'Ok then. Count me in' Ryan spoke with a nod before reaching forward and shaking their hands. Lulu cheered and almost made a move to hug Ryan before pulling back at the last second. Alistair just smiled and thanked him for reconsidering.
'Well I guess finding a name for our club should be somewhere on the list of things to do, but first-' Alistair begun before turning round to look for Casey. He looked around blankly as he realised she was missing. The smile on his fade faded away as his eyes landed on the painting.
'Hey Lulu why don't you go and take the portrait with Ryan and find some paint thinner to wash it with. We can't have Ryan looking like a spider for class' He spoke before handing Lulu the portrait.
'What about the theatre? It's going to be ruined for the show.' Ryan asked and bit his lip as he remembered that it was technically his fault for causing the fire in the first place.
'I'm going to go and set it up so it looks like some freak accident. You spend the rest of the night thinking about how you're going to make it up to you're friends in the theatre club' Alistair spoke before walking through the doorway without another word. He felt confused and that was never good. Being confused meant that he was having trouble figuring things out despite having all the information he felt he needed.
What was it about Casey's abrupt exit that made him feel so strange?
Outside the School
'They did well' Mr Spring spoke with a smile on his face as he walked away from Woodmore school. He was dressed in a long black coat and white trousers. His bleached bone white skin glowed in the moon light as he trotted along the path, skipping every now and again as if both restless and excited at what he had just seen. It had been an entertaining show to watch from the sky light of the library. Plus there was the lighting room that stood above the doorway of the school theatre that he had sat in and casually watched the performance of Alistairs deductions, Lulu's monstrous growth, Casey's inferno and the over all failure of Ryan's phantom performance.
'You mean Alistair did well uncle. The others were thick.' Spat the young man that walked by the side of Mr Spring. He was a teenager, probably the same age as Alistair. He had very dark black hair and his eyes were pale green and seemed permanently fixed in a vicious scowl. He had the look of a rocker. His clothes were black and studded and his shirt had the logo of a violent sounding rock band. His ears were pierced a few times and there were silver hoops and skulls poking out of them. In his hands was a game boy that he tapped away at with such ferocity that it was almost as if the machine was insulting him.
'Now now my boy they all did their part.' Mr Spring lectured with a warm smile on his cracked lips.
'All did their part? Uncle they think your Professor Moriarty! I mean come on! Why would the arch nemesis of their little group make it that easy for them to figure out?' The boy growled before cursing as he lost a life on his video game.
'Oh my boy...' Mr Spring sighed, 'Heroes are supposed to be oblivious to the mysteries. If they knew everything what would be the point of making them jump through hoops?'
'But uncle they're thick. Why can't we kill the spares off and make Alistair fight us with some better heroes?' The boy whined causing his uncle to laugh merrily at the notion.
'Oh my dear boy' Mr Spring chuckled and ruffled the young mans hair, 'Are you jealous of me using your identity?'
'No!' The boy mumbled awkwardly with a frown. Mr Spring just laughed at his reaction.
'Silly James. Your not ready to fight them yet. You still have a lot of things to master before you can call yourself Professor Moriarty.' Mr Spring spoke.
'Your certainly progressing at mastering your abilities of manipulation, deduction, crime resources and of course marksmanship - especially marksmanship, you did a wonderful job shooting through that bottle of paint thinner without Miss Valentine noticing.' He said pleasantly and patted the boy on the back, 'But if you go rushing in with the rest of your pals without preparing like I told you to then you will be killed'.
James seemed to scowl at the notion before grudgingly grunt in agreement. They had now reached the end of the road and were now standing before a long black limo that seemed to blend in perfectly with the darkness of the night.
'They didn't kill Dorian uncle.' James spat bitterly as Mr Spring opened the back door of the Limo and motioned for him to get in.
'I know my boy which is understandable. I guess we villains sometimes forget that heroes can be so weak' Mr Spring looked back at the school and grinned as he watched Casey walk out and head in the opposite direction.
'Don't worry though. There's far more fun to come yet.'
Alistair slumped down onto his bed and immediately regretted it. Even though Ryan had apologised a thousand times for hitting him and thanked him a thousand times more for setting up the stage to look like a gas explosion his inside still hurt. He felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, but before he went to sleep he managed to kick his window closed with his foot.
'No wait Alistair not done yet.' He chided before yanking off his grey woolen vest and working at the buttons of his white shirt. He lived on the bottom floor of his house so sneaking out was never a problem, but his mother absolutely hated it when Alistair slept in his clothes. 'You are not a homeless man you don't sleep in your clothes!'
She had snapped when she had found him lying on the floor in his best suit, a necessary costume which he had needed for a battle against a villainous mad scientist.
It was as he unbuttoned his shirt that he noticed the text message that appeared on his phone. He gazed at it curiously before picking up the phone and reading the text.
'What...but...I?' Alistair stuttered as he read the text over and over again. What had been an enjoyable danger filled night had now turned into a gloomy mess of confusion. He rapidly wrote back, trying hard not to make any spelling mistakes or accidental turn on predictive text.
I'm very confused. Have we done something wrong?
I mean I know that near death experiences aren't exactly fun, but I thought you were ok with that?
Have I done something wrong?
He paused for a moment as he sent the text. He thought over what he had put before typing out a new text.
Don't worry about the shirt. I have plenty.
Appreciate the thought.
After sending that text he paused for a moment again and then slapped his head as he realised that he had put a kiss on the end of the text. That was weird, why had he done that? His brain felt all muddled up as he began to obsess over the texts. He just wanted to go to sleep.