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A Bad Idea 67

As soon as Shade, Anne, and the rest entered the basement, The Golden Man’s eyes opened. Thing was, he didn’t seem particularly alive. His facial expression showed no emotion. He said nothing. He merely opened his eyes, and glanced in the group’s direction.

“Oh what the fuck,” Anne whispered.

The Golden Man’s face contorted in fear.

“What the fuck?” she said again.

The Golden Man’s face twisted into a look of surprise.

He looked at all five of them, each with a different expression on their face, each with a different feeling in their hearts: Anne’s fear, Cat’s lust, Emma’s depression, Superfreak’s confusion, Shade’s confidence.

“It’s odd,” The Golden Man said. “The beauty of people. The pain, the joy, the horror, the love.”

Shade stood there for a few second, steeling herself. This isn’t what she’d been told to expect. She thought she was going after a statue — something heavy but movable, a relic from an old villain’s base, something the Superbuds would barely miss, something they’d struggle to notice had left.

Shade breathed deeply, then said. “This isn’t an ordinary statue.”

“Did you expect this?” Cat said, still more concerned with Shade’s ass than with The Golden Man.

Shade took another deep breath. “No, not really.”

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