Page 30 of My Cosplay Escape
“This is for you, girl. Everyone’s here tonight to see Catstrike. You didn’t see the posters out front? ‘Coming Friday, August Fifth: Catstrike and all-new villains to Malum Escape.’”
I swallow. Oh, goldfish. Is one of my Comic-Con photos plastered all over PB? I feel sweaty. Nervous and sweaty. “I came through the back door.”
Vanessa adjusts her blue-and-red-streaked pigtails. “Hey, as a heads-up, watch the high schoolers. Especially during photo ops.”
My eyes go wide.
“But you’ve done this before, so you know how to handle yourself.”
I open my mouth to sayof course, but the words get stuck in my chin strap.
Realization spreads like a rash on Vanessa’s face. “Ha! You’re a newb. Oh, honey, tell me you’ve at least had some crowd-control experience. SeaWorld, Petco Park, something, anything.”
I shrug. “Stacey said people aren’t bad.”
“To Stacey. She’s a goddess. No one is going to try anything with her. She’d crush them.”
I put a hand on my hip. “And I wouldn’t?”
A wide grin spreads across Vanessa’s face. “Now we’re talking. What’s your name?”
“It’s Not Sabine Kennedy.”
Vanessa narrows an eye. “Yeah, okay. Look, here’s how you do it. Don’t touch them, ever. The second you do, they get braver. Don’t drop eye contact unless it’s to pick on someone else in the group. And whatever you do, don’t replicate."
“Replicate?” What the fudge does that mean?
“Villains, reset!” Adam calls over the sound system.
“Good luck. See you for pictures.” Vanessa winks and leaves.
“Wait!” I groan and pace my cell. I can’t look like a newb. Too much is riding on this. Replicate… Maybe Vanessa meant this is going to be a long night if I just stand in the room and smile with my eyes, Tyra Banks style, at each group of Malum escapees? Apart from the padded cell door and the door in the jail bars, there is a cot with the button on the underside to unlock the cell door and a fake window also covered in bars in my cell. It’s not much to work with, but if all these people are here to see Catstrike, it isn’t enough to say my line, push the remote for the strobes, and exit the room.
I look up at the video camera positioned in the corner. Adam is on the other end of that lens. He is watching, and his Catstrike is here at last. He’s waited a long time for a Catstrike who meets his specific criteria, so this Catstrike needs to deliver.
I give the bars across the faux window a tug, take a deep breath, and, hoping they’ll hold my weight, dangle from them. When the door clicks open a breath later, I push off and land in a crouch before springing up to a stand.
“You’ve made it this far,” I say to the wine-tasting, well-dressed set collected in my cell. “But can you make it in the dark?” I press the remote, activating the strobes.
I duck past them for the exit. Outside, I nod to Mallard, an older actor and exactly the kind who might play Santa at the mall if he put on a fake beard. He is for sure the monocled, well-dressed, well-groomed mob boss Mallard variety. “Are you new too?” I ask.
“Yes and no. Adam had me playing Pluto Gorgo before.” Magnificent Man’s distinguished archenemy—I can see that. “Nightbat’s butler, too, sometimes. I’m Jerry.” He makes a small bow without rising.
“Not Sabine. Do you like the work?”
“I get paid to read the paper.” He turns down the front page of hisAbandum Advanceto reveal theUnion-Tribune. “If I finish a column, and they’re still in my room, I give them a clue.”
“You’ve got an actual puzzle in this one?”
“The keypad on the opposite wall. Punch in the right digits, the door opens.”
A latch clicks in the cell outside Mallard’s.
“Time to reset. Quack, quack.”
I do. This time with my arms through the fake jail bars. It’s a group of bar-crawling girls. Probably my age. After, when I exit to Jerry’s room, he says, “Watch out for this next set. They sound rowdy.”
I nod and step back into my room to reset.
