It had been almost two hours later and Mike had yet to move from his spot by the window. No one had passed by it being so late at night which made him wonder what he was still doing up. He sighed heavily, rising from that spot to at least attempt sleep. He stretched out the limbs that were sore from disuse and rubbed his eyes, walking towards the stairs. As he put his hand on the railing, he was startled by Peter entering the Pad very loudly.

“Peter!”

Peter smiled at Mike’s reaction and accepted the hug he received in return.

“You look…well, you look pretty good. I wasn’t expecting this. What happened?” Mike asked, pulling Peter down onto the couch with him. Despite the situation, Peter managed to muster a laugh shaking his head as he sat down.

“I found out a lot.”

”Where were you?”

”Well, I was taken to the lab and Ms. Bates wanted to use my gift to figure out how successful she’s going to be. And then Sa-“

”Gift? What gift?” Mike spat out. He hadn’t meant it to sound so rude, implying that Peter had no talents, but he couldn’t think of anything Peter knew how to do that would help her.

“Oh, right, you don’t know. I’m psychic now, thanks to all their potions.” Peter said in agitation.

“Potions?”

”Gotta call them something.”

”You’ve officially confused me. Start from the beginning again.”

”All right, Ms. Bates wanted to use me to tell her if I saw any kind of vision for her future. To see if any of her experiments would be successful.” Mike nodded, signifying he understood. “OK, well she had to leave and I was left alone with Samson. That security guard guy.” Mike nodded again, signifying he knew whom he was talking about. “Turns out he had more to do with the experiments than Ms. Bates did. He pretends to be a guard so no one is suspicious. Well, he’s really smart and all and he explained everything to me. What’s up with Davy and Micky, and-“

”Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, shotgun. What’s wrong with Micky?” Mike furrowed his eyebrows in bafflement.

“You mean, you haven’t noticed anything weird about him?” Mike shrugged in response to Peter’s question, recalling the exchange they had had earlier. “He’s gonna end up hating us. That stuff is making him act the opposite of how he normally does.”

”You’re kidding.”

”No.”

”How do we stop it?”

”Well, Samson is working on creating antidotes for all this stuff. I feel so helpless. I mean, they got to me too, but I’m perfectly fine. If anything, being able to tell the future is an advantage.” Peter froze, remembering the vision he had earlier about Mike and Micky and what Samson had said. “Look, you can’t leave.”

”What?”

”They’re gonna get you too. You can’t ever leave here; I have to protect you.”

”Peter, I can take care of myself. And I have to leave eventually.” Mike suddenly stiffened, closing his eyes in reluctance.

“What, what is it?”

”Micky got us a gig. It’s tonight…er, tomorrow.” Peter groaned, disbelieving Mike was evening considering it. “C’mon. We need the money we have to go. The manager of the club is depending on us to entertain.”

”We haven’t played since we left Mr. Wistcroft. We’ve been a little preoccupied.”

”So we’ll have to practice. Since you’re back, we’ll have all day tomorrow. We can just pretend like nothing’s wrong and do our best.”

“You’re acting awfully cool about this,” Peter pointed out.

“Well, I kind of have to. I am Mike, after all.”

Micky grew frustrated as Mike stopped in the middle of the song once again. He hadn’t wanted to practice in the first place and now he was being forced to play the same part over again. Mike turned to face the rest of them.

“I’m sorry, guys. Something isn’t sounding right at the beginning of the chorus.” Mike said.

“Yeah,” Micky began, “For some reason, the song keeps stopping abruptly just as the chorus approaches.”

“I’m just trying to get it right.” Mike replied. “It’s probably you that’s off.”

Micky glared. “I don’t notice nothing. Davy and Peter don’t notice nothing. What makes you think anyone else will? Maybe you’re off, ever think of that Mr. Perfection?”

Mike was near breaking. That was the fifth time Micky had snapped at him during their rehearsal. “Mike, just cool it.” Peter whispered to him.

“Easy for you to say, he’s not doing this to you.”

“I’m not provoking it; neither is Davy. Just relax and ignore him.” Peter paused, raising the tone in his voice. “How about we take it from the top and go through the entire thing without stopping?”

”What a wonderful idea,” Micky looked to Mike in sarcasm. “Maybe you should let Peter be the leader of the band. At least he cares if we make it through the song.”

Mike instantly went to stare at Peter who stifled a laugh under his gaze. “I’m taking a walk.”

Peter sighed shaking his head. Davy, still oblivious to what was up with Micky, dropped his tambourine and went to follow Mike outside to talk to him.

“Davy, wait. Just leave him be.” Peter advised. “He’s fine.”

”Nah, Pete. I think you should let the shrimp leave. You honestly think we need him?” Micky grinned, abandoning his drum set to get something to eat from the kitchen. Davy looked down to the ground in defeat. Peter appeared next to him.

“Hey, he doesn’t mean it. Don’t let him get to you. Trust me.” Davy didn’t respond to Peter’s words of encouragement. He only stepped off the bandstand, walking to his bedroom to be alone. Peter collapsed in a nearby chair, placing his head in his hands.

Meanwhile, Mike kicked at the sand beneath his feet on the beach. His hands remained stuffed in his pockets. He sighed, releasing one hand to pat down his hair, which was blowing furiously in the wind. As he did so, he turned his head behind him in curiosity.

He could have sworn he’d heard someone.