The Twins' Home
The twins returned home that evening to the familiar noise of their family. In the kitchen, Mandy and Dexter were preparing a pungent, spicy supper. In the living room, Wess was bellowing at the television; his football team was decisively losing to Mandy's favorite.
Mandy called out without turning from her chopping board, "I beat you every time, babe! You should just switch teams at this point!"
"Screw you and your team!" Wess shouted back, stomping his foot hard enough to rattle the kitchen's metal racks. "We're just having a bad season!"
Wayne walked in, rubbing his ears. "You're always yelling, geez." He bypassed Wess and walked straight to Dexter. "Hey, Dad."
Dexter, carefully peeling vegetables, smiled warmly. "Hey, how was your day, son?"
"Hell, as usual," Wayne replied with a sigh. "How was yours?"
Dexter gave a quiet, soothing laugh. "Quite all right. Say, did you happen to get any of that math homework today?"
Wayne avoided eye contact. "Umm... maybe."
"We'll work on it when you're ready," Dexter promised.
"Sure. Sup, Mom."
Mandy pulled Wayne into a quick, powerful hug that nearly squeezed the air out of him. "Hey, boy. We're making your favorite today: The Lava Chili."
"Ah, a ray of sunshine," Wayne mumbled. "Thank you."
He walked upstairs, throwing a defiant glare at Wess on his way past. Wess's muscles tensed, his eyes darting to Damien. Damien offered a calm greeting to his stepfather, his steady presence instantly taking the edge off Wess's simmering rage.
The Next Morning
The next morning, Alex moved her desk right next to the twins. She sat with her usual rigid, practiced posture, her fingers lightly tracing her silver star necklace. Her eyes darted nervously toward Damien, visibly hyper-focused on the high percentage of Positive Energy he radiated.
Wayne looked at her and conceded she was, objectively, kind of cute. He crushed that flicker of interest instantly; he had seen enough drama in his brother's life to know better.
Damien focused on the far corner of the room. "You know, car thing aside, I'm genuinely worried about Cecelia. She doesn't talk, yet she has so much negative energy."
"Yeah," Wayne muttered. "Ninety-two percent is already psycho levels."
Alex leaned in slightly, keeping her voice low. "It hasn't dropped since yesterday. It's still sitting right at ninety-four percent."
The twins exchanged a look. "Something is definitely wrong," Damien murmured.
"If she seems normal here," Alex whispered, "maybe you need to see how she is at home."
Damien snapped his fingers. "Great idea, let's go ask her!"
"Gosh, don't encourage him!" Wayne complained, but Damien already had him by the collar, dragging him toward Cecelia's desk like a limp sack of laundry.
"Cecelia," Damien said, his tone heavy with concern. "Is everything okay at home?"
"Home is perfect," Cecelia recited. Her voice was high and hollow, like a child reading a forced script. "I have everything I would ever want."
Wayne seized the opening. "Fine. Can you just give us a car, then? That's all we're really here for."
Cecelia blinked slowly. "Oh. A car? I guess."
"There. Problem solved," Wayne said.
Before Damien could press further, Mr. Han walked into the room, ending the conversation. Cecelia returned to her mechanical preparations, her eyes blank once more.
The Estate
The car wasn't mentioned again. Immediately after school, Cecelia headed straight for the exit. Damien didn't even ask questions; he grabbed Wayne's shirt and started walking.
"You're kidding, right?" Wayne groaned.
"We're following her."
They tailed her from a distance, using their speed to keep pace as a sleek, black limousine collected her. The car snaked through the affluent districts, eventually leading them to a massive estate enclosed by towering stone walls.
The limo paused at the front gates, an intricate stretch of automated ironwork that looked more like a fortress entrance than a driveway. An impeccably dressed butler greeted her. The twins watched from the tree line as she disappeared inside, the gates hissing shut with finality.
"Okay, we saw the house," Wayne said, gripping his brother's arm. "It's rich. She's crazy. Let's go do math homework."
Damien ignored him. He took a deep breath, his Positive Energy flaring faintly with conviction. He walked straight to the intercom, pulled back his fist, and slammed it against the metal panel.
The heavy, echoing cracks reverberated through the quiet estate.