"No," sneered Decay. "I was more than willing on our first encounter, but why should I cooperate with you now that I know I'm immune to anything you can throw at me?"

"Because you aren't," said Shining Nova simply. Tracy had transformed into her magical girl form, as had her teammates, who had all gone to confront their latest invading Bane in his borrowed home. "Would you survive this factory collapsing on your head, for example?"

"Yes," answered Decay, equally simply.

"Darn. I knew we should have borrowed some equipment from the army," said Gentle Breeze. In her transformed state, Natasha was clad in a yellow dress that was almost imperceptibly thin, yet still opaque. The loose fabric fluttered around her at even the slightest movement of air.

"Oh? 'Borrowed'?" asked Decay, raising an eyebrow. "You mean you planned on breaking and entering, trespassing in a highly restricted area, theft of military assets, illegal possession of weapons, and, to top it all off, destruction of property and murder?"

"Uh... I wasn't planning on any destruction of property, as such."

"Oh, believe me, short of me traipsing out into the middle of a desert somewhere, the amount of conventional firepower required to bring down any Bane is going to cause a considerable amount of collateral damage. Now, if you'll excuse me, my shift at the soup kitchen starts in twenty minutes, so I really must get going."

Ignoring the girls, the Bane walked over to the door of the abandoned factory.

"Why?" asked William to his retreating back. "Isn't our offer exactly what you wanted? We stay out of your hair, and our terms weren't exactly onerous. Graceful Aqua striking you with Hydro Blast did nothing whatsoever. It didn't even get your suit wet."

"It's the principle of the thing," replied Decay. "I'm not going to report to you once a week and let you attack me."

"Then negotiate! That's why we're here! Would it help if we came here for your check-ups, rather than expecting you to come to us?"

Decay didn't respond, marching out of the factory door and slamming it behind him hard enough to send clouds of dust and rust into the air.

"Grr! I hate that guy!" complained Gentle Breeze, dropping her transformation to reveal regular Natasha, her billowing dress shifting back into jeans and a yellow tank top. "After we came all the way over here to talk to him, too! It was a perfectly reasonable deal to leave him alone in return for letting us attack him once a week to check he's still considered 'good'."

"It wasn't perfect—he could do a lot of damage in a week—but yes, I'm surprised he shot us down so quickly," said Stacy, the other girls likewise cancelling their transformations.

"Actually, he did say something useful," said Mary. "He's given me an idea."

"He did? When?" asked Natasha.

"When listing off that set of crimes."

"Oh, I see," said Tracy. "William has always been against us involving the police before, because they wouldn't be able to stand up to a Bane, but now things have changed. Decay won't be able to attack them any more than he can attack us, and if they try to lawfully arrest him, what can he do?"

"Lawfully arrest him?" asked Natasha. "What for? Isn't he behaving himself? That's kinda the whole point."

"And who do you think owns this factory?" asked Mary. "It's certainly not him."

"Ooo! So he's the one trespassing!"

"Exactly. We wait for him to get back from his volunteer shift, then call the police and report a break in."

"I can't imagine them being too interested, given that it's been abandoned for years," said Stacy.

"Perhaps. They'll certainly show up, but it's likely they'll just chase him out with a warning. That doesn't matter, though; the point is to prove to him that cooperating with us will be less inconvenient than the alternative."

"I see. They may not be too interested this time, but if they get called out again and find the same person here, they'll start getting annoyed. He'll be forced to either cooperate with us or find somewhere else to stay."

"And he doesn't have anywhere else to stay," finished Tracy. "He has no money and no legitimate identity. He has no choice but to squat in some abandoned building, and this one is presumably the 'best' given that the Banes seem to gravitate towards it. Even if he does find somewhere else, we can just call the cops on him again."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand all this plotting," complained Natasha. "If you don't mind, I'm going to find some ice cream and leave this all up to you."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Oh? That's promising," said Stacy.

"Is it?"

"Yup. That's the first time you've mentioned ice cream since Decay beat us up the first time."

Natasha blinked. "I suppose it is. I just haven't been in the mood."

"And now you are."

"I'm not sure Nat's desire for ice cream is a particularly reliable measure of confidence, but whatever," sighed William. "We have a plan. Let's get it done."

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"I have to admit, this is not the outcome I expected," said Graceful Aqua, Mary having transformed back into her magical girl form not so much because she intended to confront Decay but more because climbing onto the roofs of buildings was kinda difficult without either magical aid or a ladder. She was positioned on the roof of a familiar convenience store and staring across a road into the top-floor window of an equally familiar house.

Yellow flickered alongside her as Natasha rejoined the other three girls, having once again transformed into Gentle Breeze, for exactly the same reason. "What did I miss? You sounded a little panicked on the phone."

"It wasn't panic, as such," replied Mary. "More like... consternation."

Natasha tilted her head in confusion.

"Look," said Tracy, pointing across the street.

Natasha peered. "Is that... Decay? What's he doing in someone's house?"

"It's that old woman he was helping across the street. He's moved in."

"He WHAT?!" screamed Natasha.

"Ow. Volume!" complained Stacy, massaging her ears.

"He moved in," repeated Tracy. "He told her he had nowhere to stay, and she invited him to use her guest room."

"For as long as needed, too," added Mary. "She was quite enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastic? You don't think she...? Eww... She's like ninety!"

"No, Decay hasn't drained her at all," sighed William. "I think she just wanted the company. As far as I can see, she lives alone, and we haven't seen her take any phone calls or have any other guests."

"But he's a Bane!" complained Natasha.

"She doesn't know that, and how do you intend to explain?"

"But... But... Bane!"

"You can say that till you're blue in the face, but it's not going to make any difference. To her, he's the gentleman that helps her across the road each morning."

"But never helps her back," said Mary. "I think lonely is right. Stacy said it was odd to help someone across the road like that, but I doubt she actually needs the help. It's just an excuse to talk to him."

"Great, so Decay has a lonely old biddy on his side. Now what?" said Natasha. "If he hurts her, I'm never going to forgive him."

"Hopefully, he'll find this arrangement rather tortuous," said Tracy. "Given the way he swore at her when she wasn't looking, he obviously dislikes her, so living together is likely to drive him crazy. We might have succeeded in our objective after all. We just need to leave him alone for a few days and wait for him to come crawling back to us."

In the house opposite, Decay glanced out of the window at his group of colourful watchers and smirked.

----------------------------------------

Tracy watched Decay support his new landlady as they crossed the street, the elderly woman stepping into the convenience store as she did every morning, while Decay continued up the street towards the soup kitchen.

He sneered at Tracy as he passed.

She just sighed, not even having bothered to transform. There really didn't seem to be any point.

"Is this worth it?" she asked.

"Is what worth it?" answered the Bane, for a moment looking genuinely confused.

"Living with a human, just to snub our offer."

"A comfy bed. Free food. I fail to see the problem."

"But you don't need to eat or sleep, and you hate people! Now you're deliberately living with one just to spite us."

"Hate people? No I don't. Whatever gave you that impression?"

"Uh... The way you're always sneering? You're polite to people's faces, except for us, but as soon as they aren't looking, it's all foul expressions and middle fingers."

"That's not because I hate them. It's frustration, because they don't recognise their inferiority, and I'm not allowed to do anything to break them out of their delusions. Agatha is easy to tolerate. Perfectly happy to sit in silence without feeling the necessity to start up inane conversation, always polite and deferential, has a study full of books, and plays a mean game of scrabble."

"Scrabble? Sorry, but that's what you've been doing in there? Playing scrabble?"

"And reading; it's not as if I need to sleep, unlike her."

"I don't believe this," complained Tracy.

"Then I am fortunate that my continued existence is not contingent upon your belief. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some incurably lazy bums to feed, because apparently people feel like keeping them around instead of letting them starve to death is good public policy."

Tracy watched the Bane dawdle off up the street. It wasn't until he'd turned the corner that it occurred to her that this time, he hadn't flipped the old woman—named Agatha, apparently—the bird, nor had he sneered or pulled any derogatory expression at all. He'd simply watched her walk into the convenience store, then turned and left.

"Hmm..." she said thoughtfully as she waited for Agatha to finish her shopping.

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"I assure you, I'm quite alright," said Agatha, who, sure enough, was walking fairly steadily despite carrying a shopping bag in each hand.

"Are you sure?" asked Tracy, wondering how she could possibly point out that the elderly lady had been leaning on Decay earlier without sounding like some sort of creepy stalker.

"Yes, I'm sure. Say, didn't I see you around earlier? Ah, are you worrying about little old me because that nice gentleman was giving me a hand earlier? That wasn't for my benefit, you see. It was for his."

"For him?" asked Tracy, resisting the urge to complain about the abuse of 'gentleman'.

"Yes. He just looked so lonely and afraid the first time I saw him. So lost. Did you know he jumped three feet in the air when I first spoke to him?"

"No, I didn't know that," said Tracy honestly.

"I don't know what he was so frightened of, but he seemed glad to have someone to talk to. I hope the poor lad isn't involved with some sort of gang. That suit of his makes him look like a mafia godfather."

Tracy didn't respond, the disparity between 'poor lad' and 'mafia godfather' doing battle in her mind.

"Anyway, it was nice of you to worry about me, but I really must be going. It's been a very long time since I've had the chance to cook for two."

"I'll let you get on with it then," said Tracy, noting the use of 'had the chance to' rather than 'needed to'. "But if you're worried he's mafia... he hasn't done anything... ungentlemanly... has he?"

"Not at all," snorted the woman. "He's perfectly polite. Besides, I think I'm a bit past the age at which people are tempted to be ungentlemanly at me, mores the pity."

Tracy watched as Agatha crossed the road unaided and let herself back into her house.

"Well, this plan has been an epic failure," sighed the stumped magical girl. "Now what?"