9

As soon as Flit and Lil Biggie disappear, the crowd comes to a halt, everyone's features locked in expressions of frustrated confusion. A moment passes, and then some people move to cover the exits while the others keep searching for LB. They don't even seem to notice you.

You hear wind hissing on your back, and a pair of hands pull you behind a large pillar. It's Flit, with a tiny LB—no taller than five inches now—standing on their shoulder.

"Hey guys, what the **** is going on?" LB's voice is high-pitched and barely audible, like a cartoon character's.

"Whatever it is, we can handle it if we work together."

"There must be a powerful telepath here somewhere. Let's find them."

"A reminder that people like us will never have a moment's respite."

"Those poor people are being mind-controlled. We need to help them!"

"Either someone is mind-controlling everyone, or you're about to get the worst New York Times review ever."

"This is what happens when someone with a list of enemies as big as their ego tries to play the star. A supervillain is using your fans against you, *******."

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