Slow and Speedy Win the Fight

77. Papers

Haresa

Sheldon stared at me blankly as he always does but had an assortment of metal parts on the coffee table.

He seemed to do this every day since the show off and would walk home instead of straight up disappearing like usual. I wasn't sure what exactly was going on but the watch that broke seemed to have been really important to him.

"So, investigation points." I took out the sheets of paper from a folder and laid them on the table. "Where should we start?"

I rifled through the papers and plucked one out of the pile before sliding it to be in Sheldon's line of sight. His eyes flicked from his repairing project to the page and his tinkering slowed down for a brief moment.

He was surprisingly compliant so far aside from the bizarre request of asking me to turn off my phone and put it in another room. He didn't seem to trust me as he had to watch me put away my phone and even made me take the battery out of my phone before I put it into my desk drawer. I was going to ask him more about it but he shook his head at me indicating he didn't want to explain.

Sheldon was odd but he wasn't completely crazy. There was a reason why he had an advantage over me when we were younger so I could only trust him on this. We were now a team. A temporary team but a team.

"The last rental was on the night of the show off which is no surprise but it was booked in advance according to the documents."

"Are there any names?"

"It says Webspun booked the reservation but we can see that two people checked out the helicopter." I reread the document. "Carabao which was the one we fought back there and Reynard."

The metal parts Sheldon was fiddling with were now on the table.

"I feel like I know a Reynard, I'm just having a hard time remembering..." My eyes wandered toward the other side of the room. "I did investigate Webspun not too long ago and the security guard was very suspicious. Do the names sound familiar to you?"

"Reynard," Sheldon said gruffly.

I leaned forward with my nose scrunched up. "What about him?"

He let out a small mumble and I frowned.

"What?" I asked.

"...might have dated him."

My eyebrows were raised so high that I swore they nearly touched the ceiling. "Holy chips, I thought you didn't have a dating life before Rudra."

"Can you fucking swear like a normal person?"

"Why do you prefer I say holy crisps? I didn't think you were British."

"No!" Sheldon's hands to the side of his head and he let out a strangled noise. "You know what? It's fine. It's stupid. It's fine."

"I didn't see Reynard at the show off so he was probably the one operating the helicopter." My eyes scanned the papers further. "Yes, it looks like he has a licence for flying. They scanned a copy of it and made sure he was following safety procedure."

"I don't remember having to do all this." He took the papers and flipped them around before he tilted his head.

"You straight up broke so many laws to get the helicopter. They made everything tighter because of you."

"Wow, look at me being an icon at a young age."

"This wasn't icon behaviour! It was criminal!" This was the guy who was going to be president of GSA. Him. This fool. How can I trust him with something Mia trusted me with?

"It's not criminal if I was too young to be prosecuted. Their fault for leaving so many keys and screwdrivers out in the open too."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Okay, let's get back on track. You dated this guy so you know him fairly well, right?"

"I thought I did."

"Sheldon—"

"Are you two, okay?"

Dad interrupted us and he stood at the door with concern. He must've come back early from work as he had his jacket on still and his hair was messy from wearing a hat.

"Yes, Pa. We're just working."

"For school?"

"No, for work."

He looked between the two of us as he hung up his coat and he nodded. "Hard to working lots. Want snack?"

"No, I think we're okay."

"Speak for yourself, I'll have some snacks!" Sheldon was now sporting a large grin and my dad smiled back at him.

"Okay, I go make."

He made his way toward the kitchen and a knot formed in my stomach. Dad seemed to really like Sheldon.

"Hare."

My eyes refocused on Sheldon, and he fiddled with his watch. There were more completed pieces than I remembered but I wasn't sure if he had them before or not.

"What?" I hadn't heard him call me that in a little bit.

"Webspun is funding Reynard and Carabao which means they're either trying to do a publicity stunt like when I pulled off at the pharmacy or they're going to try and keep this under wraps," Sheldon said. "Which means once the contract with the antiheroes is finished, people will think it was just a random villain plot."

"Wait, how do we even know they're antiheroes?"

"Reynard was—is—one and Carabao looked too young to get a hero or villain licence. We may have them but we're exceptions, not the rule."

"There are antivillains," I pointed out and Sheldon laughed.

"Those guys? They're a niche start-up. They haven't gotten enough notoriety to be a real factor."

"But you said that Webspun might want to stay under the radar and if I were Webspun, I would go to the least-known people to do my business," I said and pointed at him. "Didn't you also say you thought you knew Reynard? How do you know he was actually an antihero?"

"I..." His face slowly morphed into a frown and he shook his head.

"Chompoo, got today," dad said and he set down the plate of cut fruit on the coffee table in front of us.

"Thanks, Pa."

Sheldon stared at the pate in front of him in deep thought and he slowly took a piece off the plate.

"What the hell do we do then?" He asked while biting into his snack.

"Establish what we do know. What did Reynard look like?"

"He's Chinese French. I know the French part is real."

"How?"

"Bread arguments. So many bread arguments."

"Ah...?"

"He was always very smug when he talked about his work. He was also a huge flirt."

The missing piece in my brain clicked and I made a gasp in recognition.

"I met him," I stared at the photocopied licence. "He was the security guard at the Webspun headquarters."

"Him? A security guard?" Sheldon's fingers grabbed another slice of fruit. "That's weird."

I riffled through the pages with newfound energy and the paper crinkled between my fingers.

"We're definitely onto something here."