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I could only stammer the answer. “I-the TSA switched out the real one with Nikki’s version, by keeping it frozen and resetting its timer.”

Greg scratched his head in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

I stutter in hindrance, flailing my arms around that seemed to testify to my frustration.

“Okay, listen. They froze Nikki’s version and reset how long it stays for and they took the real one, understand now?” I asked.

Greg nodded, and then asked, “So do you guys have a plan?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think its best to explain that, being that someone might be listening-”

I stopped cold once I saw someone staring at us with very intense thought. He was a new guy, with black hair with a stubble beard, and black glasses that outlined his skepticalness.

“What?” Greg asked as he looked back, seeing that same thing.

.....

“You suspect something?” Greg asked, turning quickly back to me. I nodded and continued to double-take back to him.

He was still staring.

“Alright, listen,” I said. “I’ma go to the bathroom, and you see if he follows me. If he does, knock him out or something.”

“Wait,” Greg said, stopping my train of thought. “Lemme transfer real quick.”

He closed his eyes and took heavy, deep breaths. He continued to stay that way until he opened his eyes.

“So did you get anything?” I asked, glancing back at him again.

“The man doesn’t talk in his head,” he said. “He must’ve known or something.”

“Maybe because you said lemme transfer!” I hissed. “We’re going back to plan A, watch.”

I got up from my seat and began to walk towards the door, as intensifying fear began to climb inside my chest, and my heart began to pulsate.

I headed out the door, and soon enough, I heard footsteps. Very slow ones, though.

I wanted to look back but that would blow our cover, and that wouldn’t exactly be the smartest move. I whispered to myself, “Don’t be scared.”

Don’t be scared...

I proceeded into the bathroom, and I closed the door. I quickly went into the stall and got down to see if he came in.

The door opened, and I began to whimper. Slowly he walked through the bathroom, each footstep slow and steady.

Click-clack, click-clack.

More and more he continued to search, each step getting slower and louder. Click-clack, click-clack. He continued walking, more and more.

My heartbeat climbed in tempo. My breathing became quick. My blood was tingling in fear. My cries were shrill. My eyes were watering. My body stood still, frozen in terror.

Then, he stopped, right where I was at.

Then, he went to his knees and looked under the stall. He found me, and I needed to do something quickly. But all of a sudden, I heard a painful grunt of someone piling onto him.

“Greg!” I shouted, opening the stall.

But I found myself befuddled, seeing September pinning the man down, and Greg rushing over to the bathroom.

“Where were you?!” I shouted.

“I was trying to finish my lunch,” he said. “Sorry.”

I sighed, disregarding his excuses. Then, September looked up at me. “Do you know this guy?” I shook my head with great power into it. “No, I don’t, but he looked suspicious.”

I gazed down at him, and he fixed his gaze on me, with anger and hatred seething on his face.

“Why are you here?!” September interrogated. The man now stared at September, and then back to me. “What makes you think I can tell you?” he laughed. “I’d die anyway.”

“So why keep your answer from us if you’re going to die anyway?” Greg asked. “It’s simple logic.”

“Hush, young boy,” he hissed. September shook her head and pulled in tighter. “Remember where you’re in fool.”

“Sounds like Rocke,” I said. Then a full realization popped into my head. “Rocke sent you.”

“Wow, you’re a smart guy,” the man said with a very revolting laugh. September then landed her knee on his head, pinning him down from further hideous laughs.

“Shush-” she turned into a hushed breath “-you pig.” “What does he want with you?” Greg asked me.

“To kidnap you so that you guys can have another one-on-one. He never got to finish you, but I know he wants to end you, kill you, destroy you in a ball of fire. Figures someone is gonna be holding your Perk instead,” he said.

Suddenly, September plunged his head into the ground and knocked him out.

I felt an unsettling feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t process it, think about it, or even try to understand it.

I was too petrified, too scared, and devoured in horror to even cope with it. He wants to kidnap me so that he could kill me in some ring and destroy me in a ball of fire.

That quote alone will give me nightmares.

“So what do we do with him now?” I asked, looking over to Greg.

“We take him back to the school and lock him in the storage room,” he said. “We can ask him some questions.”

“It might be safer at our academy,” September said. “We can interrogate him without anyone knowing.”

“We don’t have much time,” I said. “Lunch is about to end and you need to get-”

September immediately dipped out of our sight, I’m guessing teleporting to the YMPA. “So what do we do now?” I asked Greg. Greg sighed, “Just continue with our day.”

Mr. Drails took off the bag on the man’s head, as he began to breathe heavily, trying to gather up his air again. “Hello, Robert Damone,” he introduced, speaking with a scurry of speed.

“What’s going on?” the man, Robert, asked. “Where am I?”

He was in a room where there were white walls, and a table between them, with Mr. Drails sitting on one end of the chair, and him on the other. I just waited by the corner of the room. It was just us three.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Drails said, and he started to scratch his head. “We’re not here to play games. We’re here to hurtle you to the grave.”

Robert huffed loudly in a seething smoke of anger.

“But before we do, tell us, where is Rocke?” Mr. Drails asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“So how did he tell you to kidnap him?” Mr. Drails said.

“He didn’t.”

“Then how did you know?” Mr. Drails asked. “How can one man not tell you your mission and you somehow know? Maybe you wanted to kill Connor for yourself, to make him proud or something.”

“Of course not, there’s no pride in doing that. He wanted to fight him one-on-one,” Robert corrected.

“So-how-do-you-know?” Mr. Drails asked, with a very grim sign of annoyance in his voice.

“I don’t know!” Robert yelled, slamming his fist on the table.

“Well, I guess you’re going to die, then,” Mr. Drails said.