“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Captain Wayfinder muttered as she walked down the row of cells until she came to an area labelled with red tape reading: Class 12

Inside the 3 cells behind that tape, 3 individuals’ ears perked up.

“You couldn’t live with your failure, and so you found your way back to us did you? Dear Agent Wayfinder, no matter how hard you try to deny it, I am destiny!” A creepy old dude sitting in the middle cell smiled as he looked up.

“Hi dad,” Agent Wayfinder sighed as she looked towards the leftmost cell.

“I’m talking to you brat! Don’t ignore me!” The creepy old dude yelled and charged at the bars, but he did not touch them, only glaring through them fiercely.

The man in the leftmost cell was sitting cross legged meditating as he slowly opened his eyes. “Daughter,” he said slowly.

Captain Wayfinder rolled her eyes, “no need to be dramatic, I grew up with your antics.”

“And yet you still don’t understand that I am working for long term peace,” the man in the leftmost cell sighed.

“If creating magical nanobots you could use to commit mass genocide is your way to peace, sure, I guess you were working towards peace.”

“Oh so that’s what you're here for. I thought it was something like using a drug to convert the masses into Buddhism given how much time you spend meditating,” the woman in the rightmost cell raised an eyebrow.

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“Your race is the one that forced my hand. I did not wish to do this,” the meditating man replied.

“I don’t have the time for this. There is someone, crazier than the 3 of you. He got put in class 13.” Captain Wayfinder said the last sentence slowly.

“WHAT!” All 3 of the prisoners yelled together.

“How the f*** does someone top nanobots that make wizardry real but only work for people of color and get used for white genocide?” Captain Wayfinder’s father exclaimed.

“How the f*** does someone top time travel?” Sally, the woman in the rightmost cell, exclaimed.

“How the f*** does someone, wait. I’m gonna stay mysterious and not mention what I’m in here for…” The old man was alarmed but regained his composure before he spilled the beans.

The trio said simultaneously.

“He topped it by creating a virus that turns people into birds… and finishing his formula successfully, escaping fashionably everytime, and without a trace. So if the three of you want to make sure we don’t have to build a class 13 prison cell, help me bring him down to class 12.” Captain Wayfinder glanced at the trio of class 12s meaningfully, pausing for a bit on the old man in the middle.

“You don’t need to tell us twice. Just give us a rundown of what you know so far,” said Sally, the woman on the right, furrowing her eyebrows.

“How the f*** does that classify as class 13?” The old man in the middle murmured.

“Because unlike you 3, his motivation is saving the world and everyone on it. He genuinely thinks that turning into birds is the solution to all of our problems. And he’s probably going to be successful…”

The trio looked at Captain Wayfinder’s face for a hint of sarcasm.

“You’re kidding… right?”