Here you go, the extra chapter!
I will NOT underestimate you guys again.
That much I promise.
And if I fail once more…
well, I’ll go find a nice, quiet corner to cry in 😭
Objective #3: 2,800 Power Stones.
***
The following morning, Mattheus opened Crossroads at ten, as usual.
He turned on the lights, switched the TV to a local news channel—they were talking about the president’s upcoming visit to Gotham—and made himself a cup of espresso.
His phone rang around half past ten.
It was Frank.
“Hey, Matt.
I need a favor.”
That was rarely a promising way to start a phone call.
Frank asked if his kids could stay at the pub for an hour or so after school.
With the president coming to Gotham, the mayor had decided it was time to make the city look slightly less like hell on Earth.
The police were clearing the streets along the presidential route, several roads had been closed, and the school bus wouldn’t be making some of its usual stops, including the one near the kids’ grandmother’s house.
Their mother couldn’t pick them up either.
She worked as a cleaner in Arkham—which worried Mattheus quite a bit since people working at Arkham tend to… not last long—and wouldn’t finish her shift until later.
Frank had only managed to convince his boss to give him twenty minutes off to collect them from school.
After that, he had to go straight back to work.
Mattheus agreed without much hesitation.
He had met Frank’s kids before, and they were well-behaved enough.
Having them sitting at one of the tables for an hour wasn’t going to cause him any trouble.
Besides, how much chaos could two kids possibly cause in an hour?
Mattheus immediately regretted thinking that.
He lived in Gotham now so he really should know better than to tempt fate.
A little while later, around eleven, the door opened and Holly walked into the pub.
She carried a new-looking canvas bag over one shoulder, and the first thing she did after crossing the threshold was point at Mattheus.
“I’m paying today.”
Mattheus, who hadn’t even opened his mouth yet, raised an eyebrow.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Good morning.
I’m paying.”
“All right.
Nice to meet you, Paying.” He shrugged when she gave him a flat look at the terrible joke.
“So, what do you want?”
“A cappuccino and a breakfast sandwich.”
“What kind?”
“Egg, bacon, and cheese.”
“Coming right up.”
Holly paid beforehand and then chose the table near the window.
She opened her bag and took out three textbooks, a spiral notebook, and a pencil case.
Mattheus watched her arrange everything before going to the kitchen.
He prepared the cappuccino first, then toasted a soft roll and filled it with bacon, egg, and melted cheese.
When he carried the breakfast to her table, Holly was bent over a math textbook, chewing the end of her pencil while studying a page of equations.
Mattheus recognized the material as high-school algebra and suppressed a smile as he set down the plate and cup.
So she was finishing her studies.
Good for her.
“Thanks,” Holly said without looking up.
“You’re welcome.”
Mattheus left her to it.
The Crossroads was quiet enough that morning for her to study.
A few customers came and went, but no one bothered her.
Mattheus occasionally heard the scratch of her pencil or a muttered curse from time to time.
Half an hour later, she brought her empty cup to the counter.
“Another one?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
An hour after that, she ordered a third and then a fourth.
Mattheus considered telling her that too much caffeine probably wasn’t healthy, but that would have been hypocritical.
He was Spanish and by Spanish standards, three or four coffees a day was a perfectly reasonable lifestyle choice.
Holly remained at the table for almost two hours, working her way through algebra, English literature, and several pages of American history.
She filled half a notebook with answers, scratched out at least a quarter of them, and looked increasingly determined every time something frustrated her.
Shortly before one, the door opened, and Selina entered wearing dark trousers, a cream blouse, and sunglasses pushed into her hair.
She gave Mattheus a small nod.
He returned it, doing his best to suppress the idiotic smile threatening to spread across his face.
Keep it cool, Matty.
Holly looked up as Selina approached her table.
“You’re late,” Holly said.
“Eight minutes hardly qualifies as late.”
“It does when I’m waiting.”
Selina smiled.
“How inconsiderate of me.”
Selina took the chair beside her and placed her handbag on another chair.
Her attention moved over the textbooks spread across the table before settling on the open algebra notebook.
“How is it going?”
“Fine.”
Selina pulled the notebook closer and Holly immediately placed one hand over the page.
“I said it’s fine.”
“And that answer has always inspired tremendous confidence.”
“I can do it on my own.”
“I never said you couldn’t.”
Selina gently pulled the notebook from beneath Holly’s hand and examined her work.
Mattheus pretended not to watch as he wiped down the counter.
Selina looked at the page for several seconds, then picked up Holly’s pencil.
“You changed the sign here.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You moved a negative number to the other side of the equation and kept it negative.”
Holly leaned closer.
“That’s what the book says to do.”
“The book says it changes signs when you move it.”
Holly looked between the textbook and her notebook.
“Why?”
“Because mathematics enjoys making teenagers suffer.”
Selina corrected the sign and worked through the next few steps, speaking quietly as she explained what she was doing.
Holly watched with a small frown.
When Selina reached the answer, she took the pencil from her hand.
“I could’ve done that.”
“I know.”
Selina’s lips curved.
There was no real heat behind Holly’s protests, and a moment later, she pushed the notebook toward Selina and tapped one of the lines with her pencil.
“What about this one?”
Selina leaned closer.
“Here, you multiplied this side by three.”
“Yeah.”
“And the other side?”
Holly went silent.
“You have to do the same thing to both sides,” Selina reminded her.
“Otherwise the equation is no longer balanced.”
“I knew that.”
“Naturally.”
Holly nudged her with one shoulder and Selina nudged her back.
Their dynamic reminded Mattheus of sisters—an older one who teased and worried in equal measure, and a younger one determined to prove she needed neither the teasing nor the worrying.
A few minutes later, Selina left Holly working through the equations and approached the counter.
“Two burgers,” she said.
“Both with fries and coke.”
“Excellent choice.”
Mattheus wrote down the order despite not needing to.
Selina glanced back at Holly’s table and looked at the cappuccino cup sitting beside her notebook.
“Holly’s coke should be caffeine-free.”
Holly’s head snapped up.
“Hey!”
Selina turned toward her.
“How many cappuccinos have you had?”
“This is only my second.”
Selina raised one eyebrow and Holly held her gaze for approximately two seconds before returning her attention to the notebook.
Selina turned to Mattheus, and he raised both hands in surrender.
He was not getting involved in this.
“Two burgers with fries and cokes,” he repeated, already backing toward the kitchen.
“One caffeine-free.”
“Matt!” Holly protested.
“Order received!”
He disappeared into the kitchen before either woman could drag him into the dispute.
Mattheus had principles so he wasn’t going to rat Holly out.
but he also had survival instincts, and those were currently telling him to retreat to the kitchen.
He prepared the burgers, topped each with cheese, bacon, caramelized onions, lettuce, tomato, and his house sauce, then added a generous serving of fries in a basket.
By the time he carried the plates into the pub, Holly had accepted her caffeine-free fate.
She still gave him a betrayed look when he placed the coke in front of her.
Mattheus responded by sliding the basket of fries closer, and her expression softened.
Bribery remained one of humanity’s most reliable inventions.
“Thank you,” Selina said.
“You’re welcome.”
Holly picked up her burger.
“I’m still paying for my own food.”
“You can fight over the bill when you’re finished.”
“I’m paying.”
Selina calmly unfolded her napkin.
“We’ll see.”
Holly narrowed her eyes.
Mattheus retreated before another conflict broke out.
It was almost one, which meant the lunch rush was beginning.
A few minutes later, three construction workers entered and claimed the table nearest the door.
They were followed by two office workers, a pair of uniformed police officers, and Kevin, who always managed to arrive whenever the pub was busiest and then complain that his food took too long.
Kevin’s eyes landed on Selina before shifting to Mattheus.
He grinned and gave him a wink.
Mattheus gave him a look that clearly said, Don’t.
Kevin’s grin widened.
Bastard.
Within fifteen minutes, every table was occupied and Mattheus barely had time to breathe.
Orders came from every direction: four burgers, two steak sandwiches, a pizza, three portions of fries, two coffees, five beers, and a pizza without mushrooms for a man who repeated the request so many times Mattheus briefly considered adding mushrooms out of spite.
The Professional Cooking skill kept him from becoming overwhelmed, but it did nothing to grant him additional hands or energy.
He moved constantly between the kitchen and the pub, checking pans, pouring drinks, carrying plates, collecting empty glasses, taking payments, and answering questions from customers who miraculously failed to understand that the man sprinting past them with four plates was busy.
Selina and Holly finished eating during the worst of it.
Holly packed away her books while Selina paid for both meals despite several increasingly irritated protests.
Mattheus saw them leave but had no opportunity to say more than a hurried goodbye.
Selina gave him another small smile before following Holly through the door and his mood improved for the next ten minutes.
Then Kevin asked where his fries were and Mattheus’s mood returned to normal.
The rush lasted for almost an hour and a half.
When it finally began to die down, Mattheus leaned against the counter and surveyed the aftermath.
Empty glasses covered two tables, crumpled napkins had reached the floor, someone had spilled coke near the window, and a single abandoned French fry rested on one of the stools as if waiting for a bus.
Mattheus glanced toward the kitchen and silently thanked Tony Stark’s descendant for creating such a miraculous machine.
He would be dead without it.
He had just finished wiping the coke from the floor when the front door opened again.
Frank stood outside in his work clothes, looking rushed and slightly out of breath, and beside him were his two children.
Mattheus straightened.
Right, the favor.
He had completely forgotten that he’d agreed to spend an hour responsible for two small human beings.
Frank ushered them inside.
“Thanks again, Matt.
I owe you.”
Mattheus looked at the two kids, then at the remains of the lunch rush surrounding them.
He could do this.
How hard could it be, anyway?
“So…” He gestured toward the television.
“Cartoons?”
Truly, he was a natural.