At the start of next week

Calvin flicked his wrists and straightened the comically large brochure in his hands. His eyes narrowed as he subtly raised the piece of plastic up, just enough to barely cover half of his vision and half of his face.

He’d have preferred a piece of newspaper, but this world has apparently done away with such inefficient, wasteful, and primitive means of spreading word.

Instead of such a wasteful use of natural resources, this advanced and high-tech 'hero society’ had made a highly advanced and energy-efficient decision to use an interconnected network of invisible lights acting as wires to transfer information from the news outlets straight to individual holographic displays scattered all over the city— holograms. Each one probably burning an entire forest’s worth of energy to power every second.

Of course, that was mostly just his imagination.

In truth, he had no idea how electricity was being generated in this world, if it even was electricity. He was just really annoyed that he couldn’t find a single piece of newspaper to hide behind to complete his 'disguise’.

'I rue the day plastic was invented,’ he cursed dramatically to himself as he flicked the crumbling brochure straight once more, 'This is getting tedious.’

After sighing to make known to the world(or whomever was in the immediate vicinity) his boredom, he focused his attention back to the task at hand. His pale blue eyes narrowed and scanned the crowd below him with the scrutiny of dying racoon. Gaze lazily darting left and right, they were fortunately hidden not just behind the brochure but also by the cheap pair of sunglasses he nicked an hour ago on his way up to his current floor.

After a moment of absolutely nothing happening, his eyes naturally fell towards his watch.

A frown formed unintentionally as he started reading the time, glancing towards the map he opened to the side in confusion, “It’s almost five and he’s still not here? Not even on his way to the cafeteria. That’s… unusual.”

Having been on the lookout every day for the past week, he’d gotten intimately familiar with Lonnie’s daily schedule. It was easy to remember too, given that the boy only had two destinations in mind whenever he had no class, the cafeteria was one of them.

The other place was the gym, but he really didn’t want to spy on him there. It was weird enough spying on a person, but to do that while they were sweating, grunting, and groaning for more than an hour was something else.

Wherever he might decide to go for the day, Calvin had a clear view of him and his destination from where he sat. Except at the moment, apparently.

“Report, scout private,” he heard a voice in his ear.

He instinctively reached up and touched the transceiver placed behind his ear, a wonderfully sci-fi-ish gadget given to him by his pink-haired fairy godmother.

“I’m still a private? You ranked me up this morning, colonel.” He whispered, covering his mouth with the brochure.

Fake static rang before she replied, “I did, but I ranked you down again for bribing a military officer.”

“You took the bribe, dumbass,” he said with a scoff.

A crunch rang out from the earpiece, “De-ranked again. For insulting an officer.”

“I’m not making you any more snacks for a week.”

“Congratulations, you just got promoted, scout captain— is that the next rank? Whatever, just report.”

“Nothing to report. Haven’t seen him at all today.”

“Really? I did.”

Calvin turned to look at the person sitting beside him, briefly blinded by the pink hair on her head, “What do you mean you did?”

The girl, seemingly unperturbed by Calvin’s surprise, turned to look at him through the giant, golden, and star-shaped sunglasses he gifted her an hour ago(similarly purloined as his). Despite her veiled eyes, it was obvious what kind of stare she was giving him from the way one of her brows raised and how her forehead furrowed.

“He was here like ten minutes ago,“ Quinn informed him while pressing on her own ear, “I thought you saw him.”

“Ten minutes?” He asked in confusion, trying to flick through the pages of his memories with his mind's eye.

She nodded, taking another bite of a toffee apple before replying, “You’re talking like he didn’t just come through right in the middle of the crowd.”

“It’s Lonnie we’re talking about, right?”

“Who else?”

“I—,” he sighed, slumping back on the bench, “what are we still doing here, then?”

“I don’t know. It’s fun,” she smiled, tapping the earpiece. “Sitting here, people watching, it’s relaxing.”

“The whole point of sitting here was 'person’ watching. Where’s the person?”

“I don’t know. Probably headed back to the dorms or something,” she said, gesturing with her half-eaten snack towards the castle in the distance. “It’s your fault for not noticing.”

“It’s your fault for not telling me,” he grunted. “It’s your app’s fault for being so confusing.”

She shrugged, “I told you. It’s a prototype.”

“It’s defective,” he groaned. “Why do I make an effort with this?”

“You made an effort?” She scoffed.

He folded the brochure and took off his shades, leaning back on the bench to rest his aching neck. After a moment to reset his mental, he glanced down at himself to look at his 'effort’ to dress as inconspicuously as possible while surveilling.

White shirt, grey sweatpants, and a pair of flip-flops. It was the typical comfort wear of an average student, which hopefully helped him blend in.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to take account of the metaphorical personification of a sore thumb sitting right beside him, like a pink lighthouse guiding ships to crash into rocky shores after getting blinded by the shine. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Lonnie was aware they were spying on him with how much he probably saw a blot of pink out of the corner of his eye.

Feeling his gaze, she threw a question to him, “Anyway, want to start?”

“Are you finished picking?” He asked back.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “who first?”

“It was your idea,” he gestured towards her.

“Yeah, but you’re the one that wanted new clothes.”

“Why are you making me pick yours?”

“It’s boring if we just pick your clothes. And if you pick yours, you’ll get the same boring stuff.”

“I wouldn’t—” He sighed, acquiescing with a nod towards her, “You first.”

“Okay,” she stood up excitedly and skipped towards the dressing room. “Summer first?”

“It is summer right now,” he gestured for her to go on.

It took a few minutes, but Quinn finally stepped back out wearing a new outfit that he picked himself. A loosely fitted pink sundress, a blue summer hat, and the same pair of star shades she wore beforehand.

She waved her hand and made a mirror appear from the ground before doing a spin to check herself out.

“The hat sucks,” she declared after a moment.

“Yeah, just lose it. I didn’t think it would work anyway.”

“Then why’d you pick it?”

“I couldn’t find a different hat.”

She waved her hand and made it disappear a second later, “Hmm, six out of ten.”

“I mean, it’s just a sundress,” he nodded, understanding her score.

“Come on, your turn,” she said grabbing his arm.

After getting dragged and pushed into the dressing room, Calvin activated the tech’s version of [Automatic Wardrobe]. Light slowly filled the room in a nearly blinding fashion as he felt his own clothes disappear and be replaced by ones Quinn picked for him.

“Why were you distracted anyway?” Quinn asked while he was still inside.

Calvin pursed his lips before poking his arm out of the divider and pointing to the folded brochure he left on his seat.

He heard a plastic ruffle as the girl assumedly took the folded piece of plastic infomercial and started skimming. It wasn’t even a second later before he heard another ruffle followed by a lengthy bout of silence.

“Are you giving me a stare?” He asked out loud.

“Yes,” she answered. “A very judgy stare.”

“It looked interesting, okay?”

He couldn’t blame her. Simply looking at the brochure’s first page, or rather, the giant picture of a room-sized cooking set on the first page would be enough to understand why she was giving him a look— it was dumb. Overly-expensive, overly-large, and overly-filled with tinker tech that, supposedly, makes every dish cooked inside have the 'most perfect’ taste.

Of course, it’s likely bullshit. But Calvin was desperate.

Even after so much dishes cooked, not one of them turned out 'perfect’. He knew he was missing something, but he didn’t even know where to start looking for what was missing.

'I thought I had a cheat with this evolution thing. Goddamn…’ He grumbled at the unfairness.

He came out of the dressing booth and looked in the mirror. Khaki shorts, sleeveless shirt, open short-sleeved polo shirt, and a fedora. He briefly appreciated finally being able to see his muscles after half a year’s hard work before commenting on it.

“Hat sucks,” he pointed upwards.

“This store doesn’t have a lot of hats,” she nodded, “but I kinda like it.”

“Hmm,” he thought for a moment before giving a verdict, “seven. Just because it’s comfy.”

“Great,” she clapped. “Winter next!”

As she went back into the dressing room, Calvin blurted out a complaint, “It’s been a week.”

“Almost a week, private,” Quinn corrected. “And I know, I was here.”

“Almost a week, and we still have nothing to show for it,” his brows furrowed as he thought of something immediately, “I guess there was the box.”

“The box that was so obviously going to be filled with cutlery that there was probably no need to even check it? Or even steal it? That box?” She popped her head out and looked at him with an annoying expression.

“I did both, to be sure. Because— I mean, seriously, who brings a box of cutlery to a cafeteria?”

“Someone who can supply an entire city’s demand of cutlery in a day?”

“But why does he do that thrice a week? Someone fucking eating all the forks or something?”

She chuckled and went back inside, “Or maybe someone is stealing them?”

“That was your idea. Stop acting like it was only me,” he said, nudging her. “And stop calling it stealing. It feels… villainous.”

“What, then? Borrowing?”

“I mean, why not?”

“Borrowing implies the intention of returning.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I had the intention. Does that count?” He scratched his chin. “I don’t know. Maybe like, 'unofficial seizure of suspected terroristic materials’?”

“Calvin!”, she stepped out of the dressing room, eyes looking sharply at him. “What is this?”

“Pft—” He almost stifled his laugh, only to fail as Quinn glared at him. “You look like a pink marshmallow.”

He’d picked the puffiest puffer jacket, puffer pants, puffer everything that he found in the store and loaded it into the dressing room. Luckily, most came in pink. Except for the hat.

After briefly blocking squishy kicks from the straberry-flavoured marshmallow, it was his turn to change to winter clothes.

“I don’t know anymore, by the way,” Quinn muttered loudly as he was in the dressing room.

“I mean give it a zero out of ten if you want—”

“Not the clothes, stupid. Lonnie,” she corrected, “I don’t know if he is actually one of them anymore so… we should probably stop for now. It feels like a waste of time.”

“Oh really?” He popped his head out, giving her an amused smirk and a very annoying look.

She threw the pink puffer jacket at his face, “I know, it was my idea— and I’m not exactly saying he’s in the clear now, he’s still suspicious— but it’s not for us to investigate.”

“I would say something but I don’t want to get a menacing glare from a moody little pink woman for the rest of the week.”

“You were practically saying it with that smirk,” she said, harrumphing loudly.

He finally stepped out, took one look at the mirror, and let out an amused snort.

“You look good,” she nodded appreciatively.

“I look like a pimp,” he noted.

Purple top hat, long coat, and pants, cheetah-print inner lining, gold vest, gold shoes, and gold belt— all that was missing was a cane. He’d have loved a cane.

“How is this winter-themed?” He asked, checking himself out in the mirror.

“It feels warm, doesn’t it?”

“I feel hot. Like, physically and fashionably, but that doesn’t—”, he got another faceful of a different puffy piece of clothing, “—whatever, hater.”

“My turn again,” she nudged him to the side and headed to the dressing room. “Spring better be good.”

As she was getting changed, he continued the conversation, “What about his records? The spike?”

“I don’t know. Might be smoking guns, might be red herrings. Like you said, circumstances— I mean, for all I know, you’re suspicious too,” she popped her head out and looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Might be a spy or something.”

“You think me a treasonous soldier, corporal? I’m a scout captain and a pure-blooded Ame—”, he cleared his throat, “Bastionitian? Bastioner? Whatever. My loyalty is to our president.”

“We don’t have a president,” she smirked, going back inside. “And I thought I was a colonel?”

“King? Queen? High Chancellor? Tribe leader?”

“Again, no. Monarchies are the Dynasties’ thing, and we’re not the Northern Tribes… I have no idea what that other one is,” she said with amusement in her voice, “we’re a 'council democracy’, Cal. We have councils.”

“Oh yeah, we do,” he nodded, remembering mentions of the Council. 'Ina’s parents are on the council, I think?’

She walked back out of the dressing room, looking like a middle-school student dipped in a pool of pink and ash.

“Huh,” she hummed, twisting left and right, “grey and pink.”

“Works, right?” He smirked.

“Surprisingly,” she nodded. “That’s an eight.”

He scoffed, “Just eight?”

“It looks too much like a school uniform,” she gestured to herself, “and I don’t like grey.”

“It’s charcoal,” he corrected.

“I don’t like charcoal,” she shrugged, “Also, aren’t you taking Social Studies? That should be a topic there. Councils, I mean.”

He sighed and slumped over, groaning as he recalled class, “Nothing social about that.”

“You… okay?” She asked, half confused at his response.

“Just peachy,” he chuckled in an attempt to stifle a yawn. “Just sleepy…”

“Are you still using the drops I gave you?”

“Not lately,” he shook his head. 'Because shit happens every time I do.’

Quinn tutted, “You need to get yourself checked out.”

“Yes, Mom,” he said with pretend annoyance, sitting back up, “I already have, by the way. Nurse said it’s just sleep deprivation. I have a therapist too, if that counts.”

Although, even as he was saying it, Calvin realized he had made no effort to reach out to her at all ever since he went to the Academy.

“How about you stop going for runs and get more sleep instead?” Quinn suggested, clearly more concerned than she let out to be.

“But I like running,” He said, sounding like a child pouting.

“You run twice a day. No one likes running that much.”

“I like running and staying alive when Ina goes berserk.”

“You’re already faster than her, what more do you want?”

“You know her. She’s going to get a contract with a speed devil or a lightning ghost or something,” he smirked at the thought. “It wouldn’t surprise me, honestly.”

“Any faster and you two will start reaching—”, she paused, turned, and looked him dead in the eye, “—Lightspeed. Ow.”

“I think I get why Ina hates us sometimes,” he said, trying to hide the smile on his face.

She giggled, likely still thinking of her own pun, “Speaking of, you gonna take his class?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Well, me neither,” she said, pouting in reminiscence, “we didn’t do anything that last lesson.”

“Okay. No, you didn’t do anything. I was running for my life.”

Martin’s, or Lightspeed’s, final demo class was just the same as the previous two classes, they played one-on-one hero and villain tag. Only, for the last one, they chased each other inside a room not bigger than an average bedroom.

The previously useless teacher actually taught how to dodge, bob, and weave through 'tags’ before letting everyone play around on their own. Of course, he didn’t miss the chance to 'teach’ Calvin personally.

“You punched him,” she said with a wide grin. “Right on the nose. Pow.”

“If I knew it was going to be like this, then I wouldn’t have.”

“That’s a lie.”

“You’re right, but still. I probably would’ve thought about it.”

She nodded, “Then punched him.”

“Right on the nose,” he nodded as well, “pow.”

She smiled, mimicking his punch to Lightspeed’s face before pausing as her watch vibrated. A frown instantly formed on her face. She took her arm back and looked at the message, her frown forming deeper as she skimmed through it.

He checked his own watch, seeing the time gave him a clue on what was sent, “Still nothing?”

“Still nothing,” she shook her head. “Investigation’s still ongoing. Like last time. Like the past week.”

“That’s getting a bit annoying,” he muttered, the bench’s wooden armrest screaming under his grip.

It wasn’t just that he was feeling that they were treating the almost-kidnapping of an Academy student and the daughter of one of the Seven like it was a parking ticket lost in the system. It was that he couldn’t see, feel, hear, taste, or even smell anything being done.

Not a single hero patrolling, not an increase in security, not even a campus-wide PSA telling them that there’s a curfew and to always go in pairs when going to the toilet. There was nothing at all.

His, admittedly, naïve illusion of safety was unceremoniously shattered in less than a week. Vanguard’s reliability, at least to him, was already in the shit after the kidnapping fiasco. Now it was even less than that.

Thinking about all those things, another thought came to mind. One he hesitated to speak out, but nevertheless did so, “I really think we should tell Ina now.”

“Still no,” she answered promptly.

“She might be in just as much danger—”

“I said no,” she interrupted, her tone getting sterner, “it’ll be handled sooner or later. It’s better not to, okay?”

Hearing the minute amount of shaking in her voice, he relented, “Okay, but it was your idea. Not mine. We tell her that when she inevitably finds out. Also that I did my best to try to convince you to tell her but you kept saying no.”

She shot him a look saying, 'really?’

“And I reserve the right to tell you 'I told you so’. Once she finds out.”

“You can tell me that anytime, you know?”

“Without retaliation.”

“Hard bargain,” she scratched her chin and pretended to be in deep thought before giving a hesitant nod. “Only if she finds out.”

“When,” he corrected with confidence.

“Pft— sure. Now go back in, it’s your turn,” she pushed him to the dressing room.

Calvin came in and started dressing up in the 'springwear’ she chose for him.

“We won’t be in too much danger by the end of the week anyway,” Quinn spoke out loud as he changed.

It was now his turn to poke his head back out and shoot her a look saying, 'fucking elaborate, please.’

“'The woman of the house’ said someone’s going to start keeping an eye on us.”

“Keep an eye… like keep an eye?”

“Security, not spying. Pervert.”

“One: rude. Two: pot, kettle, pinky. And three: like, right now?” He got the sudden urge to look around.

“'By the end of the week’.” She enunciated each word.

“Ah, right,” he nodded. “Your mother mentioned who they are?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “but if that woman trusts them enough to actually tell me that I’ll be safe from everything from now on, I don’t think we have a lot to worry about.”

“Trust issues run in the family?”

“It’s an heirloom.”

He chuckled, “That just makes me worry more. I mean, it’s good news, but—”

“Not all good news. Not at least for you,” she interrupted. “We’re safer, sure, but there’ll be eyes on us. So… don’t cheat, if you know what I mean.”

He frowned, “like, at all?”

“We don’t know who’s watching. And how, at that,” she answered with a nod. “Unless you want to be strapped to a table for the rest of your life.”

“You’ll save me if that happens, right?”

“I’ll do my best to tell the world, don’t worry.”

“Ouch,” he grabbed his chest in fake pain, “still, that’ll be annoying.”

“It’s just until we’re safe.”

He stepped out, fully dressed, “I thought we were?”

She rolled her eyes, “Safe-er.”

Calvin gave a smile, but inside, he was feeling a bit of frustration. He glanced to the side, looking towards the floating panel he just summoned.

Super Help

Jumper - Path of Repulsion

1631/10,000 objects thrown

1553/500 objects thrown beyond 100 meters

8/250 objects thrown beyond 500 meters

0/50 objects thrown beyond 1 kilometre

“As soon as I made progress,” he muttered.

“So?” Quinn brought him back with her expectant look.

He closed the panel and immediately looked to the mirror, seeing himself looking crisp in a suit and tie, “You do know what spring is, right?”

“Pot, kettle, hobo. You put in in a school uniform,” she stuck her tongue out. “Though to be honest, I have no idea what boys wear other than a shirt and pants.”

“I like the gloves, though,” he commented while performing jazz hands. “Classy.”

“That’s why I picked them,” she harrumphed. “Come! Let’s get more clothes~”

The two continued trying on outfits the other picked until it was dusk. Calvin, albeit somewhat mentally tired, actually felt like he had fun.

“Are you sure you’re buying those?” Quinn asked while they were walking out of the mall.

“They’re free,” he pointed out a crucial fact.

“That’s not what I mean,” she rolled her eyes. “What do you need new clothes for anyway?”

He scratched his chin, looking like he was thinking of an excuse, “I needed a disguise because I’m planning to infiltrate the criminal underworld.”

“Pft— good thing I picked that winter outfit, huh?” She said, mildly amused. “Anyway, I’m heading to the gym.”

“The gym? You?” He blurted out before his brain caught up. “Ah, Ina.”

“Rude,” she huffed, kicking him lightly, “And no, still not going to tell her.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, glancing away.

“Not coming?” She asked, tilting her head.

He shook his head, “Figured I probably need to give you and your best friend some time alone before you go feral and melt me in my sleep for being a third-wheel.”

“It’s a public gym.”

“That you’ll drag her away from.”

“You bet I will,” she nodded resolutely. “You’re her best friend too, you know?”

He raised a brow, “Just hers?”

“We’re in a contractual relationship, sponsee. Skewed power dynamics and all that. It would be weird to be anything more than acquaintances.”

“Well, acquaintance, have fun. I gotta go infiltrate a crime syndicate,”

“Just go back and get some sleep,” she chuckled, raising her fist at him, “no running.”

“Yeah yeah,” he nodded, bumping it back. “Stay safe.”

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

The sun had already set by the time Calvin made it back to his room. Seeing the bed, he didn’t think for a second to immediately collapse onto it despite not being physically tired. His mental, however, was a different story, and he needed some time to cement himself to commit to the decision he was inevitably about to make.

“It’s not your fault…” he whispered, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. “Goddamn it. Where the hell is Dox?”

He sat back up and opened his holowatch, bringing up the chat history.

> Me: Batty might be in danger.

>

> Me: Dox?

>

> Me: Sebastien?

>

> Me: Hello?

>

> Me: Can you please fucking reply?

>

> Me: Still nothing?

There was a small part of him still hoping that there’d be a new message, but it was to be disappointed for the hundredth time this week.

'I should still send a message, just in case,’ he thought.

> Me: I’m going to look for her.

“Gotta do everything my-fucking-self,” he grunted as he got up, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water as he felt his chest heat up from annoyance.

'I should restock the water bottles in my pocket—’ “huh?” He paused, briefly perplexed as he looked at the empty shelf where his mugs were supposed to be. “Who steals mugs? Ah— right. Me.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle for a second at his own stupidity before reaching into the shelf and feeling around. A ceramic clink rang out as his knuckles hit something in thin air.

Using [Colour Control], the mug’s boring brown facade appeared in all its mundane liquid-bearing glory.

'Note to self: make things un-invisible before Quinn’s security detail arrives.’ He thought as he grabbed the mug and filled it with cold water. 'Un-invisible? Non-invisible? De-invisible? Shit, what’s the word? Is there even a word?’

He put the mug back and 'un-invisibled’ the other mugs before heading back to the bed— immediately falling on his ass as he tripped on and subsequently shattered an unknown and unfortunately fragile object.

With a flat and tired face, he stared at the ceiling while briefly regretting the choices he made in this life. “Fucking… what the fuck was that?”

He sat up and scanned the floor, less perplexed than expected upon not finding a single piece of anything shattered on it. Already having an idea of what happened, he started gently patting the floor until he felt the familiar feeling of ceramic on his skin.

“There it is,” he picked it up and used [Colour Control], revealing a pink mug shard, 'Visible. That’s the word. Make things visible again.’

After a preliminary 'cleanup’ consisting of covering the mess with a large brochure and delegating the task to future Calvin who will surely not forget and possibly injure himself from the ceramic shards, he stood back up and patted the dust off of himself.

'Why was it on the floor? Did I drop it?’ He wondered for a moment before shaking his head and focusing on his next agenda. “Pin it for later, time to put it all together.”

He took out and spread all the new clothes he got from shopping with Quinn on his bed and began mixing and matching them. It took a good chunk of ten minutes before he finally decided on one.

After making use of his pocket’s [Automatic Wardrobe] to make dressing up easier, he turned towards the armoire and opened it to see what he looked like.

“Pft—”, he chuckled almost immediately. “Willy-wonka lookin’ ass—”

He took the duster and the vest from the 'pimp’ outfit, and the gloves, pants, and shoes from the suit.

'Let’s change that,’ He used [Colour Control], immediately changing everything to a mix of black and charcoal. He spun left and right, trying to see if the outfit actually works. 'It's still missing something... ah!’

A second later, a brown fedora appeared in his hand, immediately turning black as he put it on his head. 'What do you know? It works. Kinda noir detective. All I need is a grizzled beard.’

He checked his jaw for a moment, feeling disappointment after seeing the barren wasteland that was his baby-butt face. However old 'Calvin’ was, he probably wasn’t old enough to grow a beard. Or, at least, he hoped he wasn’t.

'And now, for the final final touch,’ he thought, feeling a bit of melancholy as he took out the last piece of his attire.

Super Equip

Super Gear: Plain White Mask detected. Equip? Yes No

He smiled lightly, admiring the simplicity of the mask, before putting it on. A familiar weird force pulled on the edges of the mask, grabbing onto his skin in a not-so-uncomfortable way. The white inside of the mark wobbled, turning transparent not a second later as it allowed him to look through.

Calvin looked down at himself, nodding as he saw a blurriness that surrounded his body.

“Still works,” he muttered, flinching a bit as he heard his garbled voice. “Forgot about that.”

Making sure he had everything, he pulled everything back into his pocket and dressed himself in 'normal’ black clothes. He took a breath to calm his anxiety before looking at his holowatch.

“A bit too early, but it should be dark enough,” he exhaled cooly before nodding to himself, “Go time.”

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

Calvin sneaked through the campus, going through the most discrete route he’d mapped out during his daily runs. He’d use [Jumper] to move quickly in the dark through blindspots, or simulate a glitch using [Colour Control], or just plainly push the camera to face another way.

However he did it, he made sure there was no one coming, nor was there an alert or alarm every time.

'I miss Dox, but this is kinda fun,’ he thought while sneaking through.

Unlike his prior assisted attempt at stealth-ing his way through the campus, his current one was uneventful and slow. But it really made him feel like he was in one of his favourite games, especially with all the planning and care even during the reconnaissance.

After half an hour of crouching through bushes and leaping up buildings, he finally arrived once again at the cafeteria— albeit this time, from behind.

'I should’ve brought a face mask,’ he grumbled internally as he covered his nose.

Unfortunately, they doubled as a garbage dump and composting site, being the only other place in the Academy that allowed coming in and going out without getting zapped by the walls. It had a large gate where, at least from what he assumes, garbage trucks and grocery trucks come in and out.

Sadly, he wasn’t a truck, so he couldn’t use that gate. Not only that, there were at least ten cameras surveilling inside and outside the gate.

Calvin smirked, 'Thankfully, it’s not the only exit.’

He scouted the place, making sure there was no unaccounted security camera, before jumping straight over to the bins and jumping to the other side.

'Where microwaves come to die,’ he thought as he started looking around at the number of broken appliances stacked like bricks. Some looked like they should be perfectly working. 'I guess reduce, reuse, recycle doesn’t exist in this world? Or people are just lazy.’

After briefly considering a session of dumpster-diving, he refocused his priorities and sneaked over towards a particular broken appliance in the vicinity. 'Broken’, at least in terms of appearance and what its supposed purpose was.

A dilapidated fridge, leaning against a random stack of microwaves.

He knelt down beside it and squinted, tracing the side of the fridge until he found a particularly subtle etching that confirmed it was what he was looking for, 'Dinner plate with a fork. Let’s hope you still work.’

He stood back up and went to the front of the fridge. Hands gripping the handle firmly, his feet started tapping to the rhythm of the song playing in his head, 'Ah, ha, ha, ha. Stayin’ alive…’