Gladys asked, “Are you going to ask everybody who attacks us to join the team?”
“Likely not everybody.” Adam put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “I suppose I will have to decide each time we are attacked.”
Gladys rubbed her forehead and turned to Dante. “You believe this?”
“It was dumb with the Master of Trepanning, but this time is different.”
“How so? The prick attacked me on the street.”
“Gladys, we met when I was trying to murder you because you were protecting someone else I wanted to murder. Now look at us: best friends.”
“Fair enough.”
The eggs are in the purple basket. Wash down breakfast with a cool glass of orange juice. Don’t trust the lazy scorpion wizard. When the bough breaks, remember to catch the cradle. People only need pasta intermittently.
“His name is Clint Rojas,” said Adam. “The bees are watching his apartment downtown. He will not attack you unannounced again.”
“So what’s his deal?” Gladys asked.
“He seems to consider himself a local vigilante. He wears the helmet as he patrols the city at night, looking for crimes to stop.”
“So why did he bug me?” Gladys asked. “I didn’t do any crimes he knows about.”
“Uncertain.”
“Well, if I were a vigilante,” Dante said, “and a group of mysterious ruffians moved into town, I’d want to look into it.”
“We should ask him to join us,” said Adam.
