The Wrong Genre

Unexpected Visitor

Maestro had been holed up in his apartment for days at this point. The papers had done him no good—they seemed to all be left over from the previous occupants of the house. In the stack were many odds and ends, such as a written IOU scribbled almost illegibly, a gas station receipt that included 16 packs of black licorice, and a map marked with what seemed to be sight-seeing areas around the city, including the gorge, the museum, and the asylum. The asylum, weirdly, was actually one of the main tourist attractions of the city. Maestro wondered if that was because of some tasteless comedy or perhaps a past drama, or if it had always just been that way.

Either way, none of them seemed to be of much help in figuring anything out, whether it was the location of the new hideout or the reason for the haywire powers.

Alyona had been helping him out—in the loosest meaning of the word. She was really just lounging around his apartment and complaining when he asked her to do anything—but he couldn't really do anything about it. The girl was the niece of his next door neighbor after all, and he was pretty sure that guy was involved in the Russian mob. Then just an hour earlier, Robert had come to join her for a grid search the heroes had put together and Maestro was left in the apartment alone. He had thought the silence would allow him to think more clearly and perhaps finally figure out something important from all of these seemingly random papers, but he had made no progress at all. None of it seemed to mean anything, and strangely enough staring blankly at the same sheets for hours didn't seem to change that.

There was a knock on the door—which coincidentally coincided perfectly with the rumble of distant thunder.

Maestro's muscles tightened at the clear sign of misfortune, and he turned his eyes to the window. He could have sworn it had been sunny—and yes, it still was. That only made the thunder more concerning, actually.

Even more worrying than that, though, was the faint smell of magnolia.

Given the dramatacisms going on and the familiar scent, there were only two people it could possibly be. And given his luck, and the ever-unsettling feel of comedy still settled firmly in his gut, he knew who it would be.

There was a chipper rap on the door that made him scowl, and instead of answering he began sweeping everything into a messy pile and doing his best to gather it into his arms. He would have to hope they would leave when he didn't answer, and then he could escape somewhere else where hopefully they wouldn't look.

Of course, he was well aware that the plan wouldn't work. Between the comedic machinations and just knowing that person too well, there was absolute certainty that he would enter with or without permission.

"I know you're here~" sang a man's voice through the door, and Maestro scowled because sometimes he hated being right. "I'll just come in if you don't open the door~"

Luckily Maestro had an escape route—he always had an escape route, so he was just able to slip out of the apartment before he heard the door clicking open. He vaguely wondered if the man had a key that he stole and/or duplicated, or if he had simply picked the lock, but it didn't really matter at this point since he was already inside.

Now, where to go? His lair had been destroyed weeks ago, and in the chaos he had yet been unable to locate a new one. This man would find him in any of his usual haunts as well.

There was really only one option, and that wasn't even a surefire bet.

——-

"Any luck?"

Flashmob shook her head at Kyle's question as she walked back into HQ. It seemed like they were the only two back so far, and from the disappointed look on his face and his previous question, she surmised that he had also been unsuccessful.