Peppermint

Chapter 11 - Crystalline

***GABE***

How do we get rid of all this foam? Something tells me it's resistant to fire elementals and light as well. And it's sticky enough that dark energy would only make it worse. (Sorry, Harris, you'd be SOL in that case.) Maybe water, though? Or ice? If I can form sharp enough blades, I could puncture the foam already hardening and coalescing around my hands. That shit is disgusting as fuck, and I say this as a guy who's had enough experience handling sticky bodily fluids (mostly his own) that I could devote a section of my CV to it. When I have one, that is. Am I still too young to have one, since I'm not even eighteen yet? Remind me to ask about that at Garrick's Career Center when school starts up again after New Year's.

If I'm still here and not condemned to Third 'Verse dreamscape life at that time, that is.

And if my idea works, the day of that condemnation will hopefully be a little further into the future.

Moment of truth.

I clench my fists as much as I can with the foam surrounding me and weighing down enough on me that it's now extra-hard to move. Cold spreads under the foam, and then the pressure on my hands lightens as ice spikes tear through the surface. Three of them, Wolverine-style, because why the hell not? More geekboyishness on my part, it's not a crime. It's like when Mom got me a laptop for my seventeenth, and one of the first things I did was get myself a Supernatural anti-possession symbol sticker for the lid, which made her squirm. And then Alex, not to be outdone, got himself a sticker with the Eeveelutions, at which point Mom said, "Screw it. My boys clearly have their own individual tastes, and while I can't say I approve, I won't infringe on them."

Basically, the attitude she takes to everything, ever since we became teenagers. She pretends to not wholeheartedly approve - like after I came out - but we all know the truth.

And why am I boring you to death with this account of my past life? Not that you're bored, of course, but I know what you're really here for - me saving my friends' bacon and showing Alicia Wahlberg who's boss.

(Apologies for the clichés, and more apologies in advance for any others to which I may subject you in the future. Because God only knows how dead true originality is.)

Alicia's face falls comically as I start to really tear through the foam, my ice blades shredding it and stopping it from forming that disgusting cocoon. That's me on my way out, and as for my friends, I have to be a little more careful around them. I don't think they'd take kindly to getting spiky ice in certain sensitive places. Well, maybe Park, because he did threaten to relieve Harris of his 'nads-

No, I didn't. Park can't talk as long as the foam still covers his mouth, but it doesn't block the thoughts radiating from his brain.

Excuse me? I specifically remember-

I told him he'd be singing castrato. That's not a straight-up ball removal. Just cutting the wires that carry his testosterone. More highly specialized surgery.

Is that really how it was done back in the day? asks TJ.

"Dom would know." Alone of all of us, Jae has somehow managed to keep his mouth from being foamed to any degree, so he can still talk. "He's the Jeopardy! champion in the family."

"Not the only one anymore," Alicia taunts us. "Not when you're all in jeopardy."

Harris, whom I'm working to free now because he's the next closest to me after Park, scoffs at her. "Really? That's the best you can come up with, lady? I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed-"

"Think about it," Alicia says. "Even when you get out of that foam - all too easy, I have to admit - where do you go from there? Nowhere. You're stuck until I say you're not."