“So how are we going to do this?” Xander asked Mike as the latter stowed his bag back into his locker, the halls wonderfully vacant at this time of day. It seemed as though Mike was very angry at the book bag, but Xander decided it best not to comment to that regard, lest he become the subject of his rage in its stead. I swear, if my life gets any more like a Shakespearian play I’m going to start auctioning off the TV movie rights, he groaned mentally, rolling his eyes as the bag’s belt buckle kept falling out and preventing Mike from closing the locker door.
“Why don’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice borderline sarcastic, just enough so that Xander couldn’t make heads or tails of what he meant. He slammed the locker door shut, the lock snapping into place despite the fact that the strap was still hanging out. “You being the big time superhero and all, right?”
That time the intention of the spite-dripped words was clear. Xander closed his eyes tight, turning his head away from Mike to brush away the pain that comment had just inflicted. Engen said they were trying to make me so that I couldn’t be hurt, he recalled, somewhere in the deep reaches of his mind. I don’t think they did a very good job. “Well, who signed their name to her portfolio in the yearbook? Best friends and crap?”
Mike stopped, turned, and smiled at Xander, waving a finger at him. “Watch out. You were pretty close to a good idea there.”
“I’m past due,” Xander agreed, shrugging as the two started moving again. “What do you mean, ‘almost’?”
“See, I thought of that already. But we’re gonna have a hard time tracking down most of her old buddies from the last few years.”
“Why’s that?” Xander moaned, thinking of all the fun of sifting through yearbook photos.
“You killed them all last week,” Mike replied. His tone was blunt. He did not even pause as the statement stopped Xander dead in his tracks just long enough to grimace, then move on.
“So, what else do we have going for us?” he asked, knowing that he would regret asking the question.
Mike stopped at locker three fifty eight, spreading his arms before it and making himself look like Vanna White, or one of the models on the Price is Right. The locker was burnt along the bottom edge, most likely from a lighter, and the rest of it was decorated with Metallica and Guns n’ Roses stickers and decals. There was also a playing card with a naked lady on it, certain areas of which had been covered with Smurf bubble gum tattoos. “We have our ability to break and enter, and our willingness to do so.”
“Is that Sud’s locker?” Xander asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction and pointing to it dumbly.
“You know anyone else who would perform these indecencies to his own property?”
“True,” Xander nodded, stepping up to it and giving it a good, hard look. “Now, for the fun part: why are we breaking into Sud’s locker?”
“Because it’s also Tommy’s locker.”
“Okaaaay,” he sighed. “Why are we breaking into Tommy’s locker?”
“I think the question you should really be asking is: why wouldn’t we?”
Xander shot him a look.
Mike leaned his arm against the next locker, and his head upon his arm. “It’s like this: Julie Peterson was at Grendel’s party a few weeks ago, just like the rest of us, right? This was just after at least one of her friends was killed, and on the night that a great deal more would be. Chances are, she needed someone to talk to. Someone she felt she could tell things to...”
“Someone, should he still be alive, that she might have told her rapists’ names to.”
Mike grinned and fanned out a palm before Xander. “Give the man a prize.”
Xander did a small bow, then returned to a more serious mindset. “I still don’t see what this has to do with breaking into Tommy’s locker. Not that I’m really opposed to the idea.”
“Okay. Remember before everything started to go downhill at the party?”
“Vaguely. I was Mr. Concussion when things did go bad, so I wouldn’t trust anything I said.”
“Same here, but, Tommy was running around with that little camera of his snapping pictures, wasn’t he?”
Xander smiled. “And one of those pictures probably caught Julie chatting it up with her newfound friend.” He pointed a finger at Mike approvingly. “Nice.”
“I like to think so,” he complimented himself, doing his own half-bow this time.
“So, ladies first?” he said, motioning to the locker as he backed away from the metal squares, keeping an eye out for Shnieder. “We should have brought Cathy. If any of our staff comes, they’ll be too busy gawking at her to notice anything we’re doing.”
“Don’t remind me,” Mike grunted, drawing back a fist and slamming it into the Metallica stickers. He kept punching until blood erupted from his knuckles, splattering against the green metal in a semi-circle from the point of impact. In spite of that, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
Xander raised a hand to stop him, and Mike pulled off. He was hunched over from exhaustion now, breathing hard.
“I think you’re forgetting something,” Xander said, in an annoying father-knows-best sort of tone.
“The Black Womb?” Mike gasped, from lack of oxygen, not astonishment. He’d actually expected Xander to pull that angle.
“Nope,” Xander grinned, tapping his right index finger against his temple. “We’re dealing with idiots here, Harris. To catch an idiot, you have to think like one. Something I’m known to be good at.” He said this as if it were an accomplishment.
“A’ight. Fine. How do we get into their locker, idiot?” he asked, rolling his eyes.
Xander reached out, pulled on the lock and took it off, twirling
