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His brow twitched up. Darrell recoiled a little, like he was waiting for something.

Shannon bore the silence for a couple of unassuming breaths. Look at him. The sucker was totally holding back some stupid gotcha grin right now. Her hands clenched without her consent.

"Could've just knocked." He said, holding his relentless stare, pushing his chin upward.

A tremor betrayed her, clutch tightening behind her back. Could've literally just stopped lying. She squinted.

"Guess I could have." Her words came out too strained to sound insightful. "...Silly me." she gave her head a gentle nudge, smiling. Her hand went to her hip, her other arm now hanging down stiffly. Lord Cowboy Darrell drew in a well measured breath.

"Don't try 'n act dumb with me."

Shannon's smile shrunk, expression hardening into something more sardonic.

"What... do you mean?" She held his stare out of sheer lack of any other options.

Lord Cowboy Darrell straightened. "Did ya really think I wouldn't notice you standin' weirdly close to the phone at all times? Catchin' looks at my drawers," Darrell scoffed, shaking his head. He sneered at her. "Snatchin' my scrapbook? This is just one of the times I caught ya red handed. I told ya I'd be watchin' you, didn't I?"

He really just said that while he was right there talking crap about her to a stranger, hands folded in hypocrisy. Shannon swallowed.

He planted his hands on the desk, squinting at her. "Yet here you are, tryin' to fool me."

A subtle wince went through her, gaze dropping.

"No sir." Her thoughts froze, afraid that he might hear them too.

Lord Cowboy Darrell took a deep breath. "If ya can't be bothered to play by the rules," "But – "Her hands clenched before her, keeping her head down. "I did. I... got way ahead of what you told me yesterday, got everything else done... just like you said."

She heard him shift in his chair.

"Guess you did."

The tremor wasn't even worth hiding anymore. Did he even pay any attention?

"Can't exactly keep ya around here if I can't trust you, though." His voice sounded oddly flat.

Shannon's hands fiddled, like a criminal, subconsciously acting against the sentence she was about to face.

"So I'll have no choice but to demote ya – and bar ya from the competition for Senior Deputy until further notice." Something in her chest stirred up, but she tied it down and let it sink.

Of course he'd do that. Didn't matter how much she tried. She wouldn't just stand here and keep pleading. Not that it would be of any help anyway... Not that it ever helped. Ever.

The feeling settled, invisible and immaterial.

Shifting slightly, something faintly rustled in her metallic shell.

A bitter chuckle slipped out.

She crossed her arms and looked up at him, lips parting one or two seconds before she started to speak.

"What are you demoting me for?"

Irritation flickered up on his face.

"I just told ya... and I don't need to reason with you about that." He said, edge sharpening his tone.

She blew a puff of air through her nose, lips curving into a humorless smirk. "I'm just... a little confused, y'know?" Shannon cocked her head, looking him straight in the eye.

She reached up, opening her chest case. In there was a piece of paper, improperly folded. Grabbing it, she marched up to him. She rolled her head back up. "Kinda hard to play by the rules if eavesdropping ain't even on here."

Lord Cowboy Darrell stared at her, taken aback. His gaze switched to the paper she was holding into his face. Where did she even ... He couldn't recall givin' her instructions like that...

Teeth grinding, he pushed himself up, then grabbed the list from her.

Darrell slammed the list on the desk, giving her a grin that looked like it wanted to be a sneer.

Shannon crossed her arms, screwing up her mouth to the side as she smugly averted her eyes, waiting.

His eye skimmed the paragraphs by default.

This had to be some sort of joke... she... wrote that down herself.

Could've just let it rest... leave it with the last fight they had – gone back to that easy everyday life he'd made possible! But no, she couldn't resist forcin' herself into stuff that wasn't for her! She just kept pushin'...

His thumb etched into the paper.

And he... couldn't just let it slip... override his own rules.

The whole factory would know in no time.

Lord Cowboy Darrell stared at the list, the heat threatening to bust his head.

His lips twitched, uttering a sharp chuckle.

"Looks like... ya actually took this whole thing to heart, huh?" He threw a cutting glance at her, his hand firmly planted on the paper.

Shannon snapped out of her own thoughts, looking back at him, wide eyed. She forced herself back into a nonchalant expression.

"Told you I was gonna make use of this."

The room felt like it had dropped several degrees, cold and vacant without the comfortable illusion of the last days.

Lord Cowboy Darrell swiped the paper to the side in a curt motion, growing into his full height.

"Mighty ambitious, Shannon. Guess I'll be..." He sucked breath through his teeth, facing her with a big grimace. „adjustin' my expectations." His casual act had been replaced with something biting, something old and familiar she hadn't seen in a while.

"Tsk! Of course." She cocked her head and leaned in slightly, "Didn't expect any less of you."

"Good to see ya payin' attention for once." He flashed a mocking grin at her.

"Learned that from you!" She squinted, every word dripping with sarcasm. "Your 24/7 bossing really got me inspired lately."

"'Bout time!" He threw his arms up into a shrug, his grin getting more aggressive. "And take some notes while yer at it, 'cause you got a looong way to go!" He let himself drop back into his seat, hands clawing at his armrests.

She clenched her fists, the smugness melting from her face. "Oh yeah?! Just watch!" Shannon griped, wheeling around and marching off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raymond balanced on his fingertips.

Just enough to offset the weight of his upper body, light enough to be ready.

His eyes didn't leave the ball, they didn't need to. He'd memorized everything to the last angle.

Snap.

He dashed forward, eyes calculating.

Crouch.

He slid to the side, pushing himself off the ground.

Crouch, zigzag.

Another attack. Another swift jink. Two of his clones crossed and crashed into each other, barely brushing him. Another one, too close to dodge.

He ran at him, slipping back at the last instant, catching his shoulder and turning the impact to his advantage. Pushing himself off and somersaulting through the air, he landed in a roll. Close.

His head snapped toward the ball.

Raymond jumped and caught it along its trajectory. He landed back on his feet.

Pressing the ball to his chest, he ran with long, unerring strides.

Left.

Right.

Slide and roll.

"HEY RAYMOND!"

A tiny motion hit him like a taser.

He whipped his head to the side.

SMASH.

Stumble...

Raymond tumbled across the field and into the out.

He finally came to a stop, face down.

The final whistle.

He didn't sit back up for a little moment, his gaze sliding to the ball next to him – right on the sideline, off by merely half a degree.

His gaze was fixed on it like it shouldn't exist.

"RAYMOND!"

He let out a breath, heavy. The tall robot sat up, getting back to his feet and knocking off the dirt from his limbs with smooth wipes. Then he grabbed the ball with both hands. He stared at it for one or two seconds too long before throwing it at the Quarterback.

"Let's take five."

Raymond set off, casting a glance on his sister, tapping her foot impatiently at his approach. One hand buried in the crook of her arm, her gaze was stuck on her nails, fingers tensely rubbing against each other like they were competing for her attention.

He landed a few feet away from her, right next to the borderline.

Raymond raised his brow at her, casually, one hand on his hip.

"You wanted me?"

Her hand snapped into a fist, eyes busy with staring into the field angrily for a moment. She finally faced him.

"Guess who just tried to demote me! Darrell's such a smug little rat, ugh!"

Oh. Raymond squinted, tensing up a bit.

She really just dragged him out for gossip. This better be good.

"Did spying not go as planned?" His hand gestured vaguely at her.

Shannon crossed her arms, averting her eyes sourly. She turned her head.

"I was doing great actually... until – he ripped the door open into my face and accused me of eavesdropping!"

The tall robot sighed softly.

"How unfortunate."

"You have no idea how hard it is to stay under the radar with Lord Cowboy Darrell watching all the time!" She threw her arms into a shrug, as one hand landed firmly on her hip.

"Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn't you be looking at graphs, or something?"

His gaze was stuck on the finger pointing at him for a second. Raymond lowered his head, looking away.

"He didn't give me anything to do." His brows furrowed slightly. "I like to keep myself in practice when he has no use for me." She just stared at him like she was looking at a toddler trying to explain a toddler issue in toddler language to her.

Then she dropped her gaze, scoffing.

"Figures. You get to play BALL while I'm working myself to death."

Raymond threw a short, unreadable glance at her. His next thought got stuck in his throat, reminding him of the matter at hand.

"What made him reconsider the demotion? Brother doesn't usually waver on his decisions."

Shannon uttered a quick, boastful cackle, puffing out her chest.

"Told him he can't demote me for catching him talking behind my back." She crossed her arms. The tall robot shifted a little, eyes widening.

"He badmouthed you? To an outsider?"

"Ya he did." She rolled her eyes.

"What did he say?" His face took on a darker look. Maybe this... wasn't just gossip after all.

Shannon sighed, pulling a grimace.

"Something about how I'm too much... and him having to entertain people, staying tuned or whatever."

"What else did you... discuss?" Raymond's expression grew more and more troubled.

"He told me how he couldn't -" Shannon made air quotes, "TRUST ME and that I was making a fool out of him." She spat, angry again. "And now he's throwing a tantrum to get me out of position 'cause he can't stand that I beat him at his own stupid game."

Raymond stared at her through the tiniest, horrified eyes. Oh, well. She really had a habit of digging her own grave, didn't she?

The tall robot turned his head, taking the slightest step back as he scratched the back of his neck.

"How very foolhardy of you." He said, voice full of dreadful resignation.

Shannon leaned in, eyes narrowing.

"F- what does that even mean??" She looked away and pondered for a beat.

Her hands sprang to her hips, frowning. "Don't sass me! I can still transfer you to incinerator cleaning – you want that?!"

"I mean..." He squinted, hands folded before his chest and fingertips brushing his lips, "Aren't you... concerned about," Raymond averted his look briefly and then faced her with the most haunting stare.

"pushing him over the edge?" His voice had this ominous undertone again.

Shannon shrank back a bit, parts of their talk in the office replaying themselves in her head for a beat. "Well..."

Then she snapped out of it.

"At least I'm pushing at all!" Her arms locked tightly before her chest, rolling her eyes. "'Cause waiting for him to admit anything ain't gonna work, that's for sure."

Raymond averted his eyes in thought, gloom still marking his face. He let silence linger for a moment.

„You may be right. Perhaps we need something... less subtle."

„Duh, obviously! That's what I said!" She said, arms rigid with indignation.

"Something to end his charade once and for all." He went on.

"Well, don't look at me." Shannon threw back her head, frowning. "I already got to deal with him!... And his goody two-shoes ethic toward the board of directors." she flicked her hand dismissively. "It's your turn to think of something."

Raymond tapped his chin, spacing out. "With another company involved, he'll probably have his hands full maintaining his image before them."

"Tell me about it. He's been sending Cosma reports first thing every morning." she rolled her eyes, then muttered something under her breath.

"Then I'm sure he wouldn't deal well with additional distractions of any sort." He looked back at her, raising his brows sinisterly. "Let alone deviations in official documents."

She stared at him through narrowed eyes for a little, then scoffed, shifting her weight to one foot.

"Yeah, right. He won't even let me peek at the folder, I ain't slipping anything into his dumb report."

"He can't be there to watch, then."

"How do we get him out of his office?" She looked at him, cocking an eye.

Raymond gave her a taunting smile, chuckling.

"That's already solved. Just be your usual, obnoxious self and everything else will follow."

Shannon harrumphed, jaw tightening.

"And where's your part?!" She looked away, snappish. "I'm not taking the fall for your lazy butt."

His smile shrunk again. "The focus will shift soon enough."

________________________________________________________________

Click.

Click.

Click.

Screech.

Lord Cowboy Darrell took a deep breath and rose from his chair.

Papers rustled as he strode past his desk, hands curled into fists.

She really wanted to go there? Fine. Great.

His steps quickened.

The Senior Deputy title's fogged her mind or somethin' if she really thought she could take him on.

He'd show that mushroom head what a real challenge looked like.

______________________________

Hope you liked the story so far. :D (Guess you did if you bothered reading all that, lol) I'd really appreciate comments from real people, so feel free to share your thoughts. 

Leaving the guestroom door ajar, the short man shuffled toward the kitchen. His eyes squeezed shut as he flipped the light switch and reached into the cupboard for a glass. Boxman blinked hard, his gaze immediately drawn to the little green glowing button on the coffee machine.

What's he doing up so early?

It wasn't completely unusual for the Professor to work at unholy hours – and he'd spent plenty of nights working in dim, creepy rooms himself. Difference was that he did it out of sheer lunatic enthusiasm, while Venomous usually had something important going on...

Boxman abandoned the glass he'd just filled with water and reached for a mug instead. He grabbed the surprisingly light coffee jug and poured the last of it into his mug.

Walking upstairs, he tried to keep his steps a little quieter than usual. Muffled whispers drifted from the lab... the door wasn't fully closed.

„What if I..." Venomous rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. „How would that even make sense?"

Boxman peeked inside. The lab was far less organized than he was used to. Tools were scattered, test tubes filled with different colored liquids sat in half empty racks, while other tubes lay around empty. There were several used gloves, adding to the mess. Venomous shook his head, frozen in place. He mumbled behind his mouthpiece, huffing.

„There has to be more to this!" The purple man straightened from his hunched pose, hands pressing into his lower back. He turned, yanked off one glove, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His hand dragged down his face, pulling the mouthpiece away with it. „Why can't I figure this out-"

His eyes landed on the doorway. „B– My cob!" Venomous leaned back against the counter, grabbing his forehead as he pressed his eyes shut. He buried his face in his hands. "How long have you been standing there...?"

„S-sorry! I didn't mean to... listen," Bozeman said, finally pushing the door open. A little coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug. He barely spared it a glance, walking right over it like nothing happened. A sheepish smile spread across his face. „Couldn't sleep?"

Venomous took a deep breath. „I could ask you the same." He tried to lighten his tone.

„Oh, just wanted some water." Boxman glanced down at the mug in his hands. „Grabbed coffee instead... and thought I'd join you."

Venomous' gaze wandered to the gown he was wearing. Grey, and a tad too long for his size. Something he'd grabbed for him from a discount store. He'd hoped it would put an end to the... birthday suit problem. And there he was, the gown hanging open over his underwear and that awful "take a dang nap" shirt. He'd wiped the spilled coffee clean off the floor with the robe's extra length.

„So, you've been up for a long?" Boxman stepped a little closer. Flustered, he still straightened up a bit, taking a sip from his coffee.

The professor averted his own eyes on reflex. Oops. He'd been smirking the whole time. A soft chuckle escaped him, hand going to the back of his neck.

He tried to recall the question. Drinking nearly a whole pot of coffee in a couple of hours didn't have the effect he'd bet on. „Maybe an hour..." The professor picked up his own mug, swallowing the cold coffee. He shivered slightly. „How late is it?"

„Like 5." A barely audible sigh escaped Boxman.

Venomous hummed, looking back at his equipment.„Guess I could go for a break... Are you hungry? I'm cooking us some breakfast." His gaze only brushed over the shorter man, a tired smile in place as he peeled off his other glove and tossed it aside.

„I'd like that, but..." Boxman's tone was more serious now. „You've been up all night, haven't you, PV?" his eyes locked with his. "Tell me the truth."

He sounded like he was trying to give him the stern, but-still-soft treatment.

Venomous felt himself tense up. He felt a faint chill creep up his spine... the reaction irritated him. Slowing down, his head turned without his body.

„You know my sleep isn't the best... it's nothing I'm trying to keep from you." He faced him with a hint of playfulness. „Not that I could."

It didn't really land. Not the way he wanted...

Boxman didn't budge. He crossed his free arm over the one holding his mug. „Right. And you really should prioritize sleep instead of doing lab work all night by yourself."

The professor squinted, the charm fading from his voice.„I like to make use of my time."

The shorter man drew in a breath. He averted his gaze. „Look, I know how it is..."

Venomous couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, dryly.

„Dealing with short days and all that, keeping the business rolling. Selling..." He shrugged, his gaze drifting off for a second. Boxman gave a short chuckle, "Doing things your way... on your own. What I mean is," the pretentiousness drained from his tone as he looked back at Venomous, „it's just... nice to keep track of other important things, you know?"

Venomous blinked hard, fighting the burn in his red eyes. He leaned against the door frame. „Let's take this to the kitchen, okay?"

„Um, of course!" Boxman followed on quick feet. „Breakfast's one of these important things."

The professor turned off the hand mixer after a few long minutes of silence.

„You know where I'm going with this, right?"Boxman watched him set a pan on the stove.

„Uhm... you mean the sleep thing?" He suppressed a yawn.

„Yeah! And... that there are things more important than... being independent... all the time?" His fingers drummed restlessly against each other under the table.

The professor increased the heat. He gave the pan a small shake, feeling the tension creep back in. „I don't have much of a choice."

Boxman pressed his hands on the table, crossing one leg over the other. „I'm right here, you know?"

The professor jerked his head back as the sting of vinegar hit his nose. He pushed the pan aside, turning down the heat on reflex. The purple man just stood there, staring at the thing like it had failed his trust. His hand searched for the stove knob, to check again if he turned down the heat.

„Okay, that's enough." Boxman let out a breath, sliding off his chair. „Why don't you sit down and let me do this?"

Lacking any strength to push back, Venomous sat, defeated. Probably best to draw the line at vinegar pancakes. „Sorry," he mumbled, his hands resting awkwardly on his legs.

„I don't wanna hear nothing about this."

The professor glanced at Boxman, catching him as he shook his head slightly. Venomous huffed a small breath through his nose, tension easing from his face. Leaning forward on the table, he buried his head in his hands.

„You really have to... let me help." Boxman flipped the pancake. „Not only with the sample... I mean, in general. When I said Boxmore is important to me, I didn't mean for you to stay up all night to figure this out...all on your own, you know?"

He stared at the fizzing pan, finally sliding the pancake onto a prepared plate. The shorter man grabbed some cutlery, pouring maple syrup over the food. His heartbeat quickened.

"After all this time, we're supposed to be in this together...right?"

Turning around, his tense grin faded. Venomous was barely holding on to the table, face pressed against the hard surface, his other arm hanging down like a wet noodle.

Boxman sighed deeply, then giggled softly. He reached over and turned off the stove.

„Boss?

... "Hey, Boss..."

Venomous slowly started to feel his limbs again, shifting slightly. "Mh?"He hummed, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

„Wake up!" His eyes flew open, blinking at Fink as she finally let go of his shoulder.

„Did ya wear yourself out again?" She puffed out her chest and put her little arm on her hip, squinting reproachfully.

„Guess I did..." The purple man dragged himself up, leaning on his arms while his back screamed in protest.

"How did ya even sleep in here with all that stank?" Fink pulled her chin toward her neck, nose wrinkling in discomfort.

He rubbed his eyes, groaning under his breath. Pausing to take in his surroundings, the purple man stared at the pillow beneath him, collecting his thoughts. He frowned with confusion, turning slightly. A blanket slipped down his back.

Right. The pancakes. Boxman must've...his thumbs brushed over the pillow, a weird mix of fluster and flutter filling up his chest.

The lab.

Venomous sat straight. The lab was still a mess. "How late is it?" He rubbed his neck.

"Ten Thirty."

"Oh shit." The purple man jumped up, his leg catching on the desk in the process. He let out a half-expressed yelp, supporting himself on the table. "Sorry,"

"Oh –,"Fink gasped sharply, her hands flying up to help. "you alright, Boss??"

He hissed, still fighting the pain.

"Yeah...damn it..." Venomous lurched onwards. "I have to make a call." He caught his step, wheeling back around.

"Did you eat yet?" His eyes searched the counter. "There's pancakes!"

"Did...you make these?" She asked, turning up her nose again.

"Yes." His hand went to his neck, "Kinda... I mixed the dough. Just try them, ok?" Stress leaked through his smile, hurrying away.

Just Great.

Now he had to make a client wait even longer for his mixture. All that just because he couldn't stay awake. Maybe Boxman was right. He was getting too old to gamble with his sleep like this.

Venomous stopped in his tracks, his reflection hitting him like a brick in the mirrored wall. He ran a hand through his hair. Dread crept into his already sleep-deprived face, smeared eyeliner completing the hangover look.

Yeah, no. Absolutely not. He couldn't face anybody like this.

The man took a sharp turn into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

He came back out a few minutes later, looking like a civilized human being again as he headed for the stairs to his office.

Venomous slumped into his chair.

Three missed calls. Two from his client. One from Boxmore.

Of course. He put his hand back on his armrest. How fitting, after losing another couple hours of sleep looking into her genetic code.  Darrell really had a thing with comedic timing. Venomous let his head roll back. Maybe it was about the blood sample... just something he could work with. Not that he was eager to deal with his attitude again – or with Boxman's probing questions afterward, only to tell him "It was fine."

The man exhaled slowly before calling the first missed call.

"Thank you for your patience and understanding."

Boxman heard the chair creak. He knocked against the door frame.

Venomous rotated in his chair. "Hey." His voice was gentle.

"Got some sleep?" The shorter man smiled back at him, crossing his arms behind his back.

The professor snortled, briefly averting his gaze. "Too much, it seems. Missed a meeting."

"Oh well... it happens." Boxman said with that familiar blitheness in his tone.

His features hardened just a fraction. "Well,I'm not planning to make a habit out of it." Venomous looked down,fingers curling into a fist. A breath left him, his expression softening again. "I... should make a habit of sleeping more,though. Thanks for taking care of the pancake situation... and well,me."

"It was nothing!" his chest puffed out, waving his hand around,"If you need anything, just ask!"

Venomous uttered a soft chuckle, "I'll remember that." Despite the little uprising in his chest, he let the moment linger for a beat.

The phone rang, dragging him back to his duties.

"Oh – it's Boxmore again."

Boxman's eyebrows went up. "... Has he called you already?"

The ringing went on.

"Won't you pick up?" The shorter man urged, but instead of leaving, he stepped closer.

"I can always call him back," The purple man tensed up, a hint of sweat pooling on his temple. "Can't exactly answer with you... standing right behind me."

"Oh, no problem! I'm just gonna..." He looked around. With absurd casualness, Boxman vanished beneath the table. Venomous pulled his legs to the side, staring at him, dumbfounded.

The professor shook his head, nervously sweating. "I'm not gonna do this with you...down there!" He felt his face warm up.

"I'm gonna be quiet, I promise." The shorter man tipped his finger against his lips once, squirming in the limited space.

"That's not even the point!" Venomous grabbed his head,exasperated. He threw it back, dissolving into head shakes.

Then he let his hand drop to his armrest, gaze sharp. "Don't ruin this." The purple man huffed, crossed his legs and scooted close enough to make it look natural.

He reached for the phone.

"Could you – not look at me?!"

"Oop, sorry!" Boxman whispered.

The professor inhaled deeply. "Hey, good to hear from you."

"Hello Professor, did you find time to look further into the sample yet?"

His smile thinned. Straight to the point.Venomous settled into his position, his hands loosely clasped in his lap. "I did, actually. I was going to call you sooner, but you know how it is." He gave a casual shrug.

"Sure... so ya found anything we can use to deal with the superglue issue? Miss Vile got that blood sample."

Boxman held still under the table.

Professor Venomous stiffened, eyes getting smaller. "Issue?" A judgmental undertone slipped through his mask.

"It messes with my systems." Darrell quinted, dryly. 

"You want to get rid of it?" He asked, disbelieving.

"Yup."

The shorter man suppressed the urge to rub his hands with delight. He let out a very carefully measured sigh of relief.

"Why would you want that?" Venomous shook his head, a tense grin hardening his expression. "You'd gain so much." Boxman's eyes snapped up at the professor despite the earlier warning.

"Adjustin' that's a whole lotta work. Also copyright claims and all that." He said, barely bothering to roll his eye, circling his hand lazily. 

"Copyright wouldn't be a big deal with the merger in mind." His hands were clasped tightly now, his other foot hitting the ground – and Boxman on the way.

A dull thud sounded against the wood. The shorter man bit his lip, a quiet gasp slipping out.

Both the professor and Lord Cowboy Darrell froze for several strained seconds. The robot leaned back slightly, his eye twitching as if unsure whether to blink. Venomous held his gaze, his alert expression only drawing more attention.

Darrell took a long breath, his smile unreadable. "Let's discuss that in person... How's next Monday?"

The professor pulled up his calendar a little too quickly, his eyebrows lifting as he clicked through the dates. "Sure, three thirty?"

"Good. Can you send the address again?"

"Doing this right now."

"See you Monday."

"Thanks for calling. See you then."

The screen went black. The professor let himself fall back. "Well, that was... something."

He looked at Boxman, who'd been holding an impossible position, sweating. He finally let go, letting out a wheezing sigh.

"Do you... think he noticed?" He squinted, voice tense.

Venomous parted his lips, a twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Can't say until Monday."

________________________________________________________________

Darrell fumbled the phone back on the station, gazing into space. His eye unfocused, his mind withdrawing from his surroundings, letting unwelcome thoughts roam freely. A strange weight settled in his core.

What the heck... was that?

The feeling turned into a firm knot, ugly and bitter. His hand twitched, reaching into his jacket. Darrell fished out his phone, while his other hand went on to pull up the office directory until he found a cell number.

He waited.

"Hello?"

"..."

Darrell drew in breath, but stopped.

A sigh came from the other end. "I'm gonna hang up."

"Next Monday. Three thirty." He finally said.

She clicked her tongue. "Oh my cob it's you. Really should've used a voice changer for this kind of thing."

"I talked to Venomous." His voice was weirdly flat.

"..."

"..."

"Yep, I figured this wasn't actually a death threat."

"..."

A low groan came through the line. "... Hello?!"

"I think Boxman was under the table."

"...What."

Darrell didn't move in his chair.

"He was right there... the whole time." His voice lowered, "Ven kicked him or somethin'... I heard it."

The other end went quiet for a moment. There was faint crackling.

Then nothing...

then she burst out laughing.

"Heh." It escaped him, one corner of his mouth jerking up. He pressed the phone tighter against his audio.

"What-" her laughter died down a bit, "who even does that? Why would you even hide there?!"

The robot went quiet, swallowing. He lowered the phone until her laughter sounded far away.

"I think this whole thing needs a little... course correction." Darrell finally said.

"Well, I'm sitting here with the coolest weapons out there, if you need anything." She said with an audible smirk.

Darrell let the thought settle as he leaned back, relishing it with a wide, unfocused stare.

"We could do that..." He said after a moment, brooding. "But I don't think that would hurt enough."

"I'm all ears."

His stare was lost in the lines of the blinds, blurring into each other. "I'm bringin' Boxman back in."

There was only the noise of static for a few seconds.

"Isn't that... literally the opposite of what you asked me to help you with?"

"You told me to hit'em where it hurts." He said, unblinking. "That's where."

"Right...ok. Understandable." She'd lost a bit of the perky tone. „And what's the plan for getting him out again?"

"Let's put a pin in that." Lord Cowboy Darrell swiveled in his chair, tension starting to ease. "Why don't ya start brainstormin' some stuff?"

A deliberately long breath seeped through the line. "Please tell me you looked at the plans." she mumbled.

"I did, already had a long and detailed talk with Cosma about that." He cocked his head pointedly, like she could see him.

"Oh... good!" Her tone lightened, "That means I can come by to-"

"What? No! I already told ya this week's rough!"

"Y'know what? Tell Pop that yourself, then. I can't keep making up excuses like that." Miss Vile said dryly. The line fell silent for a few seconds.  "Is this about that promotion thing?"

"... How do you – are you hackin' into my cameras?!" Darrell shot out of his seat.

"Gotta keep myself up to date, right? Don't be greedy, I'm a fan!" There was that cheeky note again.

His face was stuck between anger and confusion for a moment. "What - couldn't ya say somethin' sooner??"

"I didn't wanna spoil your performance."

The levity in her words made him flinch. "Guess you'll have to stay tuned like anyone else." He said, mockingly.

She blew a lip bubble. "When's the next episode? I'd hate to miss it."

"Cain't say." He scoffed, letting her stew for a beat before he added: "Got a whole lotta people to entertain right now."

"Your sister? That's the orange one, right?"

Darrell held his next thought. Then he rolled his eye, sighing."Shannon." His voice carried a harsh undertone. "Yup, that's her."

"I saw her in one of your attacks. Seemed pretty... vivacious." Miss Vile let the word roll off her tongue.

"She... can be a lot." Darrell felt a wave of frustration swell up inside him, daring to spill over. He gathered breath – then his eye snapped to the door, staring at it.

Her next words went right past him.

Did somethin' just... clunk?

"I gotta go." He let the phone sink, hanging up, then buried it in his jacket. The robot squinted, his hand creeping toward a button under his table. The door snapped open.

Lord Cowboy Darrell leaned forward, an unsettling smile tugging at his mouth while his hands clenched tight on the desk.

"Why won't ya come in, Shannon?"

"Your interpersonal relationships don't concern me."

"Please!" He clasped his hands in a desperate attempt to crack her cold shell, "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't actually important!"

"Your sense of priority has proven unreliable."

"All I ask is keepin' things down a little!... Just until I told them about –"

The door burst open as Shannon barged into the office. "Good morning!"

His head snapped back to Cosma, shooting another begging look at her. A brooding sigh escaped her. She tilted her chin back, eyes piercingly steady.

"I expect your report. Every day, first in the morning."

His face briefly lit up. Darrell ended the transmission.

"What was that about?" Shannon asked, hand on her hip.

"Told ya she was pressin' me with extra work lately..." Darrell scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh yeah. Right." Her tone couldn't quite hide the derision. "So, how did I do yesterday?" She gave him a smug smirk.

Darrell hesitated, then grabbed a clipboard from the table. He flipped through a couple pages. There was nothing but a pointy S on her report. "Well, pretty...decent." The words came out like he didn't believe them. He still tried to muster a smile, settling back into his persona. "No registered complaints, problems, or mishaps."

His sister clicked her tongue. Her smile didn't falter, almost daring him to continue. "Great. Watcha want me to do today?"

"I was thinkin'– "

The phone rang. Darrell's eye darted to the display. He grabbed the phone way too fast.

Alright... just act natural.

"Hello? - EM - This is...Lord Cowboy Darrell speaking."

"pFT, why are you so formal now?" Miss Vile's voice crackled through the phone.

He caught Shannon staring at him a bit too keenly. Forcing a smile, Darrell got to his feet. He put a few steps between them and feigned to look out the window for completely casual reasons.

The orange robot darted a suspicious little glance at him. Shannon directed her gaze to the phone station, then to her hand. She smirked. With her finger shifting into an adapter, she reached out.

„Um... hello?" Miss Vile spoke up, a little lost.

"How can I help ya?" Darrell said perfectly businesslike.

"Huh... say cucumber harvesting machine if you're in trouble."

"I can't-" He stopped himself, frowning. "I mean: I don't think I can do anything about that right now." His tone became a little passive-aggressive. He peeked back at Shannon, who was casually leaning on one hand, checking out her nails.

"Okay, okay. Two things: I got the sample for you know who. Second, have you checked the plans yet? Oh - and third: Did your phone explode or something? 'Cause it says so on social media."

A wince betrayed his upright posture, suppressing a grunt.

"I understand yer concern, Miss, I'll get back to ya... later." He pressed out through clenched teeth, darting a strained smile at his sister. Shannon darted a smug smile back at him, fist on her hip.

A sigh rustled through the other end. "How much later?"

"This week's lookin' rough."

The orange robot interrupted her eavesdrop attempt, shooting him a sideways gaze, sour.

"You wanna pause this for a whole week?!... No way Cosma will just accept that, just saying."

Darrell bit his tongue. "We appreciate yer feedback!" He said with an aggressive little eye roll, "I'll redirect you to Ernesto now,"

"No, no, just –"

"Have a great one, bye!"

Shannon's finger shifted back, she suppressed a grunt. "Who was that?" She quickly crossed her arms.

„A cucum – customer!...who had trouble with a robot."

"What trouble?"

"It didn't... pick the pickles right." He said, squinting into space.

"Since when... are we sending them to work in the fields?" Her arms locked tighter.

"Ah- well, since sellin' robots brings us money. Gotta think practical – anyway!"

Lord Cowboy Darrell dropped the phone onto the station, picking a wheat stalk from one of the drawers. „I was thinkin' about a checkup on system maintenance, production and processes for a start, come back after that." He leaned back and settled into his poised pose, fully braced for the expected response.

"Oh, I already did that before I came here, but I could check again, I guess." She shrugged.

The wheat stalk slipped out of his mouth. Darrell took a moment to process. He looked down, fumbling for it. "All of that?"

"Well, like I said, I could always check again," she put her hand on her hip with a playful little eyeroll, "if ya want. No problem."

The chair creaked under his shift. He squinted.

"Why don't you... check on how the others are doin' then? Tell Raymond I need those market trends by the end of the day – oh, and work out with 'im who's doin' social media on yer busy hours."

"Yes sir." She saluted, walking out.

"Huh. Let's see how that goes." He murmured, pondering. It was only her second day. Probably didn't need to worry about that.

Putting the wheat stalk back into his mouth, Lord Cowboy Darrell swung his boots on the table. His eye fell on his art supplies. He reached for a block and a pen, but stopped mid motion. the robots' gaze darted to the phone, then back to the sketchbook.

Darrell grunted with defeat. Shouldn't do that now.

He pulled a crinkled, rolled up paper from his jacket. Then he sighed, unfolding it.

Metallic feet crossed the halls with devious determination, eyes lurking for any possible mishaps on her way. This was just the beginning. All she had to do was keep being efficient and Darrell would finally see that she was the perfect fit for this role.

Assertive, strong and fierce. Qualities all headquarters needed – and she got them.

Maybe she needed to work on controlling that fierce part a teeny little bit more. Whatever. She wouldn't just watch some... nobody steal her place at the top.

This girl didn't even go here. She didn't know anything. And she couldn't do anything to replace her – even if Darrell actually believed it. He was wrong. He would regret it.

Entering the heads department – not to be confused with the head of the department, Shannon let her gaze wander, scrutinizing Lesser Darrell's handiwork.

They didn't seem all that fazed about her presence, minding their business.

She caught one of them glancing at her. Their eyes locked for a beat, then he looked away and attached the head to its base.

Shannon held her gaze for a moment longer, before finally continuing.

She deliberately slowed down as she passed his workstation, giving the model he was preparing an extra scrutinizing look. His movements stalled a bit, keeping his eye down.

At the end of the corridor, her gaze fell on a long box. A single strip of tape had been sloppily dragged across the flaps. It carried a "reprocessing" label.

Shannon drew a breath.

"Hey, who left that here?" Her voice came out bossy.

The Lesser Darrell from before winced a little, his eye cut away from the box. He nervously put down his work, swallowing. "I... did."

"Well? Get it outta here, now." She snapped, hand on her hip. "You could fall and explode, or somethin'."

Without any other explanation, he scurried through the corridor. The robot snatched up the box, vanishing into a nearby door.

Shannon gave him a side eye. She turned around halfway, then she thought.

"And keep up that good attitude," the orange robot said, hand circling lazily. "or whatever." She mumbled after.

Getting to the end of production, Shannon took the stairs leading to a more clear and quiet area of Boxmore. A large space, with screens showing zigzag lines monitoring things like heat, the energy core, and machinery.

She passed a huge window, which granted a luxury view of the bustling machinery below.

Nearby sat Raymond in a pinkish metallic, tall seat, fingers flying over the keyboard in front of a terminal.

"Darrell wants that done today." she said, stopping at his side.

"Understood." he said, eyes not leaving the screen.

"Oh, and he also wants you to keep an eye on social media, 'cause I've got my hands full with the Senior Deputy stuff." She tipped her hat with her fingertip, self-righteous.

"Of course." Raymond gave her a quick glance. "How's the mission coming along?"

"What? – Ugh. I'm literally on duty, Ray. Can't we do this later?"

He sighed evenly. "It looks like you fell for his obvious setup."

"Excuse you? I'm doing all that AND spying on him. I'm just efficient like that." She flicked her hand dismissively.

His typing got a little stiffer, his chin tipping up.

"I'm sure he will cherish that."

"Uh, ya he will." Shannon snapped, ignoring the undertone in his voice. "Anyway. Keep workin' so you don't miss the deadline." She turned around and walked away.

"Same to you."

She kept walking, clenching her fists.

On her way back, Shannon crossed one more department – Business Analytics. Everything looked so sorted around here. Boringly sorted. There was hardly anything to fix for her here, but there was something else she needed.

"Hey Ernesto..." She turned up next to him, placing her hand on the table and leaning.

"Hello Shannon." He glanced at her, rather curtly.

She cleared her throat, cocking her head.

"How can I help you, Senior Deputy?"

"Well, things seem to be going pretty well around here, but... I was wondering if you still had a copy of the Senior Deputy guidelines? Like something to carry around, y'know?"

Ernesto gave her a sideways glance, hesitating.

"No."

Shannon stared back at him, tension shooting into her relaxed pose.

"What do you mean no? If anyone's got that it's gotta be you. You're literally the printer around here."

The purple bot tensed up a bit. "I'm not a printer." An edge slipped into his voice. "Did Lord Cowboy Darrell order you to get that paper from me?" Ernesto continued typing.

Her gaze hardened. "No, he didn't!"

He briefly stopped, squinting at the screen in front of him. "Then I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Yes you can! 'Cause I just ordered you to do it – and I'M gonna beat you up if you don't!" She fumed. "I'm gonna tell Darrell you're refusing to take orders from a superior!"

Sweat silently pooled on Ernesto's forehead as he leaned away from her raised voice.

"A-and I could tell him that you're threatening me and that all of you chased me down and forced me to share restricted information with you!"

"Wh-" Shannon clicked her tongue, "you're still mad because of that?!"

"I might rethink after you apologize."

She scoffed. "Are you serious right now?"

He didn't answer.

Shannon groaned, then she pressed out a "Sry"

"I couldn't quite hear that."

"I am sorrEy..." she clenched her teeth, averting her look, "We chased you down."

Ernesto typed something into the computer for some long seconds. She wasn't even sure if he was ignoring her again, jaw tightening.

Then he held out a sheet to her.

"Apology accepted. I'm always glad to help!" He sounded way more friendly.

Shannon snapped the sheet from him, giving him a little once-over. Then she puffed out her chest, stomping off.

"He would've gotten suspicious if I hadn't gone all in with that knockout punch." Her arms stretched along the back of the couch, face smug enough to make it look like she'd planned this whole thing all by herself.

"So convincing it barely passed as an act." His voice lowered, "But conviction alone doesn't sell a lie. It wouldn't have worked without my timing," he cleaned the dust from his nails with a sharp blow. "and my idea to fake the phone."

"Tss, I still won, didn't I?" She shrugged, voice bloated with pretension.

"I could've done this with ease. I just went with the flow." Raymond straightened, settling into a posture of cold ease.

Shannon clenched her teeth, grunting. "You're just butt sore I got the Senior Deputy role – twice!"

His jaw tightened, letting out a short little scoff. "I sure hope your pride won't cloud the plan, Shannon." He tilted his head and cast a pointed glance at her, "There's nothing more important than that."

"Worry not, dearest brother!" she said with an equally pointed giggle, throwing her head back with a sly smile on her lips. "There's no way he could hide all that for a whole week. Bet Darrell's hella confused how we got our hands on his fake phone right now, you should've seen his stupid face!"

No problem. Calm down.

He was gonna suffer through this somehow... all he had to do was avoid Cosma when Shannon was around, keep her away from the phone...

The robot rifled through the drawers of his cupboard, grabbing any suspicious item that got in his way, starting with Miss Vile's card. Ripping it to shreds, he pulled out the empty shell of the banged-up box and tossed it into the trash, hesitating for a moment. Darrell yanked open the next drawer, frowning. He'd have to get all that out before she got here... Walking straight to the incinerator with all that stuff would draw way too much attention, though. He sighed heavily. They'd failed his challenges often enough. Figures it had to be now. And Shannon...course it had to be her! She'd been askin' questions lately, already spreadin' rumors.

His hand closed around a rolled-up paper – a blueprint. Darrell stared at it for a beat, grunting. Dang it. He couldn't dispose of that without...

How in the world was he supposed to explain that to Miss Vile?! She wouldn't –

Lord Cowboy Darrell cut off the thought, breathing out a nervous laugh. He folded the roll and stuffed it into his coat a little too fast, already rummaging through his desk again. It was that blasted stress: the crowding, the board tightening the reins, the challenges, keeping all that up... Too bad he couldn't afford to lose it right now. The robot worked through every drawer, filling the trash can as he went. He had to get this right into the garbage. Darrell turned on his heel.

The desk. Right. He put the bin down in the middle of the room, hurrying back with a grimace. Dang it!

Pushing things down unceremoniously, he opened the hidden space underneath the desk. The robot groaned at the pile of drawings – most of them plot devices to get rid of Miss Vile... couldn't just leave that here.

Like a dog digging up a bone, he grabbed handfuls of paper and flung them behind him until the compartment was empty. Scurrying the mess together with his boot, he stuffed the crumpled sheets into the trash and followed through with his plan right away.

________________________________________________________________

Cassidy dropped the pen and sighed heavily. She hadn't been that productive in... forever. Funny how interesting papers and numbers could become when you had bigger problems to avoid. Unfortunately, asking for more work would look a lot more suspicious than pulling through with this ever could. The cyborg stood up, pausing for a moment. She twisted her mouth up in thought.

He'd still be in the lab or somewhere near the production area. If this was gonna work, she had to come up with a plan. Just not... here. The thought of him standing in the door was too distracting.

Cassidy straightened the papers and put the pen on top, before she left her office. Going to her room to actually think this through seemed like a better idea than just sitting here or turning up in the lab just like that.

She closed the door and stood in her room. A sigh escaped her, tired and tense. Fingers twitching under the weight of expectation, her gaze shifted. Where did she – there it was.

Grabbing a notepad and a pen from her sewing table, Cassidy sat down on her bed, legs crossed.

She'd have to wait for pops to return to his office, that'd be safest... Definitely needed an excuse in case Jeffrey came along... which, he always did. She frowned, annoyance attempting to drag her in, while she followed the line of the question mark absentmindedly. Cassidy straightened. Find an excuse. Then proceed to go through the equipment – carefully, to find something sharp enough to poke a hole into her finger.

She snorted dryly, staring at the paper. Yep, that sounded very reasonable and not weird at all.

She let herself drop back, eye turning pensive. Would be weird enough to drive off Jeffrey... and weird enough to send him running to pops.

Cassidy rubbed her face with a groan, scooting across her bed until her head hung over the edge. She couldn't remember her father ever drawing blood from her, which was kind of strange, thinking about it. Her eye fell on the suitcase, leaning against the wall and untouched since it had been placed there.

Another flash of curiosity. And just like before... nothing. She was just... frozen, staring.

I don't think he was lying all that much today.

She pressed her eye shut. Cowboylord was gonna kill her when he found out – if Venomous was actually... He didn't even trust her now. She spread her arms in defeat, letting them dangle over her head and dropping the notepad.

Whatever her weird flashbacks meant, there was a good chance he would want to get back at them. What if there was actually something... inside this suitcase, some kind of trap. A virus... nanobots, maybe. What if it wasn't just mildly annoying, but actually dangerous to them... their agenda. Her agenda. And she stepped into it, willingly.

She groaned. And if that all wasn't enough, now there was fear. Fear that kept her from even touching that stupid suitcase. That, by far, was the worst.

A quiet sigh escaped her chest and her frown softened.

The worst.

Knock, knock, knock.

...

Knock, knock, knock.

"Cas?"

The cyborg sat up with a jerk, her head cloudy, pain flaring up her neck. She must've been lying there longer than just a moment.

"Yes?"

Vile opened the door, leaning halfway in. "You're done early today."

"Yeah, I... kinda had a run, I guess." She shrugged, rubbing her aching neck.

A silence stretched as he stared into her room, unfocused, for several seconds. Then he drew in a breath, his hand absently searching the pockets of his lab coat.

"I got these for you." With a small flick of his wrist, he tossed a bag her way. It landed softly in her lap.

"Oh, cool! Thanks pops, I love these." She grinned, wiggling the bag of triple-dip laser chips.

"I'll be in the office if you need me." His tone was mild. Not dismissive, just... distant. Then he closed the door.

No excuses for her now.

The cyborg stopped. Her gaze slid back to the suitcase – and she froze. Her stomach churned.

Did he...

did she even show him any of that? She couldn't remember doing it.

Sitting there for another sweat-inducing moment, Cassidy let out a sharp sigh, shaking her head. She was just getting in over her head. He probably hadn't even noticed the thing before. Pops had a habit of absentmindedly staring into space, after all.

Cassidy peeked around the corner, checking carefully for Jeffrey before she hurried toward the lab door, hands clenching. This shouldn't take long: Just go in, check the cupboards, and slip out like nothing happened. She'd been snooping through far riskier places, right?

She drew a short, sharp breath and pulled on the handle. She pulled. The security door barely budged.

A keypad to her left caught her eye.

Funny. Was that always there? Her grip tightened on the handle. The cyborg squinted.

Her stomach felt queasy for a second. Then she let out a curious chuckle, shaking her head with a low grunt. She couldn't get worked up about the whys and hows now.

Cassidy stepped back and set herself into motion. So now she didn't just have to sneak gear out of the lab – she needed a another frickin' code to do that. What if she crawled through the vent? Probably not the best idea. Someone seeing her would be super sus, and figuring out where the vents led would take forever, not to mention actually getting inside. Playing curious in front of pop might let her hang around the lab, but it wouldn't get her anywhere near the stuff she needed. Asking him outright was out of the question. If he'd bothered to lock the door, working around the lock would be... She sighed. A challenge, to say the least.

"Whoa! Geez, you're supposed to make noises when you walk around, Jeff."

"What are you doing wandering around? Your old man's upstairs." The dark lines beneath his eyes seemed to accentuate his wariness.

"Testing the halls for echoes." she said.

He grimaced at her antics, leaning on his broom wearily. "Nothing useful, for sure."

"Oy, I've been pretty busy today – so busy, I was gonna join Pops in the lab, but then, boom! Door's locked." She shrugged, spreading her hands in mock innocence.

"Of course you'd be busy catching up on weeks of slacking. I actually got something to do, so..."

"Huh..." Her gaze went distant for a second, clearly enjoying herself.

Jeffrey picked up his equipment, walking past her.

"Where you headed?"

He let out a long, pained sigh.

"I'm not your kindergartner." He cocked his head, sneering to himself. "Never was, by the way."

"Well, I'm not a kid, so..."

Jeffrey grunted, sinking a little deeper into his arched posture. "Get lost."

"What's cookin', Jeffy?" The tone in her voice made his green skin crawl. He grabbed the broom a little closer.

"Don't you ever outgrow being annoying?" There was almost a hint of pain flashing through his annoyance.

"You never outgrew being a grouch. Maybe you'll turn into a baby when you get older. That a thing for your kind?"

He stopped.

"What do you actually want?" Jeffrey stepped uncomfortably close. "You're keeping me from work right now, don't make me tell your father."

"There's not much to tell if I'm just hanging around, lending you a hand," she said with a complacent smile. "When I said I'd play the maid for a change, I was serious, y'know?"

He stared at her in absolute incredulity.

"C'mon, this is your chance to get back at me, boss me around like you always love to do! So, where we headed?" Cassidy snatched his cap and plopped it on her own head with practiced ease, grinning broadly.

"Telling you how things are supposed to be isn't bossing you around." He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose.

"There's the machinery spaces, the conference room, the infirmary, and all the lab rooms."

He crossed his arms, straightening to fill the two inches of height he had on her, clearly expecting her to back off.

Cassidy just stared back, unbothered, earning a look of disbelief from him.

"Great, let's go then!" she said, already marching ahead like she owned the place, which was something he couldn't even correct her for.

________________________________________________________________

"Here I am, Senior Deputy Shannon reporting for duty, Sir!"

Lord Cowboy Darrell sat up, turning around in his chair. He put on the most genuine smile he could muster, showing more teeth than sincerity. Darrell stood and leaned towards his robotic sister, a stark contrast to his brief hesitance. She stood with her arms crossed proudly behind her arched back, eager to get straight to world domination.

The red robot glanced down at the Cowboy hat he was holding on to – a smaller and simpler version of his own.

"Well, there's that second chance for ya." He looked up at her.

Her eager hand was already reaching for the hat, when Darrell pulled it back a little on reflex. A flicker of surprise distracted her pride, her hand awkwardly hanging in the air.

"I'm countin' on you not to waste it this time." His grin slipped into a sneer.

"Oh... I won't!" she averted her gaze with brief sheepishness, her hand went up pointing at herself. "Nothing's gonna escape these eyes."

"Just remember the motto." Lord Cowboy Darrell said, lips stretched into a dry, thin line.

"Don't worry, I invented a good attitude!" She said with a smug grin, hand shaking dismissively. "So...what's my first duty?" Shannon slammed her hand on the table, one hand on her hip, leaning in closely with borderline self-esteem. "You want me to check on the others? Make sure nobody's slackin' off?" she leaned in a little more, winsome smile in place. "Take charge of the board meetings?"

Darrell stared at her blankly for some long seconds. Shannon was frozen in position, sweat quietly pooling on her temple.

"You know the rules... technically." He stood straight, his eye narrowed to a slit as he stared her down, arms behind his back. "Since yer so eager to get started, I'll keep it short for ya." The grin cutting through his face lacked any hint of humor.

Shannon's proud posture lost a bit of its brilliance, locking her arms behind her back.

"Yer job is to keep an eye on the others, make sure routine processes are workin', Boxmore ain't blowin' up when I'm not lookin' and keepin' me updated if and only if " he interrupted his up and down walk and finger counting to give her a significant look. "somethin' don't add up to ya. No rattin' out the others over petty nonsense or personal grudges – and especially no forcin' Lesser Darrells to carry you around or perform any other sorts of special tasks for ya, got it?"

"C'mon, that was-"

"Got it, Deputy?!"

"Yes, sir." She nodded.

"This here is not a fashion accessory." Showing off the hat in his hands, he leaned in, then lowered his voice, "Means I'm gonna watch you very closely for the next couple o' days, so spare me the extras."

She swallowed at the unhinged threat written all over his face, nodding.

"Great!" he swung his fist encouragingly. "Why don't ya do that routine check for me real quick? Here's a list with all the check marks, sorted by department!"

Shortly flabbergasted by the flood of information, the orange robot saluted. She took the hat and twirled it between her fingers once before setting it on her head with almost theatrical confidence.

"Aye aye!" Shannon turned on her heel, slapping on a sly smirk. "Just wait. I'm gonna check real thoroughly." Her hand transformed into a lipstick with a nefarious giggle, applying it with absolutely no precision.

________________________________________________________________

"You missed a spot."

Cassidy groaned, clicking her tongue. "This dust just keeps coming back!"

"Maybe 'cause you're using the wrong side of the cloth. Move."

She crossed her arms and let out a short laugh. Who knew she had to graduate in wiping studies to use that thing. Her arms were already sore. Why didn't she have super-hardiness in her muscles? And how did Jeffrey not break in half doing this all day?

"Capiche?"

"Yeah, yeah. Gimme that." She waited for him to go back to his spot before letting out a long, quiet sigh, going on with the next console.

Peeking back at him, she narrowed her eye. Two more rooms to go through, and she had to make the best of this one. The cyborg moved casually, but even getting her hand close to his equipment seemed to trigger Jeffrey's super little green men senses... or whatever he was.

"What're you doing?"

"Grabbing a duster," she said dryly, then added with mockery, "Gotta get all these lil' square inches squeaky clean, right?" He grumbled something under his breath but didn't turn around.

She let her eye wander over the lab's gadgets and glassware – cables, coiled tubing, microscopes with odd add-ons, and little contraptions humming quietly to themselves – as she started dusting carefully. The stuff here was criminally more interesting than what she had to deal with day after day. She'd never really had a chance to take a closer look or tag along when Pops was working in synthetics, let alone get access to the other labs. He spent a lot of time in there, mixing up whatever concoctions he was onto at the time, or at least that's where she saw him outside his office.

Nothing here looked like it could poke a hole in her finger, though. She paused for a split second and opened a drawer. Her eye quickly followed the neat pattern of instruments inside. Nope. Cassidy switched between dusting and checking cupboards for hidden treasures as a side quest, occasionally glancing over at the green man, careful not to draw too much attention to herself.

Until she did.

He looked at her warily, but whatever remark he was about to make died before it left his mouth.

"What? These are filthy." She wiped the edge of a cupboard door in one sharp motion and held the cloth under his nose. "See? Eugh." She tilted her head toward one of the devices. "Also, what the heck is that? I kinda wanna shrink myself and take a ride on it... even though it looks like a mini slide straight into certain doom."

Jeffrey stared her down with the most dismissive expression imaginable. Without breaking eye contact, he closed the door. "Spiral concentrator. Don't touch."

She snorted. "Course not. Do I look like I have a death wish?" Jeffrey parted his lips like he was about to say something, completely unperturbed.

"Just because I bend the rules, doesn't mean I'm reckless–" She threw her head back and blew out a breath. Jeffrey raised an eyebrow.

"Next room?"

"Next room."

"Did you memorize all of this stuff?" Cassidy asked, still trying to ignore her aching arms as she went on with her methodical quest. She waited. His answer came as a low grunt.

"It's been over twenty years. That's what happens when you pay attention."

Her hands moved over the surfaces with suspicious care, searching for hidden slots – or whatever kind of finger-poking contraptions were kept around here.

"Yeah right... I remember accidentally becoming a sleep scientist after a really long nap." She snorted, moving on to spread her fingerprints across the next console. And wiped them off again right after.

"I also went to school for years, unlike you." The greenish man filled the bucket with warm water and a bit of soap, the stream hitting the metal with a low hiss. His gaze followed the swirl for a moment, distant, his teeth pressing together. He wrung out the cloth and aimed to drop it into the bucket, but it caught the rim, sliding off to land on the floor with a soft slap. Jeffrey exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Not my fault I'm special." The cyborg sounded cocky as ever. "Homeschooling was already plenty...all those books and... texts, ugh. And... well, you." she scoffed, playfully.

He dragged the ladder over and unfolded it with a bit more force than needed. Climbing up, tools dangling from his belt, he listened to the vent buzz faintly above him. Jeffrey loosened the grille, mindful that even a puff of dust could land on the bench below. "You were unteachable. That's one thing your father learned early." Jeffrey scoffed. "More or less."

He stopped himself, the satisfaction fading almost as soon as it came. He sighed, scrambling for a screwdriver in his tool belt, already anticipating what was coming next.

"Bet you were one of those geeks back then, huh?" Cassidy looked back over her shoulder with a dry smirk, noticing his movements had lost some of their smoothness. The cyborg stopped for a beat. Then she turned around. "Would explain a lot, actually." She chuckled softly. "That just proves my 'school is bad for you' point."

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, followed by some grunting. She wasn't sure if the grunting part stemmed from working, though. "Not going there."

She let her hands slide along the bench behind her, puckering her lips with mild annoyance as a soft hum escaped. Her gaze drifting off, the cyborg spotted a pair of glasses within reach. She smiled.

"Well, you gotta tell someone," Cassidy said, putting the glasses on and fishing for an empty notebook. Then, with a more serious tone: "You can't do this forever." She flipped through some papers, lowering her eyes. "Jeffrey, was it?"

He let his shoulders sink with a sharp sigh and whipped his head in her direction. "I said, don't touch anything!" He wrung out the cloth and flung it at her. "Wipe the bench tops."

She barely caught it, staring at the wet spot marking her shoulder. Once she'd put the items back in their rightful places, she let out a soft, amused sigh. "Pfft, your loss," she sing sang, shrugging lightly as she returned to the mind-numbing routine.

Cassidy stared ahead, watching the cloth drag in slow, dull circles. This had to be the fifth plate already. What a tiring thing to do – and completely useless to her main quest. Imagine staring at these all day. The desk couldn't even tell if it was reflecting anymore.

"Your psychic stuff could actually be helpful if you didn't only use it to mess around all the time," Jeffrey said from the ladder, calmer, but still sharp.

Cassidy suppressed a laugh, swallowing hard. "But getting under your skin is my number one profession, Jeffy." she faced him with a sarcastic smirk, „It's the only thing I'm good at!" The cyborg tossed the cloth back into his bucket with a wet splat, straightening up with a wipe on her pants. "So good, Pops hired me to do it with Cowboylord."

"I thought you stopped making up imaginary friends."

She clicked her tongue, turning her gaze away to hide a blush. "The Boxmore guy? The latest target?" Cassidy rolled her eye. "People, he hired me to do that with other people."

Jeffrey stepped down, the metal ladder clattering softly as he folded it back.

"No argument there," he said. "Grab the bucket and turn around."

Too tired to argue, she did as told – for the third time now. Cassidy dropped her gaze to the bucket in her hands, the wiping water running down the edge and staining her a little. The hum of the ventilation merged with the static sounds of emptiness in her head, each beep on the keypad adding to the duett of boredom playing behind her eye.

The door clicked, followed by a hiss as the seal loosened.

"On... to the next round!" she declared, turning around with mock importance and staining herself a bit more in the process. "Whoops! I think I wet myself a little."

Jeffrey paused a second before stepping in, sighing. "Last round," he said without looking back.

Her feet seemed to be stuck to the floor for a split second, like they knew something she didn't.

This wasn't the infirmary.

Glass tubes lit the otherwise dark room with a faint glow, filled with all kinds of liquids – each of them labeled with names she couldn't make out. Several monitors displayed abstract codes, waves, cryptic readouts.

Cassidy watched Jeffrey trudge ahead, but her eye kept drifting off, deliberately slowing her steps.

The room split into two sections. One led to the infirmary she knew. The other was sealed shut by a heavy security door. She stared at it for a moment as she walked.

She heard a soft rustle, reflexively stopping a paper from falling down. Just some formulas. Chemical stuff.

One of the wall-mounted monitors flickered to life. The cyborg flinched. Nervous, she glanced around the edge at Jeffrey. He was busy unlocking the door. Cassidy looked back at the monitor.

A spreadsheet.

What were these... strange-looking codes? Probably ware codes or something.

Her eye snagged on one entry. She frowned.

BM-VAR-12 – CONVERGED C.03 – STABLE

A strange, undefinable feeling arose in her chest, as she stared ahead.

Her fingers twitched, then went to the screen. Slow and unsure, but somehow driven.

She pressed her lips together and touched the screen.

"What are you doing?!"

Jeffrey's voice sent a jolt through her. She stared at the fingerprint she'd left. He stuck his head around the edge, scoffing. "Can't you just-"

"Chill, I was just cleaning that up." She yanked up the cloth, trying to suppress the shaking in her hands when she started wiping the screen in fake serenity.

"I said Infirmary. This is not." He snapped.

"I thought you liked ambition." She said, shrugging lightly.

Jeffrey clicked his tongue. "Come." He tightened his hand around the ladder he was carrying, waiting for her to go ahead. "I wanna get this over with." Jeffrey said, a little lower.

„That makes two of us," Cassidy murmured, her jaw tightening slightly.

She watched the greenish man putting down the ladder and his broom, rummaging in his toolbox. A quiet huff escaped her. Being here without Pops nearby felt wrong. The clinical, white area just seemed like a cell without him.

"Here's your chance to be ambitious. Monitors." Jeffrey forced a smile at her.

She looked at him dryly, forcing a smile back at him as she reached for the items.

"You spray the cloth. Then you wipe. DON'T spray the screens. Capiche?" Jeffrey said, his face fully restored to its disagreeable default expression.

"Suuure." She dragged the word, with a roll of her eye, then grabbing the bottle and cloth.

The scraggy man turned around, unfolding the ladder and doing the same procedure he did with the other rooms.

With a slight frown, she looked at the items in her hands, then up to the monitors, mounted above the first aid bed.

"Am I just... climbing up there or...? Can't exactly... levitate." The word landed wrong. Yeah, no.

"There should be steps somewhere around here." He said.

She turned with a squint, already drifting away from him. Last room. Better make the best out of it. Glass tubes. Some tongue depressors, bandages...

Cassidy turned slowly.

Gloves. Masks. All stuff she already knew. No steps here. She crossed to the other section, passing Jeffrey on the way. He shot her a scrutinizing look that lingered until she was out of reach.

A chuckle escaped her. "What? Ya scaaared?" She bent in a smooth motion and wiggled her fingers threateningly.

"Just attentive." Jeffrey shot back at her.

"Don't worry, can't afford you falling down." Her voice carried that sketchy serenity again, "Might need a piggyback if these steps don't exist."

There was just metallic clattering for a moment, and some grunting.

"Pass."

"Oh come on. Those were always funny!" She said, continuing her search.

"Oh yeah. Very funny," he scoffed. "Especially if you're dealing with a fourteen-year-old almost your size." He inserted the cleaned air outlet and fumbled the screws back into place to fasten them.

"You had poor posture before that, don't blame me." Cassidy shot a smug smirk at him.

"What about sneaking up on me to take my wings?"

"Psh, I was like 5 back then!"

"Or all those times you threw dirty socks at my face, attached yourself to me just to ride along–" Jeffrey turned the screwdriver forcefully, giving the vent a smack to make it fit. He drew in a sharp breath. "You even – blasted a hole into the roof with one of Vile's cannons just so you could hide in my bucket and see what it's like up there. Do I get to blame you for any of that?" The screwdriver in his fist clunked against the ladder, as he was facing her.

She'd been standing there for a moment, arms crossed and leaning against a desk with the same smug smirk she always carried. But now a jitter in the corner of her mouth threatened to betray her confidence.

She clicked her tongue, staring back at him for an uneasy moment. Cassidy tilted her head, looking sideways with a quick chuckle. "You can blame me for some really clean monitors after this, 'cause I just found the stupid steps." She turned on her heel, pulling it out of its corner a little too carelessly.

Along with it went a tool box, clattering to the ground. The cyborg pressed her teeth together, shoulders perked up.

Now that was... some great timing.

Her look snapped back to Jeffrey, who was giving her a death stare, then rubbing his face with a sharp sigh. "Pick. Them. Up... Now." He growled through his teeth.

Cassidy dropped to a crouch, tense. Frowning, she started sorting the tools back into their rightful spaces. Her head was cloudy for a moment, mindlessly fulfilling her task.

She stopped, mustering a small, rounded plastic object. Her frown deepened. What the heck was that? She squished it a little, like part of her was judging the thing for being so weird and out of place.

Zang.

Her eye widened, staring at the needle shooting out of it. A short breath escaped her before she could stop it.

"Anything broken?" Jeffrey urged.

She took a handful of the little plastic things, continuing to sort with her other hand. "Uh, no... I don't think so!"

Feet stepped down the metallic ladder across the room. Crap.

Adrenaline pushed her to find a way to hide these. She hurriedly stuffed them into her bra on pure instinct.

"We need to - " He cut himself short with a scoff, "YOU need to sterilize these."

"Uhm... okay." Cassidy answered, slowing down a little, but never stopping sorting.

Jeffrey squinted, wary. He dropped to a crouch. "You're taking forever."

She watched his hands sorting, trying her best to cover her nervousness. He really did memorize all of this. She bit her lip. Not good. Cassidy barely waited for him to finish, already grabbing the box.

"I'll do that." Jeffrey said, standing up. He shoved the tool box into a machine and closed the lid. Then he pushed a button. "Think you can put this back to its proper place without messing this up... again?"

She hesitated for a beat. "Sure!"

Jeffrey cocked his head at the relief in her tone with a little frown, then sighed. He rolled his eyes and walked.

The cyborg fell back into her mask, grabbing the ladder.

"And if I do, there's still the monitors to make up for it, right?"

"Shut up."

"I had to refill. Boxmore's on the way, so no trouble," the professor answered, smooth as ever.

Silence settled back in, carried by the serene hum of the engine.

Darrell's hands clenched in his lap as the trees and houses rushed past. Normally, he could shove all the Boxmore processes to the back of his mind, let the lesser robots grind away without him having to be present all the time. But sitting in this sleek car with the professor and his crooked intentions, all that polish and comfort felt like a trap he needed to be ready for. Lord Cowboy Darrell fiddled with his fingers, trying to shake it off.

"Where's Fink?" he asked, eye fixed on the window as they passed a sign:

Welcome to NEO RIOT CITY.

She's in her piano lesson," the professor said, catching Darrell's side eye with a mild, knowing smile. "Helps her balance that fighting spirit."

the robot gave a small grunt. "Good to know."

"She can be a lot, but her qualities as a minion make up for it." The professor turned left.

"Like?" Darrell asked, bracing himself against the pull of the turn.

"Fink's very loyal. Attentive. Highly protective." Venomous spared him a quick smirk. "As you know. I can count on her...and she on me. I don't take that for granted."

Darrell drew in a breath, gaze snapping away. His hands locked tighter in his lap. "How nice," he pressed out, ending the conversation he regretted starting. The mansions and parks blurred past his eye as he stubbornly pictured turning the professor's precious estate into a horse farm.

"Well, here we are," the professor said, following a long driveway that wound around the mountain like a snake.

The robot shifted in his seat, subtle enough not to catch the purple man's eye as he parked the car in the garage. Tension tried to crack his stony facade. His brow sank deeper, and he followed Venomous to the front door.

She wasn't here, yet.

With his firewall running at full capacity, he stepped inside, quietly judging the corridor.

"You might wanna take that off." Professor Venomous pointed at the robot's jacket, pulling his own lab coat from the wardrobe. Darrell glanced down at himself, blank, and shrugged out of the jacket, following the advice mechanically.

"Wait here." Venomous motioned to the couch with a faint tilt of his chin, already on his way out. "I'll go and prepare the lab."

"Sure." Darrell watched him vanish upstairs, waiting for the footsteps to fade.

With so much room left to choose from, the robot crossed it at a careful, deliberate pace. He stopped, twisting his face in disgust. Why'd he need three shelves to carry one vase-decor-thingy?

He dropped his gaze, scraping the glossy floor with his boot. Not a single scratch. Couldn't wrap his head around how the man lived here with Fink – let alone Boxman. Probably had to renew the place once a week. Either that, or Venomous' snake-oil charm had twisted his father's head. Thinking about how Boxman had showered him with unearned adoration...

A harsh, sickened scoff slipped past his lips as he perched on the backrest of the couch. He drew a deep breath, held it, then let himself slide down. With his eye pressed shut, Darrell slowly let his head sink to his knees.

Hurry up, will ya?

A thrill shot through him. What if this really was a trap? What if Boxman was just waiting to leap out of some hideout the second he let his guard down??

The doorbell cut through his spiraling thoughts. Getting back up turned out way harder than sliding down, and when he tried to swing his legs over the backrest – the move backfired into a face to face meeting with the floor.

Groaning, he caught the sound of footsteps approaching. They slowed as they passed. Darrell reminded himself how utterly unreasonable it would be for the professor to waste his time checking on him when someone was AT THE DOOR... right?!

At last, Venomous headed down the corridor, while the robot gathered his loose screws and scrambled upright. Half-listening to the pleasantries being exchanged, he fussed with his cowboy hat, wagging it around to beat it back into shape.

"Must have been a fun ride. How about a drink?" Venomous asked nonchalantly, already heading toward the kitchen.

"Some soda... please!" Cassidy piped, trailing after him.

Her eye flicked to Lord Cowboy Darrell, who was trying a little too hard to look casual, slouched against the couch with a lackadaisical face that couldn't quite hide the sourness underneath.

"Your... ribbons are all tangled," she said, flicking the loose end of his shirt with a bit too much snap. He flinched before he even looked at her. "Cords! K-keep yer hands to yourself, Miss Vile–!" He swatted her hand away and fumbled with the brooch as fluster crept in. "'Bout time ya sho–wed."

Darrell gave her a blunt once-over. She looked like she'd stumbled through a dictator's wardrobe on the way here and gotten into trouble somewhere in between. The dress resembled a lab coat – only louder. Sharp black linings screamed in capital letters, with matching boots and gloves and everything.

Cassidy stared back with dry indifference, blowing out a tiny flame chewing at her hair.

"What's this?!" he hissed under his breath, staring at her in bewilderment.

"Oh, just you summoning me out of nowhere." She shrugged with a touch of theatrical annoyance. "Travel conditions weren't... great."

A small twitch tugged at his jaw. "Could've just answered the phone." His eye slid aside with clear disapproval as he crossed his arms.

"Could've just told me on time." She mirrored the gesture with a pointed little tilt.

"Lab's all set." Venomous interrupted their bickering with a composed smile. The cyborg accepted the soda can perfectly smug, tension still clinging underneath.

„Thanks!... Professor Venomous." Cassidy popped her can open with a sharp fizz, averting her eye with practiced haughtiness. Darrell suppressed the urge to mimic her.

Venomous wore an inscrutable smile and gestured for them to follow.

Lord Cowboy Darrell shot an expectant look at the cyborg which she only met with a blunt stare before moving.

"Professor works just fine – no need to be that stiff," Venomous said as they reached the first floor.

Cassidy needed a moment to connect the dots before he continued, "Which of course means..." The man turned sharply in front of the lab door, stopping them cold. "Provided you don't pull any more stunts."

Seeing her return his piercing gaze with a flicker of embarrassment, he laughed. "I'm just kidding." He turned toward the lab. "Just not a big fan of the business gimmick."

"Huh, okay..." She forced a smile and stepped into the large, light-grey room bristling with modern tech.

"Go ahead and lose the coat. Just grabbing a pair of gloves."

Cassidy's puzzled glance hit Darrell's. He looked caught out, then gave her a tense, obligatory shrug and jerked his head for her to follow.

"We'll start with some routine tests," Venomous said, easing on his second glove. Almost absentmindedly, he plucked the coat from Miss Vile and flicked it toward Darrell, who found himself unceremoniously transformed into a coat tree.

"Could you just put this on the hook? Switch it with the lab coat and put it on."

Caught between rage and the assault of Miss Vile's fabrics, he froze for several long seconds. The odd scent of ozone and scorched citrus crept into his nostrils.

Sweet, metallic, like syrup – just without the tasty part.

"Oh, and grab that oblong gray case on your way." Venomous's voice was calm, unbothered, as if he hadn't even noticed the little mishap.

Cassidy's gaze, however, lingered on the sour robot trudging across the lab. Naturally, she used the moment to amuse herself, while he carefully avoided her gaze.

"How's your father?"

She nearly choked on her sip of soda, whipping her eye toward the professor, who was casually swirling liquid in a glass tube.

"Ah – he's fine."

"Things have been pretty quiet around him."

"You know how it is!" She fumbled with her soda can. "Everybody needs... a break from the media... news and all that, once in a – "

They both winced at the ear-piercing clatter that filled the room, fading only when Darrell came to Cassidy's side with an icy stare and settled on the stool he had dragged over. He placed the box on the bench beside her.

"Thanks." Venomous touched his ear once, then regarded the robot's vexed posture without comment. With a measured sigh and a faint, professional smile, he turned back to Cassidy.

"Stick out your tongue. Say ah."

Various tests and a few assisting hands later, Lord Cowboy Darrell was slumped on the stool, chin propped on his hand and just about done watching Miss Vile play guinea pig.

"Still nothing?" Venomous looked up from the device in his hand.

"It's just warm."

He nudged the heat up a notch.

"Okay – hot." She winced, then lowered her wrist a second later. "Better."

"Fascinating." He turned off the device, wrote something down and removed the armlet. "...Does it hurt, burn, or itch?" he asked, brushing her skin with his thumb.

"Not anymore."

He glanced over his tools. "Would you mind sparing one or two of these?" Venomous let go of her wrist and pointed at her hair.

"Uh, no. Go ahead," she said with a shrug.

He pulled one strand from the scorched patch and another from her bangs, placing them into a specimen cup.

"Hand me the case."

Trying to suppress a yawn, Darrell passed it over.

"I'll draw some blood."

The robot instantly averted his eye as a comically large syringe rose out of the case.

"I don't think this will work, Professor," Cassidy muttered, her stomach churning. Darrell kept silent but couldn't help wondering how in blazes that monster of a needle was supposed to fit into her puny arm.

"This is a special model."

Venomous dabbed sanitizer onto a pad. But before he could even reach the crook of her arm, Cassidy yanked back, gagging into her hand.

Caught in her line of fire, Darrell flinched and ducked behind his arms.

"Get this – away!" Cassidy stared wide-eyed at the pad in his hand, the smell seemed to fog her whole head.

"G-get that outta here!" Lord Cowboy Darrell snapped, panic cutting through his drawl.

"Alright! Okay..." Venomous lowered the syringe and slid it back into the case. "You're afraid of injections...?" His voice carried more astonishment than judgment.

Cassidy didn't answer. She just kept staring, glassy-eyed, still battling the smell.

The professor sighed, discarding the pad with a thoughtful glance.

"Thanks..." Darrell muttered, his fear ebbing away along with Cassidy's relieved gasp.

"Do you need a minute?" Venomous asked.

"No, it's fine. I'm good."

Darrell glanced at her, clasping his hands in his lap.

"I suppose we'll move on, then," Venomous mused into the air, sighing almost in frustration – though he softened quickly. He opened a drawer to his right, stacked like a cart: an EEG on top, a laptop below, and a cap resting on the bottom tray.

"Where're the wires?" Miss Vile asked, eyeing the cap he handed her.

Venomous blinked, taken aback. "Pretty sure those went out of production ages ago."

He raised an eyebrow at her before turning back to the laptop in thought, while Cassidy pulled the cap over her head.

"I can't believe he's still using these," Venomous muttered, shaking his head in faint bewilderment, wondering if that was the reason she'd been sent here.

"My father's a little... frugal." She shrugged awkwardly.

A dry smile tugged at his lips, joined by a chuckle that vanished almost immediately.

Muttering under his breath, he clicked again and again – "Cob forsaken piece of..." He smacked his hand on the table and leaned back hard, rubbing his forehead with a sharp, annoyed sigh.

"Professor?"

"Sorry... I'm not much of a tech expert and – " Venomous turned the device around, pushing it toward the two cyclopes. "Just see for yourself." He fell back into his chair.

"A... password?" Lord Cowboy Darrell gave a low snort, clearly amused as he leaned in closer.

Cassidy squinted at the screen dryly, then blowing out air with a bit of embarrassment, leaning back.

"Well," Venomous exhaled, " there goes that."

"Let me try."

The robot reached for the mouse, dragging his stool up to the table with casual ownership. Cassidy looked at him, caught off guard.

"Try what?" Venomous asked, gaze sharpened.

"Crack that password." Darrell's hands framed the laptop like it was his natural habitat.

Venomous parted his lips, then pressed them shut again, exhaling through the nose somewhere between tension and irony. "It's not that simple."

The robot gave the machine a quick, pedantic once-over, unimpressed. "Looks pretty straightforward to me."

The professor's gaze held steady on him, his jaw tightening.

The cyborg on the other hand could only stare for now, not yet sure what card to play out to deal with this.

"The system could be fragile." Venomous said.

"I'll keep it in mind." His eye flicked back to the screen.

"There could be triggers." He tried again, sitting straight by now.

"I'll be... careful." Lord Cowboy Darrell said casting a glance at him, a strained smile tugging at his lips.

Cassidy shot a look at him, uttering a small, ironic chuckle to make room for her own growing nervousness. She certainly didn't need this meeting messing with her own setup.

"Y'know, maybe..." She dragged the words, "I should try to get that password before... something else happens."

"I agree." Venomous nodded.

Darrell stopped, fingers twitching above the keys.

"Maybe this here thing should be left to someone who actually knows tech." He said, annoyance now fully on display with his grin stretched into a thin, cynical line.

Miss Vile stared back at him, lips still slightly parted, as she felt her hands clenching on the table.

His fingers went back to the keys, while she loaded herself with cynicism, ready to fire it back at him like a like a sleeping dart.

"I wouldn't call poking at an external system particularly skillful." The professor's voice came out steady, but carried a cold undertone.

His shoulders squared as the words hit, hands dropping down at the table with some more force than necessary.

Cassidy swallowed back her words, eye snapping to the purple man, who looked quite out of the ordinary, tensed up himself, thumbs pressing against his knuckles.

The robot pushed himself up slowly, tightening his hands on the table, his head tilting to face him with a disbelieving sneer.

"Are you sayin' I ain't got the skills to do this?"

Venomous's brows raised a fraction at his act, his hands locked on the table, tight.

"I'm suuure he didn't mean it like this." Cassidy hissed from the sidelines, "right Professor?" she smiled dryly.

"I don't think you understand. This is not a standard interface," The professor said, precise in tone, leaning in slightly. "So that means, we will have to treat it with appropriate care."

An ironic scoff escaped Darrell, as he stared him down with a crooked smile.

"So now it's we?" His hands clenched into fists, anger starting to shake up his posture. "Sendin' me around all day hardly seems appropriate to me. So if you wanna call that Teamwork, you'd better stop treatin' me like one of yer lackys."

Venomous blinked at him, irritated for a moment.

Cassidy pursed her lips and averted her eye as silence fell heavy on the room. She finally let go of her attempt to cool things down, emptying the rest of her soda can, then carelessly crushing it in her hand.

The purple man sighed after a long pause, his head dropping slightly.

"This has nothing to do with your abilities." He said, while Darrell's gaze didn't falter. "But..." Venomous seemed to weigh his words carefully before he looked back up. "you don't know this tech like I do."

The cyborg sat straight, chest tensing up.

"Clearly, this head is not meant for public view, and if Vile found traces of it being hijacked..." he leaned forward, his stare now sharp and unyielding. "there would be very ugly consequences. For me... and for you."

"You seem to know him real good," the robot said after a moment, settling back down with a calm that didn't quite reach his eye. Miss Vile glanced down at her can, sneaking a look at the professor in surreptitious anticipation.

Venomous held Darrell's gaze for another second before finally averting his eyes. As he sat, the pressure to answer seemed unavoidable.

"We were partners," he admitted at last.

"Now that's... interesting." Darrell's voice carried a passive-aggressive undertone as he fought the urge to pull a certain patient outside for a talk. Miss Vile, meanwhile, lost a bit of color in her already pale face.

"I'm used to giving orders, old habit." Venomous said, glancing back at Darrell. "So, bear with me."

Darrell gave a sharp little shrug, "There's always room for improvement." he paused, eye narrowing.

"Why'd you and Vile end up rivals?" The robot stared him down like it was the most natural thing in the world to dig through his past, though the weight behind it felt more like a dare than curiosity.

"I wouldn't say rivals..." the professor admitted with a scratch of his head, the words slipping out before he'd thought them fully through.

"You work in similar fields, right?"

"You could say–"

"So yer rivals."

"It's complicated."

"Vile broke into yer lab."

"Well," he broke eye contact, sweat pooling on his temple. That level of bluntness felt uncomfortably familiar. "At some point, paths diverge. That's simply how these things go." He said with an almost philosophic undertone.

Darrell leaned back, cocking his head underwhelmed.

Cassidy's eye snapped away in a flicker of annoyance while her hands clasped in her lap.

Venomous adjusted his posture, suddenly aware he'd ended up on the wrong end of the Q&A. He smoothed the moment over with a fresh smile. "Speaking of things happening naturally – your sample." With a practiced motion, the professor produced a glass tube from his lab coat, containing a red, rigid substance.

"The results were... fascinating." He rolled the tube between his fingers, eyes lowered. "There's a consistent pattern here. Someone's hand is in this, whether you realize it or not. Accidents don't leave signatures like that."

Lord Cowboy Darrell found himself trapped between both Venomous' steady, expecting gaze and Miss Vile's 'told you so' glance, sitting taut.

"Funny you say that..." His eye flickered, his hand drifting to the back of his neck. "'Cause that's exactly how it happened."

The professors eyes sharpened, leaning in just a little. „You're seriously telling me this got in here by accident?" hidden knowledge tugged at his lip.

„Well, it's..."

Cassidy narrowed her eye, fingers drumming impatiently on her thighs. Her lips parted. „He built a giant thing that sucked the battery fluid out of my board and now it's in his robots." she cut in, tossing the can aside. Darrell's look shot back at her, brow raised to its limit.

Venomous just stared at them both for a moment, mirroring the robot's expression. His lips twitched like he was holding something back.

Then he snorted, bursting into hearty laughter.

The two cyclopes watched his reaction with equal surprise.

„Unbelievable..." out of all possibilities, this wasn't on his list. „do you even realize...how unlikely that is? How lucky you are?"

Darrell narrowed his eye at him, the corner of his mouth fighting with the urge to argue. As usual, Miss Vile was faster with the snarky comments.

"Nah, he doesn't appreciate me." She threw her head back with mock bitterness, equipping the remark with a sideways glance down at him.

He looked at her sourly, a crooked grin breaking through.

„So what does that mean exactly? Give me somethin' to work with." Darrell said, pushing the joke aside with cold arrogance.

"It means, you two created a very powerful tool – by accident." Venomous leaned back with a faint smirk, letting the words hang there for a little longer for him to relish the irony. "That opens a lot of possibilities."

"What possibilities are we talkin' here?" the robot asked, eye narrowing in anticipation.

"Well, think of... a super super glue. A structure that isn't only very strong, but transfers traits, and what you could do with that."

Darrell leaned back like the spark of interest already left him, while Miss Vile listened more closely.

"His robots were still able to break part of my board, though," she cut in. "How can this be if the stuff transfers the ha..., I mean, dense traits?"

„That's a great question." his eyes lit up, flicking toward her for a second before sliding back to the robot. A buzzing came from his coat.

Without additional material, I can only say so much. I'm gonna need further comparison. Something closer to the source."

His gaze lingered on Cassidy a fraction too long, until the buzzing pulled him away. He sighed softly, a trace of irritation slipping through the mask of composure. "Sorry." The man got to his feet, a flicker of hurry shaping his face.

"That late already? I need to leave." His thumb darted over his phone, a small crease tugging at his brow. He slipped the gloves from his hands, some restlessness disrupting his ease.

"Alright then..." Darrell rose as well, moving toward the hook to peel off the lab coat.

"Before you go,"

A shiver ran down Cassidy's spine as Venomous' hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Her head turned to meet his gaze, her body following. He was holding a small suitcase, extending it toward her.

"I thought you might want this back. I have no use for it, and Fink is used to better toys." He shrugged, almost awkwardly, though his eyes flicked once more toward the phone in his palm, as if impatient for the next move.

Cassidy reached halfway before pausing, her eye lowering in thought. "About the syringe..."

Venomous's hand sank a little. His eyes flicked toward her, puzzled, the phone vanishing back into his coat.

"You knew about that."

Silence hung for a beat. "...Yes," he said at last.

"Here." Darrell shoved her coat into her arms with an eyeroll. "We done?"

Venomous once more offered the suitcase, wearing that strange, unreadable smile. Cassidy finally took it. "...Thanks," she muttered, following them outside.

"You have a ride back home?" Venomous asked as he was putting his lab coat on the wardrobe.

"I'll page Ernesto." The robot responded while he finished buttoning his jacket, leaving after Cassidy.

"All right," the man hopped into the car, starting the motor, "I'll call you." Briefly facing both of them, the door was barely closed when he shot down the mountain, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

"Yeah, right..." Lord Cowboy Darrell murmured watching the dust settle with some irritation.

"Guess he thought you meant a ride for two."

"Uh-huh."

"Do whatever ya want Cowboylord," Cassidy set herself into motion, stretching with a yawn. "I'm gonna hook myself on a car and see."

His eye rested on her for a moment before he followed up. "You gonna tell me what's goin' on between you and the professor?"

The cyborg's movement lost some of the elated hubris it always carried, slowing down a bit.

She blew a raspberry "You mean the partner thing? Told you it was complicated. Pop isn't into small talk." She glanced at him with a dry smirk, grasping the suitcase a bit tighter.

The robot uttered a sharp chuckle "small talk..."

There was only the noise of sand crunching beneath their shoes for a moment. Darrell drew in a short, decisive breath, shifting his posture. "He was treatin' you like some kind of national treasure."

Her step fell out of sync for a beat.

"Well what can I say?" Miss Vile slapped on an uppish grin "I'm just special, y'know?" the words left a sour taste in her mouth, snapping away from his scrutinizing stare.

The robot blew out some air from his nose. "What about that little talk ya had? That suitcase?"

She didn't answer.

"That syringe thing..." he shook his head slightly, while she suddenly felt the smell creeping up her nose again. They could see the street from here.

"Yer tellin' me you knew nothin' about any of that?"

They stopped, as there was nowhere to run, just the street lying in front of them. Cassidy clicked her tongue, sighing.

"So he gave me back my suitcase, big deal. Just ask for one next time and while you're at it..." she pulled a grimace, rolling her head into his direction, "ask him all of that. I won't stop you. You seemed to be way better at getting information out of him than me, anyway." A sour note flickered across her face. "You keep forgetting how unarmed and unknowing I am, Milord."

"Right." He looked at her, unfaltered, then snapped his gaze away, slowly nodding.

She turned away, facing the street grabbing the case with both hands.

irst he's staring her down like some scrutinizing Sheriff, and now suddenly nothing? What was he even digging for? "You should know how amazing his acting is, shouldn't you?" the words came out sharp, with less of the joking attitude.

"I don't think he was actin' all that much today, Missy." He stuck his thumbs into his pockets, lowering his head to look at the suitcase in her hands.

"It's hard to tell." she said after a moment "When you told me how much of a snake he was, I kinda thought that was all about hate and stuff. But he really is...shady, gives me the creeps."

Darrell's eye lingered on her for a moment, softening a bit.

"Cain't trust a guy with a syringe that big. At least... his interest in you serves as bait."

She snorted loudly.

"Oh yes, I just love greedy super villains tearing me apart!" The laugh coming from her hit harder than it should have, so that once again, he couldn't really tell if she was joking since... that actually would have explained some of her behavior.

Meeting his gaze with the desired expression, she teeheed. "No front though." she said with a smirk, half shrugging.

While he was still pondering if he should respond to that, her elbow hit his nonexistent ribs.

"Woah! Really got yourself a whole truck, huh?" She watched the vehicle approaching them with ultimate amusement.

"Boxmore sells large goods, Miss Vile." He brushed the dirt off his clothes, puffing himself up a little. "There's only trucks."

"Six feet ain't that tall." She rolled her eye, already grinning, while he climbed into the truck.

"What?" he stopped.

"I was hoping for a horse, that's all."

Darrell squinted into the cabin, hesitating. He grumbled something under his breath, exhaling.

"Just something more... cowboy, y'know?"

"Yer coming or what?!" He turned back to her.

She stared back at the irritation nagging on his face.

"Uh, sure! Why the heck not." Cassidy climbed inside, the robot ushering her to move to the middle while he took the passenger seat, shutting the door behind them.

"A ride for three even!" She jokingly rewarded, "You're full of surprises."

"There's always room in the hold." he dryly shrugged back at her, before they passed a completely burned out car only a few meters after.

"Still better than walking...!" She responded a bit too quickly.

After a smooth ride, the truck finally rolled to a halt at Boxmore's parking lot. Darrell unfastened his belt and opened the door, while Miss Vile prepared to climb out as well.

"Get her home," He said with a sober glance at Ernesto as he climbed out of the vehicle. "And keep her away from the wheel," the robot added with a dry smirk at her before slamming the door shut.

'Could've been... worse for sure.' He thought to himself as he stepped into the deserted office he'd left behind. Darrell dropped into his chair, resting his feet on the table. For once, it felt like things were kinda going as planned. After a day like that, he was actually glad to be back in his office, savoring the silence –

or what was left of it, as he jumped at the sudden roar breaking through the door.

Locked in a fierce struggle, Raymond barreled past Shannon, dashing across the room in long strides. She tore him down a split second later with a piercing shout.

Watching them tear across his office, his eye widened with every step they closed in.

They'd be dead if they actually crashed into the –

"UOGH!"

Lord Cowboy Darrell shielded himself from the robot parts exploding into the air and scattering across the office as silence briefly returned.

He yanked his legs up, startled as Shannon's hand slammed down on the table, a box clenched in her grip.

"AAAAAHAHAHAHAAARGH!" she guffawed maniacally. "TAKE THIS, RAYMOND!!"

Celebrating her victory loud enough for the whole plaza to hear, Darrell's blank stare at the box only seemed to boost Shannon's ego further.

"Surprised??" She leaned across the table, brimming with pride. "Well, you'd better believe it! 'Cause there's that stupid phone!"

"Did she really say that?"

"I swear! He's canceling everything."

"Maybe they're just upgrading the movie room while they're at it."

"Mh...maybe, but –"

Two Lesser Darrell's winced at the presence of their boss, ending their little gossip immediately.

He gave them a stern salute as he passed, slowing down. "Why aren't you two workin'?" He turned back, squinting.

"We were!" one of them said, fumbling with his mug of screws as he leaned against a dispenser of battery acid "We just happened to refill at the same time and..."

"We've only been here for three minutes."

"I'm gonna be back in two minutes. Ya better be gone by then." Lord Cowboy Darrell said unambiguously, continuing on his way.

Last thing he needed was his own clones snoopin' around when he already had his siblings to keep at bay, plus the whole crowding issue. Maybe it really was time for an upgrade – in more ways than one.

Darrell opened the door to his room, looking around. He checked his bed, tossing the sheets aside. The robot hummed, thinking, raising his head to the shelf above his bed. He grabbed his phone and headed for the door, then froze. He made a sour face, hiding the smartphone in his coat pocket.

Back at his desk, he quickly pulled out the phone.

Welcome back, GLASSBRAIN!

The gleeful greeting of the account made him grimace. Right... Shannon had set this up years ago, just to troll him. 

Even though Boxman's dismissal had somewhat smoothed their rivalry, it didn't exactly get rid of their differences  – just shoved them to another level. Social media was only one of these things. Useful when it came to Boxmore' s public image, but managing Shannon while she managed it was another matter.

Darrell stared at the account, disenchantment curdling into annoyance. He briefly considered an appropriate punishment for breaking her promise to delete it. He remembered it clearly, especially the part where she'd laughed her butt off as she shoved it in his face.

Maybe knock a few points off her bibble score...

Getting back to the matter at hand however, it'd have to wait. He tapped his username, going to the account settings.

Are you sure you want to delete your account, glassbrain?

He frowned. Yes.

Please verify you are not a robot.

"What the – you gotta be kiddin'!" Darrell grumbled, impatiently hitting the screen until he was back at the account settings. He really should make her Boxmore's official troll.

Change username.  He wasn't gonna feed Miss Vile any more name-calling ideas.

DARRELL BOXMAN He'd barely finished typing when he erased it again. No.

DARRELL....

DARRELL...BOX...

DARRELL BOXMORE... 

DARRELL MORE... 

No, that wasn't – although? His face briefly lit up with a thought. This was definitely going on the 'Good-ideas-I-need-to-talk-about-with-Ernesto'-list. 

DARRELL BOXMORE 

There. That should do for now. His thumb hovered to the search bar –

"Ew, what's that pic?" Shannon's voice popped up beside him. She leaned out of her imaginary bubble, judging his blurry, old picture in malicious sass.

Great. His brain was summoning his siblings now. That's what he got from digging too deep down memory lane. He pressed his eye shut, shaking his head.

Another voice joined in: "You haven't updated in ages, how shameful." Raymond appeared to his other side, staring down at him in all his patronizing, pristine glory.

Darrell's head sank deeper between his shoulders with unease, staring down at his phone, hands frozen around it like it was a shield.

"Don't let your nerd show online." Enid dropped in from above, sighing coldly behind her sunglasses.

"You look like a total loser!" Rad joined the negative self-talk group, flexing his stupidly large muscles.

He swallowed loudly, every statement dragging him further down. His thumb went to the picture with an automatic motion, hovering nervously.

"Replace everything with me! Everybody LOVES me!" K.O.'s voice boomed through his head, loud and full of obnoxious joy. Sweat pooled on his forehead as the screen went black. His eye snapped into focus for a split second, catching his own reflection.

"You look ridiculous. You're a DISGRACE."

Darrell closed his eye hard again, shaking his head violently. He pressed his head against the phone, bracing his elbows on the table, then kept his finger on the profile picture.

Delete? Yes. His thumb moved to the gallery.

Delete? Yes.

Delete? Yes.

No time to think about when he'd started caring about any of this. His thumb kept moving until nothing was left. Exhausted, he sighed deeply.

There. Done. Nothing left to see, or judge or make him look like a fool. Lord Cowboy Darrell felt like he'd just passed a test, finally getting to the search bar.

Kas... Ke...He glared at the screen.

Darrell yanked open the drawer so hard it moved the entire desk. He dragged out a certain card, slamming it on the table. The robot narrowed his eye, trying to read the letters beneath his own messy scrawl. A dozen results flooded his screen, making him feel like the walls in his head were coming closer as he started scrolling....

and scrolling.

He scrolled up.

He scrolled down.

Up again. Down again.

His head dropped against the hard surface of his fusion chair. Desperation, anger and surrender left his chest as a bawling groan. She probably wasn't even on there! Didn't even need to be here to make a fool outta him... And in front of Venomous out of all people!

His eye gone dull, Darrell aimlessly scrolled through the list of matching accounts. He should just call him and cancel the meeting, probably better if he got this over with quickly.

Melting some of the robots suddenly seemed like a way better option, all this fuss for this stupid glitch. Why did he have to make his stupid clones chew up her board? Why?

One of the profiles disrupted his pity party.

He leaned in, squinting, then scrutinized the profile picture, tapping on it. Darrell read the description. His brain took a moment to take the information.

Finally! A tiny spark lit up behind his eye, laughing with relief. Something stirred up in his chest, almost comfortably familiar. He stopped, fixing his posture like he needed to adjust himself back into character. Now he just had to send her a quick message and the meeting would be all set. Hopefully... she was probably staring at her phone all day if she couldn't even answer his calls anyway.

He tapped send.

You can only send messages to people in your contact list. Add Cassy J. to your contacts?

He frowned. Yes.

Your request has been sent!

His fingertips met in a jittery, impatient rhythm. He checked the time. Two hours left. She'd better answer fast.

Lord Cowboy Darrell sank back into his chair, turning the phone around and setting it down, but his hand refused letting go.

Darrell picked it back up, eye drifting to the profile. He'd have to wait anyway, right? No harm in makin' sure it was her... just a bit more.

Maybe there was something useful in this...

picture of some caterpillar.

He shifted in his chair, burying his face in his hand as he scrolled to the next post. Yeah... that definitely sounded like her jabberin'.

He narrowed his eye. Didn't she say something about a... nest? Why would she post this?

A small chuckle slipped out of him. Four years ago... ancient. For a so-called high-tech company, she sure kept old hardware runnin'. He couldn't have known that – and even if he had... She'd probably end up gettin' a new one sooner or later anyway.

He squinted. That's vile.  Heh.

Darrell straightened a little, feeling something catch in his throat. This was...pretty recent. Charming? He blinked at the picture like it was a puzzle he couldn't make sense of. Maybe... some prank by one of her coworkers? Couldn't be Vile. A weird heat crept up the back of his neck. He forced a scoff, rubbing his jaw a little too hard. She was probably driving people mad all the time. Nothin' unusual. Didn't matter.

Huh.  His gaze lingered for a moment. He frowned.

His eye widened.

Wasn't that – did she make all of these for one mission?? The cogwheels in his head ran for a little longer while he kept reading the description. It was like his head denied entry to the words, staring blankly at the display in his hands.

His gaze flicked back and forth between his legs, dumbfounded.

He wasn't that – was he? Was that an insult?!  Did she just publicly – between shame, confusion and anger about such... impudence of just posting that like it was nothing, he somehow managed to fumble the like button.

A startle went through him, directly undoing it.

He sighed with annoyance, if that didn't get her... well. Speaking of attention. Darrell checked the time again. Fifteen minutes passed. He tapped the message button again, a little more careful this time.

Cassy J.hasn't accepted your request yet. Messages might go to the spamfolder.

He clicked his tongue.

Continue. 

CONTINUE!!!

There went his patience again, this time hitting videocall.

Videocalling...

He choked on his own breath, emitting something like a yelp as he dropped the phone, skidding across the floor like a bar of soap.

Within seconds, it burst into flames and turned to dust.

"WHU- what do I do now???"

How did any of this even work??

"AAARGHNNN!" he yelled, throwing himself on the table "CURSE YOU VIDEOCALLS!" the robot slammed his fists against the desk, defeated.

Some seconds later, the telephone rang next to him and forced him to calm down.

He gasped for air when he picked up.

"Do you have any–"

A burst of screeching and static tore through the speaker. Darrell flinched, holding the phone away from his audio receptors with a sour face.

"BRRRRRT-PBTHHH-BBB–"

"STOP!" he shut her up, a smirk tugging at his mouth and threatening to confuse his anger.

"Figured I'd return the favor. Oh, and thanks for the like."

"I dropped the phone! Where in blazes have ya been?! I've been tryin' to call ya all day and I had to get yer attention somehow..." red with irritation, he still felt a little proud at how smooth that excuse came out.

"Well, I'm awake now."

"You've been sleepin'??"

A click of her tongue, followed by a sigh.

"I'm talking about the car crash you threw me into... from Boxmore's roof, through a nest of demons, apparently."

"Tsk... that's what ya got for ignorin' me." The chair creaked as he shifted his weight back. 

A sly little chuckle rippled through the phone. "Getting territorial now,are we?"

There was a slight crackling on her end. She inhaled. 

"HA.HA.HA!" Darrell snapped back, cynical and a bit too tense. He felt that weird heat creeping up his neck again. 

Cassidy pulled the phone a little away from her ear. "We...have other customers as well, you know?"

"I'll show ya customer..." he grumbled, hating that he couldpicture her exact expression. "Whatever disturbed yer slumber, it's about Ven-"

"Hang on."

Nothing but beeping. Lord Cowboy Darrell stared at the phone in disbelief. Then it rang.

"You really are in a funny mood today, ain' t ya?!" he said once he picked back up. 

 A nervous chuckle slipped through her end.

"Can't block the phone with... that. You were saying, Milord?" her voice voice went back to her sickeningly charming default tone.

"I'm meetin' up with Venomous and he wants you there."

It was oddly quiet for a moment.

"Oh."

Lord Cowboy Darrell buried his forehead in his hand like he could rub off some of the stress. What did she mean, Oh?! "Did ya fall back asleep or am I talkin' to myself here?!"

"No I'm still here."

"Anyway..." he rubbed his fingers together, grounding himself. "Be there in an hour 'n a half."

"Wait – you mean t-"

"Kay, seeya!" He quickly hung up. Nailed it!

Now, only one more thing left on his plate. His eye fell on the pile of dust that once was his phone. He reached for the speaker.

"GOOOOOOD AFTERNOON, potential Senior Deputies! Today's challenge is a special mission."

"About time!" Shannon threw the clipboard into the corner "My fingers are getting all creaky from these stupid routine checks."

"A special mission?" Raymond repeated warily.

"You'll turn up every cell phone store in the vicinity to provide me with... a certain brand! Of phone." Darrell was scanning his surroundings for something to come up with.

He grabbed the nearest object.

"It's the...purple green...striped..." he held up the gummy worm he pulled out of an open bag, wiggling it around like it explained everything. "White BARRY...worm pad."

"You got all that?? Write that down!" Shannon urged Raymond.

"Whoever brings it back first will be my Senior Deputy for a whole week! So give it yer best! Good luck." He ended the broadcast offhandedly and tossed the candy behind him.

That should keep em' busy for a few hours.