Chapter 8: January

"That looks like so much fun!" Flo enthused. David had just returned from a flight on Cupcake.

"You want a ride?" David asked.

"Yeah!" Flo replied immediately.

"What do you think, Cupcake? Can you handle an extra rider?"

Cupcake nickered affirmatively. David removed Cupcake's saddle. Looking to Flo, he said, "It'll be easier on her if we go bareback. We can position ourselves better that way."

Flo just nodded. David helped her up onto Cupcake's back, and then he climbed up himself. He put his arms around Flo, to help her steady herself.

"I like this part," she said with a grin.

David smiled, then he gently squeezed Cupcake's sides with his knees.

"Here we go," David said. Cupcake leapt upward, her wings beating strongly. Soon they were a dozen feet up and climbing. Flo was breathless at the feeling. David held her tightly, to make sure she didn't slip.

Cupcake took them in a wide circle around the city before bringing them back to Pendergrast Manor. When they landed, Flo was ecstatic.

"That was the most fun I've had in I don't know how long!" she said. Pickles, however, looked a little piqued.

"I'm not sure your familiar agrees," David said with a chuckle.

"Awww, poor guy. You'll get over it," she told him calmly.

The others were in the yard, building snowmen.

"Anyone else want a ride?" David asked.

It turned out they did. David and Cupcake gave rides to Olissa and Anne next. Finally, Ellie was the only one left.

"You want a ride?" he asked her.

"Not on that thing," she said.

"Cupcake is not a 'thing'," David said, annoyed.

"Whatever. I like my transportation to be inanimate. Well... at least, not breathing."

"Your loss," David said. He went back over and patted Cupcake's side. He took her into the carriage house to brush out her hair and give her some food.

When David came back out, he found Flo waiting for him.

"Can I have another ride?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I just settled Cupcake down for the night," David objected.

"Who said anything about Cupcake?" Flo asked him with a grin.

David smiled at her, and gave her a kiss, then led her into the house.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stroud?" the man asked nervously after entering the office.

David was in Zyla's factory again, looking over the last week's records and receipts. The man who had just entered was one of the factory workers. David leaned back in his chair.

"Have a seat, Mister..."

"Matt Anderczek, sir."

"What's on your mind, Mr. Anderczek?"

"Sir... I was wondering if I could have three days off next week."

"Which days?"

"Wednesday through Friday, sir."

"Can I ask why?"

"Yes, sir. My son is in the Army, and he's been overseas, in Afghanistan, sir. He's coming home next Thursday. I haven't seen him in two years, and I wanted to go down and visit with him. He lives in Pennsylvania."

"I see."

"I know I don't have any vacation days left, sir. I would obviously not expect paid days off."

David pulled a folder out of the top drawer and looked at the top sheet.

"Anderczek... you work machine six?"

"Yes, sir."

David flipped over another page and looked at it, then closed the folder and put it back.

"Okay. I'll give you three extra vacation days, so you can go down and welcome your son home."

"Sir... won't that violate our union agreement?"

"You let me worry about that. This company supports our troops and their families. How long have you worked here, Mr. Anderczek?"

"Seven years in March."

"We also want to keep our long-term employees, and reward them for their loyalty. I think you've earned a little leeway from Trebschau Manufacturing. I just needed to make sure we had someone to cover for you first."

"Lots of people can run machine six, sir."

"I know. That's what I was looking up," David said with a grin.

"Well, thank you, sir. I appreciate this."

David reached across to shake his hand. "Tell your son we said thank you."

"Yes, sir," the man said with a smile, and headed back out to the factory floor.

As it neared the end of the work day, David got up, walked outside the office, and pressed the button that would stop the line again. The buzzer sounded, and everyone grumbled about what this would mean.

David grabbed the PA mike and said, "Would all workers assemble at the office, please? All workers to the office."

It took a few minutes, but soon everyone was standing in the open area just beneath the office. David remained up on the catwalk, so that everyone could see and hear him. He had spoken with Zyla the previous evening about what he was doing, and she had agreed it would help the employees understand their way of doing things.

"What is it this time?" Nick Morello demanded.

David ignored him. "Gentlemen, I want to announce that we completed the order to Lackdon Corp. a week ahead of schedule."

There was a satisfied cheer that went through the group.

"I want to thank all of you for your hard work. I know it was a tough order to get done on their timetable, but you did it, and with time to spare. Zyla and I would like to thank you all for helping to get it accomplished.

"Our thanks comes in two parts. First, we will be providing all of you with lunch every day next week. Please submit your suggestions for your favorite lunch places by the end of the day tomorrow. We'll pick the ten most popular from your suggestions, and have two each day.

"More importantly, each of you will be receiving a bonus in your next paycheck. That bonus will be equal to $100 for each year you've been with this company. Years will be rounded: if you've been here five years and nine months, we'll call it six. We appreciate that many of you have been here for a long time, and we'd like to encourage you to stay through the transition to new management. You are the arms and hands of this company, and we can't accomplish anything without you. Thank you for all your effort. That's all I've got. Let's wrap it up and go home. Everyone drive careful, and we'll see you tomorrow."

David turned and headed back into the office. The somewhat stunned workers headed back to their posts to clean up their stations. Nick Morello, however, did not.

When David turned and sat in his chair, Morello was standing in the doorway.

"You can't buy our loyalty," he sneered.

"Morello, what, exactly, is your problem?"

"You're my problem," he said. "You haven't earned the right to sit in that chair."

"Neither have you, so I guess that makes us even."

"You know nothing about me," Morello snarled.

"Oh, I know a hell of a lot more about you than you know about me, trust me." David opened a drawer and pulled out a file about half an inch thick. "Apparently, you were a pain in the ass for Mr. Trebschau, too." David opened the file, showing page after page of complaint forms. Some filed by Morello, most filed against him. David looked up from the folder. "Do you know the only reason he never fired your sorry ass?"

"Why?" Morello asked disinterestedly.

"Because he liked your father."

"My father is dead," Morello said dismissively.

"Yes. And so is Mr. Trebschau. Which removes any reason for there to be any leniency for you at all in this company. I'd watch my step if I were you, Mr. Morello."

"You don't frighten me, kid," Morello said.

"That's because you're too stupid to know when to be afraid," David replied. "And, like the woman I'm pretty sure you're colluding with, you don't know who you're dealing with. Now get the hell out of my office."

David made sure to follow Morello when he left that night. Apart from rewarding the employees for what really had been exemplary effort, he hoped that their act of gratitude to the workers would also force Morello into doing something.

He was not disappointed. Morello sat in his car, and then slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed.

"There's a problem. We need to talk." He paused and listened for a second. "This is important.... Fine. I'll be at your place in three hours... You want me to come in my work clothes? I need to go home and change, not to mention eat dinner... Three hours."

Morello hung up the phone and threw it onto his dashboard. David slipped out of the car at that point and walked back to close up the shop. After he was done with that, he headed out to eat, just to kill time before he went over to Lynn Hopkins' house.

Tonight's little meeting might be very interesting.

"That fucking kid is going to win if we don't figure this out!" Morello seethed. He was pacing back and forth in the living room of Lynn Hopkins' home.

"You really think that a single bonus is going to make that much of a difference?" Lynn asked doubtfully.

Morello looked at her. "The average length of employment at that factory is seven and a half years. That means they all just got, on average, an $800 bonus check. That's a free week's pay. Yeah, I think that can go a long way, especially when a lot of the workers were already on the fence, after that little speech they gave about just giving them time to make their decision."

"So, what do we do? Hollister isn't willing to wait forever."

"Have you heard from him lately?"

"Last week. I told him we were working on it. He's willing to pay three million for the business... but I can't sell him the damned business if I don't own the damned business, Morello. That's a half million out of your pocket, too!"

"Believe me, I'm well aware of that. What we've got to do is to find a way to get them in the kind of bind that will force them to want to leave the business. Something so onerous that they don't have the stomach to deal with it."

"Like what? The damned OSHA inspection was a complete bust."

"Yeah, he got lucky on that one. He had some other guy come through ahead of time, and Otto's little ploy was discovered too early. That could have cost them enough to maybe make them seriously consider dumping the business."

"So what else is there?" Lynn asked. "A strike?"

Morello shook his head. "I'd have to have a good reason, and I don't. They're living up to the contract. Hell, they're exceeding the contract. He just gave one of the workers an extra three vacation days to go visit his son."

"Isn't that something you can nail him on? He's showing preferential treatment."

"The guy's son is returning from Afghanistan. Do you realize what kind of douchebag I'd look like trying to bitch about that? The union would never back me on it, forget about the workers."

"Then what?" Lynn demanded.

Morello sat down and concentrated. Finally, a smile crossed his face.

"I can file a grievance with the Labor Relations Board."

"Saying what?"

"Saying they're retaliating on people who demand they live up to the contract."

"Are they doing that?"

Morello snorted. "They haven't made any changes to the business at all, and you know your husband was assiduously fair about that damned contract. No, they're above board, all the way. But the NLRB won't know that. I can get three or four people who will say what I want them to say, and that's really all it'll take for the board to rip that company apart with investigations and hearings and paperwork."

"But this could take months. Even years!" Lynn moaned. "I need that business now."

"I have some friends in the right places. I can push this through quick. If you can get Hollister to give us another two months, I'm sure that Miss Zyla Sweetbritches and her boy wonder will be ready to bail."

"Speaking of bail," a disembodied voice suddenly asked, "can you afford it?"

"What the fuck?" Morello asked. Lynn looked ashen.

David materialized right in front of Morello. "Hi there," David said with a malicious grin.

"What the fuck!" Morello repeated. "What the hell are you?"

"I'm the guy who is going to put you in jail. Both of you."

"For what?" Morello demanded.

"Conspiracy to defraud the federal government. Do you like Illinois? I hear Marion is very chilly in the winter..."

"You can't prove shit," Morello sneered, standing up and walking toward the door.

David held up his cellphone and pushed an onscreen button. Morello's voice started coming from the speaker, playing back every word of his plan to file a false accusation.

Morello spun around, and his look darkened.

"What makes you think that anyone's ever going to hear that recording?" he said, advancing on David, his hands balled into fists and his look murderous.

David snorted and raised his hand. A bright light appeared in front of his palm, and sparks floated around it. The ball grew larger and brighter, and clearly contained a very dangerous amount of electrical energy.

"Because I plan on letting them hear it," David said, "and you don't have the ability to stop me from doing so."

"What the fuck are you?" Morello demanded again.

"Right now, I'm the one holding your fate in his hand." David waggled the phone he was holding. "Quite literally."

"What is it you want, Stroud?" Lynn seethed.

"To never hear your name mentioned ever again. To never hear your voice again. To never be reminded that you exist again, for the rest of my..." David grinned, and then said, "life."

Turning to Morello, he said, "So, here is the only offer I'm going to make you. You will resign your job with the company. Your resignation will be on the desk in the office by 8:15 tomorrow morning. If it is not, then I will call the appropriate authorities at 8:16."

"You think that one little tape is going to be enough to convince anyone?" Morello tried.

"Do you seriously believe, once the authorities start digging, that they won't convince others to tell exactly what you've been up to? How long do you think it will take for Otto to crack, really?"

Morello frowned mightily at that. Otto was tough, but he wasn't that tough.

David dispelled the ball of electricity in his hand and lowered it. "And I wouldn't try getting cute ideas about continuing this fight from outside the business. You can ask Ms. Hopkins how much fun a judicial restraining order is."

"You think you're so fucking smart, don't you?" Morello said in a mix of rage and despair. It was bad enough to have lost the opportunity for half a million dollars, but to have lost to someone who looked like a high school kid was almost unbearable.

"Smart enough to have caught you. And that's as smart as I need to be," David said calmly.

Morello threw up his hands, exhaled explosively, and left. David then turned to Lynn Hopkins.

"If I ever hear from you, or about you, ever again... you will regret it."

"I'm not afraid of you," she said, her voice betraying the truth.

"Yes, you are. And you should be. So far, I've played by this society's rules. The truth is that I don't have to if I don't want to. I follow the rules because I believe in them. Don't give me a reason to break them, or you're the one who will pay the price. You know I'm a wizard. You know what wizards are capable of."

"You're not just a wizard. Glenn couldn't make himself invisible like that. What the hell are you?"

"I'm a demighost." David saw her pale. "Ah, I see you know about us. Now, you know why you really shouldn't piss me off."

Lynn just stared at him.

"Remember, if I hear about you again... you won't like it."

With that, David faded to invisibility and left the house. He made his way home for a good long rest. He hoped that he would not be calling the police the next day; it would be a major hassle.

David came into the factory office at 8:10 the next morning. He found a letter on the desk. It was Nick Morello's resignation. It listed as the reason for leaving "personal differences with the new management", and stated it was effective immediately. David nodded, satisfied, and slid it into a drawer, which he locked.

Though the foreman opened the factory at 8:00, the workday didn't start until 9:00. This gave everyone time to come in, check for any posted notices, and get their equipment ready to run. David went down to wait by the main door.

Otto arrived at 8:45. He glowered at David as he walked past him.

"Mr. Detler," David said.

Otto turned to him.

"What?" he snarled.

"You're fired. Clean out your locker and get off the property."

"What for?" he demanded.

"Because I have proof that you were violating safety codes, and working to cause this company harm. Now, leave the property."

"You don't have the authority to do this," Otto said, standing toe to toe with David.

David stared at the man, and then he silently uttered a spell. What everyone else heard and saw was David take a slight step forward and growl the word "Leave!"

What Otto saw was somewhat different. Otto saw David's face pull back into a skeletal visage. His eyes glowed bright red. Out from his head emerged a mass of serpents, which snapped and struck at him. When David opened his mouth to speak, fire licked up from the corners of his mouth, and a voice shrieked the word, "LEAVE!" as if it was emerging from the bowels of Hell.

Otto stumbled backward and fell to the ground. He looked around in terror, hoping for help from someone. The others looked at him as if he'd gone mad. When he looked back at David, he began to wonder himself. David's appearance was completely normal, if annoyed.

"I want you off the property before the work day proper starts. If you're not, I'll call the police."

David walked up to the office and picked up the PA. "Attention, please. Before we start work, I need everyone to gather in front of the office for an announcement. Everyone to the office, please."

There was a bit of grumbling. They thought perhaps last night's bonus announcement was about to be rescinded.

The employees gathered slowly, as the final stragglers arrived. David did a count, and got the number he expected.

"Is everyone here now?" he asked, just to make sure. There were grunts of acknowledgment.

"Okay, just a quick announcement before we get the work day going. Obviously, most of you saw that Otto Detler has been let go. He was guilty of intentionally misplacing safety equipment, as well as filing false claims with the federal government and encouraging some of you to violate safety protocol. As the safety officer, these were not acceptable behaviors. We will fill that position in the near future.

"Further, as of this morning, Nick Morello has resigned his position with the company, citing differences of opinion with management. His work position will be filled soon. His position with the union, however, is up to all of you.

"I would also ask that, as a group, you all choose a set of three spokesmen, to enter into talks with Zyla and myself. These talks will not be about your union contract. They will talk about another aspect of the business itself. Please select your spokesmen accordingly. We will begin these talks next Tuesday, after we've spoken to our attorney. If you'd like, we will hire an attorney to aid you in the talks, as well. Just let us know before Tuesday."

"What are these talks about?" the foreman wanted to know.

"The future of the company, and the workers' role in it," David said. "That's all I have to say for now. Let's get the day started, shall we?"

David moved into the office as the workers milled about, talking with each other in confusion.

"Okay, before we get started, let's do some introductions. I'm not familiar with your names."

The three men in front of David introduced themselves as Randy Scott, Howard Hefner, and Jimmy Earhart.

"You've had a chance to talk with Mr. Lancaster?" David asked them, referring to the attorney they had hired.

"We've spoken, but as we don't yet know what this discussion is about..." Howard said, gesturing with his hand.

David nodded. "Right. You know Zyla, of course, and on my right is Mr. Becker, our attorney.

"Now, just to be all officious and junk, you three have been given the authority to speak on behalf of the other workers?"

"We have... but we would expect to take any offers you are making back to them for a shop-wide discussion."

"Of course. That's to be expected."

"So, what's this all about?"

Zyla said, "I have finally decided on a course of action for dealing with the company. It involves the workers, so I will need your cooperation. I'll let David explain it, as he understands this better than I do."

David nodded to Zyla, and then turned back to the other workers. "Obviously, the legalities of any proposal will be long, detailed, and hard for us normal people to understand. In a nutshell, however, what we are suggesting is this: We want to sell the company to you, the workers."

"What?" Jimmy asked. Howard waved him down.

"You know we don't have the kind of money this company would cost. If we did, we wouldn't be working here."

"We know that," David replied. "What we are proposing is a reorganization of the company from a sole proprietorship into a partnership, with the workers, as a group, holding the controlling interest, but only as time and profits permit."

"You lost me," Howard said.

"Right now," David said, "The company is worth approximately two and a half million dollars, and is owned entirely by Zyla Garibaldi. Assuming we go forward with this deal, I will purchase sixty percent of the company from Zyla. The money from that purchase - one and a half million dollars - will go toward an expansion of the facility, allowing the company to produce more products, and employ more people. We expect to go from fifty to eighty employees.

"Now, this would leave Zyla with forty percent of the company, and me with sixty. The first step in the transfer would be for Zyla to sell thirty percent of the company to the workers. You would pay for your share of the company out of the profits that would normally go to you.

To put some numbers in, we estimate that the expanded company would have net profits of a million a year. Your share of those profits would be $300,000. Because the company would now be worth four million dollars, your cost to purchase Zyla's 30% would be 1.33 million. Now, if you forewent your entire profit share, you could have that paid off in under five years. If you chose to keep half your profit every year, you'd have it paid off in about nine years, plus you'd have $150,000 a year to distribute as bonuses to the workers. Even for 80 workers, that's nearly two grand a year, above and beyond your paycheck."

"But you said a controlling interest. How is 30% a controlling interest?" Randy asked.

"Once you have finished paying off the 30% purchase from Zyla, I will then sell you another 30% of the company. This will give you 60%, total, and control of the company. Again, you will pay me out of the profits."

"So we wouldn't see any benefit, really, for twenty years?" Howard asked.

"If you chose to forego your entire profit share to pay down Zyla and myself as quickly as possible," David said, looking down at the figures on his paper, "you would own 60% of the company, and have access to your full profit share, in just under seven years. If you chose to keep half of your profits, and pay down your debt to us with the other half, it would take just under thirteen and a half years before you would be fully paid off. This assumes, of course, that the company only meets our projection of a million a year in profit. We made that estimate conservatively. It could be quite a bit higher.

"Also, as controlling owners of the company, you could expand the business as you saw fit. Our only stipulation is that, if the company either loses money for three straight years, or is in danger of going bankrupt, Zyla retains the right to reclaim the worker's share of the business, whatever it happens to be at the time."

"So she can just yank it out from under us?"

"Trust me, the language of that section will be such that she would be doing you a favor if she was able to institute that clause."

"So, in maybe ten years," Howard said, "The workers would own sixty percent of the company. Where's the catch?"

"The catch is simple: You have the controlling interest. That means it's up to you to keep the company running. Neither Zyla nor I have the knowledge, or the interest, to run a company such as this. For the sake of her father, Zyla wants to keep the Trebschau name on the company, and wants to keep some portion of it. She doesn't want to see it fail, which is why the reclamation clause is in there, but ultimately, she just wants the company to do well, for her father, and also for you workers. But it will be up to you guys to hire the right people to make sure that things don't fall apart under you."

"So why should we give you guys any of the profits, if we're doing all the work?" Randy asked.

"Simple. Zyla currently owns the company, and so has possession of all the equipment and facilities you need to make things work. I have the capital necessary to provide the expansion. Essentially, we are your investors, and paying us out of your profit is the reason for our investment."

"It can't be as simple as you're making it sound," Jimmy said.

"In detail, it's not. In practical matters, it is," David assured him. "The lawyers will discuss the nitty gritty of it. It's up to you and the workers to say yes or no to the basic proposal. There is one other major point that you will need to keep in mind when making your decision, however."

"What's that?"

"If you agree to this proposal, you will have to disband the union in this shop."

"What for?" Jimmy asked.

Randy was the one who answered. "Because we'd be bargaining with ourselves. The union negotiates with management, but we would be management."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

Randy turned back to David and the others. "We can't make any commitments about this without a serious discussion with everyone else," he told him.

"I expected as much. Once we leave here, the line will be shut down. You guys can discuss and talk through to lunch. After lunch, we'll meet back here, and you can either give us the decision, or you can ask more questions. I'd like to get an answer about the basic proposal by day's end, if at all possible. I realize that an actual agreement will depend on the details, but what I'd like is... basically to know whether or not there is a point in continuing to discuss it."

"Okay. I can take this to them and talk about it. I'm sure there will be questions."

"We'll be around," David assured him. They all got up from the table, shook hands, and headed out of the room.

David, Zyla, and Mr. Becker went to the office.

"You think they'll go for it?" Zyla asked David.

"I have no idea," David admitted. To Mr. Becker, he said, "It really does sound a little too easy a solution."

"It is a very easy solution, for you two. Which is why I expect them to balk at it. They are taking on a lot of extra work, for not a whole lot of immediate benefit. Especially for those with a lot of time in already, this isn't really the best deal. For newer folks, those with only four or five years, this is a much better deal."

"As Mr. Morello informed me, the average term of employment here is seven and a half years," David said.

"That's not bad as far as that goes."

"And, if they're really wanting to do this, they could offer the long-time employees a greater share of the profits. That would give them more incentive to go along with the idea."

"That would definitely help, I think. You should bring that up, if they need some convincing."

David just nodded. Then they sat back and waited.

"So, is that, that?" Zyla asked. They were driving home from the factory after an entire day of negotiating.

"Yes and no," David said. "It won't be official until the lawyers are done, which will probably take a couple weeks. But I trust the workers not to back out of their position unless something seriously falls apart in the legal workings."

"And my stepmother? And that Nick Morello?"

"Mr. Morello and Ms. Hopkins will keep their noses clean, as far as you are concerned, unless they wish to spend some time in a federal penitentiary."

"A what?"

"A prison for technos. It's not a fun place."

"David... I want to thank you for all your help. I know that you've put yourself out a lot on our behalf over the last few months. I want you to know I appreciate it. We both do."

David felt embarrassed. "It wasn't anything major," he told her. "You guys are my friends, and I did what I would do for any of my friends." He drove on, and then said, "And let's not forget, helping you out will profit me to the tune of about $600,000 a year for the next eight years or so."

"After costing you a million and a half, I think you deserve every penny."

David smiled. "Thanks."

"You want to come over to our place for dinner? Joe'll want to say thank you, too." Joe had not been able to get time off from his job, which had irritated him. He thought that perhaps Agent Wilson was punishing him for something, but didn't know what.

"Sure," David said. "I'm going through hug withdrawal, anyway."

Zyla chuckled.

"So, who gets to ride back with you in the car?" Ellie asked.

David grimaced inwardly. This was the kind of awkward question that made his love life a mess sometimes. The others just stood, waiting for his answer.

After a moment, David said, "Well, okay, in fairness, neither Anne nor Flo has ridden in it yet, so it should probably be one of them... assuming either of them want to."

Both girls indicated they would like to ride with him. Flo said, "Anne can go. I'll make him take me for a ride later." Flo winked at David, and he knew she wasn't necessarily talking about a car ride.

With that issue settled amicably, David and Anne helped load up the carriage and watched everyone else head out. David put Anne's bag in the trunk of the glidecar, and then he went over and led Cupcake out of the carriage house.

"Think you can make it back to school from here?" he asked her with a grin. Cupcake nickered in amused response; the trip was no challenge for a pegasus. "All right, girl. I'll come see you when I get there. Be safe."

With an affectionate nuzzle, Cupcake took a few steps and then leapt into the sky. In seconds, she was gone.

David turned back to the house.

"Aren't we leaving now?" Anne asked.

"Well, I need to make sure everything's closed up and the protection charms are in place. Unless," David said, moving close to her, "You want to have some fun first..."

Anne smiled at him. "I like the way you think sometimes."

David's Conjuring class was first thing Monday morning, but after that, he had no scheduled activities until the evening, when patrols would start. He decided to do a solo patrol, just basically wandering around the school, seeing if there was anything troublesome going on. He started on the terrace, walking in a leisurely fashion, making his way through each building as he went.

Once he'd finished with the terrace, he made his way up to the Academy level. Most of the students were in class, and he hadn't seen anything problematic so far. He thought this was good, as he couldn't really tackle a big problem on his own, anyway.

As David was ambling through Hyneman Hall, he noticed that the door to Prof. Arpilla's classroom was open. Her class was not in session at the time. The room itself, however, was bedecked in white, glowing roses.

"I see the phantom has struck again," David said, startling Cat, as she was turned away from him.

She blushed. "This must be taking him forever to do," she said. "And it's driving me nuts not knowing who it is!"

David grinned. "I'll let him know that you're getting frustrated."

"Not funny!"

David chuckled, but then grew serious. "Actually, I will let him know that you're getting a bit... antsy? Anxious, maybe. Anyway, I'll let him know it's starting to get to you."

Cat sighed. "Thank you. This is very sweet, and anyone who would go to all this trouble... but right now, I kind of want to wring his neck!"

David chuckled again. "No class today?" David asked, getting off the topic of her secret admirer.

"Just not right now. Quirk of the scheduling."

David nodded.

"Shouldn't you be studying now?" Cat asked.

"I'm patrolling. It's the first day back, and who knows what The Clan has thought up over break."

Cat frowned. "Yeah. I hope that situation gets cleared up soon."

"Don't hold your breath. Until the Board gives us some more leeway, there's very little we can do that's going to make a difference."

Cat's frown deepened. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you can convince the Board members to see our point."

"Oh. I doubt it."

David shrugged. "Then we'll just keep plugging along."

Cat gave him a hug and a long kiss. "Please be careful. I don't want you getting hurt out there."

"Bound to happen eventually, but I'll try to keep it to a minimum. Just for you," he said with a grin.

Cat blushed. "Go on. I have to get ready for class."

When David reached the Student Center, he went in to retrieve his mail. At that point, his day went from half-way decent to bad. There was not one, but two letters of resignation from DIRT members in his box. David immediately contacted Seth and Dean Lengel.

Meetings were set up with the two members who wished to resign. Neither of them could be convinced to change their mind, or even to remain until replacements could be found.

As David left the second meeting, he worried whether or not they would even be able to find replacements. The Clan was having the effect that he was sure they were going for: they had convinced people to stop opposing them. It was unlikely that people who weren't currently targets would step up for the job.

Just as annoying, this threw out all the work David had done over break to organize stable teams. David would have to spend his afternoon coming up with a new scheme for their patrol schedule.

"Okay, everyone, let's get started," David said.

"Not everyone's here," Charlie objected.

"I'll explain that," David told them. Everyone settled into their seats.

David took a deep breath, and looked over at Seth, who had decided to show up for this meeting, to see how David was going to handle the new arrangement.

"As you can see," David started, "not all of us are here tonight. We've lost Dusty and Karen, both of whom have resigned their positions. We could not convince them to stick around until we found replacements for them."

There was grumbling in the room, as the people felt slightly betrayed by their former teammates.

David said, "It was their decision to make. And all of you need to continually consider whether or not you can continue to do this job. They couldn't, and so they made the right decision. If you're not fully behind what you're doing, you're a danger to yourself and others. Please keep that in mind.

"Now, this obviously threw a major wrench into the works when it came to my scheduling plan, as I had been anticipating three stable teams. We no longer have the manpower to take that approach. As such, we are going to alter the whole system.

"From now on, instead of two teams each night, there will be only one, five-person team patrolling. If you do the math, I'm sure you can tell this leaves us with actually two of our patrol leaders in the team each night. One of them will act as team leader, and the other will act as backup. This will be made explicit on the schedule, so that there is no confusion about who has which job.

"I'm afraid that this does mean less down-time for some of you. While the patrol leaders will still follow their two on, one off schedule, the rest of you will now be on a three on, one off schedule. I'm sorry about that, but until we can get back up to full strength, that's just how it works out.

"Also, our patrols will have to be longer, since there is only one team out there. I know this is a hassle. I am still working to get more leverage for us from the Board of Discipline, but until that happens, remember what you can and cannot do.

"Okay, tonight's team will be Charlie, Colleen, Morgan, Martin, and Leslie. Charlie, you have lead position, with Colleen as backup. I will have a copy of this schedule to each of you tomorrow morning. It'll be in your mailbox.

"One more thing. I will no longer be patrolling with the team on a regular basis. The team is large enough, and having two leaders already, adding a third would just make things unwieldy. I will, however, often be patrolling solo, so I'll still be out there. Don't be surprised if you get a call from me requesting assistance.

"All right, that's all I've got for you. We have no indication yet on Clan activity, so watch your backs. Chloe, Kyle, have a good night off. The rest of us, let's be safe out there."

The team stood up and everyone headed out. Seth walked over to talk to David.

"You think this new system will work?"

"No," David said honestly. "I think we're going to lose more people. They're having to work harder, with no additional tools, and with no additional incentive. In short, we're digging a hole here, and I expect people to leave before it gets so deep they can't climb out of it."

"And you don't think you'll find new volunteers?"

"Who in their right mind would volunteer to do a job that other people are walking away from because they're being harassed and attacked?" David asked reasonably.

Seth frowned. "I hope you're wrong. I will file yet another request with the Board to reconsider your position."

"Thanks, but I won't hold my breath."

Seth nodded, and then walked out. David walked out after him, heading off on his solo patrol for the night, grumbling about the recalcitrance of the Board of Discipline.

They just don't get it.

"David Stroud, reporting as ordered, ma'am," David said to Dean Lengel, after he stepped into her office and closed the door. His voice was stiff, and he was clearly upset. She knew that it wasn't her he was upset at. It was the five people sitting along the wall. The Board of Discipline had been the ones to call this meeting. She just motioned to the head of the Board.

"We understand there was a fight last night on the terrace," the leader said.

"Yes, there was," David replied. "DIRT had to break up a gathering of about twenty Clan members."

"How do you know they were Clan members?" another member asked.

"I recognized enough of them from previous encounters to know it was a Clan gathering."

"One of them says that you struck him, repeatedly, with your fist."

"Yes, I did."

"Why did you do that?"

"He lunged at me, swinging. I did not have an opportunity to pull my wand. What was I supposed to do, stand there and let him beat me up?"

"I don't think I like your tone, Mr. Stroud," the leader of the Board said archly.

"I don't give a damn if you like my tone or not, Professor."

"David..." the dean warned.

"No, ma'am," David said, raising a hand to stop her. He turned back to the Board. "I have had it. You people seem to be under some illusion that the DIRT can make the problems go away miraculously just by existing. Well, we can't. We have asked repeatedly for the tools necessary to do the job, and you have refused us those tools. Tell you what, Professor, why don't you go patrol for a few nights, and handle the problems yourselves?"

"You know very well that Professors are forbidden from directing violence toward the students."

"How is that any different from what you're doing to DIRT? I'm not standing here because I forgot to pay my Christmas Club dues. I'm standing here, putting up with your inane questions, because I dared to actually lay hands on a criminal. There were six of us. There were about two dozen of them. There was no method which would handle the problem without violence."

"You could have called in the rest of your team."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure those extra two people would have made a non-violent approach so much more likely. You have the misguided notion that we have some kind of upper hand on the Clan. The Clan has dozens of members. As of this morning, I have seven. And the last loss is a direct result of this meeting."

"How can that be? The meeting had not happened yet."

"Do you think the team didn't know what I was being called in here for? Colleen's stated reason for her resignation was the inability to continue to do the job with the lack of tools being provided, and the overbearing presence of ambivalent supervision. That last part, in case you're confused, is referring to you people."

"We are hardly ambivalent..." one objected.

"Aren't you? You continue to assert that you want us to do our job, and you want us to succeed, and yet you refuse to make any effort to aid us in that goal."

"I must say, Mr. Stroud, your attitude toward our authority is well out of line."

"You want to fire me? Fire me. I'm not going to apologize for speaking the truth. You have cost me team members. You have caused several team members to get hurt. You will be the cause of the failure of DIRT to achieve much of anything at all. Now, frankly, I have better things to do than listen to you yell at me. I'm leaving."

"You have not been dismissed, Mr. Stroud," the leader snapped angrily as David turned to go.

David turned back. "I'm well aware of that," he said, and then walked out the door.

David was in his dorm room, studying his Divination, when the expected knock came. He got up and opened the door, to find Dean Lengel standing on the other side.

"Is this an official visit?" he asked.

She cocked her head and then said, "Semi�-official."

"Well, that clears that up not at all. Come on in."

Dean Lengel came in, and David closed the door. He turned and leaned against it, crossing his arms to wait for what was coming.

"You came down pretty hard on the Board earlier."

David snorted. "If you think that was hard, you should have heard the things I didn't say."

Dean Lengel smiled. "They are all quite upset with you at this point."

David shrugged, and pushed off the door. "I'm quite upset with them, too, so that's only fair."

"They have a point about your attitude, though, David. They are in charge of discipline here at the school, and thus they are your ultimate bosses."

"In that case, the failure of the disciplinary system lies squarely at their feet, and I shouldn't have to be the one to call them to task for it, ma'am," David replied. He walked past her, grabbing some berries off the kitchen table and offering them to Jailla. He turned his head to face her and said, "Without a significant change in their attitude, DIRT is a failure. Not 'is going to be a failure,' but already is. We are not making a difference, and we won't."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know."

"So do the team members. And I expect to lose more as time goes on. And I also don't see us getting any replacements. And I can't blame them. If I wasn't already in the middle of it all, I sure as hell wouldn't jump into this mess."

"So why haven't you quit?" she asked.

"Because I told you I'd do the job," he replied.

"I think you've well repaid any debt you have to this school by now."

"I didn't say anything about the school, Emile. I told you I'd do the job. Until you tell me you don't want me in this post, I will continue to do the job. Even though I know it to be a colossal waste of time. Moreover, I have more of it to waste than most students."

"The Board wants me to discipline you for your attitude," she said.

"And?"

"And I reminded them that there is nothing in the rules requiring students to bow down before them."

"There is something you should know about this whole mess, too."

"What's that?"

"This is a Woodward problem. I've gotten letters back from all of the other wizarding schools. No one else is having a gang problem. For whatever reason, they are targeting us."

Dean Lengel frowned. "Perhaps it's just geographical?"

"That's possible. I've asked Garibaldi to look into it."

"Okay. I am sorry about the Board, David. I know they're not cooperating... but antagonizing them isn't going to get you anywhere, either."

"Neither did asking nicely, so what difference does it make? Venting at them at least made me feel better." David paused for a moment, and then, remembering one of his favorite quotes, he said, "'When others do a foolish thing, you should tell them it is a foolish thing. They can still continue to do it, but at least the truth is where it needs to be.' I can't make them do what's right for the school, but I can tell them that what they're doing is wrong."

"There are probably better ways to point out their mistakes, though," she tried.

"None that are as satisfying. And, as I've already decided that the Board is a collective group of idiots, I don't expect them to change no matter how I present things to them. I might as well get some benefit out of such meetings."

Dean Lengel just smirked at him.

"Do you still want me in this job, Emile?" David asked seriously.

"I can't think of anyone else I'd trust with it," she replied. "Just try to keep from angering the Board too greatly."

"Uh-huh. See what I can do about that."

Jailla chuckled in amusement, knowing that David would make no such attempt. The dean smiled, and then left.

"I know that you are loyal to her," Jailla said, "but even she expects you to quit. Why are you still doing this job?"

"Because somebody has to. If not me, then who's going to?"

Jailla chirped in harrumph, but kept his peace.

"You wanted to see me, Ma'am?" David asked upon entering the dean's office the following day.

"Yes, come in, David. There's someone I want you to meet. David, this is Lopeletote... um... I'm sorry, I've forgotten the rest already," she said to her guest embarrassedly.

The man grinned at her. "Just call me Bob."

"Thank you. David, this is... uh, Bob. Bob, this is David Stroud. He's our Information Officer, and the head of the Discipline Response Team.

As David shook the man's hand, Dean Lengel said, "David, Bob is here to audit the school for a semester. Given his background, we're a little concerned about some... difficulties... that may crop up."

"Okay. What's his background?"

"I am a cave dragon."

David eyed him to see if he was joking. Bob recognized the look.

"After a certain age, dragons are capable of taking a humanoid form."

"I see. Just how old are you?"

"A hundred and six."

"And you're just now learning magic?"

"Human magic. Dragon magic had to come first."

David nodded. "But you're only auditing? Why aren't you a registered student?"

Dean Lengel explained, "Because his knowledge of basic magic is already fairly advanced, it makes little sense to have him sit through entire classes. Also, the dragons are not party to the licensing requirements of human wizards. As such, he'll sit in on whichever classes he feels are worth his time."

"Fair enough. Um... what issues are we likely to encounter that I need to be involved with?"

"Well, first off, his dragon nature is to remain secret. We're hoping for better results than we had with you in that regard," she said with a grin. David grunted in amusement.

"The hair's probably going to be a problem, then," David pointed out. Bob had blue hair with a slight purple tinge at the ends. He also had a pale scaliness around his eyes.

Dean Lengel nodded. "We're trying to think up an explanation for that. Anyway, the second thing is that Bob has a bit of a temper. Since you have been through an anger management seminar, we were hoping you might be able to pass along what you learned."

David snorted derisively.

"What?" Dean Lengel asked.

"Ma'am, I didn't learn a thing in my seminar. I don't know if they're all like that or not, but my instructor did not convey a single piece of useful information. I can teach him what I've learned since becoming a demighost, but it may or may not help him."

"Still, it's better than where he is right now."

"Fair enough," David said. "So... is there anything more you need from him?"

"Nope."

"Come on. Have you had the tour yet?"

"Not as such," Bob replied.

"I'll give you the tour while we talk, then."

David led Bob out of Beckett Hall, giving him some basic school information. As they walked, he finally had to ask.

"So, what exactly is your real name?"

Bob replied, "My full dragon name is Lopeletotenekatuhedovetemononagukalani."

"... Bob it is," David replied after a second. Bob chuckled.

"You said you were a cave dragon?" David asked.

"Yes."

"I know a cave dragon... a young one, anyway..."

"Really? Where did you meet him?"

"Here at the school. He's acting as familiar to one of my friends."

"Ah. You mean Bisperion. He is a member of my clan."

"Really? How did he end up in Louisiana?"

"It is a long and private story," Bob said.

David nodded. "How come I can pronounce his name?" David asked with a grin.

Bob smiled. "He is not a member of the royal bloodline of the clan, and so his name is somewhat more modern than mine. As the next in line to rule, my name must be traditional."

"So your father is the head of the clan?"

"My mother, actually. Cave dragons care not whether they are ruled by male or female. It is the right of the firstborn, whatever their gender."

David nodded. "Don't suppose you'll tell me how long dragons live, huh?"

"Is it always this sunny here?" Bob asked in reply. David grinned and shook his head. They carried on their discussion of the school as they walked. David then took him to dinner, where he met Olissa, Flo, Brock and Trish.

After the meal, Bob and David left the meal hall.

"Which dorm are you staying in?" David asked.

"They have actually assigned me an empty apartment in Firebird Dorm," Bob said. "They felt it would cause less problems that way."

"Hmph," David said. "Wish they'd have done that with me."

"Your time here has not been pleasant?"

"Let's just say that not everyone here likes non-humans."

"Ah. That is why I must keep my identity a secret. I wouldn't deal well with those who would hassle me for being a dragon."

"Yeah, and we don't need any seared sorcerers," David replied with a chuckle. Then he said, "Come to that... do you have the ability to breathe fire yet?"

"Yes."

"Good to know."

David dropped Bob off at his dorm room, told him to mirror if he needed anything, and then went on his patrol for the night. Waste of time or not, he'd promised to do it.

"Good afternoon, David."

"Good afternoon, Professor. I'm here for my advisory meeting."

"Right. So, last semester you were working on studying blockbusting. We covered your progress at the end of last semester. What more do you think you can learn?"

"Actually, I was kind of hoping you could tell me that. I can't find any more information about the subject. I've looked through all the books in the various bibliographies, to the point where they are all referencing each other now. I have done what little practice I can, with you and Prof. Dartson. At this point, I need some guidance as to how to continue."

"Do you have a list of the books you've read through?" Prof. Zoroaster asked. David handed it over. After a careful reading of the list, he handed it back. "You've covered the entire subject. More thoroughly than I did when I studied it, in fact. Probably why Prof. Dartson is better at it than I am," he said with a smile. "In short, I don't think there's more for you to do with blockbusting. I'd like to set up a time in a couple weeks when Prof. Dartson and I can test you on exactly how good you've become with it."

David nodded. "Okay... so should I just move on to the divinatory objects stuff now?"

"Yes. Let me give you a list of books to read. I'm also going to give you a list of things to attempt to create. Feel free to create other things, as well, but I want to see if and when you can manage these particular items."

"Okay, no problem, Professor."

As he handed David the lists, he asked, "David, have you been keeping up with your other divinatory practice?"

"From time to time."

"So you use your crystallomancy?"

"Yes sir. About once every couple weeks, I do a... well, I guess you'd call it a general sweep, just to make sure nothing seriously bad is about to happen."

Prof. Zoroaster nodded. "And your oneiromancy?"

David frowned. "I've never really made use of that. No one's asking me to interpret dreams... and I don't have any of my own that I want to know more about."

The professor frowned as well. "We will have to do something about that. You shouldn't lose that skill through lack of use."

David nodded.

"Anyway," the professor said finally, "Go collect these books and get to work. I'll want to see you in a week, just to see the direction you've chosen to start in. By then, I'm sure I'll have a time for your blockbusting test, as well."

"Okay. Thanks, Professor."

"Not at all. Have a good day."

"You, too, Professor."

"Yes, Yolanda?" David asked.

"Professor, when are we going to get back to talking about the Conjuring Room?"

David grimaced. Not at her question, but at the continued joke - or so he thought of it - of his students referring to him as "Professor". He made no mention of it, since he felt that drawing attention to it would only make it worse. To Yolanda, he said, "In about a week. We need to make sure that your conjuring skills are ready for what's to come, as the next step with the Conjuring Room is pretty intense.

"As I told you all last week, this is the last of the Conjuring classes. If you wish to continue on with Conjuring from this point, you will have to make an arrangement with Prof. Blackstone or Prof. Sarantakos. Before anyone asks, no, I will not be able to act as your faculty advisor for Directed Study, as I am not an actual faculty member.

"Okay, we're just about out of time. Are there any other brief questions?"

There were none.

"All right. Thank you, and we'll see you next time. Try to practice your skills between now and then, so you'll be all warmed up for next time. Have a good one."

The class gathered their things together and headed out, while David sat at the desk and made a couple of notes. He tried to do this, to help him keep track of students and where they were in their skills. Prof. Blackstone waited for him to finish.

When David was done, Prof. Blackstone said, "Another first-rate class, David. You really do have a flair for this."

"If you say so. Professor, I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Well, you said that I'll be testing for mastery at the end of the semester, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, these guys will be done with their classes at the end of the semester, too. How was my apprenticeship different from just going to class?"

Prof. Blackstone smirked. "Do you know more than your students?"

"Um... well, I suppose..."

"Of course you do. You know significantly more than they'll know, even at the end of the semester. It is merely coincidence that your apprenticeship is ending at that point. Normally, it would take another year for someone to reach mastery. Maybe even longer. But you know things that they will never learn. Even the Directed Study students will probably never reach mastery, though they are able to ask to be tested. No, David, your training in Conjuring has been much more complete and intensive than what they're going through. You know that."

"Yes, sir. I guess it just feels a little strange that we're ending at the same time."

Prof. Blackstone nodded. "I can see that it would, but, as I said, that's merely a coincidence."

"Well, I'll let you have your desk back," David said.

"Until it becomes yours..." the professor said.

David snorted.

"I'm telling you, David, you should really consider teaching as a profession. Four months a year of vacation, steady work, nice benefits, and you can make a real difference in people's lives. Besides, as you can see, your students already think you are one."

"Frankly, their running gag is getting a little old," David admitted.

Prof. Blackstone looked at him. "It's not a gag to them, David. They're not making fun of you. You can hear it in their voice, and in their questions. You are their professor, and they are treating you as such. Don't dishonor that respect."

"Yes, sir. Anyway, I still don't know what I'm going to do when I leave school."

"How much longer are you planning to attend?"

"Probably the full eight years. It just makes sense. I've got a very long life ahead of me, so I should probably get all the training I can in the beginning."

Prof. Blackstone nodded. "Well, I'll not badger you further... today. Do think about it. You would be an asset to any academy that hired you."

"Thank you, sir. I will. But just so you know, there is only one academy I would ever consider working for."

Prof. Blackstone just smiled at that and nodded. "See you next time."

David left the class shaking his head. He felt the professor was overstating his ability. He'd lost so many students last semester, it was discouraging. He knew, intellectually, that it was normal, and that he'd lost fewer students than was the average, but it still bothered him on an emotional level.

For the moment, he tried to put it out of his mind. He had some Potions work to do for the vampire family in Travaysal. He headed toward Alton Hall to get started.

"Good evening, Professor," David said as he entered Prof. Rutherford's office.

"Well, hello, David. You're here for your advisory meeting?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, have a seat. I'm sorry we couldn't meet last week. I had a small family emergency to deal with."

"Everyone's okay, I hope..."

"Oh, yes. It wasn't that kind of emergency. Anyway, I hope you haven't been just sitting around waiting for me..."

"No, ma'am. I went ahead and looked up and purchased some books on pyromandy, and got started reading. Professor, why do I sense that your desire for me to focus on pyromandy this semester has something to do with my new buddy, Bob?"

Prof. Rutherford grinned sheepishly. "Well, I did figure that perhaps you should take advantage of the opportunity he presented..."

"Uh-huh."

"So. Pyromandy. You were fairly effective at that, as I recall. Do you intend to tackle it as you did terramandy, focusing on smaller control?"

"Yes... but I don't think I ever reached my upper limit on power with pyromandy in class, so I'll actually want to figure that out, first."

Prof. Rutherford nodded. "That's where Bob can help. Since he can provide a rather large source of flame, it will allow you to see what you can do."

"Is it possible for a pyromander to create fire?"

"Have you ever created any element that you have manipulated?" Prof. Rutherford asked.

"Well... I mean, we created wind..."

"But wind is merely moving air. Did you create the air?"

"No."

"There you have it. Elemandy is a manipulation, not a creation. If you want to create fire from scratch, you'll need your wand and a hono charm, or a talent you don't possess."

David nodded.

"So. For now, I'd like you to simply go big. Whatever you can manage. Please don't burn down the school," she said with a grin.

David chuckled. "We both know I'm not that good."

"Yes, well, with pyromandy, being not good enough is almost more dangerous. Anyway, work on that for the next... oh, say, two weeks. Then come back and see me, and we'll discuss further work in the other direction."

"Yes, ma'am."

"By the way, on a personal note... I don't suppose you'd let me in on who Cat's mysterious suitor is, would you?" Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Not a chance, Professor. You're Cat's best friend."

"I can keep a secret," she pouted.

"Nuh-uh. Say hi to Lyssa for me," David said, changing the subject intentionally.

Prof. Rutherford grinned. "Okay, fine. Keep your secret. Have a good evening, David."

"Good night, Professor," he said as he headed for the door.

David was walking through Pegasus Dorm, doing a solo patrol. The team was actually up on the terrace, but David liked to keep his distance from the team, so that they would cover as much ground, at least visually, as they could. As he walked past open doors, he heard snippets of conversation, all of which seemed perfectly normal and harmless.

As he reached one door, however, someone lunged out of it and knocked him against the wall. Two other people emerged from that room. One punched him, sending him sprawling to the ground, as he was already off balance.

He saw three more people emerge from the room he'd just passed by, and they came to join the crowd. Someone kicked David in the ribs, sending jabs of pain through his body. Two of them dragged him to the center of the hallway, and then they surrounded him. The kicks and blows started to rain down in earnest at that point, and David was quickly bruised and battered.

Though it was difficult to concentrate through the pain, David's anger managed to push through and allow him to focus. He summoned all the energy he had and screamed, "ODRAZIT!"

All six of his attackers were flung backward against the wall. One of them hit his head and slumped to the floor, unconscious. The others were stunned momentarily.

David lurched back to his feet. He could tell there was something wrong with his ribs, and his left arm didn't feel right, either. Before he could draw his wand, one of the attackers came at him again.

David's attacker swung, but David was able to just barely dodge the punch. He then stepped forward and drove his fist into the middle of his attacker's face. Blood spouted everywhere, and the attacker screamed in pain. The man's nose was obviously broken. He staggered away, blinded by the sudden, intense pain he felt.

Now having the opportunity, David pulled his wand. Another of the attackers came forward, holding his fists in a fighting posture. David performed pichac, sending the man to the floor.

Two more came at him now, and David hexed the two of them, turning them into statues.

The one remaining attacker punched David as hard as he could in the back of the head. David staggered; the punch nearly took him to the ground again. After a second to recover, during which the man stupidly failed to follow up on the attack, David planted his foot, whirled on the man, and delivered a punch directly to his jaw. The man was knocked off his feet and hit his head on the floor as he fell, making him woozy.

The attacker that David had cast pichac on got up, but he made to run. David said, "Oh, no you don't. Reteni pida!" Tendrils whipped out of David's wand and held the attacker firmly in their grasp. He fell to the floor, the tendrils wrapping around every limb of his body and holding him immobile.

David, seeing there was no one left to harm him, put away his wand. The noise had gathered onlookers, who could see that, though David had been victorious, he was clearly hurt. One of them ran to his side.

"Do you need help?" the guy asked.

"Could you call Healer Hall for me?" David asked, slumping against a wall. "And the head of security, if you would."

"Sure thing," the guy said, running to get his mirror. David stayed where he was, wincing in pain and watching over his prisoners. The one with the broken nose was still groaning in pain.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you asshole," David told him. "You got what you deserved."

"David... no offense, but you look like hell," Dean Lengel said when he walked into her office. Healer Hall was with him, to keep an eye on him. He was walking with a limp, and it was clear that he was stiff and sore. The grimace on his face with each step spoke of the pain in his ribs.

"I haven't yet repaired my injuries. I wanted to make sure they saw the results of their actions."

The head of the Board of Discipline bristled. "We had nothing to do with the attack on you!"

David turned to them. "Yes, you did. You made it possible. You even encouraged it. You did so by showing The Clan that there were no real consequences for their actions."

"You can't prove it was The Clan," one of them sniffed.

"As you are a professor, I will assume you are not, in fact, a moron. Therefore, I will take that comment as intentional stupidity, and ignore it," David said, glaring at the professor who had offered such a nonsensical comment.

"Anyway, it seems like you came out all right. You're out of the infirmary already."

"Because I am a demighost. And Healer Hall's not happy about me standing here, trust me. Annie, if this had been anyone else, how bad would it have been?"

"David has four broken ribs, a broken upper arm, and a crack in his upper right leg, along with possible internal damage. I would have kept him in the infirmary overnight, just to be sure, and his arm would be in a cast for a couple weeks."

The Board of Discipline looked a bit grim at that pronouncement. The leader said, "And you think there was some way in which we could have prevented this?"

"You could have given us some teeth to bite with," David said. He winced in pain, and then said, "Excuse me a minute." David crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He faded to ghost form, which was slightly more painful than usual. That finished, he opened his eyes again. "My body needs to heal, and I can't do that in physical form. Anyway, yes, you could have prevented this. You could have given us the tools we've been asking for over the last three months."

"And how many people did you put in the infirmary tonight?" the leader asked.

"Two. Both of which have already been released. It was a six on one fight, Professor. Did you expect me to not hurt anyone?"

"You could have simply faded to ghost form and left," he replied.

"Yes, I could have. Except that it violates the rules we're supposed to operate under, because it would have let a serious violent offense go unanswered. Furthermore, had I done so, it would have invited even further attack later. You have already made my job impracticable. I'm not going to aid you in that process."

"Look, this is a debate that could go on for months. I see no reason to rehash it now."

"No, I'm sure you don't. And that's the issue; you see no reason to bother changing your position. And so I'm going to help you with your vision problem. I will no longer allow my team to put itself in danger without serious support from this office."

"Meaning what, exactly, David?" Dean Lengel asked.

"Meaning that the DIRT will no longer go on patrols. We will no longer respond to calls for help. In short, we are giving up. If you're not willing to help us, why should we help you? Perhaps our absence will show you the benefit of actually supporting the team. Perhaps not. But until such time as this board grants us the tools we need to do the job, I am not going to allow my people to be harassed and injured for no purpose whatsoever. I will encourage the other members of my team to remove their badges. I will continue to wear mine. I am not in as much danger as they are."

While the board was digesting this information, David faded back to solid form. He was sore, but his injuries were healed.

"You can't dictate to us. We are in charge of discipline at this school," the leader replied haughtily.

"And you cannot dictate to us," David replied simply. "Yes, you are in charge of discipline. So you deal with it. We're done. We are students. We're not police. We're not even security officers. We haven't been trained how to do the job with both hands tied behind our back. So, either remove the bonds that are hampering us, or find someone else to try the impossible. We're not doing it anymore."

David turned and headed for the door, Healer Hall in his wake.

"We haven't said you can go yet," the leader snarled.

David turned and faced him. "You seem to be laboring under the illusion that I give a shit." With that, he turned and left.