Vell had decided to go with drinking and swearing.

“Fuck! Fuck,” Vell said, repeating it for emphasis. “God damn it. Fucking shit!”

Vell kicked his foot at nothing in particular. Harley drunkenly noted that even at his angriest, he still took care not to break anything.

“What a nerd,” Harley said.

“What?”

“Sorry, thinking out loud,” Harley mumbled. Lee, lightweight that she was, napped on the couch. She had only briefly woken up upon Vell’s arrival and then passed out again. Only Harley had stayed awake through the entire rant about Joan and Kraid, showing a surprising level of focus for someone so inebriated she couldn’t stand up straight. Vell paced back and forth across the room to burn off more of his manic energy while Harley stayed seated and tried to stop the world from spinning.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do,” Vell said.

“Well that makes two of us,” Harley mumbled.

“I know, I’m just ranting so I’ll feel better,” Vell said. “Sorry I always dump this kind of stuff on you.”

“It’s cool man, I’m good at this sort of stuff,” Harley said. She gave two weak thumps-up, and then dropped her arms limp at her sides. “When my brain ain’t mush. You keep going, butt- buddy, I’ll try to stay conscious.”

While Vell continued to rant, Harley wobbled from side to side. Just as Vell finished explaining how he could possibly convince Joan to stop working with Kraid by explaining their mutual history, Harley finally wobbled too far to one side and toppled over. The sudden fall jolted her system and sent a shock through her brain.

“You should probably dump her,” Harley said.

“What?”

“Oh did I say that out loud,” Harley said. She bonked herself on the head with an empty bottle. “That was meant to be a stay-in-my-brain thought.”

“Well it’s out of your brain now,” Vell said.

“I think you need to get drunk, Vell, Kraid’s got you all edgy.”

Vell responded to that by opening his book bag, extracting the bottle of scotch, and draining it in one mighty swig. Harley was stunned, impressed, and concerned in equal measure.

“What the fuck, Harlan?”

“Answer me,” Vell said, pointing an empty scotch bottle at Harley emphatically. He did not seem fazed in the slightest by the obscene amount of scotch he had just chugged. “Why should I break up with Joan?”

“I did say ‘probably’,” Harley said. “Look, butt- buddy, you’re caught in a Spider-Man dilemma right now.”

“What the fuck is a Spider-Man dilemma?”

“Jesus, man, do I have to explain everything to you?” Harley sighed. “Peter Parker loves Mary Jane, but he’s got that whole big, potentially dong- dangerous secret where he’s Spider-Man. So he has to choose between being in a relationship with her and potentially putting her in danger, or being apart from her and keeping her safe. Except in this version, Mary Jane is also the Green Goblin.”

“What?”

“Okay, maybe not the Green Goblin, but like, whatever James Franco’s character was in that third movie that wasn’t as good” Harley said. “Definitely mostly bad but she could like maybe be cool at the very end? But mostly bad.”

“Where is this coming from? You like Joan!”

“Yeah, Joan’s fun to hang out with, Vell, but I was never expecting an invite to your wet- wedding,” Harley said. She slouched even deeper into her chair, trying to stabilize her wobbly brain. “She’s a little crazy, man. That’s cool, but it ain’t wife material. Sometimes you just date a person for a while and then break up. You don’t have to take it so seriously.”

“But- I don’t know- Maybe, I, uh-”

While Vell stumbled over his own words, Harley contemplated whether it was worth standing up. She liked to grab people by the face sometimes, to emphasize her point. Vell’s cheek weren’t quite as delightfully squishable as Lee’s though. Harley watched the ceiling spin and decided to stay sitting.

“Vell, listen,” Harley said. “I said pop- probably for a reason. You don’t have to dump Joan if you don’t want to. But if you ain’t dumping her, you got to tell her the truth.”

Vell’s anger and scotch-fueled energy went out like a match dropped into the ocean. Harley let him wallow in that dampened spirit for a bit before continuing.

“For butt- better or worse you’re the thing she’s been super-crazily searching for her whole life,” Harley said. “You either got to dump her and keep your distance or tell her the truth. You keep dating Joan while also keeping the truth from her, you’re kind of a piece of shit. And the Vell Harlan I know is definitely not a piece of shit.”

After delivering this reassurance, Harley tried to sink even deeper into her chair. All of this excitement was making it hard to enjoy being drunk. Vell was starting to get wobbly himself. He began to regret his bombastic scotch-chugging stunt as the alcohol finally reached his brain.

“I guess you’re right,” Vell mumbled. “I can’t have it both ways.”

Harley nodded sagely -and wobbly. Vell was starting to sway from side to side too.

“You look like you need to lay down,” Harley said.

“Do you think Lee will mind if I pass out on her floor?” Vell mumbled.

“Yeah, but only because she’d feel bed -bad about you not being comfy,” Harley said. “Help me drag Lee to her bed and then you can take the couch.”

While Harley ended up doing most of the heavy lifting, due to Vell’s understandable caution about manhandling a drunk woman, the duo did manage to get Lee into her own bed. Harley tucked her in and left the room to go back to napping on the chair. As soon as the door shut behind Harley, Lee’s eyes opened.

While Lee’s parents had many flaws, they at least left her alone while she was sleeping. Lee had spent years refining the ability to feign sleep, in order to avoid her parents as much as possible. Pretending to oversleep in the morning or doze off on a long plane ride had let Lee avoid many uncomfortable conversations -or spy on conversations her parents might have otherwise not wanted Lee to be a part of. While she was loathe to use that skill to deceive her friends, she could not help her curiosity about Vell’s situation. Now she knew everything -except what to do next.

Lee laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling, wringing her hands together nervously. In spite of her abilities to feign sleep, true rest eluded her.

A dreadfully drunken evening passed, and the next morning followed -and then followed again. An easily-prevented apocalypse involving a turbocharged paintball gun gave the loopers plenty of time to consider their various dilemmas over the course of two mornings.

After two restless mornings in a row, Lee had formed a very loose idea of what to do. Unfortunately, Lee also had to nurse a severe headache from the previous night’s drinking twice. Lee managed to dial up Joan and invite her over in spite of her pounding headache. Vell and Harley had already retreated to their own dorms after sleeping off their inebriation, so they had the benefit of privacy. Joan stumbled into the room, clearly just as exhausted as Lee, though for different reasons. Recent events had sapped some of her usual confidence from her posture.

“Hey, Lee,” Joan said.

“Joan, dear, I thought you should know- well, I assume you know, at least,” Lee began. “Vell came to speak with Harley and I last night.”

“I kind of figured,” Joan sighed. “This is bad news, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, no, of course not,” Lee assured. “I will say it’s not necessarily good news, either, merely, well, news.”

With tensions slightly relaxed, Joan allowed herself to sit down. Lee offered her some tea, which she politely declined. Lee made a pot for herself anyway, to stave off her headache. She made sure to keep a careful grip on the cup this time. On the previous loop, Lee had dropped the cup on her foot, which had severely derailed the already uncomfortable conversation she was about to have.

“So. How about that...news,” Joan said.

“Right. I believed it was worth telling you that Vell is, quite understandably, upset. I can’t say I’m a fan of your collaboration with Kraid either, but I trust you have your reasons.”

Joan crossed her arms and drew in on herself.

“Did he tell you about the project we were working on?”

Lee sipped at her tea to give herself an excuse to not talk for a moment. It was far too hot, and it burned her tongue. The pain never found its way to her face. Lee had years of practice keeping pain in the back of her mind.

“He said it was a private matter,” Lee lied. Vell had explained all the details of Joan’s morbid obsession with his past, in spite of a promise not to. Lee didn’t enjoy being caught up in that breach of trust, but she hoped that her current deceitful course would work out in the long term. Joan calmed slightly, under the impression that Vell had at least kept her secret.

“I just wanted you to know that he is indecisive,” Lee continued.

“Sounds like Vell,” Joan said. She tried to laugh and failed. Lee ignored the awkwardness and pressed on.

“He’s caught up between how much he likes you and how much he dislikes your recent actions,” Lee said. “Whatever he ultimately decides is up to him, but I believe you could tip the scales one way or another with your own actions.”

Joan leaned on the table and put her head in her hands.

“Like what?” she mumbled. “I like Vell too, but I also like, you know, the whole mission I’ve spent the past thirteen years of my life working towards.”

“Then choose the mission,” Lee said. “But be aware of what that choice means.”

Joan put her head in her hands. She’d gotten dumped over her obsessions before -several times, in fact- but she’d always been able to blame it on those people being too stupid to understand what she was working towards. In many ways, Joan knew that Vell was just as smart as she was, if not smarter. The two were constantly trading places as the highest-grading students in every class they shared. Joan simply couldn’t write off Vell’s discomfort as a knee-jerk reaction to something he couldn’t understand.

If Vell wasn’t wrong, then that meant Joan was in the wrong. And Joan, naturally, didn’t like that very much.

“Well. Thanks for not telling me to sell out my life’s work for a guy, at least,” Joan sighed.

“I want you to do what makes you happy, Joan,” Lee said. “If pursuing whatever goal you have in mind makes you happier than being with Vell, or vice versa, that is up to you. But I should caution you that trying to pursue the best of both worlds rarely works.”

Lee sipped at her tea. It had cooled slightly now.

“I will however say with some certainty that you should stop working with Kraid,” Lee added. “The man kicks puppies, Joan. You can’t reason with people like that.”

“I know, I know,” Joan said. She’d been there for more than one kick. “Thanks for the advice, Lee.”

“Any time,” Lee assured her. “What are friends for?”

Vell clutched his book bag close to his side as he left class and headed back to his dorm. Kraid was lurking somewhere around here. On the first loop of the day, the semi-skeletal supervillain had caught Vell off guard. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. Vell kept his ears perked and his eyes up. Kraid, on the other hand, was walking casually behind Vell every step of the way, using a stealth spell he’d spent several million dollars researching to torment a young man. Eventually, he got tired of following along and broke his invisibility spell.

“Boo.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Vell said instinctively. Kraid stayed behind him, though he did follow along as Vell started walking again. Vell stuck a hand in his pocket and checked the time on his phone. He’d made some plans, but he had to get the timing right.

“How’s it hanging, Harlan?” Kraid asked. “Have a chat with Joan lately?”

“Actually no, I’m deliberately avoiding her so that we both have time to process our emotions with a healthy distance between us, and to deny you the satisfaction of watching whatever happens.”

“Intense,” Kraid said. “I’ll admit I’m slightly disappointed, but you do know I’ll find out sooner or later, right?”

“Yeah, but it’ll be less satisfying for you, and also you won’t be around to act smug where I can see you,” Vell said. He’d had plenty of time to think over this plan during the past loop, among all his other confused thoughts.

“And what if I just don’t leave?” Kraid said.

“You’ve got a business to run,” Vell said. “You’ve got a meeting in just a couple hours right? Can’t miss your flight.”

Kraid laughed at the idea.

“Oh, Harlan, what’s a million dollars or so of profit compared to watching you suffer?”

“Yeah, but it’s not about profit, isn’t it? It’s about that seven-lined rune you discovered. Somebody else is closer to deciphering it than you are.”

The look of idle amusement on Kraid’s face dropped in an instant. His jovial, if caustic, attitude vanished, revealing a glimpse of the genuine malice that existed just under the surface. He followed a little closer in Vell’s footsteps as they walked through the halls.

“How do you know about that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Vell said. It was a little something that he’d picked up from Kraid’s taunts on the first loop.

“I don’t know what kind of trick you’re trying to pull, Harlan, but it won’t work.”

Vell restrained a smile. He had exactly two advantages when it came to dealing with Kraid. First, he had a few loopholes loopholes in Kraid’s security thanks to being technically undead. Secondly, he had the time loops. Thanks to those he knew, for example, exactly where and when a massive paintball gun would be exploding in approximately thirteen seconds. Vell took seven steps forward and stopped in his tracks.

“I’ve got plenty of time, Harlan, that meeting isn’t for hours,” Kraid said.

“I know,” Vell said. “I can stall for that-”

The wall behind them exploded right on queue. The dust and rubble alone was explosive enough, but the massive burst of yellow paint that followed afterwards was the main event. Vell was safely out of the blast zone, but Kraid was covered head to toe, his blackened skeletal arm, and his entire body, painted sunshine gold. The world’s worst villain froze in place as he reeled from the explosion, and the dawning comprehension of his new paint job.

“Oh geez,” Vell said, feigning concern in the least authentic way possible. “Are you okay?”

Kraid wiped the wet paint away from his eyes with a bony finger and glared daggers at Vell. Kraid actually was capable of killing people with a glare, but he chose not to do so in this case, if only barely.

“What did you do?” Kraid demanded. Vell responded with an exaggerated shrug.

“Nothing. Stuff like this happens all the time,” Vell said. “The school’s a bit of a mess.”

With that, the students from the lab that had caused the paint explosion rushed out, and then immediately rushed back in when they saw it was Kraid that they had coated. If he got a good look at their guilty faces they would be either killed or sued, or possibly both. Only Vell kept Kraid company as the paint started to drip.

“You might want to get moving,” Vell suggested. “Unless you want to go to your big important meeting looking like a mustard bottle.”

The silent glare from Kraid continued. Vell could almost feel his skin starting to burn as Kraid’s anger grew more and more intense. After a long and deadly stare down, Kraid finally relented. He turned sharply, splattering yellow paint all around him as he made a quick turn.

“Enjoy your little victory, Harlan,” Kraid said. “I’ll find out how you pulled this off.”

“You won’t, because I didn’t do anything,” Vell said. It was technically the truth. There was absolutely nothing connecting him to the paint explosion. “But I’m enjoying it anyway.”

Kraid wandered off, dripping a trail of wet paint behind him, grumbling under his breath, Vell got back on course and headed back to his dorm with a smile on his face. After everything that had happened the past few days, it was nice to have a win under his belt.

Vell’s victory high faded away about halfway back to his dorm. He hadn’t seen Joan all day. The seat next to him had been empty in every class they shared. He had thought about texting her, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He made the final approach to his dorm room door and tried as hard as he could not to look down the hall at Joan’s dorm.

“Vell.”

The sound of Joan’s voice nearly made Vell bite his tongue off. He did his best to pretend he hadn’t just had a minor heart attack and turned to face Joan. She, in turn, pretended like she hadn’t been lurking near the door waiting for Vell to show up. With that mutual charade underway, Vell started to stumble over his words.

“Hello, uh, hi, Joan,” he began. “I was, uh, just about to-”

“Can I interrupt?”

“Please do,” Vell said. Even he was getting sick of saying “uh” so much.

“I just wanted to ask for your help,” Joan said. She made a show of reaching into her dorm and pulling out a waste bin. “Throwing some stuff away.”

Even from down the hall, Vell could recognize the scraps of Joan’s conspiracy board. The scattered collection of articles and photographs, mostly torn to shreds, peeked out over the edge of the wastebin. Vell stepped up to examine the scraps more closely.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my priorities in order,” Joan said. She shrank slightly, clutching the scraps close to her chest for a moment. “I want to help people. But there are ways to do that that don’t involve working with supervillains.”

Joan took a deep breath and squared her shoulders again.

“Or scaring off people I care about,” she continued. “So. You want to help me get rid of this? And then maybe we can talk about picking up date night again?”

“I’d love to,” Vell said. He made a daring decision (by Vell standards) and kissed Joan on the cheek. The fact that there was a small garbage bin between them slightly diminished the romanticism of the gesture. Vell took a step back and grabbed the rim of the waste bin.

“Let me get that,” he insisted. Joan handed it over without protest, and Vell took it and headed outside the dorm. He’d never been so happy to be headed towards a dumpster. He’d give the entire situation a little time to cool down, and then tell Joan once some of then tensions had worn off, and they could have the conversation rationally. A few days, at the most.

Vell tightened his grip on the wastebins edge, and saw a scrap of a photograph. A ruined train, and dead bodies -including, possibly, his own- could be seen in the photo. His relaxed smile dropped off his face. Maybe he’d give it a few weeks. But it’d happen eventually. He could trust Joan.

Joan watched Vell go with a smile on her face. A smile that dropped in an instant as soon as he was around the corner. She pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“You were right,” Joan said.

“Told you so,” Kraid said. “He struck me as the naive type.”

“Shut the fuck up and send me the backups,” Joan said. Kraid acquiesced, and Joan hung up the moment her collected research had been returned to her. Newspaper clippings and corkboards were inefficient anyway -and harder to hide from prying boyfriends.

Kraid put his phone away and smiled to himself as he stepped onboard his private jet. A few drops of wet paint splattered onto the floor. That was fine by Kraid. He’d been looking for an excuse to buy a new jet anyway.

With a snap of his fingers, every drop of paint flew off Kraid’s body and coalesced into a single orb of yellow. He held the shining sphere of paint on a bony fingertip and appraised it. He could’ve cleaned himself off at any time, but had chosen not to. Feigning weakness often led to his enemies revealing their own. And Vell had revealed oh so many of his weaknesses.

There were some people in the world who said it was impossible to have the best of both worlds. Kraid had found it was actually quite easy. He just had to make sure some other poor sap was getting the worst of both.