The moment they were in the elevator and away from the slightly crazy and explosive personality of the smartest person in the Tower, they both relaxed. Bain exhaled deeply, placing one hand on the elevator wall as Stitches slid down with a sigh, slamming the lobby button with one hand. "Wow," Bain stated. "She is really intense."

Stitches shook his head, raising a trembling finger. "That," He shook it in the air wildly. "is the understatement of the year, my friend."

Bain's eyes widened. "Really? Is there a prize?"

Stitches paused. "Uh - no. There is no prize."

He slumped. "Oh. Okay."

The elevator moved upwards slowly, the pervading silence occupying it silently judging the two of them. Swinging back and forth on his considerably sharp talons, Bain asked lamely, "So, what are you doing?"

Stitches glanced up at him. "Hm? Oh, me. Well, normally I go work with Joel's construction group, but..." He trailed off, the awkward silence dialing up several notches. He regretted bringing it up immediately. Surely there'd been a more tactful way to bring it up.

"Well... I guess we could go shopping."

Bain looked up at the statement, forehead creasing in curiosity. "Don't we need money for that?"

"...We get paid for being heroes, Bain. Hasn't the money arrived in your... right." He facepalmed, the answer obvious to him. "You don't have a bank account, do you."

Bain shook his head. "You'd be surprised at how much money you can find when you've got thousands of Nahma's sheddings scanning the city."

Stitches conceded the point with a nod. "Good point. Where do you keep it?"

Tilting his head, Bain reached into the otherwise invisible nook at his neck and pulled out the small leather moneybag. "All of it's in here."

An eyebrow raised high on Stitches' face. The bag couldn't have held more than ten thousand dollars, and that was if it was all in hundreds. "How much do you have?"

Bain fished out the battered dollar bills, squinting. "Ehhh... three hundred dollars, I think. I don't really buy stuff that often, and nobody's tried taxing Nahma."

Stitches snorted in derision, taking the money and rifling through it. "Trust me, it's just a matter of time. Those government fellas'll... is this a two-dollar bill?" He held up the currency, the obviously rhetorical question hanging in the air.

Bain squinted at it. "Yup. Why do you ask?"

There was a short silence as Stitches decided to stop phrasing things so open-endedly and then continued. "These things went out of print ages ago. You'd probably get a couple thousand for taking it to a collector, bad condition and all."

Bain shrugged. "Like I said, I don't really use money for anything. Do you want it?"

Stitches folded it into his shirt. "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind the boost. Thanks." He gave him a thumbs-up, and the elevator dinged pleasantly. He grinned. "So, do you want to go shopping? It's on me."

His sidekick considered the offer for a solid ten seconds, which is much longer than it sounds if you're waiting in near-perfect silence on an elevator in a busy lobby. Bain finally shrugged. "Okay. I don't know if there's anything I'd want to buy, though. It's not as if there's anything I wan-"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Stitches, we've got to get this thing!"

He winced as Bain called out to him for the umpteenth time, crouching in front of a glass terrarium. He'd decided to take him to a supermarket rather than the local grocery store he sometimes went to and was starting to regret the decision. Bain was like a kid in a candy store, and there hadn't been an aisle they'd gone through that the monster hadn't found something or another that he wanted. Apparently, giving the option of buying something without the possibility of a giant centipede eating it dramatically improved the amount of pure stuff that one wanted.

Stitches walked over, looking through. At first sight, the terrarium appeared to be completely empty, and even when he stared hard, he couldn't see anything except a leaf-covered stick, finely chopped woodchips, and a small pile of flat stones stacked on top of each other. "Okay, I give up. What am I supposed to be looking at?"

Bain squinted, his eyes moving rapidly before he pointed at the tip of the stick. "There! See it?"

He sighed, waiting patiently. A moment later, a shape moved, darting to the rock pile and attempting to squirm its way between a minute crack. It failed and slumped on the pile, slowly changing from perfectly transparent to a dull, mottled gray. The creature was definitely reptilian, approximately ten inches in length. Six lean legs with four short claws were attached to its thin body, and the whip-like tail made up almost a third of its body. Three dull brown eyes looked around for a better place to hide, the fourth permanently shut by a long-healed white scar, and its wide mouth was filled with sharp, white teeth, spreading nearly halfway across the sides of its narrow, triangular head.

Stitches rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Bain, that's a camoqotz. They can't be tamed - I don't even know why this place has one."

Bain looked at him, eyes as wide as they could go. Stitches stared at him evenly before realizing what he was trying to do. "You can't pull off puppy eyes. You've got too many."

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Bain slumped. "Oh. Are you sure we can't get it?"

Stitches looked back to the small creature. "Yeah, I'm sure. You'd have to get this thing over my dead-"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bain swung his upper arms happily as they left the supermarket, the lower right one holding onto the handle of a small metal box with holes on the top. Whatever was inside it was banging into the sides. Stitches was following him, looking somewhat perturbed. "Okay, so when I said 'over my dead body', that - that was an expression. I did not mean that you could purchase it while holding the terrarium over my head, all right? I just need to clarify that."

He realized Bain wasn't listening and was instead staring through the air holes in the box, a wide grin on his face. Stitches raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. If Bain was happy...

"Look out!"

They were both instantly alert at the call, and a shadow fell over them. Looking up, they saw the back of a massive billboard heading straight towards them. Bain automatically spun around, tucking the box under him, screwing his eyes shut and bracing for an impact that never came.

Opening one of his eyes carefully, Bain looked up and saw hundreds of white threads supporting the billboard. Tightening, they went taut and set it down carefully on the side of the street.

Looking around, Bain realized that there were gashes in some of the buildings and cracks in the pavement. Several cars were overturned, in various stages of destruction. Huge loaves of different bread were littered all over the road, which was... odd, to say the least.

A young woman approached them, probably just barely above the age limit. Her pale, cherubic face was in a heartbreaking expression of concern, framed by long curls of strawberry blond hair. She was dressed in a fancy white ballgown with pink accents, a gem-studded necklace hanging at her throat. As more of the white threads lowered her to the ground, she daintily stepped forward on her delicate white shoes.

"Are you all right?" Her voice was full of worry as she examined them, despite the fact that she was a full foot shorter than even Stitches. She approached them, stepping carefully and avoiding the cracks in the ground.

Bain was awestruck. "Wow! Were the threads from you?"

She seemed a little startled as he spoke, but didn't hesitate to answer the question. "Yes. I can control all forms of-"

"Lacy! What did we talk about?"

Bain's face spread in a massive fanboy's grin as Fancy DeMancy made his way over to them, tucking his tie down his shirt. "You can't tell people what your powers are, remember?"

She curtseyed calmly, her dress spreading out pristinely. "Of course, sir. I apologize for the disruption."

Fancy's attention was deviated by Bain. "Oh, I remember you! You're that fan I met in the tunnels. Bain, was it?"

He nodded rapidly, tucking the box under one arm. "Actually, my sidekick name is Rampage."

Fancy paced over to him with a smile. "I never did give you an autograph, did I?"

Stitches coughed. "Not to burst your collective bubbles, but is there a villain attack or something?"

Fancy blinked behind his navy domino mask. "Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten. We're presently doing battle with a fellow calling himself Yeastley."

Bain's eyes widened. "Didn't Firepower and Amb- I mean, Heat n' Greet beat him a while back?"

Lacy folded her gloved hands at her stomach, resting them lightly on the hem of her ballgown's poof. "I believe they did defeat him, yes. He is back."

A loud crash interrupted the conversation, and Stitches extended a hand to Fancy. "Okay, quick deal. I know we're not supposed to help you when you're on patrol, but it sounds like you could use the help. Sound good?"

Fancy considered Stitches' outstretched hand and took it after a moment. "Very well. But I won't be giving you any credit that you don't deserve, understand?"

Bain cut in. "We don't need credit. We're just happy to help."

Lacy and Fancy nodded and began following the trail of destruction, Bain close behind. With a sigh that sounded suspiciously like 'speak for yourself', Stitches jogged after them.

They didn't have to go for long. Based on the semi-truck sized baguette sticking out of the local bank, it didn't take a genius to figure out where the villain had gone. Several loaves of crusty bread were scattered around on the street, smelling delicious.

Stitches inspected the baguette, sniffing it. "It's fresh. He must be close." 

The sentiment proved correct in an extraordinarily small amount of time. A piece of flatbread big enough to double as a drive-thru theater screen cut through the pavement before them, sending asphalt flying. Bain tensed, ready to help, but Lacy seemed to have it under control. 

Threads of pale lace spun from her elaborate gown, piercing the ground and stiffening as they grabbed the hunks of the road out of the air. Her face was in a focused expression, her fingers flicking and weaving, tugging threads and pulling strings in an incredibly display of precision and control.

A short-cut mess of curly blond hair stuck out of the hole, followed by a freckled face disguised by an orange domino mask. Yeastley was wearing a tan and yellow tracksuit, a satchel of ingredients hanging over his shoulder. He was tugging a rather heavy-looking duffel bag. 

He saw the heroes and hiccuped loudly. "Oh, dear!" Ducking back down, he began fiddling with his pouch, muttering, "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear... this should about... do it!" 

Bain charged forward at exactly the wrong moment. A buttery roll exploded out of the hole, launching Bain into the air and leaving him with the powerful smell of fresh-baked bread. He hurtled towards a building and crashed through it, leaving a gaping hole as bricks fell down around him. 

Stitches jumped towards the roll and tried to attack it with his strange finger-poking move, but it bent under his strike and rebounded back into him. He ended up punching his own face and staggered backward.

Fancy leaped forward, pulling his tie out and cutting through the roll, releasing a heavenly smell into the air. He shouted as he did. "You could have been an excellent baker, Yeastley? Why? Why did you turn to a life of crime, stealing from banks and children alike?"

A bagel smashed through the roll, tearing it wide open. Yeastley was riding in the center of it, looking somewhat frustrated. "I'm not that villainous! I just need some money to pay off my college debt, all right? Trust me, that's more of a crime than anything I'm doing!"

Bain crawled out of the hole, shaking his head. He focused on Yeastley and launched himself forward, muscles contracting powerfully. The villain saw him coming and pulled several ingredients from his satchel, hurling them at him. The ingredients merged midair, roiling into a sticky mess and expanding with unbelievable speed. A moment later, a bun the size of a small fast-food restaurant crashed into Bain, gumming his limbs and making it hard to move. Unfortunately, he still weighed enough that his momentum carried forward, and he landed directly on top of Stitches just as he was getting to his feet. 

The bun rolled over him, bounced, and headed straight for Lacy. The moment she tried to grab it, her threads just sank through it, and the last thing Bain saw of her as his face rapidly approached hers was her gown spreading outwards to wrap around her in a protective dome. The bun hit it and bounced off, jiggling slightly. 

Fancy sheathed his tie, eyes narrowed at the enormous bagel as it rolled away. "You may have won this time, Yeastley. But there will be a reckoning. I swear it."

Stuck in the roll, Stitches groaned. "Did we seriously just lose to a guy who fights with bread?"

Bain grunted. "I think so, yeah. Why?"

Stitches tried to facepalm and failed, his arm stuck to the bun. "I don't think I'm ever going to live this down."