And tonight, I feel we are—strange allies, terrified citizens, and a spear that might burn down everything we hold dear... or protect it.
Stealth is an old skill for me. Damaged confidence, bruised past—but among remote shelves, flickering hallway lights, and the musty hush of a building at night, I slip like I used to when Ineeded to hide. Tonight, I’m not hiding from shame—I’m hiding from Calvin Hobbes.
I creep through the back door of his office complex. Security cameras blink red. The corridors smell of polished concrete, electronics burning faintly, and too-strong perfume on the coat rack. My heart hammers so loud I swear Calvin must be wearing sound sensors.
I have one goal: blueprints. Veil schematics. Anything to prove he’s not just greedy, but dangerous.
I hack a side door open—thank you, library computer classes—and whisper Kursk’s name through the cover of his shirt. He stands disguised just outside, guarding the entry. Jadewise eyes in human shape, shoulders tense. I nod. He vanishes down the hall.
Inside Calvin’s office, I fumble for my flashlight with one hand, keep the recorder in the other. The desk is enormous—glass top with LED edges, sleek—but beneath: cables snaking like worms, a rack of servers glowing in cold blue. I crouch, slide open a drawer. Blueprints roll out. Schematic plates. Diagrams of ley line intersections. Power conduits. Symbols I recognize from mountain lore with slashes through, crossed by Calvin’s logo.
I trace my finger across them. A spike of triumph—these are the lines he’s been buying up, the same ancient faultlines beneath my town. He’s mapping them, channeling them, bending them into some kind of receptacle.
A click. My stomach drops. Footsteps. Light at the doorframe.
I scramble, rat’s heart pounding. I shove the blueprints under a stack of “Inspirational Posters”—you know, cheesy ones about rising with the sun, being your best self—flip them quickly and stand still, back pressed against the wall. The posters hang on a frame—fake drywall, something shallow. Enough.
The door opens. Calvin himself steps in. Collar popped, tie loosened, face bright with manic satisfaction.
“Ah, good evening,” he says, voice smooth like broken glass. “I wondered who had designs in my designs.”
I force a polite smile. “Just… appreciating your work, Mr. Hobbes. Very visionary.”
He eyes the posters. “Hiding there, are we?”
I hold my breath. The LED strips around his desk hum. I can almost hear the hum in my ears too.
“Just looking at the new employee orientation art,” I say, tone even.
He laughs, dismissive. “I’ll have someone bring fresh prints in.” He turns away to his computer bank, and I slip out the door, blueprints rolled up, heart in throat.
Back at the cabin, I slam the door quiet behind me. Kursk’s waiting in the dim light, spear laid across his knees. I drop the blueprints on the table with a thud.
His eyes scan them fast—symbols, diagrams, line after line of Calvin’s properties, all overlayed on ancient faultlines.
“He’s using you all as conduits,” I say, lungs still shaking. “Not just feeding, not just drawing power—making this townhis anchor.The Vorfaluka is tethering itself more permanently through Calvin’s systems.”
Kursk’s face darkens. His hand curls into a fist. “He corrupts the sacred. The spear must be reunited with Calvin’s reactor. I must rend him from the source.”
I lay my hand on his, steadying. “But we can’t just storm in. Law, security, witnesses. We need plan, allies—Booger, Burnout… Maybe Peggy, if she believes us.”
He looks at me, gold eyes flickering. “Your courage has become my strength.”
I swallow. “And your mission has become my fear.”
He breathes. “Wise woman.”
We pore over the blueprints together, whispering strategy. I trace the heavy lines. “Here—this property—Maple Grove Estates. The reactor lies beneath the basement foundation. He’s built in subterranean tunnels.”
“You would break him in the law’s name?” Kursk says softly.
“Yes. Because the law is broken if it protects monsters.”
His jaw clenches. Then he nods, firm. “Then I will demand back the full weapon. Return the spear in entirety.”
Sudden tension in his voice. “But if they suspect, they will bind him with legal chains. They will sue, they will enact ordinance, they will silence truth with policy.”
I meet his eyes. “Then we find people who are not afraid. People who see the faultlines, see what’s wrong, who will stand with us.”
