In hindsight, maybe packing five bags per person had not been one of my brightest ideas.

"Excuse me- may I please-" I push through the peanut gallery of aspiring reporters, a task made significantly more difficult by my lack of free arms and their burning passion to succeed despite their lack of actual talent. After almost thirty minutes, we finally manage to escape their trail by ducking into a deserted wine shop on the third floor of the airport, a significantly less crowded location.

I take a seat at one of the empty desks, palming the torn fabric of my fascinator.

Shame.

It was one of my favorites…

I glance around the cozy-looking bar, dim red light setting the atmosphere into a more-what's the right word- intimate? Setting. It seems like bad business to locate a bar in an airport.

Where exactly are we?

"Igetis Cyl, what's alcohol?"

"It's fruit juice," I reply rather distractedly, opening the airport map I had thought would never be of use.

"Then why's it so expensive?"

If we took the elevator at exit A-

"It's really special fruit juice."

Then walked to exit F-

"What makes it so special?"

I rest my chin upon the disembodied head that suddenly appeared in the gap between the map and my torso, moving her into my embrace for further ease.

"It's a quick way to forget all your problems."

That means we're at-

"Then you wake up to the real world, where you can't ever run away and are forced to confront all the problems you've been avoiding else the constituent on which you've spent your entire existence protecting is at risk of extinction."

-exit C.

The wrong exit.

Void.

===================

After a significant amount of confusion on my part, deep-rooted blind faith on the kids' part, and a lot of help from airport security- I finally made it to the right exit.

As much as I would love to claim my foray into the city has been enjoyable so far, It would hurt my conscience to tell myself such a blatant lie.

And that's significant since I lie about a lot of things. Especially to myself.

So, when I ran into an irksome situation while trying to withdraw some money from the atm in the bank nearby- my chosen form of response was willful obliviousness.

Since that had a lot fewer diplomatic repercussions than my usual preferred action.

"Denizens of Star-View!"

First, insert the card.

"Shiver in Fear! For your nemesis is here!'

Then select your language… 345 options? Wow. I wonder if Cryl is included.

"It is I, professor Octomus!"

English…Youroba…ancient dwarven dialect….why do I even hope. Now, I just have to input my pin…

"We know! You're here every month! Get a life dude."

What was it again?

"Rude civilian in blue! Get a life you say? How about I get your life with my De-life-I-nator?!!"

I mentally scroll through my database of pins and passwords. Maybe number 745? It's one of the most recent, and I remember the pin for this specific account started with a four?

"God, he gets worse every time." Someone groans from the floor.

"I thought he was in jail?"

Didn't I create this card at the beginning of last year? Somewhere around February?

A loud scoff. "I wish. He escaped after the last breakout."

Or march? I'm more inclined to believe it was in march. I tend to have a lot more excursions during that time of the year. Something about the number three…

"Again?! That's like the fourth time in six months, security must really suck ass in this city. Where the hell did my taxes go?"

Ah! There it is. Now select the type of transaction….type of account…

"Two rude civilians! Gossiping about your captor while you're being held hostage?! Don't you know words hurt?! Almost as much as my-"

"Ugh, just kill me already." A kid slams his head into the tile repeatedly.

"Can I leave? I just wanted five dollars for a bagel."

What is a daily withdrawal limit and why do I have it?

"My driving lesson starts in five minutes. Please take the money and let us leave-"

Why can't I just withdraw what I need?

Is five thousand too little to pay for a taxi?

"Dude, I know you're waiting for Owlman but…he's kinda busy stopping an actual villain."

Someone nods in agreement. "Yeah. You're pretty lame for a villain. You're just a thief."

"I so am an actual villain! A really cool one too!" He gestures at his body, "don't you see my armor?! Or my gun?! You're all just really bad hostages! And really-hey! Where're you going?!"

I stop in my act of sneaking out with my receipt.

"Oh, I just- walked into the wrong building," I explain, finally taking a look at the individual currently being a menace to public safety.

And surprisingly, he's dressed in what my brief but concise research into the humanoid world has reliably informed me to be a fursona-but… octopus shaped?

His costume is blue and black in color and even has nine metallic appendages emerging from all sides, resembling octopus legs.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I didn't know furries included seafood.

Wasn't this offensive to the Mermen population?

"No one leaves the bank till I say so!" He pauses, giving me a once over, "And-haven't I seen you on the news?"

"Hm?"

"Entertainment weekly or.." He motions around, "Just around-You're famous for something, I can't remember-"

"No…no." I deny, subtly inching closer to the exit. "I'm sure I would have remembered ever being on the news." Wow, it's getting so late, "I'll just -"

The octopi furry hurries to my side, pointing his deformed-looking weapon at me."No one leaves till I say so!"

I pause.

"Sir, as much as I would love to be a part of-" I wave vaguely at the hostages huddled at various corners of the room, "-this. I really must be outside soon-"

"I don't care!"

"Well, I care a significant amount so-" I open my wallet, taking out the cash just I had acquired from the atm, "Why don't I just pay a…" What's the word? "ransom? and I'll leave. Doesn't that sound great?"

His face inside the mask morphs with hesitation before he shakes his head. "Nice try, But no! Octomus doesn't collect ransoms!"

"One thousand dollars?" He shakes his head, "One hundred thousand Cyls? It's worth an equal amount in-"

'NO! NO NO! I don't want your money!'

My smile wanes a bit.

"I…think we're having a classic case of miscommunication here." I gaze towards my fellow hostages, most of them looking bored out of their minds and impatient from their position on the floor. I had hoped if I ignored the entire situation long enough I would remain uninvolved.

It would seem I had hoped wrong.

"Why don't we all calm down-"

"What do you mean calm down?!" He yells, spittle flying out the gap of his octopus-shaped helmet.

Gross.

"I'm sure we can talk-"

"Do I not look perfectly calm?!!"

"To be honest-no." I raise my hand placatingly, "However, I understand you might just be feeling overwhelmed-"

"God! And you sound just like my therapist! Am I not being calm enough for you Sarah?!!!" Who even is Sarah?

"ARGHH! Stop SMILING at me!"

He throws his weapon violently against one of the glass windows of a counter booth, earning a yelp from the cashier binding behind it.

"Why are you freaking out?!" She yells back, features scrunched in anger, "You're the one holding us hostage!"

"Well, maybe I don't want to hold you hostage!! you ever think about that?!!"

"Well then maybe don't!!"

"Well, maybe I will!!!"

"Good!!!"

"Good!!!!"

"Why are you still yelling at me?!!!" She pounds her fist on the booth.

"I'm not!!!" He roars, pressing his face further against the glass.

"YES YOU ARE-"

Some blocks away from the bank I can still hear him arguing with the cashier.

This city is strange.

The nice lady who offered to drive us to the institution assures me that such situations are not the norm.

"Most villains only attack once a week." She says, simultaneously overtaking my already low expectations of the general public safety and the truck in front of her.

Is…that safe?

"The big guys," Her ease at ignoring the blaring horn behind us is getting a bit concerning."-they attack like once a month at most." She mumbles, gesturing vaguely with a fistful of fries.

I'm beginning to wonder if hiring the first responder to my anonymous post for a driver had also not been one of my brightest ideas.

Wow.

"That's when you hear the alarm,"

Are we moving fast enough?

I pull Daly and Mthyl closer to me, temporarily extending my barrier to cover the others sitting in the rear seat…just in case.

"It goes blaannnnnng, annoying little shit."

They all look suitably alarmed, craning their necks to stare at the rapidly approaching truck behind us.

I am really not feeling very bright at the moment.

"Igetis Cyl, I'm scared," Lym says, burying his head into my arms as something akin to common sense informs me that…we're way too close to this truck.

"Sometimes Owlman fights 'em,"

Void be with us-

"SHANNON WATCH THE ROAD!" I hurriedly swerve the wheel over to the left, narrowly managing to avoid getting run over by the speeding vehicle in exchange for the far less intimidating white van in the other lane.

I feel my minor barrier extend to cover Shannon before the airbags erupt and our car flips over from the collision, broken glass and deformed metal bouncing off all sides of the barrier; and before I even begin to gather my wits our vehicle is thrown even further by another collision with a car in the lane we just landed on.

I hear screams and yells as I tear my way out of the smoking minivan, hurriedly teleporting my unconscious kids out of it and onto the grassy land beside the asphalt road. I know they're unharmed but-I check again just to make sure.

All around me drivers emerge from their cars, reminding me of the three other vehicles that were also unfortunately involved in this whole incident.

Void.

I hope they're not dead.