserve this," I joked, kneeling in the snow to pray.

Tuesday joins me, and we spend a few minutes on the side of the road paying homage to our lost friend. This is fun. The snow and weather are very similar to Quinstin, if not turned up a bit. Thankfully, the snow seems to have already fallen, and we're just dealing with the aftermath. The two of us follow the road into town. Waconia isn't much, a quaint little town that is still sleeping. I'm unsure what time the dealership opens up, but we're probably going to have some time to kill before we can get out of here. I have a bad feeling about all of this.

Tuesday and I walk down the main road with her leading the way to the inn. She looked it up during our flight, so she knows where we're going. We pass a couple of different breakfast places, the earliest not opening till four, several hours from now. I make a mental note of the location and the pancake special. Every roof we see is slanted; even the stores don't have flat roofs, likely due to the abundance of snow they get in this region. We cross an empty street, taking a right, and then I see the giant red letters spelling inn. The motel is a brown, two-story, L-shaped building, with all of the room doors facing the parking lot. In the center of the lot is a small separate room that says office on it. Even with the blinds drawn, I can see the lights on inside.

"So where's she staying?" Tuesday asked me.

"He didn't tell me. You mind working your magic to find out what room she's staying in?"

"Yeah, be right back," she said, walking over to the office. She knocks a few times until the door opens, revealing an annoyed man. Before he can complain or say anything, she acts and puts him under her geas. The door closes behind her, and I offer a silent prayer for the man. There's about a fifty percent chance she harms him or sleeps with him. Neither option precludes her from the other, and he might die either way.

It's a sobering realization that, despite how fun she is to hang out with, she is completely evil. What does it say about me that I bump elbows with the type of people I wanted to stop when I was younger? Tuesday is a wild and capricious spirit; she has more in common with the Fae from fantasy novels than your average person. There's something to that, to being able to witness chaos incarnate commit mischief and mayhem.

The lack of screaming doesn't mean much; she's more than capable of doing things silently. I can see moving silhouettes reflected against the shades. The humanoid shadows touch, and it isn't long before the show turns explicit. I turn away from it, my face burning red. I shouldn't be seeing that. We're coworkers for goodness's sake. Humming a tune helps me think about anything but what's happening behind me. Not thinking about it. Not thinking about it. Not thinking about it.

"AHH," I screamed as I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Relax, dude. It's just me. I got her room number, let's go say hello," Tuesday said.

"You scared me, Tuesday!" I said, half-heartedly scolding her.

"Sorry, I called your name and you didn't answer. Thought something had happened to you."

"Nope, nothing happened to me, I was just lost in my thoughts. We can go see her. But Tuesday, please take this seriously. I don't want to disappoint Nobody," I pleaded.

"Why do you want him to like you so much? He's just our boss. Nobody's just like, a guy," she said.

"Because," I paused, thinking of the right words to say. "Because he's not just a guy to me. He completely changed my life trajectory. I wasn't doing well before all of this. I never could've imagined having a life like the one I have now. It's not an exaggeration to say I might not be here without meeting him."

"Okay, okay, don't go getting all soft on me, twerp. I'll be on my best behavior," Tuesday promised.

"That's all I'm asking for," I responded.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The lights are off in room seven, and the blackout curtains are drawn. Is Emma sleeping? I would hate to be rude to this stranger. Placing my ear to the door, I can't hear anything coming from inside. Tuesday points to her eye and mimes removing it, then throwing it at the wall. There's a very good chance that she's talking about creating an eyeball to spy on the inside. There's an equal chance that she'll use her power to make me see her rip out her own eye and throw it at the wall. I decide to roll the dice and nod my head.

Tuesday shuts her left hand into a fist and closes her eyes. She opens it slowly, revealing a hazel-colored eye, an exact replica of her own. She looks behind me, then behind herself, checking to see if anyone is around. I doubt there's any other residents awake right now, and if there are, they aren't the nosy type. Inns like this one aren't where upstanding people go, unless they're here to meet for clandestine activities like affairs, drugs, or prostitution. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum. Judgey people judge people.

Once my compatriot has confirmed the coast is clear, she twists her body to the left and then jumps straight through the window, shattering it and getting wrapped up in the thick curtains. The quiet, serene atmosphere of the early morning is broken instantly. Why on earth did you do that, Tuesday? The two of us were having such a good time before this. I even asked her nicely. This is an awful way to introduce ourselves to the poor woman. All I did was mention Nobody, and she immediately sabotaged the mission.

The lights turn on as Tuesday continues struggling against the curtains. With the curtains gone, I can see into the room, and it matches the vibe of the inn quite well. Sad looking and depressing. Black carpets designed to soak up fluids and hide stains, a single springy bed without a box frame, one old lamp in the corner of the room missing its shade, and a pleather chair facing the bed. Before I can try and help unravel my partner, a woman jumps through the opening Tuesday made and knees me in the face. Ouch. I stumble back, checking to see if the hit might've broken my nose. Thankfully, it isn't, but my hand does come away with blood on it.

The woman who attacked me, the one I was sent here to escort, is a petite woman with wild hair. Platinum blonde with red tips in a cut similar to my own. She's the same height as me, and I'm just now noticing is only wearing underwear. AVERT YOUR EYES. I mumble apologies, holding a hand up to cover her naked body. My attempt to protect her dignity and not disrespect her just earns me another hit. This time it's a punch directly to my sternum. I don't want to use my powers and expose our identities, but she hits so gosh darn hard.

"Sorry. This was an accident. Funnily enough, we're actually here to," I began to say.

"Leave him alone, you scoundrel," Tuesday yelled.

Emma turns away from me, allowing me to look in her direction without feeling intense shame. Tuesday runs at her, going for a roundhouse kick. Emma blocks the kick with her forearm, grabs Tuesday's ankle, rotates 360 degrees, and throws her off the second floor into the parking lot. This was already not going great, but now it has officially turned over into awful territory. Nobody is going to kill both of us. The woman is clearly a Neuvohuman, so we might not be able to avoid using our abilities. What kind of powers does she have? Is she just a Bruiser, or is there more to her beyond the strength?

I have basically no time to think as she rushes at me. I need to make more time. Inside my body, in that organ that's not physical, electricity rages. Pulling it out of the well, flooding my nervous system and brain, everything starts to slow down around me. My debut with the Triad allowed me to test this new power, and I've since refined it further, but the consequences of it were apparent. Channeling electricity for too long wreaks havoc on my body. It could probably kill me if I kept it up past the safe limit. Five minutes seems to be the safe range; anything longer and internal bleeding becomes commonplace, as well as severe muscle spasms. With time, I'll grow more proficient as I practice it, but it certainly works for what I need it to right now. My reaction speed is increased, my perception and information processing are faster as synapses are fired at ridiculous speeds. I'm not actually slowing down time, even if it feels that way.

She's fast, but it is easily avoidable when I'm in this mode. It is regrettable, but I will likely need to either overwhelm her with a powerful display or tase her into submission. Running at her, I side-step her outstretched fist to stand beside her. I won't use as much as I used against the Triad. I'm not trying to shock her unconscious, just make her stop attacking and listen. With half the electricity that I used against the Cowls, my index finger taps her bare shoulder, discharging the payload. She should fall to the ground, she should be rendered harmless, she should at the very least be reacting, but she doesn't. She pivots toward me, flinging a leg out.

How did that not work? That should have worked. I stop channeling, and time goes back to normal. She's throwing out attacks faster than I can dodge them, and the damage is building up. I am not as competent in hand-to-hand as the others, a flaw I will rectify as soon as we're back. Drawing upon the well again, I send a large amount of golden electricity up to my arms, into my hands, and arcing out at her. Let's see how you like my 6th-level spell: chain lightning. My attack shoots forward, striking her center mass. But instead of sizzling her, electrocuting her, or even giving her a single spasm, she acts like nothing happened, counterattacking immediately. I really thought that would've worked. Fire bursts from my palms, hardening into a shield that absorbs her onslaught.

"Like I was saying, I'm really sorry about this, Emma. We were sent here to pick you up, but my friend got overzealous," I yelled.

The hits stop.

"Wait, you two are the ones he sent to pick me up?" Emma asked.

"Yes, and I am very sorry for the misunderstanding," I apologized.

"Well, why didn't you just say that? Let me grab my stuff and get dressed, then we can be on our way. Unfortunately, I think that our display might've attracted some attention from the local authorities," she said. "Obviously, you know I'm Emma, but who are you two?"

"I'm Miles, and the one you tossed is Tuesday," I answered.

She shakes my hand, still half naked and standing on the balcony.

"Great to meet you guys. We should stop somewhere for breakfast. I'm starving," Emma said, turning around to walk back to her room.

What the heck just happened?

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