I ate a few, penned down some general observations of the neighborhood, and then adjusted the plunger slightly downward, as part of the process of reaching down to fish for another mouthful of overly-salted pork things.

It took maybe a minute and a half to two minutes, because of the regular pauses here and there. I heard the ‘boop’ through my phone, took that as my signal, and pulled my phone out to cancel the call, being sure to keep it at an angle where someone watching from above me couldn’t see the phone’s face or display.

I was nervous, remaining where I was. Every moment I was here, I was guarding the camera, the camera was presumably filming, and we were getting information.

Every moment I was here, I was being watched. My forcefield was down, because having it up risked it damaging the roof, building, or the camera. The locals were getting time to figure out what to do with me.

We wanted to stir the hornet’s nest, to keep it stirred to exhaust resources and keep them from being particularly effective villains. Those same hornets could sting.

I ate some of Chris’s curry in a pita, just to look like I was on a typical stakeout or patrol, and I wished I’d brought a drink. I took notes, with an eye to graffiti and symbols, to names and sayings. Things I could look up later, to see if I could divine any other names or personalities that had settled in Cedar Point.

It was maybe five minutes in total before they decided they were uncomfortable with me being where I was. Across the street, a big guy in costume emerged. Blond-haired, a metal mask with fur on it, and a combination of metal and what looked like horn or natural armor plates on a brown costume. His gauntlets looked menacing, with fur, metal, and studs.

He looked pretty B-list, all in all.

He beckoned for me to come. I wondered if I should gather my bag.

I decided to take a risk, leaving it where it was. I flew down to the street below.

“I’m Moose,” he said. “You’re unwelcome.”

“The last time I came, you guys called Tattletale. She told me to get lost.”

“Yup,” Moose said.

“To me, hearing that, I’m inclined to think I should show up more,” I said.

“Ahh, nope,” he said. “No, I think you’ve got the wrong inclination there, Glory Girl.”

I shrugged. “What can you do, Moose?”

“What I’m going to do, Glory Girl, is I’m going to tell you how this is going to go down.”

“Do tell,” I said.