THE FINAL COUNTDOWN (PART THREE)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
PART 3.
* * * * *
* * * *
The cafeteria is strangely, eerily empty.
Billy steps inside cautiously, boots squeaking against the bleached tile. His gaze darts up to the catwalks encircling the second floor, searching for movement, for any hostile faces lurking in the shadows but it seems as if everyone has given this place a wide berth.
If he tunes out the distant thud-thud-thud of gunfire and the muffled cacophony of shouting elsewhere, it’s almost peaceful.
Until a slow, deliberate click of footsteps echoes from above.
“Hey there, pipsqueak.”
Billy’s stomach twists.
Rio descends from the catwalk with the ease of a predator who knows her prey is cornered. She isn’t the green, shadowy phantom he remembers. In her suit jacket and polished boots, she looks almost normal. But the curved blade tucked into her belt gleams like it’s been sharpened for him, and him alone.
Billy swallows hard, his mouth dry. He doesn’t speak, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
She smiles knowingly, the expression cutting sharper than the blade ever could. “So… how’s the search going? Find that brother of yours yet?”
“I’m close,” he finally replies, his voice low and wary. “He’s here. Somewhere.”
“Close is for horseshoes and hand grenades.” Rio glances up at the golden light spilling through the high windows, her tone almost casual, as if they’re discussing the weather. “From where I’m standing, our deal’s almost done. You ready to pay the piper?”
Billy grits his teeth. “You know I’m close. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“I’m here because you made a vow, pipsqueak,” Rio snaps, eyes darkening as she descends the last few steps. “And it’s time to hold up your end of the bargain.”
Whatever Billy is about to say—threats, pleas, maybe outright begging—is swallowed by the sudden bang of the cafeteria doors bursting open.
“Freeze! Hands in the air, now!”
The combat team storms inside the hall, nearly two dozen soldiers moving with lethal precision. Their boots thud against the tiles, their rifles trained and ready.
The leader’s voice cuts through the chaos like a blade. “Get your damn hands in the air!”
Rio chuckles, raising her hands in mock compliance, fingers wiggling in a taunting wave. “Oh, this should be fun.”
Billy could scream in frustration. He doesn’t have time for this. Tommy’s so close, and every second wasted feels like an eternity.
He’s halfway through casting a sleep spell when the team leader removes his helmet, fixing him with a sharp, calculating stare.
“Identify yourself!” the man barks.
Billy exhales sharply, exasperated. “Billy Kaplan, and listen, now’s a really bad time.”
But the leader’s brow furrows at the name. “You’re not on our list. What are you doing here, kid?”
“What list?” Billy snaps, his frustration mounting. “Who are you guys?”
The man scowls. “This is a S.W.O.R.D-approved operation. You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get yourself killed.”
“You’re telling me!” Billy mutters, rubbing his temples. Then something clicks. “Wait. S.W.O.R.D?”
He knows that name. He remembers that name.
“Command, this is Beta Leader,” the operative speaks into his radio, weapon still raised. “We have a potential civilian in the field, standby for extraction. Over.”
“You guys broke into our house,” he murmurs, his voice distant as the memories flood back. “You attacked my parents. You shot at my brother.”
“I’m serious, kid.” Beta Leader insists. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but—”
Billy doesn’t let him finish.
The air crackles as arcs of wild blue magic explode from his hands, shattering every weapon in the room like glass. Shouts of confusion erupt as the soldiers scramble, some retreating for cover while others draw combat knives and charge.
But these aren’t frenzied, untrained mobs of inmates. These are professionals—trained killers moving in perfect, terrifying synchronization. Each strike is calculated, each blow designed to subdue and neutralize the threat he presents.
Billy is quick, his magic flaring with every movement. He deflects a knife strike with a shimmering barrier, sending the soldier flying back. Another lunges from the side, and Billy ducks, countering with a blast that sends him skidding across the floor.
But for every soldier he repels, two more take their place. They’re relentless, closing the gaps with tactical precision.
A baton slams against his side, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. He retaliates with a bolt of energy, but it’s wild and unfocused, missing its mark. The tide is shifting against him, he can feel it, until-
Out of nowhere, one of the operatives’ strikes is intercepted mid-swing by a blur of movement.
The blur resolves into a figure—a familiar figure clad in a khaki green jumpsuit, lightning-fast and utterly furious.
“Tommy?” Billy breathes, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
His brother doesn’t respond. He’s too busy dismantling the nearest operative with a flurry of blows, his movements almost too fast to track.
But in the next second, Tommy hurls the man’s combat knife across the room and when he turns to Billy with a crooked grin, it’s all Billy can do not to throw himself at his brother.
“You look like crap.” Tommy says, panting slightly.
Billy can’t help but laugh, even as he blocks another strike with a hastily summoned shield. “Yeah, well, you’re late.”
“Fashionably.” Tommy quips back.
He’s not the brother he remembers. He’s exactly the brother he remembers.
The pair of them fall into step beside each other with less than a thought, back-to-back as they face the remaining soldiers.
“You good?” Tommy asks, glancing over his shoulder.
Billy rolls his shoulders, ignoring the sharp sting in his ribs. “Always.”
The soldiers charge.
This time, they’re ready. Tommy is a whirlwind of motion, disarming and incapacitating with brutal efficiency. His fists blur as he strikes, movements untrained but vicious, fighting dirty wherever he can.
Billy, meanwhile, wields his magic like a blade, weaving shields and launching bolts of energy in rapid succession. One soldier lunges at him, and he deflects the attack with a pulse of power, sending the man sprawling.
The brothers move as one, their attacks complementing each other in a seamless dance of speed and magic. For every gap in Tommy’s defenses, Billy’s wards fill the space. For every soldier that dodges Billy’s magic, Tommy is there to finish the job.
The soldiers don’t stand a chance. Within minutes, the cafeteria is littered with unconscious bodies, the air thick with the tang of sweat and ozone.
Tommy wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, grinning at Billy. “Not bad.”
Billy beams back, magic still crackling faintly around him. “Right back at you.”
But the moment of calm is fleeting. In the quiet, a slow, taunting clap rings out.
“Not bad at all, boys.” Rio says, casually. “But it’s too little too late, I’m afraid.”
Billy’s heart sinks as he looks up at the windows, where the sun has just dipped below the horizon, leaving behind its last golden rays. “No. No, this isn’t fair! I found him! I found him!”
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Tommy asks, concerned by Billy’s outburst. “Wait, Agent Vidal? What are you doing here?”
Rio winks at him. “Hi there, Tommy. Told you that wouldn’t be the last time we saw each other.”
Billy can only stare between them, wide-eyed. “Wait, you knew? This whole time, you knew where he was?!”
Rio arches a brow, entirely unconcerned. “I had an inkling or two.”
He can’t-
This is-
There’s no way-
“Hey, uh, buddy? You’re kind of…glowing, there.” Tommy’s voice says warily. “Are you meant to do that?”
“I found him. You can’t have him. You can’t have me. I found him.” Billy snarls at Death.
His magic is a wild, furious burn that fills him from head to toe and he knows now, he knows how Wanda felt when it was all slipping away from her. He knows exactly how enraged she must have felt, how there’s a certain kind of control that comes from being completely out of control. But he’s not about to take this lying down.
He’s the son of the Scarlet Witch and the Vision, beings of legendary power. He’s the son of good, decent people who have raised him to fight for what he loves. His brother is standing beside him, his boyfriend and his father are somewhere in this godforsaken building, there’s a ghost witch he loves roaming out there beyond the perimeter and he’slost too many people to let her take another one.
He looks back to Tommy for a second, his eyes full of questions. “You got my back?”
Tommy doesn’t even hesitate. “Always.”
He gathers himself. He reaches for the fabric of creation that pulses around them, invisible and omnipotent and intertwined into every single thing in the universe, including the sun as it slowly descends upon the horizon.
Billy Maximoff reaches for that gleaming, dazzling weave…
that infinite, burning power…
and pulls.
It’s not the kind of thing he has the words to explain. The sensation alone is like an atom bomb going off inside his skull: he stops feeling his own form, stops sensing his own body.
All he is dissolves, leaving only the magic, only the power, only chaos.
He’s not Billy anymore. He’s a meteor, a flame,
he’s a shadow, a dream,
he’s an inferno,
He’s the molten core of a dying star, he’s the burning nucleus of the atom as it splits.
He’s the very edges of reality itself and they will bend for him and no other.
* * * * *
* * * *
Later, meteorologists will rack their brains for an explanation. There will be email chains passed between laboratories on every continent, containing every expletive known to man. World leaders will discuss the matter across encrypted, panicked communication channels. Scientists around the world will pour over data taken from satellites and radars and datasets, and it will all say the same thing:
On the final day of August, in the year 2026, the Earth’s rotation reversed for the equivalent of approximately one hour.
No one will ever understand why.
* * * * *
* * * *
Tommy can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
But it’s happening, right in front of his eyes: the sun is rising at seven o’clock at night. And he’s pretty sure his brother is the one making it happen.
Billy’s whole body radiates with electric blue energy, pulsing like a living, breathing creature around him. His eyes are lit with the same bright hue, one arm outstretched toward the western skies.
But every second he spends locked into whatever he’s doing, the colour is draining from his face; his hands begin to shake, his nose drips with blood.
And look, Tommy only met the guy about five minutes ago but he’s pretty certain this isn’t normal.
“What’s wrong with him?” he demands, glaring toward Agent Vidal (he knew she wasn’t a goddamn fed) for answers.
But Vidal is too busy eying his brother with a look that swings between outrage, fury and begrudged admiration. “Your brother’s about to pop every blood vessel in his brain unnecessarily. Knock him out of it before it’s too late, would you?”
Right. Sure. Only…
Tommy isn’t sure how one snaps someone out of a trance like this.
He reaches for Billy’s hand hesitantly but the blue crackles around him in warning, snapping angrily at his flesh.
He yanks his hand away with a scowl. “Come on, man, knock it off. You heard her, you’re gonna break your damn brain if you keep this up.”
Billy says nothing.
A low thrum of panic seizes Tommy’s chest. “Billy, come on. I didn’t come all this way just to watch you destroy yourself. Come on.”
Billy only trembles violently. His eyes have rolled backwards into his skull, revealing the whites of his eyes.
Tommy glances toward Agent Vidal for help but she simply shrugs. Great.
With a deep breath, he steadies himself and reaches for his brother’s hand anyway. The pain is vicious and stinging but he ignores it, even when his flesh breaks out in hives, peeling angrily.
“Billy…” he murmurs, clutching tight. “Come on, man. Let it go already. I’m here, okay? I’m here now. It’s okay. Just let go.”
He can’t remember much but he remembers this. Remembers sleeping in the bed opposite Billy’s, remembers listening to him breathe.
Tommy presses his forehead against Billy’s temple, wishing he had an ounce of his brother’s power, anything that might help him reach through this haze of…whatever this is.
“Let go, Billy. I’m here.”
* * * * *
* * * *
Meteors don’t have brothers.
Neither do stars, atoms, shadows, dreams.
But somewhere amongst the raging chaos, there’s a boy named Billy and all he has wanted, for so long, is the other half of his soul.
Let go. I’m here.
As far as magic words go, they’re better than Latin incantations and ancient verses. They wrap around the soup he’s making of his mind, slowly nudge the pieces of him back together.
Slowly, he becomes Billy again, complete with a body and limbs and a pulse and a brother.
Every fibre of that body aches as he sinks back into it. Billy’s knees buckle as the last flickers of magic fade from his trembling hands. The aftershock of what he’s just done ripples through his entire body—painful, sharp, and overwhelming.
He’s too weak to catch himself, but Tommy’s there, sliding an arm under his shoulders and catching him before he can hit the ground.
“Hey, whoa, easy there,” Tommy says, his voice tight with concern. “I mean, I’m all for dramatic entrances, but maybe don’t fry your brain while you’re at it, yeah?”
Billy tries to respond, but all that comes out is a strained, wheezing cough. His head lolls against Tommy’s shoulder, his vision swimming as he fights to stay conscious. He feels like every ounce of energy has been drained from him, leaving behind only a hollow, aching shell.
“Billy?” Tommy presses, his usual sarcastic edge replaced with genuine worry. He adjusts his grip, gently shaking his brother. “Come on, say something. Blink twice if you’re not dying.”
Before Billy can summon the strength to reply, the sound of heavy boots draws both their attention.
From the far end of the cafeteria, a balding, middle-aged man in a rumpled prison guard uniform strides into view, with a swagger to his step like he owns the room.
“Well, well,” the guard drawls, stopping just short of the unconscious soldiers scattered across the floor. “What in the name of Hecate’s broomstick have you idiots gotten yourselves into now?”
Billy glances between the man and Tommy, his confusion evident. “Uh… who’s this guy?”
The guard doesn’t answer. Instead, he saunters over to Rio, who’s leaning casually against the edge of a table, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at her lips.
“Agent Vidal,” the guard says smoothly, his voice taking on a teasing lilt. “Looking sharp as ever. Love the boots. Are they new?”
Rio snorts, arching a brow. “Agatha,” she says dryly, “Still possessing the unfortunate Officer Delvecchio I see.”
The guard—Agatha, apparently—grins, and the expression is so mischievous and familiar that it feels like the entire room shifts with her presence. “What can I say? He’s charming, in his own sweaty, middle-management way.”
Billy forces himself to stand, leaning heavily on Tommy for support. His gaze locks onto Agatha, sharp despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “You made it. You came.”
“Of course I did, Teen.” Agatha—Delvecchio—waves a hand dismissively, striding toward him with a practiced nonchalance. “I had to come check in on my favourite little miscreant.” Her tone is playful, but the concern flickering in her eyes betrays her. “Speaking of which… what have you done this time?”
Billy’s lips twitch into a faint, self-satisfied smirk. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Really?” Rio interjects, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She gestures toward Billy with a flourish, as if presenting him to an audience. “Because from where I’m standing, your precious protégé just came dangerously close to stroking his brain into a vegetative state.”
Agatha’s expression shifts instantly, her playful smirk hardening into something far more serious.
She studies Billy intently, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “Is that true?”
Billy shrugs weakly, though the smugness in his expression doesn’t falter. “I’m fine.”
“That’s my boy.” Agatha murmurs under her breath with a wink, caught somewhere between exasperation and begrudging pride. “Do it again and I’ll make every hair on your body fall out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Billy mumbles, brushing her off. He straightens slightly, still leaning on Tommy slightly for support. His gaze turns to Rio, sharp and unrelenting. “You lost.”
Rio tilts her head, feigning curiosity. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”
Billy nods up toward the windows, where the sun is just beginning to set for the second time today, amber light spilling across the cafeteria floor. “The sun hasn’t set. Not yet. Which means I’m still within the deadline.”
Tommy frowns, his confusion deepening. “Deadline? What deadline? And why the hell are you making deals with a fed?”
Agatha lets loose a loud, unrestrained cackle that fills the room. It is an extremely strange noise coming from the middle-aged Delvecchio’s mouth. “Has someone been playing dress up, Agent Vidal?”
Rio rolls her eyes. “What can I say? I like to keep my options open.”
“Jealous, were you? Wanted a scarlet-spawn of your own?” Agatha jeers, her tone mocking.
Rio shrugs, the gesture maddeningly casual. “Call it professional curiosity.” she says, inspecting her nails as if this conversation is beneath her. “He’s an anomaly of nature, I took the opportunity to study it closer.”
Billy’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching at his sides. “You knew,” he says, his voice low and furious. “This whole time, you knew where he was, and you didn’t tell me?”
Rio arches a brow. “I’m not your babysitter, pipsqueak.”
Tommy frowns, impatiently. “Does someone want to clue me in?”
Before Billy can explain, Rio fixes her gaze on Tommy. “Come on, Tommy. Haven’t you guessed it yet?” she purrs.
Then, as casually as flipping a light switch, her face flickers like static on an old TV. Her features collapse into the hollow contours of a grinning skull, the empty sockets glowing faintly with an unholy light. It lasts barely a moment before her mortal face returns, but the sight is enough to make Tommy visibly flinch.
“What the fuck?” Tommy blurts, the bravado stripped from his tone. His gaze darts to Billy, then back to Rio. “You’re hanging out with a damn crypt keeper?”
“Please,” Rio sniffs. “I have standards.”
“For the record,” Billy mutters, his cheeks burning red. He shoots a look at Tommy. “She’s not a crypt keeper. She’s…well, she’s Death.”
“In the flesh,” Agatha leers. “And what an exceptional form it is. You can keep the suit jacket for later, sweetheart.”
Tommy blinks. “Uh-huh. Cool. So, my twin brother made a pact with the actual embodiment of death. Awesome. Great. Love this family reunion.” He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, “Knew she wasn’t a damn fed.”
Billy, despite himself, feels a stab of guilt at Tommy’s reaction.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he says defensively. “And for the record, I won.” He turns to Rio, straightening his posture despite the ache in his limbs. “I found him. Before the end of summer. So I get to keep him. That was the deal.”
Rio sighs, her head tilting as though this entire conversation bores her. “Oh, for the love of—this again?” She pinches the bridge of her nose dramatically, then drops her hand with a long-suffering expression. “You do realize summer doesn’t end for another month and a half, right?”
Silence falls.
“Oh, come on.” Agatha says suddenly, looking exasperated. “That’s a dick move, Rio.”
Death simply shrugs back at her, uncaring.
“What?” Billy blurts, his brain stumbling over itself. “But the—what are you talking about? Today’s August 31st. Summer ends tonight!”
Rio levels him with an unimpressed look. “Really, pipsqueak? You think a primordial force like me cares about some system of timekeeping you humans cooked up a measly 500 years ago?”
Billy stares at her, completely bewildered. “But you—! I—! That’s not—!” He splutters, unable to string together a coherent sentence. “You told me I had until the end of summer!”
“And you do,” Rio replies, entirely unbothered. She jerks her thumb toward Agatha-in-Delvecchio’s-body. “Ask Ghost-In-The-Has-been over there. She’ll explain.”
“Baby, we both know you’d want me in any wrapping paper.” Agatha blows Rio a mocking kiss before sighing. “Look, I won’t deny, it was a real dick move but she’s not wrong, kid. Astronomical seasons follow the solstices and equinoxes, not the Gregorian calendar. Summer doesn’t officially end until the autumnal equinox—which is mid-September.”
Billy feels like the ground has been pulled out from under him. “You’re telling me… I had weeks?!” His voice cracks, somewhere between outrage and disbelief.
Rio is entirely unapologetic. “Not my fault you made assumptions.”
Billy’s face flushes with anger. “That’s cheating!”
“Nope. That’s you not asking enough questions.”
He looks between them, fuming, his hands sparking faintly with residual magic. “You knew I thought summer ended today. You let me believe that—”
“I didn’t let you believe anything, Billy Maximoff.” Rio cuts in sharply. “If you didn’t find him by September, I would’ve come to collect just the same.”
Tommy, meanwhile, raises a hand like he’s in a classroom. “Collect what exactly?”
Billy winces. “I…may have offered our souls as collateral.”
His brother takes a moment to process that. And then abruptly stops supporting Billy’s weight.
Billy, obligingly, collapses to the floor. “Ow.”
“Save it.” Tommy snaps back, annoyed. “You bet my soul, man. Not cool. And you!”
Rio raises a single brow. “Me?”
He hesitates and then sighs uncomfortably. “If you really are Death, does that mean you spoke to him? Trent, I mean?”
She eyes him for a moment, tilting her head in a clinical, considering fashion. “I did.”
“And he’s…okay?”
Rio’s expression doesn’t shift. “He walked right through, Tommy. Barely felt a thing.”
“That’s good.” Tommy lets out a low breath. “That’s really good. Okay, look, fun as this has been, we can’t just hang around here gabbing about the nature of reality and whatever cosmic powers Billy fucked around with.”
“He’s right.” Billy winces as he rolls to his feet. “Eddie’s still stuck with my dad somewhere, I have to get them out.”
“Way ahead of you, kid.” Agatha interrupts. “Teen Senior, Boytoy and Stabber are safe and sound, waiting for us outside.”
“Stabber?” Billy echoes back.
Tommy lets out a low chuckle. “My girlfriend tried to stab Agatha with a chair leg.” Sensing his brother’s look of bewilderment, he shrugs. “What? She has a healthy distrust of authority figures.”
Billy files that one away for later and then pauses, glancing toward the unconscious S.W.O.R.D operatives strewn around them. “We can’t just leave them here. They know our faces.”
Rio tilts her head consideringly. “You can always make me an offering.”
“I’m not saying kill them,” Billy snaps back impatiently. “But these are the same guys who came after us in Westview. They know us now. They’re not going to stop until they’ve caught us.”
Tommy scowls, thunderously. “Let ‘em try.”
Agatha rolls her eyes. “Much as I appreciate the unbridled bravado, Teen Two, your brother has a point. I don’t think this is a radar you want to be on.”
Billy hesitates and then approaches the unconscious Beta Leader. But even before he raises his hand, he knows he’s tapped out. “I can’t scrub his memories.” He glances back toward Tommy helplessly. “I don’t have any power left.”
Agatha crouches next to him, experimentally wriggling her hairy Delvecchio hands over the unconscious man’s face. “Hmm. Guess there’s no accessing my magic in someone else’s meatsuit. Honey…?”
“Don’t look at me.” Rio deadpans. “I’m not doing him any more favours.”
Tommy joins them with a trouble look. “We could run.” He suggests. “Keep out of sight for a while until the heat dies down.”
Billy can’t describe the way his heart twists violently, repulsed by the notion. Running means losing his parents, his life, Eddie. It means that all this was for nothing. He loses them anyway.
But what’s the alternative? Putting them in danger? Even faintly, he remembers the terror of watching men with guns storm towards his home, ready to kill him and everyone he loves. He can’t do that to his family.
Sensing his turmoil, Tommy rests a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort. “Look, I don’t want to leave Lisa either. But it might be the best shot we have to keep them safe.”
But even as he speaks the words, Billy can feel a flicker of…something. His gaze lands on Tommy’s hand, still braced on his shoulder.
Agatha raises an overgrown eyebrow, clearly sensing the same thing he can. “I did say we’d unpack that twin connection of yours later.”
Tommy frowns between the two. “What connection? What’s she talking about?”
“I…I’m not so sure.” He murmurs, looking back toward the Beta Leader’s unconscious form. “Gimme a second.”
It physically hurts to focus on the place where his magic usually lurks; the insides of his chest feel scalded, like he’s doused it in boiling water. Handling the raw cosmic power of the sun itself was clearly not his brightest idea. But beyond the stinging after-shocks of pain, there’s something else, something small and faintly scarlet, emanating from Tommy.
So what? Tommy’s a witch?
I doubt it. We’d find him easier if he was. But if he hasn’t figured out how to access whatever juice he has…
Agatha, as always, is one step ahead. She catches his eye, holds it as she speaks: “Siphoning isn’t like regular magic, Teen. You’ve seen what happens when you don’t control it.”
He remembers Alice’s body, withered to a husk on the wooden floorboards he’d unknowingly conjured. He knows full well what fate befalls his brother if he screws this up.
But he has to try.
Billy looks up at his brother cautiously. “There’s something else I can try. I don’t know if it’ll work but I need your help. It might hurt.”
Tommy’s brow furrows but he’s already nodding. “I told you, man. I got you. Do what you have to.”
“It’s like reversing an electrical current,” Agatha murmurs, coaching him even now as he tries to gather whatever focus he has left. “You’re going to want to keep it, to hoard it. It feels good but keep your eye on the prize, kid.”
It’s torture to channel power with the fried, agonised remains of his own magical abilities but Billy pushes through it, clenching his teeth so hard he’s faintly concerned he might break one. And Agatha’s right; as soon as that trickle of warm, crimson power begins to flow from brother to brother, Billy can feel himself relaxing slightly, rejuvenated by the new acquisition.
Those scalded, stinging parts of his chest begin to ease, soothed, replenished.
It would be easy to keep going, to absorb whatever flicker of their mother’s power that lingers in Tommy. It doesn’t feel unhinged or deranged like he imagined Wanda’s chaos magic would feel. If anything, it feels…comforting. Like home. Like a gift from the mother who brought him into existence.
But even though Tommy’s hand doesn’t move an inch, Billy can sense the strain in him and it’s enough to remind him of his goal here.
“Expelle memorias…” he hears himself murmur, one hand reaching for Beta Leader’s temple. “Expelle memorias.”
One by one, the memory of Billy Kaplan and Tommy Shepherd are slowly but surely eradicated from not only Beta Leader’s mind, but his whole team. Try as they might, they will never remember meeting Billy today in this cafeteria. They will never recall the name of Subject 6A whose capture they have been tasked with.
It’s not perfect work. Agatha would have been able to scrub their existence from every inch of S.W.O.R.D’s recollection. But it’s all he can manage for right now and it will simply have to do.
When he releases the spell, Tommy lets out a shaky breath. “Okay, yeah, that sucked. Let’s not do that again in a hurry.”
Billy rises to his feet, checking over his brother with concern. “Are you okay? I didn’t take too much, did I?”
Tommy waves a weak thumbs up. “I’m good, I think. I just need, like, a hundred hours to sleep.”
But before his eyes, Billy can see the last vestiges of dark hair slowly lighten into a gleaming silvery-white. “We better get out of here.” He glances toward Agatha hopefully. “You think you could pass us off as evacuees?”
Delvecchio smiles, cat-like. “Whatever gets me out of this meatsuit sooner rather than later. You coming, sweetheart?”
Rio smiles faintly. “I’ll find my own exit, mi vida. Lots of souls to collect around here before I leave.”
Agatha shrugs. “Suit yourself. Ready to blow this popsicle stand, kiddos?”
Tommy’s shoulders slump with relief. “You have no idea.”