Waking up was easier today. I was just a little ahead of on time; my alarm went off as I was reaching for it.

I smelled bleach. Lots of bleach. With just a hint of something else under it; something I didn't recognize.

My door was closed; my room darkened. The drapes were still pulled, and Jeanette was nowhere to be seen. My legs felt steady at least. It was a wonder what several extra hours of sleep could do for you.

My door opened, and the smell of bleach instantly intensified. Then Jeanette was there, a hand already threading its' way under my arm. "Good morning, Mistress Min. How do you feel?"

An odd question, considering she should already know, and she always had before. "I feel fine. Better than fine actually. What is going on out here? Did you spill some bleach in the hall?"

"Ah, yes. Yes, we did. We were cleaning, and we might have used more chemicals than we should have."

That was odd. Jeanette normally looked me in the eye when she spoke to me, or at the very least, tried to. Was she... surely she wasn't lying to me?

I was already at the bathroom, guided inside. The hallway... I could see puddles still, either water or more likely some cleaner. There was a mop and bucket in the far corner, and Dad was standing there, with some kind of scraper in his hand.

"Good morning, Min. We found some water damage from the recent storm, so we're going to check the roof and do some other work, then repaint the hall. You got any color you'd like to see?"

Well, the white was a little boring. "I don't know. Isn't that more of a mom's call thing?"

Mom made all the final decisions on any work done on the house. She said it was the only way she could live here with us. Usually a few times a year. Dad and I always went along with it for our sanity.

Dad froze just a second, shifting a bit but not stepping closer. "Fair. Still, you got a thought?

"A sky or robin egg blue would look nice," If Dad didn't want to know, he shouldn't ask.

He looked around, giving it some thought. "Yeah, bright but not too bright, and the lights won't reflect as bad as they do now. I can see it."

I had not expected approval; an interior decorator I was not.

Jeanette shut the door and took my hand. I watched her eyes flash as she read my condition. Something she didn't need to do, but did anyway, probably because she could. I wasn't going to question it.

"You are well today."

"How well?"

"Almost normal for a human well; only a little elevation in your numbers, and your endocrine is working well, and your hormone production is, well, almost normal. It is a good day."

There was that smile. It took a little effort for Jeanette to bring it out, it seemed.

"Right. I feel well enough to go to class. Can you get clothes for me? The smell distracted me."

I could always blame the smell. I hadn't forgotten; I'd been investigating a mystery!

Wait, was Dad supposed to be home today? Wasn't it Mom's turn? Was water damage in the house a reason for both the rents to be home?
Something about that seemed a little off. I'd ask later.

I waited for Jeanette to get back; if I started removing my pajamas, that would be when she would open the door, and people would see things

I didn't want them to. I could imagine Ian's "ewwww" with crystal clarity for example, and had no desire to hear it with my ears.

Jeanette was fine of course; she'd seen all of me already so it didn't matter.

My Maid opened the door and came in, some clothes wrapped in my coat in one hand. She shut the door and settled in on the stool, clearly
readying up to wait for me. Which was also a little unusual.

"I thought you said I was fine?"

Jeanette smiled. "You are. I am simply here to help. I shall wash your hair, as you are skipping the conditioner when I do not."

Ah, so I was busted. How could she tell? My hair looked fine to me. If anything, it was more glossy than ever.

Right, she measured the bottle, and my cheap butt wasn't about to just pour the expensive crap out. She had me this time. "Fine. You can at least watch. My hands work just fine."

"As you say, Mistress Min. Perhaps today, I can convince you to don some cosmetics?"

That sounded like a pain.

"The more you get used to them now, the less issue they will cause you later."

I still didn't know much about any of that. Mom wanted to show me, but I wasn't really feeling it. I looked fine without anything painted on me, so why waste the time? It might be different if I needed to cover up a scar or something.

Was that arrogant to think? I probably shouldn't be thinking like that - it was something else to ask about later. "Like what? What kind of trouble could Makeup give me if I didn't even put it on?"

Jeanette didn't answer; she just widened her smile, morphing it into something a little scary.

Fine, be that way. Oh no, wait, I knew what she was talking about! The sleepover! If I didn't learn, and learn fast, my friends would be pulling that dress up doll crap! If I didn't learn, they would do it again. That was both the promise and the threat.

"Right, fine. I'll do a little." Just some long lasting lipstick in a muted color and some eye shadow. Maybe some mascara. Just enough to show I was taking steps would keep Sam off my back; that girl was relentless.

"I see you remember," Jeanette noted.

"Hard to forget, really. You know next time we're roping you in, right?"

Jeanette's smile evened out to something more genuine. "I'd be honored."

My androids were weird. "It's just makeup. Which is a massive waste of time."

"It is part of human culture, passed on from before recorded history," Jeanette countered. "Only one other activity has survived as long as cosmetics."

Yeah, I knew that one, and I knew my android was baiting me there. I wouldn't rise to it.

I got my hair washed in silence, used the conditioner, counting out thirty seconds like I was supposed to, and dried off. Jeanette stepped forward with a towel and began working on my hair with gentle pats and squeezes.

"One day I'm going to shave it all off. Go full crew cut."

"And on that day, your mother might well ground you until it grows back," Jeanette answered.

That was a possibility. A worryingly likely possibility. "Still, imagine the efficiency. I wouldn't need much shampoo or conditioner, wouldn't need to wait an hour or more for it to dry completely, wouldn't accidentally sleep on it or have it catch in stuff...."

Sigh, that was the dream. A few days ago, I'd gotten some hair caught in one of the smaller engine bays in my plane, and I'd had to have Crash help me. Yet another thing that no one but my bots and I would ever know.

Jeanette wrapped my hair and stepped back. I took the opportunity to dress, liking the feel because I wasn't always able to do this without help. The only irritation is that I had to unwrap everything because the underwear was in the center.

Jeanette beat me to the door, standing at attention in the hall. The way downstairs was clear at least. "Since you're going to stand there, you'll need to get my stuff."

"Of course Mistress. Right after I see you safely downstairs."

That was fair, I guess; I did have a tendency to need help on the stairs. I felt fine right now though.

Jeanette kept a firm hold on one arm as she led me down, letting me set the pace.

There was more bleach smell downstairs, from the kitchen. Not as much as the hall upstairs, but some. "Did you guys spill more bleach down here?"

"No, this is where the mop bucket for the spill ended up, briefly. The smell remains."

Right. I guess this was as good a place as any. I'd have dumped the bucket upstairs and not risked carrying it down, but Mom was a bit of a stickler about mop water; that stuff always had to be dumped outside.

The bleach would likely kill the grass. Dad was going to have a fit later. He hadn't seemed to worried about it now, though?

Something was going on.

Ian was up, hunched over a plate of some kind of breakfast burrito. Home made, of course, because Jeeves was right there, apron on as normal, slaving over a hot stove. The smells of cooking didn't quite overpower the other smell, but it was trying hard.

Ian seemed... subdued. "You okay?"

My little brother jumped, as if startled. Did he not hear or see us come in? We hadn't exactly been quiet.

Ian turned and saw me. Looked me up and down, as if seeing a ghost. His answer came a bit late. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little lost in thought."

That sounded like something I could help with. "The test next week? Want some help studying? I can pencil you in...."

No, it didn't seem to be that. "Is it the car thing? We can get one; I'll just need to hire a driver. It's still a bit too early for me, and Crash is busy."
I was due to start learning how to drive. I had a little concern about my eye test, but I might make it.

Ian seemed to shake it off and started picking at his food. "No, it's... it's fine. I'm okay, just thinking."

He was picking at a breakfast burrito with a fork, when the standard operating procedure was just to pick it up, but if he wasn't going to tell me what was wrong, then he wasn't.

"Alright little bro. Just... I'm here if you need help with something, alright?"

I fought down the spike of guilt; I'd been pretty involved in my own problems lately. In my defense, my own problems were pretty huge and required a lot of self-absorption, but even so, I could have been a better... sibling. Yeah, sibling.

The smile I got back was faint and had some shakiness to it. "Thanks Sis. It's nothing, really. I'll be fine."

A plate was set down in front of me, Jeeves' contribution to the conversation. He took the opportunity to say: "Good morning, Mistress Min."

"Good morning Jeeves. How are you today?"

"I am operating within known parameters - which means that I am well, Mistress Min. Thank you for asking."

Hm, he was getting better at the whole human speech thing. Maybe. We'd have to see if he could keep it up.

"So, a breakfast burrito? Were you pressed for time because of the cleaning? Did either of you have to shorten your recharge cycle?"

If my androids were short on power, it meant I wouldn't be covered for some portion of the day, or I'd have to re-task crash. Sure, I felt fine, but it was a group effort, and if I started getting worse later, it'd probably be too late to reschedule everyone then.

Jeeves shared a look with Jeanette, but stayed silent. Jeanette took the lead: "We did have to shorten the time spent recharging. However, we both have enough power to complete our normal tasks for the entire day."

"You've calculated it?" I'd done some of that work before, and there really shouldn't be any way an extra hour of cleaning should stress either of the power designs my androids had, but that look said there was more going on.

There was definitely more going on.

"I shall return, Mistress Min. Please enjoy your meal," Jeanette announcing things like that was nothing new, and her confident stride was nothing new, but the way Ian hunched over again was. Had something happened between them? Had Ian spilled the bleach, doing some kind of prank or something, and Jeanette caught him?

I could see it, but I didn't have enough evidence.

Since I wasn't a savage, and my hands were clean, and Mom wasn't at the table... hands it was! Jeeves watched on as I took the first bite; then he slid some kind of sauce in front of me before turning away. It looked a bit like salsa.

Oh, it was a bit like salsa, and somehow it worked. This was nice.

Jeeves turned back with my coffee and some orange juice. "Thanks."

"You are welcome, mistress Min."

Ian only had juice. Half full, now. He was also using the dipping sauce, only he was cutting pieces of burrito off and dunking it in his.

"Mom been through here?"

"Earlier," Ian answered. "She's around. Was in the living room last I knew."

That was a little odd. Was she using our landline from there or something?

I played a hunch and leaned in. "So what's really going on?"

Bingo. Ian's eyes shifted and he twitched. His voice was steady, though: "I don't know any more than you. Something happened last night, and now our parents are discussing home decor."

Hmm. I gave my little brother my best gimlet stare, and he didn't flinch. So he was probably genuine on this one. "Fine. I take it that you asked?"

"I did," my little bro answered. "I got told not to ask."

"Fair enough. I've got ways, I'll figure it out and then tell you for both of us. I don't think they are pod people yet, but something weird is going on."

I wasn't going to blame my bots just yet, but the fact remained that my bots might have done something, and now my parents were overreacting to whatever it was. Maybe I'd ask Jill if she showed up. If I really needed to, I could call her, and she was too new to be part of whatever possible conspiracy this might be.

I could also be reaching. We weren't dead, no one else was freaking out, and I'd seen no evidence of mind control technology or giant lasers or anything else. I didn't think an odd strain of grass or the work I'd done on our cars had broken our parents.

"A Ferrari."

"What?" Ian had said something.

"The car. When you get one. A Ferrari. Or a Maserati. Something like that."

Nope. "Nah, that is way too much car to start out with. Though I am thinking of something unusual, like a Bentley or a Rolls-Royce."

"A Bentley? What even is a Bentley?"

I made a show of looking down my nose at Ian; really hammed it up. "It is an expensive car for snooty people. I thought I'd give snootiness a try."

The reality is that Crash had recommended it. He'd even spent a little time talking models and years. Since it was possible that he would be the one driving it, having an opinion made sense.

Ian gave a verdict without hesitation: "That sounds stupid."

"Some models of Bentley automobiles have over six hundred horsepower," Jeeves commented, clearly to no one in particular. He was still cooking, so I must not have been the last one eating breakfast after all.

It was interesting watching him add things. Like what was in that small bottle?

Shit, I'd forgotten my glasses. Hopefully Jeanette brought them.

That wasn't important; what was important was listening to Ian perk up. "Really? I mean, sure they do."

We both knew a little about cars from Dad. Six hundred horses was a lot of horses. about two hundred more than Dad's project car had. They weren't on the list of zippy cars, though. At least not any list I knew of.

"Dare I ask how much they cost?" If A Bentley was over what a Ferrari cost, words would be had.

"You can't put a price on true luxury," was my butler's response - telling me everything I needed to know.

"You totally can."

"Sis, relax. It's not like we don't have the money for it. Or you don't, really. Not anymore."

He had a point. Also, sis, huh?

I'd let it pass. Maybe I'd bring it up later, when I wanted to put my little brother on the back foot. Sure, he'd called me sis before, but today it felt different.

And the correct phrasing was 'we'. My money was the family's money, or even my parents' money since I wasn't emancipated. Not that my parents would withhold any of it from me, provided I could make a case for what I needed or even wanted.

A new car... we already had three, counting Dad's project. Did we need a Fourth? Whatever, just another thing to talk to Mom about - because of course Dad would follow Mom's lead on this. Dad was smart, and knew what battles to pick. Even if he wouldn't want me or my bots driving his car.

Which was silly. I was sure Crash could drive his car better than he could, project or otherwise.

Mom walked in, carrying a small trash can... the one from the den? She set it next to our big one, turned, and lunged into the seat next to mine.

"Good morning, Min."

"Good morning Mom. What's with the trash?" It wasn't trash day; I knew, I handled trash day. Or I used to, before Jeeves took it over.

"I found some glass. Not sure where it's from."

Huh. "Where at?"

"On the living room floor. So far, no one is fessing up on what it was and how it got broke. The only thing I know for sure is you're both off the hook; you were both asleep."

She checked up on us then, and she had been up the night. "Maybe the storms? Seems like they did a number on the roof."

Mom gave a slight grin. "Probably. It'll be fine, we're insured. We've even got a free claim for it; our rates won't raise."

That was a relief. "Nice. Anything I can do to help?"

I should be able to paint when I got home from school, provided we were ready for that. I don't think I could take part in any mold killing, my health being what it was. I mean, sure I'd recover, but why would I want to experience the pain?

Mom ruffled my hair, towel and all. "Nah, we got this. We won't even start painting or anything else until a home inspector comes by, so we can make sure there is no internal damage to the structure. That won't happen for an hour yet, but if there isn't anything, then all the work will be done by the time you kids get home."

Mom knocked on the wooden table, two sharp raps. I followed suit in a silent desire that her wish come true. I mean if there was a lot of mold or something else going on, we might have to stay in a motel.

While a motel might be cool, I was quite sure they were inferior to my own bedroom in our own house.

"Alright. Sounds like you have things well in hand."

Another ruffle, which I managed to bat away. Just in time for the sound of Jeanette's footsteps to reach me.

Finally, she was up there awhile.

Jeeves handed Mom a plate. There was still another burrito in his skillet, which must be for Dad. The things had been big; I couldn't imagine any of us wanting another. Maybe it was just my stomach talking.

Jeanette had been busy; my full backpack was in one hand, and my glasses in the other.

She set the burden down, threaded my glasses on my face, and worked the towel off my head. Just in time for a knock to sound on the door.

"I shall answer," Jeeves said immediately, already heading toward the door.

Mom paused her eating.

Jeeves strode over stiffly and opened the door. I promptly heard a yell of "Hi Jeeves!" from Maggie. Which of course meant that Sam was also standing there.

"Good morning Maggie, Sam. We're in the kitchen."

They were early.

Wait, Ricky and Ralph were here too, walking in right behind my other two friends. They were all early. "What are you all doing here? Don't we still have some time?"

I didn't have a watch on; why bother when I had a phone? Except, Jeanette had my phone. The wall clock said we had a good twenty minutes until we needed to leave to make it to school, however.

"We do," Ricky said with a shrug. "I don't know about these other freeloaders, but I was already headed over. Met these guys along the way."

Right. I looked to my other friends. "I wanted to see how you were, since you were sick yesterday," Maggie admitted.

Sam nodded.

I looked to Ralph, and he just pointed to Maggie, trying to be cool and echo her without words.

It didn't really work, but I wasn't going to tell him.

"Well, I hope you've all had breakfast," Mom said, pulling a Mom. "We can offer some if you haven't, but we had a bit of a situation here this morning, and we've been a little busy with that."

Maggie gave her answer immediately. "No, Mrs. Campbell. Sam and I already ate."

"Do tell," Sam deadpanned.

Ralph shook his head, and Ricky had the grace to look abashed. "I'm fine with cereal."

Mom smiled. "Of course. Help yourself if you please. We have your favorite, and you know where it all is."

I looked; Jeeves was busy cleaning up his mess. With my glasses now firmly on my face, I could see the small bottle was filled with turmeric. Whatever turmeric actually was.

Ricky got his favorite, which was fruit loops. Which were objectively awful; why would anyone pick fruit loops when reese's puffs existed? It made no sense!

Great, now I want a reese's. Even as full as I was.

Jeanette shifted; the brushing stopped. I was glad no one commented on my maid android doing my hair care. At least, not anymore.

When she shifted again, my socks in her hand, everyone noticed, but again did not comment - for which I was also grateful. Even if I could easily imagine the comments about how I should be doing it myself in my head. I agreed, of course, but Jeanette would just ignore me and grab my feet anyway if I said anything.

I was used to her ways. She was gentle with it, at least. My feet were firmly held, yet they felt no real pain, just pressure.
"So, anything interesting going on today? What did I miss while I was out?"

I tried very hard to appear as nonchalant as possible. If the people around me were hiding something, there would be tells. I'd been as vague as possible to cast a wide net.

My bots didn't miss a beat, either of them. Mom kept eating. My friends? Only one seemed to show anything; Ricky's face closed down, the way he does when he was contemplating hurting someone.

Ian flinched. Just a little, but it was a clear flinch.

Right.

Mom was still eating as if nothing was wrong, but I wouldn't place a bet on her being oblivious.

I finished my coffee as Jeanette finished with my socks and sneakers, tying the final knot with a flourish and smile that seemed to me a bit more than what such a simple task deserved.

"You are ready, Mistress Min."

Except I wasn't. "Not quite. I still need to brush my teeth."

After all who brushed their teeth before breakfast and just walked out of their house? Degenerates, that's who!

Yes, Ricky did it sometimes, the lazy bum.

I stood up and stretched. No one seemed ready to stop me, which was good. Jeanette stayed close but let me lead, and the others devolved into telling each other how they slept, which was apparently well for everyone.

I couldn't argue; I'd slept really well too.

With my glasses on, the hallway took on a new clarity. I could clearly see the water staining the far end of it, and it already looked like some of the paint was peeling. The bleach smell was as strong as ever, and Dad was still pouring over the far end. Was that a paint scraper in his hand?

That made sense, I guess. The door to the master bedroom at the end of the hall was half open. That wasn't strange, but I felt that it was important somehow.

Still, Dad was a roadblock; I couldn't try to pass him without him asking me what I was doing. I didn't have an answer for that, so instead I walked into the bathroom.

Jeanette took up her perfectly normal post in the doorway, adjusting her uniform while watching me and pretending not to.

I mean, she always did that, so that also wasn't unusual, but I couldn't help but feel there was something more to it today.

I did the teeth thing, the flossing I could reach, the brushing, then the mouthwash, because if you did it in the right order you could knock more crap loose, then simply spit it all out. I didn't like the idea of some random microscopic creature rotting my teeth away while I wasn't looking.
Hmm, I might have to develop a better method for cleaning teeth. Eventually; that felt a little too close to wetware, and I was in no way ready for all that yet.

I probably didn't need to worry about it anymore, honestly, but I did worry about Ricky; by the time he was thirty, he'd have all of two teeth.
I finished up, wiped my mouth against the nearest hand towel, which was what it was there for and you can't tell me otherwise, and turned to find Jeanette still blocking the way - only with lipstick and mascara in hand.

"You have not forgotten, surely?"

I hadn't, but I'd hoped she had. "Right, fine. How do you want to do this?"

"Just stand still for a moment," Jeanette replied as she started forward.

The lipstick was one line drawn with perfect precision and just the right amount of pressure; I puckered up after, knowing what was expected of me. The mascara was a little more complicated, as once my glasses were off there was now something vaguely pointy mere millimeters from my eye. I managed to still my impulses long enough.

Clearly, Jeanette had been practicing somehow, as she only took three to four swipes at each eye to finish. All that with one hand holding my chin so that I could not escape.

She didn't let go once the mascara brush was set aside; instead, she pulled out some liner she'd been hiding in her apron pocket.
I resigned myself to my fate as she took her time with that, trying not to blink.

By the time my glasses were put back in my face, I'd spent four times the number of seconds I'd meant to in the bathroom. Not really a good argument against makeup being a waste of time.

The compelling argument seemed to be downstairs, with my friends and family taking one look at me and freezing.

I had looked in the mirror before coming down; I had looked fine - not clown-like at all. So this must be something. I knew I was attractive enough; I wasn't going to break mirrors. But there were degrees to that sort of thing, and I wasn't sure where I fit anymore.

It didn't really matter anyway. Not right now.

The moment shattered like a pane of glass, and everyone started moving. The only comment actually made was Sam's non-verbal smile.

Ricky stood up. There was a little milk dribbling from the right corner of his mouth. "Right, we should go. We could actually be early for once. Maybe I can get the teachers to give me a point or two towards my grade?"

Mom gave Ricky a look, clearly shocked by the silliness. Then she pointed at Ricky's bowl, still on the table.

My friend got the hint: "Right, sorry Mrs. C."

Maggie had also gotten the hint, and by the time Ricky had placed his bowl in the sink, we were already at the door. "Goodbye Mrs Campbell, have a good day!"

"Have a good day Maggie. Have a good day Min."

"You too, Mom!"

Oh no, I hit my own mother with the dreaded 'you too'. At least the door shut before she could call me on it, with Ralph being the grinning culprit behind that little maneuver.

Somehow, Ian had mixed in with us quietly.

I knew what was expected of me, and matched the quickened pace of my friends. We got all the way to the street before Ricky caught up. At least he hadn't completely shattered his dignity by yelling at us to wait.

He was mock glaring at me, though, trying not to lose it as I tried the same. Sometimes the little pranks were the best.

"I must say Min, the goth doctor look suits you."

The what? I zeroed in on Maggie. "What?"

Maggie's grin was bigger than mine. "Dark lipstick, dark eye shadow, your coat, black pants, and a gray top. It makes you look a little goth."

Sam gave her verdict: "Less sunny."

Maggie turned to her. "Yeah, it is, but it still works somehow! If only the glasses matched, she'd be completely rocking the look! Min, you should get a set of glasses with black frames as soon as possible!"

Did people really buy glasses to match their clothes? That seemed a little excessive. Then again, from what I'd been told, black went with everything, so was it really that hard a thing to do?

Whatever, I'd deal with it later. "I am not a goth. It just happened that way this morning."

I wasn't about to tell them 'my android picked my clothes' and then listen to them for the next ten minutes. For all they knew, I picked my own, and it would stay that way!

The makeup was another story, and everyone knew that.

Ian was still moving along quietly, his eyes darting from tree to car to tree. He hadn't pounced on the idea of calling me the next best thing to a theater kid.

Ricky was smiling at the thought, but he wasn't watching. Like Ian, he was focused somewhere else. Something was up.
.......
"It won't work, you know."

Mary Campbell sighed and leaned in close. Her partner wasted no time putting an arm around her. before them both stood the bullet riddled door. Just another thing they would need to replace before their kids came back home. "What choice do we have? You know what they're like as well as I. Paranoid to a fault and too clever by half, even for people in our line of work. If Min thinks we can get attacked like this, then she will start building. You know she will."

"Former line of work," was thrown in her face. "But yes, I get you. Those kids, though, won't ever be able to keep it from her. Not for long. I'd be very surprised if she didn't already suspect."

Mary sighed and pulled away, heading for the toolbox and the screwdrivers within. "I know. Maybe with enough time, we can think of something better. At least the car is a good call. We can't have her just walking to school anymore. Even with plain clothes escorting."

"We still need to test one of them. I'm not all that inclined to trust the driving of someone who calls themselves 'Crash'. "

Mary couldn't stop the snort of laughter. "Test them if you want. I bet they all pass the driver's test by this afternoon. How soon can we expect the car?"

"Today. It won't be armored yet. I'll take it in to our friends tomorrow, and it'll be done and ready by the end of school tomorrow. We've got a rush on it."

It was the best anyone could ask for. The team would arrive within the hour, and the house would be much more secure after they finished. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be as good as any suburban house could be made to be.

The only real worry was managing the mental problems of their daughter, who might be the most extreme example of a devisor either of them had ever seen.

Well, that and finding the scum who put the dumber scum up to raiding her home. That one wouldn't take long at all.
Her husband clapped her on the shoulder; he knew from long experience just when to interfere. "Alright, all the bullet holes are patched. I'll go get the paint."

"You decided on a color?" Mary wasn't aware they'd had the discussion yet; she'd been too busy with the cleanup.

"I asked Min. She said robin's egg blue. If you want, however, we can just go with the white again."

Mary looked around - she could see it. "No, that will work. Get a dark gray door. Something solid this time."

He waved as he disappeared down the stairs, and Mary turned to give the hall one last once-over. There was no trace of damage, and no hint of blood, even with dark lights and luminol testing. She would have to rip up the floorboards to be sure, of course, but the state of it would do for now.

She still needed to call to get the window replaced. She should do all of them. She wouldn't have to worry about the androids, taking the money from Min's account. But she knew her daughter would have questions if she saw the windows getting replaced by something a little more bulletproof. Shecky would help her hide the evidence, she was sure.

So much unnecessary work to do.