You’re not paranoid about people trying to kill you…when there’s actually people trying to kill you.

“I can’t believe you pulled that off!” Dax cheered. He smacked Wendell on the arm in his excitement. “That was amazin’ kid!”

Wendell smirked and shrugged, “Thanks.”

“Amazing is right,” added Alhannah, “…and completely unexpected.” She also slugged him in the arm, “Looks like we under estimated you, kiddo.”

Shamas lead the team through the winding maze from the S.L.A.G. pit to the conference room. He looked overly nervous, looking behind them more than normal and holding everyone up as they approached each corner. Peering around edges, he waved them all forward, but no one seemed to noticed in their excitement from Wendell’s win.

No one except Alhannah.

Nibbles and Nat had volunteered to bring the transport around back—Nat still wanting to avoid any interaction with the reporters anxiously awaiting.

The media was already packed like sardines in the enclosed space, clamoring for personal interviews with Steel and Stone. Wendell quickly learned it wasn’t common to have all the members of a single team make it from one tier of competition to the next—at least not when two of the pilots were newbies, anyway. It was also the first time the Brother’s Trench had been knocked out during the first tier of the games.

Wendell stayed close to Dax and Shamas as they wedged through the bodies, up to the platform table. Flashes exploded around him as rabid reporters, hungry for an exclusive story to feed their employers, pushed their way to the front of the room like teenagers at a pop concert. Alhannah and Dax took their places on either side of Wendell, their hands resting lightly on the table. All eyes in the room were focused on the unknown pilot, calling himself the Gnolaum.

“Let’s make this count,” Alhannah whispered. Then she nudged and gave Wendell a huge, approving smile. “It’s all yours, Gnolaum.”

Hands wagged in the air as one by one the questions descended upon him.

“Well she kept me on my toes with those whips—but it wasn’t until Hook got free that I noticed the cables she used were actually attached. Part of her S.L.A.G., I mean. Once I noticed that I knew I had a chance of being able to bind her up.” Wendell unconsciously gripped his right forearm, “just like she bound up my sword arm.” The reporters grinned with anticipation. “So when Hook came swinging, I decided to replace my little shield with a bigger one.” He chuckled, realizing that it had all been a long shot, but he kept that part of the story to himself. “She couldn’t go anywhere. I was counting on the spikes installed in my S.L.A.G. to keep her in place.” He gave Freak an appreciative nod, “A brilliant invention by Freak and the TNT team. Worked like a charm.”

“Yeah,” cut in another reporter, wrapping her blonde curls over one ear, “but what about Kings Jester? The timing of that throw was a terrible risk at best, wasn’t it?”

Wendell threw his head back and laughed. “Oh that was so cool…and  yeah, risky…and completely unexpected.”

“It was?” the reporter gawked, “It wasn’t dominant skill and timing you displayed?”

Wendell shrugged, “Well, I did practice a lot, but honestly, I figured I had nothing to lose by trying something crazy. I was desperate.”

Reporters muttered one to another, hands scribbling notes and cameras zooming in on Wendell’s face. He smiled and waved, eating up the attention. This isn’t so bad, he thought. For the first time since he could remember, he was actually…popular. People—well, gnomes anyway, thought he was something special. That hadn’t happened since the 2010 county belching competition—and piloting a twenty foot robot was way cooler than using a can of soda to manipulating his diaphragm and stomach muscles. Plus the games were more fun than I expected. He blinked into the camera flashes and smiled again. It felt good to be the center of the attention. It wasn’t until his attention drifted to the back of the room that he gave pause.

Four gnomes, males, dressed in dark suits and thin sliver ties slipped in through the rear door. One by one they fanned out into the crown.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP.

Oh boy.

Each of the gnomes had dark hair, slicked back across their scalps and mirrored glasses…each staring on Wendell.

Wendell’s smile instantly vanished. He tapped Alhannah’s hand and nodded in the direction of the closest suit, who was quietly weaving through the crowd towards them.

“I see him,” she whispered back. She shot Shamas a wary glance and directed his gaze to the threat.

The bodyguard nodded and hopped down into the crowd.

“Last question,” Alhannah called out. She pointed at a young female standing on a chair in the middle of the room, “Yes you, in the blue suit.”

The reporter tapped her companions shoulder, a cameraman, then said aloud, “Glenna DeMile, with the Weekly Voice. Have you taken into account the feelings of the Church?” she pointed her pen at Wendell, “Using the name of Gnolaum has caused quite a stir among the religious faction. Aren’t you worried there might be a backlash from Holy leaders? From worshipers even?”

Alhannah met the reporters stare with a slight tilt of her head. Her green eyes gleamed out from under curved brows, the overhead lighting keeping her pupils in shadow. “What kind of a backlash would that be, Ms. DeMile? Denied access to the cathedrals on worship day? Disfellowship? Perhaps being labeled a heretic?” Her grin turned sour, “Or maybe they’ll charge me more money to get into the Halls of TGII!”

Half the reporters in the room gasped aloud at the sacrilege.

“Hey,” hissed Telly from behind, “you shouldn’t talk like that, Ms. Luckyfeller. It’s not…proper.” Freak shook his head at the tall mechanic and he immediately fell silent. He sang into his chair with a frown.

Alhannah stood up and tapped her finger on the table. “I have no desire to knock anyone’s beliefs—think and believe whatever you like, but I’ll not let anyone else dictate my own. Steel and Stone fights for the people, not the Church.” Her eye flickered as the the gap between Shamas and the black suit quickly closed. “If you read your history carefully, Ms. DeMile, you’ll discover that the actual Gnolaum fought for the people too—not for any religious organization.” She placed a hand on Wendell’s shoulder absentmindedly, “Because every gnome had value to him, especially the poor and downtrodden.”

Shamas stopped, his hands hanging at his sides as he came face to face with the gnome in the black suit. Wendell stared at what first looked like a wild west standoff. They stood at odds, wide-legged stance, still as statues for several moments. As the reporters noticed the shift in the rooms attention, a ring formed around the Shamas. Eyes turned from the interview to the unknown conflict between the dark stranger and Steel and Stones bodyguard.

“Time to leave,” growled Dax, quickly standing.

Wendell never saw the initial movement of the attacker—only Shamas dropping out of view. As if a hole suddenly appeared under him, the bodyguard sank into the sea of bodies…and then black suit pants flew up into the air. With a giant arc, the strangers body flipped backwards, landing hard on his face and stomach. The room of reporters moaned. Cameras flashed.

“Go!” shouted Shamas, spinning from his sweep kick, back to his feet. Reporters and camera men instantly made the connection. Turning their full attention to the fight, they each pushed and shoved, crowding around to grab an exclusive picture or record an off-beat comment. The more they pushed, the more they jammed up the pathway to the table. The other three gnomes in black grunted were suddenly locked in place. Without warning, they grabbed faces and knocked gnomes out of their way in a violent attempt to get to the table.

“Move!” Alhannah shouted. She grabbed Wendell by the collar and yanked him towards the door. She looked back at Freak. “Cover the door—give us as much time as you can. We’ll meet you in the parking garage.”

The mechanic nodded and Tumbler grinned, pulling a grease covered wrench from his overalls pocket.

“What about Shamas?” Wendell stuttered, tripping over his own feet to keep up. The smiley on his shirt looked about wide-eyed and panicked.

“He can take care of himself,” she answered with a huff. Shoving open the door, she then barked, “Dax, we can’t go out into the open alone. The fans are swarming outside and we don’t know if more goons are waiting. They could be anyone and anywhere. We should hide and wait this out—at least until Shamas can find us and lead us out.” She cast a concerned look at Wendell, “We need to keep you safe.”

A loud crash resounded behind them. Muffled voices, then angry shouts—followed by something heavy hitting the door to the conference room. Wendell was sure he heard the reverberating sound of metal hitting something solid.

“Go, go, go,” grumbled Dax, nudging his companions forward. Rushing down the hall, he peeked around the corner. There was nowhere to hide—only long wide hallways with dozens of adjacent doors. “This hallway’s a death trap,” he grumbled.

The excitement had long since left Wendell. All of a sudden, being the center of attention didn’t seem so great. Dashing around corners as fast as they dared, Dax’s ears twitched, causing him to stop. Stadium staff came through one door and went out another without taking any notice of them. Left, left…then a right, up a flight of winding stairs and finally two more lefts. With a loud bang, the service door flung open against the wall and the three found themselves in a dim lit hall…cold and damp with huge pipes lining the low ceiling.

Alhannah gasped for breath, “I think the parking garage is on the other side of this wall.”

Dax huffed and pressed his ear to the cinderblocks. “I hear the rumble of engines.”

“I thought it was the best fight yet!” cheered a voice.

“So true, dude. So very true,” answered another.

“Quick,” Alhannah gasped, “hide!”

Wendell’s head whipped around, his feet unable to decide which way to dart. He panicked. “Where!?”

Dax grabbed the handle of a small metal door and yanked. With a vibrating shutter, it swung open on hinges layered with heavy black grease. “Quick, get in!”

“It smells!” complained Wendell, reeling back and slapping a hand over his mouth and nose.

Dax grabbed a fistful of jumpsuit and shoved him through the door, “It smells fine, now shut up and hurry!”

Wendell’s eyes watered at the onslaught of sour mold accosting his senses. He gagged. This coming from the guy who eats rotten fish and who knows what else!

Alhannah whispered quickly as she closed the door, “Don’t worry, we’ll be right here, Wendell. Just keep quiet!” And with a clang, everything went black.

A momentary hop and a jump later, both Dax and Alhannah shimmied into the overhead pumping array, squishing between pipes and out of view. The warrior gnome kept her attention on the door as the two employees approached.

“Have ya ever seen a move like that? Gnolaum throwing his shield at Kings Jester…knocking the snot outta it.” Skinny and with a pitted face, the redheaded boy lugged a large black bag over his wide, boney shoulders.

The other youth swaggered along next to him, the concession box strapped to his chest. He pulled something out and unwrapped it, popping the goodie in his mouth. “Totally,” but he paused, “Well, then again, Skyline was pretty intense with that rifle shot.” He made a motion with a pretend gun, firing the weapon down the hallway, “Droppin to one knee and blowin’ King Jesters leg clean off.”

Then in unison, “EPIC!”

Alhannah held her breath as the redhead yanked the small door open and threw the bag inside. She couldn’t see Wendell, but neither of the employees were paying any attention.

“Dude, let’s go to my mom’s house and watch the replays.”

“Yer on, man!”

And with that, they vanished out of sight.

Dax hopped down and pulled the door open. Wendell flopped out, shaking his head and brushing his hair out with his hands.

“Ew, ew, ewwwww!” he shuttered, shaking his whole body in a convulsion. The smiley face had changed from bright yellow to a light shade of green. “That was disGUSTING!”

Dax sniffed Wendell’s shoulder, then leaned towards the open container and took another. “What are ya talkin’ about? Smells fine to me.”

Wendell and Alhannah stared at him.

Dax shrugged, “What?”

****

Waiting for the crowds to dissipate, Wendell, Dax and Alhannah hid behind the dumpsters, located in a cement alcove. The staircase had taken them to the spectator parking section, instead of the service garage where the S.L.A.G.s were held. Unfortunately, the last door had locked behind them and they found themselves trapped. It was over an hour before they saw Shamas and the TNT crew appear out of the main elevator and into the parking garage. The bodyguard was helping old Tumbler, who was limping, while Socket helped her husband along—a red rag held to his face. Telly, on the other hand, was sporting a black eye and an immense smile on his face.

Shamas looked about the garage, then over at the alcove. He pulled his phone from his leather jacket, pushed a button and talked into it. A minute later, the teams van pulled up—blocking the view of the dumpsters. He helped the team inside the vehicle, then walked around and motioned to Alhannah.

“How did you know we were…” Alhannah started to say, but Shamas just shook his head with a self-satisfied chuckle.

“Please. That’s the only sensible place on this level to hide,” he smirked, “unless you intended to smash a window of a vehicle and steal it.” He gauged her expression, then laughed out loud, “But I know you’re not stupid—so here we are.”

Alhannah grinned, “So what happened?”

“They attacked an old, feeble gnome!” cursed Tumbler, struggling to get into the van. Telly tried to lift him up, but the old gnome slapped his hands. “No respect for the elderly.”

“Well,” countered Telly, “it’s hard to be respectful to someone tryin’ to beat your brains in with a wrench.”

“Shut up, boy.”

Freak pulled the stained rag from his swollen, red nose. It was bent   to the right. “Did just as you said Ms. Luckyfeller—stopped them at the door.”

Socket leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t think she meant you to do it with your face, sweetheart.”

Dax stood back, staring at the last of the spectators appearing out of the elevators. “Who were those boys in black?”

Shamas shrugged, “Didn’t stop to ask, but they aren’t frequenters of the stadium, I’ll tell you that. I knocked two of them out, “he nodded at the TNT crew with a smirk, “they took ample care of the other two…then we ran.”

Alhannah grabbed the bodyguards forearm in an iron grip. “This have something to do with why you were late?”

Shamas nodded, “That’s what I’m thinking, but I can’t honestly be sure. Luckily we lost them inside of two minutes, so I’m betting they didn’t know their way around this place. This is an outside attempt—not one of the other teams.”

“Or they just thought this was going to be a cake-walk,” added Nat. He adjusted the rear view mirror. “maybe they didn’t want to bother.”

Nibble’s flipped around and looked over the passenger seat, “I’m just glad everyone’s alright.” She raised an eyebrow at Alhannah. “And what…is that smell?”

****

The trip back to the warehouse was uneventful and everyone was able to relax. It had been a good day with positive results all around. Wendell had won his first match. Now the team knew he could, indeed, hold his own. They also knew their benefactor, Mr. Bellows, would be pleased. Steel and Stone was now in the spotlight.

Alhannah wasn’t convinced that it was due to their wins, however. Not in and of themselves, anyway. That kind of attention would make more sense once they’d made it past tier two and onto the finals—but the initial rounds were the easy part. No, she was convinced that this had more to do with their decision to call Wendell’s S.L.A.G. the Gnolaum…and the effect their team was having on the factory workers. Somewhere in the sea of normals, people were getting nervous.

When they pulled into the hangar, Deloris was waiting for them. She paced the doorway to the warehouse, her face contorted. Before anyone could pass her to get to their rooms, she barred the way with her arm and looked at Shamas warily.

“You’d better keep the team down here for now, dear,” her voice was quivering. Wendell noticed even her hands were shaking.

“What’s wrong Deloris?” asked Nat. The rest of the team crowded around her.

She shifted nervously and said in a dry, cracking voice, “We have visitors.” Her attention shifted to Wendell, “They want to see the pilots. Specifically you, Wendell.”

Alhannah and Dax looked between one another nervously.

“Who is it, Deloris?” prodded Nat.

She swallowed hard, almost choking on her words, “President Shrub.”