2 | Repeating

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That night, Thunderstorm returned like he promised. Only that it wasn't night anymore and it was seven in the morning, where it was Solar's bedtime and everyone else's time to wake up.

He barged into the living room when Thorn was trying to get to his garden, shoving past the plant-manipulator and storming straight to his room. His posture was slouched, twisted as if the night's endeavors had broken both his body and spirit. He didn't even bother to close his room door, only the sound of a body collapsing onto a bed echoed from the dark space.

"That's it," Cyclone said after a long silence. "I'm going out."

"Thunderstorm told you not to," Ice grumbled, dipping a tea leaf packet into his cup of hot water. He groaned, then yawned. He was still sleepy. "I'd suggest not going against what he says, especially if he's dead tired."

"Screw him and his pikachu plushie," Cyclone snapped. "I'm going out for patrol."

"Why his pikachu plushie?" Thorn quizzed.

"Why now?" Quake asked. "It's Blaze's turn. He's already outside."

"Fuck that. I haven't had stardust for months and Thunderstorm never helps me buy any even if I said please."

"So your reasoning to going against the pikachu's orders is because of your incurable sugar addiction?"

"Maybe."

Quake sighed and stood from the kitchen table. "Fine," he relented, massaging his temples. "I'm coming with."

Ice glanced over, already deciding that taking this fight was too much of a hassle. Instead of stopping them like he should've, he watched them change and walk out the door like Thunderstorm's death threat wasn't hanging over their heads like a snapping chandelier.

Moments later, a crash erupted from Thunderstorm's room, presumingly he fell off his bed and landed on his head. Loud, colourful curses soon followed, which Ice covered Thorn's innocent ears to shield them from the corrupting words.

"'Fuck'?" Thorn asked.

Ice groaned like he was already at death's door. "Lord give me the strength."

Even more time later, Thunderstorm emerged from his room, looking as fresh as ever. There wasn't a trace of sleepiness on him, as if he'd slept for days instead of an hour and a half. He looked around the house, and he stopped dead at the door.

"Ice," Thunderstorm called, still not turning inside. Ice couldn't see his expression, but he knew that the dude was fuming and his teeth could chew through steel.

"Hm?" Ice asked lazily, still yawning.

"Where are they?" It didn't take a genius to know that he was talking about the two doltheads, but Ice kept silent.

When Ice didn't answer, Thunderstorm's muscles clenched. The slingbag on his shoulder fell to the ground with a thud, and the electrokinetic sped out of the neighbourhood, faster than anytime they had seen before, because apparently handing out detention slips were more crucial than defeating Borara or Vargoba.

* * *

Cyclone found trouble as soon as he walked into the shop area. With only one person patrolling the city, there was too much ground to cover, which caused the majority of the crimes to be untended.

He saw the group of aliens (who had blue skin and four legs instead of two and smelled of snakes) holding a mall hostage, which was good news for him, and bad news for them. He could finally get some action after being locked in the house for so long.

After skipping from police view and reporters, he snuck into the mall by the back door and hid in one of the clothing stores. Hiding behind lines of dresses and baby clothes, he coud see plenty of feet rushing about, dragging a sack behind them like a demented Santa Claus, with holes tearing in the cheap fabric revealing cosmetics, jewlery and other shiny things.

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