"Really, Cynthia I don't think-"

"Just, just until this blows over, okay?"

Useless to argue, and she knows it.

"Okay. I'll just go home after work and get a few things-"

"Everything you need, I have.

"Toothbrush to togs, since we're both the same size.

"And your costume is already over at my place."

"Naturally, since the only time I need it is when I'm with you."

"Bitter, bitter!

"Cheer up, kiddo!

"You coulda got stuck in one of those miserable nine to five situations."

"Right. And lived to a ripe old age."

"And had to worry about wrinkles. Don't forget that."

"Right now, I'd settle for being able to look back and remember getting them."

"Is my brave little soldier quaking before the battle?"

"No, but maybe I should start."

Thinking, So. There's to be a battle, then.

Them versus Buck's creeps.

That's always the way.

The only time they had even come close was at the masked ball.

Where Buck's great weight was able to tolerate a dose of poison designed for someone much lighter (Cynthia) and he received immediate medical attention.

Even so, he knew nothing of prolonged and well founded terror, of the pain and bruises and lacerations, the torture that they have endured.

Encounter after encounter, each one culminating in a more narrow escape than the last.

And the Baroness looking forward to the next one.

And calling in her troops, gathering them at the ready.

Which is why Nancy cannot go home tonight. So that she will be instantly ready to accompany Cynthia into what can only be viewed as battle.

Geez, she thinks, you'd think Cynthia would go in with better troop strength this time!

But no, here they are, the two of them, or three, if they are lucky and Vanessa is in position to be with them at the critical point, and the how and when of that Nancy cannot envision right now.