47. Defense, Doors and Dancing

“We are the backbone of the S.L.A.G. pilot!” Freak declared proudly.

When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell. 

Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may. 

After all...I can't fix stupid.

Previously: After two grueling weeks of S.L.A.G. training, the Steel & Stone team watched the WHRN broadcast reveal this season’s competitors. With rumors swirling and stakes rising, Wendell learned he’ll be facing off against the Church’s deadliest pilots… in the final round of tier one.

---

Every danger has a rhythm to it. The key to survival is being aware of your surroundings and learning to dance within your circumstances.

The TNT crew had stayed up all night—listening to the pilot draw broadcast, scribbling stats and names on the blackboard in the shop, and then diving into work with reckless enthusiasm. When they finally shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast, they looked like coal miners who’d lost a wrestling match with a grease monster.

Tumbler plopped into a chair at the table, a puff of soot erupting from his vest like a busted flour bag. “Can’t hardly raise m’ arms,” he chuckled, his face blackened everywhere except where his goggles had been. He tossed a cigar to Dax and pointed a grime-covered finger at him. “And you better be grateful, by TGII, or I’ll weld yer eyes shut—I will.”

Dax gave him a salute and laughed, clearly impressed.

Telly leaned in and nudged him, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “No, really. He would.”

Deloris walked into the kitchen just in time to gasp. “You’re all filthy! Get your behinds to the washroom before you sit on anything!”

Tumbler lit his cigar, puffing smoke up over the table. “I’ll do no such thing, woman. I earned this dust, and I plan to wear it proudly until I’m good n’ ready.”

Alhannah stepped between them and handed Tumbler a glass of juice. “I’ll clean up after them, Deloris.”

“As will I,” added Lili warmly, already making her way to the cabinets. Her voice softened as she glanced at Nibbles, who looked like she could collapse face-first into the table. “What would you like to eat?”

Right on cue, Freak swaggered into the kitchen with Socket dangling sleepily under his arm. Both of them were covered in fresh grease stains, grinning ear to ear.

“We are the backbone of the S.L.A.G. pilot!” Freak declared proudly.

Everyone cheered.

I couldn’t help laughing along with them. Something about that moment—seeing everyone exhausted but still smiling—hit me right in the chest. These weren’t just support staff. They were a team. My team. I found myself wondering what exactly they’d been working on all night. The S.L.A.G.s already worked. What else could they possibly be doing?

“So… the S.L.A.G.s are ready for the games?” I asked.