Connor – 10 years ago

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I’m so excited. A new teammate. Sure, he flaked out on being the prodigal water-glider, but it’s still awesome. Maybe even more awesome since he’s just like us. Asteria’s busy rebuilding her library because Tyler tore the shit out of her other Scholars. That gives us ample time to strengthen our team bond before the Archives fill Brody’s head with garbage propaganda painting this empire of dirt as a sand castle. Well, it would if he didn’t hate our guts right now for lying to him. In my defence, I never lied. Phelan and Molly? All the lies. Actually, I’m fairly confident competitive lying helped fortify their relationship. That and the ass kicking. Yeah, probably more the ass kicking in hindsight, but I digress.

“If I’m understanding this correctly,” Brody begins, “we’re killers who kill killers.”

Molly clicks her tongue. “Bullseye.”

I sigh. “Our overarching goal is to protect and serve.”

“What exactly are we protecting?” Brody counters. “I get the serve bit. We’re serving the Tribunal.”

“Technically, we’re serving the humans,” I contend. “We’re protecting them too.”

Molly snorts derisively. “I thought you were on Team Honesty.”

“I said technically.”

Brody swipes his hand over his face.

“The rules we explained to you help protect humans,” I reiterate.

“They still eat them,” Brody returns dismissively.

I frown. “But not as many.” I do sort of love he’s showing signs of having a conscience, even after his conversion. Maybe I won’t be walking alone in the people parade anymore.

He lifts a challenging brow. “Are you trying to tell me we’re the good guys?”

Molly laughs. “There are no good guys, Brody. We’re all bad as fuck.”

“We’re the better guys,” I tack on. “Good is subjective.”

Molly redirects, bored of our topic choice. “How was your conversion? Did you cream your pants?”

Brody grimaces. “It was…awkward. Kind of like taking a piss with an audience.”

Her eyes widen. “No shit? You weren’t alone with Tyler?”

Brody shakes his head. “Tyler, Asteria, Murphy, and Shane were there. Just Tyler and Shane touched me, though Shane’s involvement was minor. He interrupted in the middle. Stormed in, slapped the back of my head, then stormed out again.”

Molly baulks. “Fire Supreme laid hands on you? Did he speak? I’ve only ever heard him talk one time in twenty-five years.”

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Brody shrugs. “He told me not to fuck it up. I assumed the head cuff was pre-emptive to me fucking it up.”

Shane’s involvement is suspect. He’s always been somewhat mentally absent over the years even when he’s present. In the last ten, he’s been physically absent too. Oh, he’s around. Somewhere specific. Holed up in his quarters with a fancy ‘Disturb Under Penalty’ sign affixed to his door. Bat and Scat is a fan favourite, where we knock on the door and run like a wildfire is chasing our asses. Because it is. Literally. Keme got ten knocks in once. Earned him bragging rights for a month. Probably not worth it since he spent that month recovering from the scorch marks he landed himself.

“Bet that fucker is the reason for the botched conversion,” Molly reasons. “Fire and water don’t mix.”

Brody shrugs again.

I headtilt. “Does that mean you can ingest earth and fire energy?”

Brody blows out a breath. “Hard no on that.”

Molly gets a twisted gleam in her eyes. “Did you get the jalapeño shits?”

His brow slams down. “No.”

She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Shy bladder and asshole? You’re fucked, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” he grumbles.

“She’ll grow on you,” I offer.

“Like a damn fungus,” he mutters.

Why was Shane involved in his conversion? What possible benefit could it serve? Molly’s right. His interference definitely could’ve impacted Brody’s water-glider status. Why would Tyler allow that? Why would Asteria let him lay waste to her Scholars when it wasn’t their fault? This situation is all kinds of fucked up.

“Anyway, I’ll see the Archives as soon as Asteria restores order in that area,” Brody announces.

“Don’t believe a word they say,” Molly warns him.

“Is this an attempt at reverse psychology?” he volleys. “Basically everything out of your mouth for the last five years has been a lie.”

“Maybe just take the information they provide at face value. Try to avoid getting sucked into their belief system,” I back Molly up.

“Yeah, no problem there,” he confirms. “So, we’re Scouts. We do what? Watchful waiting as our main gig? Like you scouted me?”

“Enacting punishments for rule-breaking too,” Molly chimes in unhelpfully.

“We get a 401K or something?” he clips.

“Energy as payment,” I mumble.

“We’re doing their dirty work for scraps?”

“Gotta eat to live,” Molly snipes.

“It’s not eating,” I correct her. “Think of it as medicating. The medication calms the craving of your energy addiction.”

“Isn’t it nice of them to make us work to pay for the addiction they caused?” Molly persists. “Fucking charitable fellows, them.”

“If you hate it so much, why not just leave?” Brody pokes her sore spot. Poor fucker.

She’s surprisingly calm in her response. “There’s no walking away, Brody. This addiction is your life, for the rest of your life. Detox equals death. Not falling in line equals death. Defection equals death, either by starvation or punishment. This is your life now if you want to live.”

“Wish you’d put that on the brochure,” he chides her.

“Yeah?” she challenges him. “You were coming regardless. Would you honestly have preferred to do it kicking and screaming? I reckon we did you a favour. We gave you something to look forward to, instead of something to dread. On top of that, we gave you five free fucking years to enjoy your perfectly imperfect human life, knowing it was ending. None of the rest of us got that luxury. Go ahead. Complain your bleeding heart out if you want to. You’re entitled to that, but it won’t help you fuck all for accepting your fate. You want my advice?” She sniffs hard. “Take your licks and let your hatred fester into a giant cyst inside you. When it grows big enough and migrates to the surface—it will, guaranteed—explode that shit all over everyone in proximity.”

Brody and I are twinning hard on the level three grimace when Molly sashays out of the room.

“Is she always so…” he pauses while he tries to find the right way to describe her.

I choke back a laugh. “Hostile? Pessimistic? Dark? Cynical? Hateful? Help me out here, man, I could go all day.”

“I was going to say gross,” he admits.

“Oh yeah,” I nod emphatically. “Always.” Fuck, I love my sister, but she really is gross.