Choosing to travel home at a normal walking speed, Logan reviewed what happened with the alien inside his head.
"I had to use a second technique, after all."
"I'm more concerned with your epiphany on spaghetti step," the alien replied as it moved to float beside him.
"How is that a problem? You already put void collection runes on my appendix, it wasn't hard to just direct that energy to my feet."
"Yes, that is hard. Why do you think most star children don't touch void energy until the peak of middle tier? I wouldn't have put them in if there was another way to treat your cracked star port."
"It sounds like you just need to add more void organs, then."
"If it was that easy! That void stone you looked at earlier is the only material with enough juice to perform those modifications."
"So you do know the procedure then! I am so glad I don't have to coax your memory again."
"Crud," the alien thought, "My mind has been all over the place..."
They continued chatting in this fashion until reaching old lady Baba's house. A letter was already waiting for him; inside was his upgraded license, as well as a competitor entry ticket to the freshman 15.
"Hey Baba, don't worry about my dinner. I'll be busy with preparations for the next week."
"Okay, come back and visit anytime," she said while staring at the grand master floating next to him. Her normally cheery tone contained sultry notes, so Logan vowed to do the opposite...
2 HOURS EARLIER...
Lynn, as Stunlock goes by when not under a domino mask, awoke to find herself in a hospital gown. One of her arms was connected to an IV, and the other to a car battery.
"This one's out of juice, fetch another."
"Right away, sir," a nearby orderly replied, returning shortly afterwards with a pallet stacked full of batteries.
"Shush, shush! She's waking up! Are you okay, Lynn?"
"Dmitri? What happened after things went dark?"
"Huh? Nothing much? Your mentor here made a call or two, and solved things. It wasn't difficult."
The S-Class hero's flop sweat, however, told a different story.
"The arm feels much better. Thank you, Dmitri."
Her tone, although monotone as always, soothed his fatherly anxiety.
"Right, since this room is expensive, let's not waste it. I already got the mail, so you focus on recuperating while I check it."
"Yes master..."
"What was that? You know I can't hear good out of this ear, what did you whisper?"
"Nothing! Did you get any good letters," she said while hurriedly sucking another battery dry. It thunked loudly into the corner as the John sifted through a stack of envelops in his lap.
"Free membership... Free membership... Speaking engagement... TV show deal... Oh, good god!"
His hand held 4 envelopes, each unique for a different reason.
"This can't be. I was sure not to mention the tournament at meetings, how did they find out?"
"Oh, they got the invitations," his sidekick said upon seeing them, confirming the John's fears.
"Why? Why tell my work mates to come?"
"You said the tournament was a big occasion, Dmitri."
"Yes, a big occasion for us... But I'm going to be stuck talking business the whole time, now. Who am I going to get to take photos for your baby book, now?"
"You haven't opened them, yet. Maybe they all declined."
"No, they definitely RSVPed now that you mentioned it... Whatever, let's open them up!"
The first envelope was made from a fine, hand crafted paper. It was sealed with wax, the impression depicting a woman with a crown on her head, and an orb and sceptre in her hands.
"Read it! Read it! What did Lizzy say?"
"I don't know, I can't understand half of it. I've never seen a lady take 3 paragraphs to say 'yes, i'll be there.'"
"Fine, you don't have to use the accent. Open the next one!"
The next envelope was, thankfully, much more plain. The paper and ink were nothing fancy, although the sender did affix a cute football helmet sticker in place of a return address.
"'Dear John'... Does he know that isn't my name?"
"I mean, it is confusing."
"How was I supposed to know if you put 'the' in, everyone would read it out all the time?"
This was clearly a topic the John had grappled with many times over the years.
"Anyways, it says 'Dear John, I was actually planning on taking the spring season off. Do we need to bring our own tailgate snacks? -Tyrell'"
"Oh wow, he's always busy."
"I know, what did I tell you?"
The next envelope was also plain, although the name on the letterhead was anything but.
"Kosmicheskaya programma SSSR"
The text of this letter was also a jumbled mess of legalese and veiled diplomatic threats, but a hand written post script provided more than enough translation.
"You'd better rent a helicopter, buddy! I want to go bowling!"
"... Why does Captain Cosmonaut think you need a helicopter to go bowling?"
"When I first met the guy, he did nothing but bug me about bowling. Finally, I got so sick of it that I threw him out of our helicopter over the Hudson."
"But he can fly."
"I know that now! Ugh, I am getting a headache already. Let's read the last one."
Inside the last envelope was what appeared to be a child's drawing on construction paper. It showed a boy with no face surrounded by adults, all of them cheering a poor approximation of Mistress Stunlock.
What made the drawing disturbing was that, under a magnifying glass, one could actually see that it was entirely constructed in 0s and 1s of different colors. The eyes, for example, were just "01100101 01111001 01100101" written in the shape of an eye.
"Even little Bubbles got permission to go."
The John, thinking the same thing as his sidekick, hastily consoled her.
"Don't worry, I'm sure they just want to support you and scout for successors among the fresh blood. Why would the All Star League need to step in at such a local event? You just focus on getting stronger; we've already had a taste of how tough the competition will be. No secret investigations! Promise?"
"... Promise. Hey, what's that last letter."
There was indeed one envelope left on his lap but, seeing the return address, he wasn't concerned.
"It's from the asylum, probably just an update on Wendigo."
"Dmitri, you promised the other siblings you'd drop this case."
"Wha..What? Why are you bringing this up now? I already dropped him, just like you all asked."
"Then why keep tabs?"
"It's nothing like that. You remember Sugar's kid Dylan, right? She was worried he'd get picked on in such a high level facility. I can't have my informants unhappy, so I agreed to send him commissary money if he gave me updates on that lunatic. I swear I'm not obsessing! I just need to know ahead of time if he gets loose, you know?"
Her questioning gaze scanned him all over.
"Fine, open it. Grayson will hear about this, though."
"He's already out of the house, don't bug him. If you still aren't happy, I'll throw it away... just after I take a look."
His eyes were speed reading the now open letter, afraid his sidekick would snatch it away at any moment. But, when he saw the matter discussed, such thoughts drifted away.
Lynn, watching from in a hospital bed next to him, noticed a sudden change in his demeanor. It resembled how he looked when training her, but there was now a thick bloodlust rising from the corner of his eyes.
"Did he escape?"
"He's dead..."
The John stood up and walked to the door.
"Wait! Where are you going?"
"I have a score to settle..."
He left without another word. Lynn stared slack jawed at the open door, before rushing around the room.
"Where is the phone? Where is the phone???"