Blue Windows, Fast Ideas

Creative Deer Lodge sat in the middle of Super Forest City like a sleek black pebble, its blue windows shining like phone screens at night.

Inside the training bay, Creative Doe tugged on her sleek glove and flicked open an app on her phone.

“Copy Mode: ON,” the screen read.

A human kid in a gray hoodie hurried in, tablet hugged to his chest.

“Creative Doe, wait,” Jun said. “The checklist—”

“I know,” she said, smiling. Her glowing blue eyes reflected the target boards. “One tiny test. Then I’ll do the boring parts.”

She lifted her hand. A neat blue blast popped out—then boomed louder than it should and burned a crooked line across the floor mat.

Jun’s mouth fell open.

Her phone buzzed again.

“SOURCE: UNKNOWN,” it flashed.

Her light-blue cape gave a quick little twitch, like it had its own opinion

Loose Thread

Jun dashed after her out of Creative Deer Lodge and onto a high glass walkway over Super Forest City.

“Fresh air,” Creative Doe said. “Less chance of… whatever that was.”

Her phone flashed again. SOURCE: UNKNOWN.

A tan-and-white goat jogger in a neon-yellow jacket zipped past, shoes tapping like fast typing.

Creative Doe blinked—and her legs suddenly wanted to run, too.

“Whoa!” She lurched forward, cape snapping behind her.

Jun grabbed her wrist. “That’s not your normal speed!”

She skidded toward a blue mail-drop box. Packages sat in a neat stack beside it.

“Tiny blast,” she said, lifting a hand.

A sheep baker with a red apron stepped out of a nearby snack cart, carrying a tray of buns.

Her glove fizzed.

Instead of a neat blue pop, a hot puff whooshed out and singed the corner of the top parcel.

The mail-drop box clanked and spat out a strip of RETURN TO SENDER stickers.

Behind the stack, empty boxes scooted sideways, like something invisible shoved them

Jun whispered, “Please tell me your suit didn’t just copy the mail.”