A little while later, up on the 13th floor…

‘You know… Jousting. Charging at each other on horseback, stabbing each other with long pointy sticks, all that good stuff.’

[...I mean, yes, there was something similar a very, very long time ago…]

‘Good! What was it called though!? It’s bad enough that you think I’m crazy, I don’t wanna know what she’ll come up with if I use a term that isn’t even from this world. Come ooonnn…’

[...Hastiludes… But, considering she doesn’t have enhanced endurance like you do, she probably won’t-]

“MARSHA! I KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO!” Lucas’s infectious degree of enthusiasm as he suddenly shouts this out makes Miss Masher’s face light up before he even makes the suggestion.

“What!? What!?” Matching his eager tone, Miss Masher roughly sets down the heavily damaged mannequin torso she was lining up with the others, all set in a row to either side of the elevator doors.

Lucas pulls his phone out, opening up a web browser window.

‘How the fuck do you spell it?’

427 sighs, begrudgingly spelling out ‘hastiludes’ one letter at a time for Lucas as he types it into the search window.

He pulls up a page that has a painted picture of two armored knights on horseback, facing off against one another with exceptionally long lances, with the complete rules of the ‘sport’ written out beneath the image.

Making a self-satisfied chuckle paired with a troublesome smile, he holds the phone out so she can see the screen.

She makes a soft gasp, her face radiant as she grins to the point that the gap in her teeth is showing.

“Ya mean, with mannequins as the spears?” While Miss Masher is asking this, she reseats a cracked arm for one of the mannequins next to her, so it is pointed upward, greatly extending its reach.

Lucas nods repeatedly, his own grin growing.

“...AND as the horses!?” While she makes this addition, she picks up a mannequin body by the metal bar supporting it.

“Fuck yeah!” Lucas also lifts a mannequin by its support with his free hand as he shouts this.

“YES!” Miss Masher lifts the mannequin over her head while exultantly shouting this, one of its legs coming loose and falling to the ground from her actions.

“Sweet! Okay, so first we gotta clear some space… Uhh… Half as big? No, like, a third of what the real horses need…” Lucas proceeds to go over the rules in depth with her.

The two of them are taking this far more seriously than anything else they have done for the last several hours. 427 would be double face-palming if he were physically able, just from listening to them plan it all out alone.

Meanwhile, down on the 8th floor…

Jonathan peeks around a corner through a doorway leading into a room with his awaiting steaming medicated bath. He has a towel modestly wrapped around himself, which he is holding in place with one hand.

In his other hand he is, unsurprisingly, carrying Mr. Quacks.

Carefully scanning the room to determine it is truly empty of any terrors, particularly those of a mischievous origin, nor even any bots for that matter, he sighs softly with relief and darts in.

A moment later there is a splash, and his towel falls to the ground near the edge of the large sunken bath.

Sighing contentedly, Jonathan sinks into the bath up to his chin while Mr. Quacks leisurely rides the small rippling waves from his entry into the pool of hot, nearly opaque, medicated water.

After a slight delay, Jonathan starts laughing when he locks his sights on the second rubber ducky floating in the bath as well.

“Look Mr. Quacks, they found you a girlfriend!” Jonathan giggles a few more times after saying this, then he lifts up his right foot to use his toes to nudge the second rubber ducky towards himself.

Once she’s near enough for him to grab her, he gently sets her down right next to Mr. Quacks, then settles himself in for some well-earned rest.

Meanwhile, a few rooms over…

Willy is lying sprawled out on his stomach, his fur currently purplish-blue-tinged from the foamy blueberry facial massaged into it. As he is drowsing with cucumber slices over his eyes, a service bot is gently applying paw balm to one of his feet, being extra careful not to awaken him while it does so.

Meanwhile, over in the ladies section of the 8th floor…

Miss Chievous is similarly sprawled out on her stomach, and not wearing any more clothing than Willy is. In her case, however, she is on a massage table, with her face stuck through the head gap and sipping a fruity drink through a long bendy straw, while a service bot is diligently massaging her back.

She had declared the courtesy towel unnecessary in the presence of exclusively service bots.

As far as she’s concerned, if Jonathan somehow works up the nerve to come over to harass her, he earned the view. But, mainly, she knows it is nearly impossible for him to actually decide to counter-antagonize her right now. Also, his awkward reaction upon seeing her would be more than enough entertainment to be completely worth it, if he were to go against expectations and actually visit.

To her mild disappointment, the service bot tending to her insisted there were no alcoholic beverage options available. Unbeknownst to her, there really are, but the entire bot network was specifically instructed by 23 to not give her any under ANY circumstances.

Even though the occasion has yet to arise, Lucas has a similar explicit ban against alcohol. Also, perforce of proximity, anyone around the two of them aren’t allowed any, either, just so they don’t even have a chance to find out that it’s an option. 23 was very meticulous when assigning the instructions about this, too.

23 will increase the amount of time before it has to deal with either of them in an intoxicated state again to be as long as it possibly can.

Meanwhile, up on the 11th floor…

Mikah is lying sprawled out on his back on his bed, wearing only grey sweatpants. He is propped up by a stack of pillows as he absentmindedly eats cookie dough ice cream directly out of the carton, with his attention focused on the TV mounted to the wall across from the foot of his bed.

The unruly chaos of his curly ginger hair is no more cooperative while wet than it normally is while dry. Some of it is sticking to the sides of his face, and some of it is trying to get as many different pillows as it can simultaneously reach as wet as possible.

Nearby in a small trash can is a cardboard takeout container, with greasy disposable chopsticks as its only contents.

Holding his attention on the TV is a live broadcast of the semifinals for non-supe women’s wrestling.

As one of the women holds the other pinned to the mat, he holds his breath through the ref’s two-second countdown, then groans loudly when it finishes.

While Mikah is angrily having another spoonful of ice cream, his phone lights up with a message saying, “Pay up,” with a request for 20$ popping up once he unlocks his phone.

Grumbling, he hits accept and holds the phone a short distance above his navel for a second, then goes to type up an answering message of, “I swear, if you jinxed Ruth Lesshart too, I’m not your friend anymore, Erik.”

Barely a few seconds pass before he gets back, “Was nice knowing you.”

Mikah hisses before sending back a, “Fuck you,” and shutting off his phone, then returning to his ice cream.

-----

Lucas’s total kills: 7

Lucas’s total deaths: 11

Lucas’s total assists: 1

Lucas’s current GDV: 17.40 (+.01 net change)

Lucas’s fame level: 6.0* (Local fame is completely maxed, he’s creeping up on minor celebrity status even on a global scale. Thanks, internet.)

Lucas's hero suspicion level: 2.0*

Jonathan’s total kills: 7

Jonathan’s total deaths: 2

Jonathan’s current GDV: 6.09

Jonathan's fame level: 4.0* (Local fame is near-max, but everyone thinks of him via his affiliation with Lucas, and not often just for him, alone.)

Jonathan's hero suspicion level: 2.5*

Willy's fame level: 4.75* (Recently increased thanks to a new wave of memes featuring him and Mr. Quacks.)

Mr. Quacks’s fame level: 5.25* (Recently increased thanks to a new wave of memes featuring him and Willy.)

Supervillain social circle size: 15

-----

Little character theater:

Jonathan is passed the fuck out. Like, damn. It’s a good thing the contours of the tub are designed to hold you up, or he’d be at risk of drowning himself.

Willy is no more conscious than Jonathan is, but with a service bot as his companion in the place of two rubber duckies.

Lucas and Miss Masher have cleared out a long strip of jousting space in record time, and are now divvying up damaged mannequins to use as their mounts and weaponry with exacting precision.

427, crying internally: [You two are practically measuring every single crack and chip to make sure they’re equally damaged!? Why are you two taking this so seriously!? I didn’t even think you were physically capable of focusing on one thing this much!]

Author, attempting to soothe 427: Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Just think of it as, er, he’s practicing maintaining any real attention span on a single thing. He could certainly use the experience.

Mr. Quacks, floating alongside his new companion as they keep vigil over Jonathan’s naptime: (quietly) Quack.