(A/N = Combining upper/lower body stat into one stat (taking avg) going forward)
As the cafeteria slowly returned to its usual rhythm, Beaver Inkos, the Inventory Manager, slipped away unnoticed.
With a furtive glance over his shoulder, he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the academy to a secluded corner, far from prying eyes.
Once he was sure he was alone, Beaver pulled out a small, discreet phone. His fingers, trembling with anticipation and a hint of nervousness, dialled a number memorized from countless rehearsals.
As the phone rang, his habitual itch intensified, a physical manifestation of his excitement and anxiety.
"Yes?" a voice answered, cool and detached.
"It's me, Beaver. I'm in place," he whispered, his voice barely above a hush.
"Good. You know what you need to do," the voice on the other end was emotionless, all business.
