“Trouble?” Victor asked.
“Cleon took Nate through a door marked for employees,” Trevor explained.
“Did Nate go willingly?” Ziggy asked.
“Seemed like it,” Trevor said. “Summer and Pigeon are still watching the door. Pigeon has a walkie-talkie.” Trevor held up his.
“I wonder what they’re up to?” Victor mused.
“They noticed the kids earning tickets too easily,” Ziggy said simply. “These guys are players. No player likes getting played.”
“This could help us,” Victor replied, his large fist bumping against his forehead. “Nate could learn something.”
“The kid could be in trouble,” Ziggy said.
“We need to be ready to act,” Victor said.
“I’m worried about him,” Trevor said.
Ziggy and Victor gazed at each other.
“Should we get ready?” Ziggy asked.
“Sure, just in case,” Victor replied.
“My turn, right?”
“Your turn.”
Victor bowed his head. He started to sag. His coat was fitting looser. Trevor watched Victor’s hand transform, the fingers getting subtly shorter and slimmer while the back of the hand expanded slightly, swelling with fat.
When Victor raised his head, Trevor gasped. Victor’s cheeks drooped flabbily. His eyelids seemed heavier, the creases around his mouth more pronounced. Blubbery jowls dangled unhealthily. Despite his looking fatter and older, his clothes seemed baggy, as if he had shrunk. Victor had wilted from robust to sickly in a matter of seconds.
“That’s the stuff,” Ziggy said from the driver’s seat, his voice heartier. He turned and gave Trevor a cocky smile. His face appeared more chiseled and masculine. Not only did he look younger, but his neck bulged with muscle, new veins suddenly prominent. He loosened his tie, apparently trying to accommodate his thicker build.
“You good?” Victor asked, his voice a bit wheezy.
“That’s plenty,” Ziggy answered. “Any more and I’ll pop the seams on this suit.”
“What just happened?” Trevor asked. He had an idea, but he wanted confirmation.
“Victor loaned me some of his vitality,” Ziggy said. “I gained a few inches in height, a bunch of muscle, more endurance—the works. Sometimes one really strong guy is preferable to a pair of pretty strong guys.”
“It leaves me feeling wiped out,” Victor said. “Not completely worthless, but certainly worth less.”
“We take turns,” Ziggy explained. “He got to be superhuman last time.”
“It’s the only fair way,” Victor said.
“This is in case we need to take action?” Trevor asked.
“You’re catching on,” Ziggy said with a wink. “I kind of hope Pigeon calls.”
“No you don’t,” Victor said. “It would mean Nate is in trouble.”
“I don’t mean the kid any harm,” Ziggy apologized. “You know how it is, Vic. I itch to be in motion. I feel like a sports car in the slow lane. I want to run, climb, maybe knock some heads together.”
“Patience,” Victor said. “Nate might be acquiring important intelligence. We wait for the call.”
*****
Cleon escorted Nate to an office, opened the door, and stepped aside. Nate entered. The door closed behind him. Cleon had not followed him in.
An Asian woman sat behind a large desk, typing on a laptop. The office was nothing fancy. A bulletin board on one wall displayed shift schedules along with some charts and graphs. Piles of paperwork cluttered the desk, spread among a few knickknacks, including a tiny hula girl and a fancy snow globe. Two chairs were positioned in front of the desk, facing the woman.
“Are you the director?” Nate asked.
She held up one finger, eyes down, still typing briskly with one hand. Her fingers rattled against the keyboard so quickly that Nate wondered if she might be typing nonsense. Then she looked up, stood, and smiled. Her hair was short and tidy. She was fairly tall. She wore a blouse with a blazer over it.
“I’m Katie Sung,” she said professionally, extending a hand to Nate over the desk.
Nate stepped forward and shook it. Her skin felt cool, her grip limp. He noticed that her nails were short.
“I’m Nate.”
“Nathan Sutter,” she agreed. “Have a seat.” She indicated one of the chairs.
Surprised and perplexed that she knew his full name, Nate sat down. “You own this place?”
“I wish,” she said, her smile widening. She sat. “I’m the director here, appointed by the owner.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“A peculiar question. Should you be under arrest?”
“Not unless it’s illegal to be good at arcade games.”
Her smile faltered. She brushed her fingertips together. “Uncommonly good. Your friends too. Supernaturally good. Are you chewing gum?”
Nate froze mid-chew. Busted.
“Did I say something to upset you?” she pressed.
“I just felt like I was back in school for a minute. My teacher last year wasn’t a fan of gum chewing.”
“You were in fifth grade?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t mind the habit,” Katie said. “Not unless it allows kids to sink hundreds of free throws in a row.”
“Performance-enhancing gum?” Nate asked, trying to sound incredulous.
Katie settled back in her chair. “You tell me.”
Nate shrugged. “Sounds ridiculous.”
“As ridiculous as hitting the ten toughest targets in the shooting gallery over and over again? As ridiculous as winning the Shooting Stars jackpot at will?”
Nate rubbed the wooden arms of his chair. “Is this arcade for losers only?”
“We don’t mind winners, Nate. We like winners. Actually, we adore winners. But we prefer winners to use their natural abilities.”
“Felt natural to me.”
Katie closed her laptop. “Why are you here, Nate? You and your three friends. What are you after?”
“You could probably guess.”
“You won nearly ten thousand tickets in just over an hour. Humor me.”
Nate folded his hands. “If you don’t want people to go after your stamps, don’t offer them as prizes.”
“And why would you want a stamp?”
“Because I’m curious. Anything worth so many tickets must be amazing.”