Thunderbolt had decided to accept Cait Sidhe's invitation—if he didn't, God knew what she'd do next. He was about to make his entrance through the unobtrusive side door from the balcony—looked like it was for maintenance, not patrons—when his phone rang, and then a voice from the shadows said, "Cheesit Cait Sidhe, it's Thunderbolt!"
    "Well, it looks like he's found out little cat door. Hello," she purred, emerging into the light with her henchmen.
    Treat opened the door and looked inside. "Hey! Someone's stealing our stuff!" he reported.
    "We're here for something very specific. Well, two very specific things," she smiled.
    "You got it, Cait Sidhe!"
    "Hey, is that Gravedigger in there?" Trick wondered.
    "Ooh, let me see. Looks like... it's Scott!"
    They started applauding. People turned to stare.
    "Cheesit! They've noticed us! Quick, grab the ruby!" They sprinted into the crowd.
    "Have fun boys; I will," Cait Sidhe promised, turning back to Thunderbolt as the door closed. "Three weeks, not a word. You know possessive we are. And then you're on television when I find out what happened with that... chest. I thought we had something," she sighed, stalking toward him under the full moon. "I guess it's just you and me. Everything else seems to be happening in there with those fools. So are you going to stop me?"
    "Is there any point?"
    "You haven't been having much luck so far," she allowed. "I'd hate to have something happen to you on top of this very tall and dangerous building."
    "I agree."
    "So, you accepted the invitation; what do you expect to do here?" she challenged.
    "I have no idea."
    She did. She leaned in and kissed him.
    What the hell. He kissed her back.
    A few minutes later another hoverbike landed on the roof.
    "Dammit, Paul, get a room," Phoenix Talon snapped as he strode past. "We've got work to do."
    "Jealous, jealous, jealous," Cait Sidhe murmured, then resumed.
    They don't really need me in there, Thunderbolt decided.

* * *
    The Jazz Trio moved out to cover the exits, except for Ivory, whose piano had revealed itself as a rather tank-like mechanism complete with gun ports.
    "Our plan is working perfectly, Postman! There aren't even any heroes here to stop us."
    "Well, who would expect them to have figured out what brilliant men like us were planning on doing. You, over there! The Night of a Thousand Stars. I'm sure we can find something for you to change into, because that dress, I simply must have it. I think my mom would look quite good in it. I'll mail it to her for Christmas," Postman said thoughtfully.
    "You can't get away with this!" Mr. Lapin shouted.
    "Why, who is going to stop us?" the Postman laughed.
    Scott hit him with the shovel.
    "Argh! Who's foolish enough to—oh God, it's you. I'd recognize that grayish fog anywhere."
    "I was at least expecting an 'and now you'll have to pay the piper' line from you," Scott chastised.
    "And you will all have to pay the piper!"
    "Now you're sounding derivative," he sighed.
    "I'm riffing off of your lines!"

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