The Part of the Story Where There's A Duet Song, But With The Heroine and the Villain

​​​​​​Nat approaches the Bisney On Ice Musical Theater slowly, caught up iin a last-minute bout of anxiety. She's early for her meeting with Riptide, even though she walked here. By the door, she peers around, checks her phone in case he's messaged her on Chitter again, and decides to check inside on the off chance he got there first and is waiting for her. A quick lap around the entrance hall of the building shows nobody there but a bemused-looking receptionist. Nat returns to her post outside, slightly to the side of the front door in case the receptionist is staring, and resolves to wait.
She’s still not even sure what she’s going to say. Chitter had offered no helpful suggestions - mostly just threats - and any hope of the brisk walk here getting her thoughts in order had evaporated once the Musical Theater came into view. At this point, Nat can only hope inspiration suddenly strikes when she sees Riptide again. Assuming he doesn’t attack her. Nat’s pretty sure she can take him, but what if he brought backup? Should she have brought backup? No, no. He agreed to come alone, if he wanted to attack her he could have done it in the past two months, and bringing Big Team here would just invite trouble. She peers around again and sighs. Still another few minutes till their scheduled time. Resigning herself to a few more minutes of anxiety, Nat pulls up Bejeweled on her phone for a distraction.
Riptide stares at his phone. His fingers poke at the screen, filling out a nonagram puzzle. Finishing up another one, he checks the time and mutters to himself in frustration. Where was she? They had clearly agreed to meet up at the Bisney On Ice Musical Theater! He checks their message history again. Yep, there it was. He groans and looks around, staring at all the empty seats as he stands on the ice. He grumbles, turning to the app and sending a new message.
It's the time. Where are you? I'm not going to wait forever in this cold.
Nat sees the notification pop up and frowns. I’m waiting for you outside, she writes back. I got here early, so I thought I’d see you coming? I didn’t realize you were inside already, I’ll be there in a second.
The mild panic at the realization that Riptide is already waiting for her thankfully overrides Nat’s anxiety as she rushes back inside and past the receptionist. Technically speaking, Nat doesn’t think she or Riptide are supposed to be on the ice at this time, or ever, but the receptionist doesn’t seem to care, so she hurries down the hallway.
In front of the door to the ice, Nat’s anxiety starts to creep up again, but she forces it down. You’ve kept him waiting long enough, she thinks. You wanted this meeting, Nattie, so you gotta follow through. She pushes through the door and hurries towards the gap in the waist-high barrier onto the ice.
“Sorry for misunderstanding you,” she babbles before she’s even fully in the room. “I figured you’d want to meet, like, on the ice, I just thought, since I was early…” Nat steps onto the ice, but doesn’t let go of the wall; she’s wearing Ugg boots, and she doesn’t want to slip and fall.
Riptide stands in the middle of the ice, outlined as a dark figure due to the strongest lights in the room being behind him--and still all of it is dim. He scoffs as Nat enters. Even in the dim light, his hair still looks relatively shiny, but his outfit is much less flamboyant than during their previous encounters. The hoodie he wears is faded and has the image of a sponge-like cartoon character on it that is partly peeled off. There are a few pins on the chest that aren’t visible enough in the dark to make out, but vaguely look like flags. He wears cargo shorts that look like they’re more made out of pockets than anything else. On his ankle there’s a thick black device strapped to him with a blinking green light.
“Of course I wanted to meet on the ice.” Riptide mutters. If anyone had asked, he’d just talk about how it’s all about PRESENTATION, showing off his melodramatic side. Nobody was allowed to know that he was actually ecstatic about the chance to sneak into the theater where he’d watched so many of his favourite musicals as a kid. Nobody was allowed to know he’d participated in one.
“So let’s not waste time, Miss Nixon. Out with it. What did you call me here for?”
The theatrics with the lighting are not lost on Nat. It’s not like she doesn’t have her own; she’s in a tank top layered over a short-sleeved shirt layered over a long-sleeved shirt, plus fingerless gloves, a matching beanie, and leggings under her frilly, layered skirt. The color scheme - blues for the shirts with sleeves and then a yellow tank top with sequins to catch the low light - had been intended to make her pop against the brick outside, so when she got there early there would be no missing her and she could coolly greet Riptide before they went inside. Plus, the yellow of the tank top is a great backdrop for the crown shard necklace. Riptide doesn’t have any magic jewelry, unless you count what Nat is pretty sure is a house arrest anklet. Which is nowhere near as cool as a necklace hand-made from a shard of an alien king’s crown that kept him frozen in dreamless sleep for millennia.
Nat is suitably cheered by the knowledge of her superior jewelry options and the sight of the sequins on her tank top glinting just as she intended. At Miss Nixon, though, she wrinkles her nose. “Okay, first off, if you’re not going to call me Nat I’d really rather you just went with Cadenza, you’re not a reporter. Second, please tell me your name too, it’s weird if you call me Nat or Miss Nixon and I just call you Riptide.” She stops for a moment, hears herself, and winces again. “Sorry. I didn’t ask you to come here so I could make demands. It’s just...kind of complicated? And I don’t even know if you’d be willing to hear me out, but I had to try. Or at least, I really wanted to try. So, uh. What are your, uh, thoughts on time travel?”
Riptide’s face contorts in frustration. “I was just trying to be polite. If you have an issue with that, are you just here to get to the fighting right away? I heard that Verve girl got a gang of your Big Team people to beat up a bunch of teen supers a few weeks ago, due to some issue she had with someone else in the Villain Rehabilitation Program, so that sounds about par for the course.”
He puts his hands in his hoodie pockets and takes a deep breath. “Judging by you being on your own though, I presume you’re not here to throw hands. Although given your powers, I would like it if you didn’t shout. I can call you Cadenza if that’s your preferred name and you can call me Riptide. ‘Nat’ is cool and all, but we’re not friends.”
Riptide stares at the ice below them, at Cadenza’s feet. He plays with something in his hands, still tucked inside the pockets of his hoodie. “Time travel sounds fucky.” He starts, slowly, considering his words. “I haven’t had to deal with it, but my mom has. Cyclone has.” The way he says the mayor’s hero name drips with venom.
Nat deflates a little, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know anything about what Verve did,” she says quietly. “And I didn’t come here to fight. And I know we’re not friends. I just.” She takes a deep breath and straightens up again, turning to face the rows of empty stands. “I didn’t join Big Team because I idolized them or anything. I joined because I can’t control my powers, and everyone said practice would help. And I thought it would be nice to have friends - people at school tend to be scared of me. But I know Big Team members do shitty things sometimes. I’m sure Verve had her reasons, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t get unrelated people involved.”
“I know you don’t care about my problems,” she says, huffing a half-laugh, half-sigh and turning back to Riptide. “I don’t expect you to. But you saw what happened when I lost control the day we met - when you tried to drown me, remember? But like, I almost brought that house down. I could have killed everyone inside. I have to figure out how to control my powers or this will only get worse with time.” She leans against the barrier a little, trying to look chill and relaxed without slipping and busting her ass on the ice. “Big Team does a fair amount of time travel. Above average, I’d say. The other week I ended up in a timeline that was...bad. For a lot of reasons. And one of them was me.”
She looks away again, chewing her lip, and almost stops talking, but continues before long with obvious effort. “All I want to do is sing for people without hurting them. But like I said. I don’t expect you to care about my problems or this other timeline. But...there was a you there, and he said some stuff, and obviously you don’t know whatever he knew, but I need to understand that other me so I can stop myself from being her. And I thought understanding you a little more might help. That’s why I asked to talk to you - to try and understand.”
When she meets Riptide’s eyes again, hers are anxious and clearly upset. “I know I’m being selfish, and I know you’re not really the same person. I won’t make you talk to me. You can leave now and I won’t ask again. Just please don’t attack me - I can’t guarantee I won’t wreck this whole place trying to defend myself.”
Riptide looks at Nat in confusion, not fully understanding all of the things she is unloading, like a mailbox watching a truck full of packages coming closer. His eyes soften when he makes note of her insecurity and her fears about the person she might become, almost as if he understands what that must feel like. When she raises her eyes to meet his again, he tries to shake it off, and give her a glare in return.
“Psh,” he scoffs. “Why should I want to attack you, when you come into my house--” he gestures at the icy hall around them “--and start spouting off some bullshit monologue about needing me to help you understand yourself? You offer me nothing and instead you just ask things of me. Do you honestly think you’re the hero in this story? Do you think you can just give me shit every time we meet? Because honestly, if that’s the case, it sounds like you already know perfectly fucking well how you end up becoming someone who hurts others. Even with your pretty princess singing voice. You know what, Cadenza? Maybe I should have actually drowned you. Even though I wasn’t--” He stops in the middle of his growing tirade. He shakes his head. “If you’ve got nothing better than that, I don’t want to hear any of it. Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on.”
“Your house?” Nat scoffs, incredulous. "You picked this place because you said it was neutral ground!” Her voice gets no louder, and no more forceful, but her fists are clenched at her sides with the effort of keeping her powers out of it. “I’m not trying to give you shit. If you don’t want to talk to me you could just say so, and not throw everything I just told you in my face. I -” Nat breaks off, voice tight, and swallows. She starts to turn away, but forces herself to stay facing Riptide. Her eyes are too bright, but she won’t let herself cry in front of him. “The person I met in the other timeline, he wasn’t happy to see me either, but he was reasonable. He wasn’t a total fucking asshole. I thought maybe that meant you might not be a total fucking asshole, but clearly I should have known better.”
She turns to leave and steps off the ice rink, face twisting with the effort not to cry. Of course Riptide would just use anything she said against her. Of course he has nothing in common with the man she met in 2054. How could she possibly think that there might be anything more to him than this? Violet had been right - all Nat does is set her heart on what things will be like and ignore anything that says otherwise.
Riptide grumbles at himself. He doesn’t have time for this, but he doesn’t want to leave on a worse note than they’d started. He doesn’t want to leave with nothing. He sighs. “Nat, wait.”
He kicks off on the ice and skates closer to her, at the edge of the ice. He brakes a few meters away from her. The shadows lifting from him reveal his androgynous face, looking tired and haggard. He has a split lip, barely healed over from a fight or a fall not too long ago. The luster of his hair is in stark contrast to his face, unlike in their previous meetings. He is quiet for a few seconds as he looks like he’s trying to find the right words. “I’m not going to say sorry. I… I mean, I’m not not going to say sorry either. I just… I can understand not wanting to hurt people. I can understand wanting to sing. I… I used to sing too.”
Nat stops, teeth gritted, and closes her eyes. She forces herself to breathe through the wave of fury surging through her. For a second she feels like she’s been hollowed out and filled with searing heat, and she knows if she opens her mouth she won’t be in control of what comes out of it. She counts to five on the inhale, holds it for three, and exhales for five, feeling the worst of her temper run out of her with her breath. When she trusts herself to speak without sending Riptide through the opposite wall, she wipes her eyes roughly and turns to face him again. She looks at him searchingly, taking in how tired and beaten-down he seems, and takes another deep breath through her frustration. Can’t he see how hard she’s trying not to hurt him? Doesn’t that mean anything?
“Don’t say that,” she says, still shaking. “Why do you get to talk to me like that and then immediately call me the name you refused to use thirty seconds ago because we’re not friends? How can you possibly say something so horrible to me as ‘I should have drowned you’ and then expect me to accept ‘I’m not not going to say sorry’?” She stops and swallows, tears threatening to spill over again, and wraps her arms around herself. “What did you come here for, Riptide? Was it to upset me? Make me cry? Congratulations, mission accomplished. Why try to reel me back in again now? Just to jerk me around and rub my face in it?” She shakes her head. “I told you what I wanted. Either tell me to go or don’t, but don’t just...tell me you used to sing. I don’t know what that means. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do with that.” Her voice breaks again and she finally stops and just looks at him. She’s clearly miserable, but makes no move to leave.
“Look, you--!” Riptide starts off angrily in response, then stops himself, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath and hums what sounds like a few notes from a song. It seems to calm him down as he lets go of the flight of anger. “Okay, I am sorry about saying that. I wasn’t trying to drown you. You don’t deserve that. Nobody with a good bone in their body deserves that. I am just… so angry. All the time. I hate being angry. Being angry has hurt people I didn’t want to hurt. People who didn’t deserve to get hurt. People who were my friends. I’m not trying to reel you in.” He scoffs, but there is a light snort to it, as if he recognizes the wordplay at play there. “You’re too smart to let yourself be manipulated like that. I may not like you and your team for having tried to kill me and my mom, for getting her thrown in prison and me stuck with a ticking timebomb on my ankle, but I respect you.”
Riptide’s face looks serious. The rage it had expressed before seems to be gone, or at least having retreated to below the surface. His heart is beating fast, ready to have him go off in a flurry of violence at a moment’s notice, but the anger that would propel him towards Nat was gone. “I respect you.” He repeats again. “Because you try to do what you think is right, even though that thing seems to be being a pain in my ass. Because for some fucking reason, you wanted to reach out a hand to me to talk about your shit, despite us being enemies. Do you think I want to be your enemy? Fuck no! All I want is to go to school, to perform on a stage, and to have my fucking mom be there when I get home.”
Riptide notices his lip trembles. He clenches his jaw and presses his lips tightly together to make it stop. “What I don’t want is to hurt my friends. What I don’t want is to hurt you. Not unless you make me. We don’t have to be friends, but I think both our lives would be a lot easier if we weren’t mortal enemies.”
Nat stares at him for one more beat, looking for a sign he’s lying. When she doesn’t find it, she nods once, slowly. “That’s a place to start,” she says, no longer having to fight to keep her voice down. “I can’t make any promises about the others. I didn’t even tell them I was coming here - some of them are really protective of me, and there’s overlap there with the ones that don’t like you. I didn’t want them to follow me here and make you think I was setting a trap or something. And...I probably won’t tell them later, either.” She swallows and starts back towards the ice. “But if there’s anything I understand, it’s not being able to control what happens when you’re angry. And I’m sorry about your mom. You don’t deserve to have to be separated from her.”
Cautiously, Nat steps back onto the ice. She’s still in Uggs, so she keeps one hand on the wall. Hopefully she can manage not to slip and bust her ass immediately after finding a smidge of common ground here. “I didn’t know you wanted to perform,” she says when she’s sure she’s gotten her balance. Gazing across all the empty seats in the audience, she continues, “Did you used to, before? When you sang? It’s never been safe for me to perform for anyone. I always wanted to know what it’s like. After all that work writing and rehearsing, hitting every note right, being totally in your element, and knowing all those people are hearing you do it and loving this thing that you’ve made…” Nat trails off and sighs. Her gaze is yearning, focused on something a million miles away. “It must be incredible.” 
All at once Nat remembers the Cadenza she’d seen in the nightmare and heard about in 2054, heedless of the people crushed as she brought down a city. Once she’d felt their adoration she’d used her power to keep it, even if it killed them. That Cadenza had done so many awful things for the sake of that rush - how different could they possibly be if Nat could see all that and still stand here fantasizing about singing for an audience? Nat blinks harshly and clears her throat. “Um. Sorry. That’s probably a weird question. I’m being weird.”
Riptide almost considers joking at her that if she had brought anyone from Big Team, he wouldn’t have had a problem with taking them out, but swallows the snark at the last moment. He glances at the rafters above them, wondering if anyone had snuck after Nat anyway.
“No,” he starts, looking back down. “I mean, yes you’re being weird, but this situation is weird. It’s not a weird question.” A debil on his shoulder was urging him to remark on Nat’s fashion sense, but the angle on the other reminded him that he still had some wolf moon and scene band shirts in his closet, buried beneath the newer bright colours and flannel of his preferred wardrobe these days. He starts to hum softly to drown out the thoughts and notices himself slipping into whistling a short tune from a song he had sung on the icy stage years ago. He clears his throat.
"The ocean lies still on the Big Bay tonight, not a ripple to be seen
A city of ice and shadows and I am its royalty
The demons call me like they know my chosen name
I cannot resist, I need to light the flame
Can’t let them in, can’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Don’t break the seal, don’t let them knowww
But they should knowww!"
Riptide stops singing at the end of the first verse, as if suddenly aware of his particular audience of one.
Nat’s eyes widen when Riptide starts singing, and she unconsciously starts to smile as she realizes he’s good. It’s not that she doubted him when he said he sang, or wanted to perform, but this certainly wasn’t the kind of voice she expected from the kid who yelled at her every time they saw each other. 
Barely realizing she’s doing it, Nat lets go of the wall and inches closer. She’s still wary of what might happen if she gets loud, but there are supposed to be harmonies here, and, well, it’s not like Riptide can’t handle himself…
Nat makes sure to stay quiet, just in case, as she hums along to Riptide’s song. He has the lead vocals, so she sticks to harmonies instead, improvising a little to add her own flourish to how the song was originally written.
When Riptide trails off after the first verse, Nat clasps her hands in front of her chest and beams at him. “That was good!” She gushes. “I had no idea you were that good!”
Riptide’s cheeks turn red at the compliment. He hasn’t had praise like that from a non-relative in years. “Thanks,” he manages to say softly. “I’ve had a lot of practice. The sound of my voice is important to me.”
He stares awkwardly out over the ice, before he manages to break it. “What song would you sing, if your voice was… good? Like working normally?”
The obvious joke about how much Riptide likes the sound of his own voice occurs to Nat, but she dismisses it. This truce between them is still too new, and she doesn’t want to shatter it with an impulsive comment. When Riptide asks what she would sing if she could, she flushes too. One hand moves to scratch awkwardly at the back of her head while the other stays clasped at her chest. “I, um, write my own music, actually. I haven’t really sung any of it in front of anyone, though - I don’t really want to debut it in a combat situation? And I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone trying to perform it normally, and I would probably get too excited and…”
Nat trails off and shifts her weight awkwardly, one boot sliding a little. “Well. The practice with Big Team has helped. I can do, like, karaoke and stuff now, in a safe environment like the base where everyone can defend themselves and the building’s pretty sturdy. But singing my own stuff, my power’d kick in for sure. Strong emotions, and all.” She shrugs, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal, but this clearly bothers her. “Uh, other than that, some Kelly Clarkson songs, maybe?”
“Kelly Clarkson?” Riptide instinctively makes a mock disgust expression, then shows hints of an actual smile. “Since U Been Gone really does seem like the kind of song you could belt out in the middle of a fight, huh.”
He looks thoughtful and skates in a circle around Nat. “Writing your own songs is… pretty cool, actually.” He comes to a stop in front of her, an arm’s length away. He cocks his head and shows an expression that could be interpreted as mischievous. “Why don’t you try singing here? It’s a place designed for singing, after all. No combat going on here. Nobody to hurt you don’t want to hurt.” He cockily adds, “Or who can’t take it.”
“I told you I didn’t come here to hurt you,” Nat says a bit reproachfully, pouting. She drops the pout and chuckles a little, adding, “I considered saving Since U Been Gone for the next time I fought you, actually. I can breathe for the first time, drowning, y’know.” She rubs at the back of her neck again, still blushing. “Obviously not gonna do that now, so.”
She looks Riptide up and down when he stops in front of her, sizing him up. “Okay,” she says slowly, “I’ll try. But now I’m all nervous, so if my voice cracks you are absolutely not allowed to laugh at me.” Recentering her weight, Nat clears her throat and starts to sing. 
“Is there such a thing as too much sleep?
Your dreams ebb and flow just out of reach
Float on the current in the dark and the deep
They're so far away now, knelt on a beach
Can't go home, but you can't stay here
Won't even notice if you step the wrong way
I don't know where you went, did you just disappear?
Trapped under it all, pull them into the bay
Can you hear us even - agh!" Nat breaks off and lets out an undignified squeal that carries real force as she loses her balance. Her boots slip out from under her as she starts to topple over onto the ice.
Riptide listens closely, with rapt attention. True to her name, Nat's singing voice has a nice cadence to it. He nods along to her singing, as if he is following the movements of a conductor in front of an orchestra. Had he really tried to—quite literally—tried to drown out this voice? Well, maybe it would be worth it trying to do so again if it meant Cadenza would sing Since U Been Gone as loud as possible.
A genuine smile begins to creep onto his face. He notices too late to completely stop it, but is shaken out of it when Nat slips on the ice. “Oh! Careful!” He kicks off the ice to slide towards Nat and makes a move to catch her, gloved fingers outstretched to grab his nemesis.
Nat makes a desperate grab for Riptide’s hand. She does manage to grab it, but between her scrambling feet and the weird weight distribution she only succeeds in pulling him down after her. Nat lands heavily on her back with an oof, and Riptide twists midair to land on his side next to her rather than on top of her. 
After a beat to process, Nat can’t help bursting into laughter. Her voice isn’t completely under control, echoing too-loud off the walls and the ice, but it’s not enough force to hurt. “This isn’t how I thought I would accidentally hurt someone singing,” she gasps between laughter. “Fuckin, oops! Sorry!”
“Ugh,” Riptide groans. He shifts his body to lie with his back on the ice and rubs his side, giving Nat some side-eye. “You’re a mess.” Then he breaks into laughter too. “But I guess you’re not the only one. And you’re a better mess than you might have been.” His laughter fades and he stares at the ceiling, hidden in the dark high above them. “Where do we go from here?”
“I’m great,” Nat says on reflex. She wipes at her eyes, catching her breath, and sighs gustily. Her arms go limp like a marionette with the strings cut and her hands thump to rest on her stomach. “I don’t know,” she admits. “There’s so much I still don’t understand - not just about you, about all of it.” She glances at Riptide, and returns her gaze to the ceiling. “Would it...be alright if we keep talking? Like you said - we don’t have to be friends or anything. And this doesn’t mean I trust you. But…” Another sigh. “I still think you can help me. If you’re...okay with that. I know I’m still not exactly offering you anything here.”
Riptide takes a while to answer, thinking it over and over while staring into the darkness above them. “Fuck it, why not.” They finally say. “If you’re going to scream me to shreds next time we meet, at least it will have been interesting. And if you’re not, well, it might be nice having a not-friend not-nemesis to talk to when I feel like it. Give you some tips that helped me before.” They reach into their hoodie’s pockets and fish out a phone. They hold it up to Nat, Riptide’s own phone number showing on the screen. “Let’s just say you’ll owe me a favour, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” Nat says. She pulls out her own phone and copies Riptide’s number into a new contact. She hesitates for a second in the name field, then fills it with three fish emojis. “This is for your sake,” she tells him. “Like I said, the others can be pretty protective of me. Ernest especially doesn’t like you and looks out for me. If he saw a text from Riptide on my phone he might try to figure out a way to yell at you.”
Riptide shrugs. “Fair. Their loss.” They push themselves off the ice, slip around with their feet a bit, before they manage to stand up again. “If you need to, you can call me by a name other than Riptide. Need a hand?” Riptide looks down on Nat, holding out a hand in a way that seems almost casually noncommittal to helping her up, but there if she wants it.
Nat accepts the help but tries not to lean too heavily on Riptide in case she just pulls him back down again or he drops her. Once she’s up and steady, she puts a step more distance between them. “A name like what?” She asks. “You want me to just make one up? Jimothy? Craigathan? Craigathan’s good.”
Riptide makes a face in mock disgust. “If you’re just gonna make shit up, you can do better than Craigathan. Unless you want me to stop calling you Nat and start calling you Naurice. Or pick a nickname like Suite Life or Kidz Bop.” They wave it off and kick off on the ice, starting to slide backwards, away from Nat. “You can call me Heather.”
Nat looks up, startled, and then tries to hide the softening of her facial expression by wrinkling her nose. “Aw, you are sorry for almost killing me and then being mean about it,” she coos teasingly. “Heather it is.” She finishes the contact entry and then sends him a text from her phone that says if u put me in ur phone as kidz bop i will make sure everyone knows ur a softie about ur mom.
Heather snorts and texts back just as long as you just call me Riptide or Heather. Then they call out, “so you’re the type to text people who are standing right in front of them, huh?” as they add Nat’s details to their contacts list under the name ‘London Tipton’s little bitch’. “Good to know, might be handy for future subterfuge.”
“Oh, like you can do subterfuge,” Nat scoffs. She makes her way back to the gap in the wall so she can step back off the ice. “I’ll believe you even know what that means when I see it!”
Heather laughs as they continue to slide back further. They whip their hair out of their face. It shines in the light. “I do have a flair for the dramatic!” At their proclamation, the lights go out. More distantly than before, Heather’s voice echoes through. “But so do you, Tantrum Tisdale!”
“Tantrum fucking-” Nat breaks off, turning to leave out the door she came in, and types out another text to Riptide: FUCK YOU CRAIGATHAN!! 
Putting her phone back in her pocket, Nat huffs to herself and makes her way out of the theater to head home.
Meanwhile, deeper inside the theater, a few shadows slip down from the rafters above the icy stage. They climb down and come to stand next to Riptide, who turns on the light on their phone, shining it on the figures and revealing the faces of Wolf Legionnaire and Slick Marlon.
"Well, it lookth like it went thmoothly.” Slick Marlon slithers out.
“Looks like.” Riptide responds, sounding cold towards Slick Marlon. They don’t even look towards him, instead staring in the direction Nat left off.
Wolf Legionnaire says nothing, but looks thoughtful and concerned as he keeps his eyes on Riptide.
“Let’s leave.”
The light goes out.