“I can’t believe they’re making me quit my job,” I complained, as I filled out an application form for a research assistant position in the Fleet Science Center’s Library and Archives section.

Shortly after the Main Assembly Hall had been cleared, Wade and the rest of our newly formed Rag Team—a term which we all seemed to hate and love at the same time—had accompanied me to one of the common rooms of the coven.

Santana and Tatyana had raided the small cafeteria for a variety of hot drinks and snacks, while Raffe and Astrid were getting to know Dylan a little better. Wade was sitting next to me at the table, carefully checking the information I put into the employment form. There was still tension between us, mostly because of his strong dislike regarding my Empath ability, but there was nothing I could do about that. Sooner or later, he was going to get used to it. What did he have to hide, anyway? I already knew that I was getting on his nerves—it didn’t take an Empath to see that.

“It pays better, and you don’t have to hang around all those undesirables,” Wade replied, pointing at a box that required my date of birth. I didn’t have a real birthday, just an approximate, almost randomly chosen day and month of the year when I was dropped off at the orphanage. “Fill that in.”

“Only if you people promise not to get me any sappy cards for that date,” I grumbled. “It’s not my real birthday, and I don’t celebrate it, anyway.”

“Why not?” Santana asked, sitting across the table and pushing a freshly brewed coffee my way.

“Thanks.” I retrieved the paper cup, blowing over the hot black liquid before the first sip. I could almost feel the energy flowing through me. “I don’t know my exact date of birth, just that I was about three years old when I was left at the orphanage.”

I said it rather matter-of-factly, which didn’t surprise me. I’d gotten used to the idea a long, long time ago. My Rag Team, however, was nonplussed, judging by the way they looked at me. Then came pity, and I instantly hated that feeling. I hated feeling pity, especially when I knew it was directed at me.

“You’re an orphan,” Dylan said. He was the only one who didn’t feel sorry for me. Instead, I got a whiff of understanding from him. It was a rare reaction. Most people didn’t like being aware of the hardships of others. They didn’t even look at the homeless veterans they passed on the street, as if they couldn’t handle someone else’s misery. I didn’t get that luxury. I felt everything. “So, you were in the foster system?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

Dylan smiled. “Me too.” The idea of a kindred spirit came back, twice as loud. I couldn’t help but beam at him. There were plenty of us foster kids in the San Diego area, but we had a tendency to avoid one another. Most of the kids in the system didn’t turn out as well as I had. Most of them never got a family like the Smiths to guide them into adulthood, so they slipped through the cracks. Dylan looked like another fortunate exception, with his crew cut and crisp varsity jacket.

“Seriously? I want to say, ‘That’s so cool,’ but we both know it isn’t.” I chuckled, and he laughed out loud. He was so bright and jovial, so genuine and just plain nice.

“It’s okay, it kind of makes sense in this place,” Dylan replied, while Wade watched our exchange with a slight frown. “It’s why we’re ‘late bloomers,’ as they call us here. We got lost in the foster system and we didn’t have anyone to teach us about what we are.”

“Most of us magicals join the coven at a very young age,” Santana explained. “But people like you, Dylan, and others don’t get that lucky. Nevertheless, better late than never, I say!”

“What about you?” I asked Astrid. “How’d you end up in the coven, as a human?”

“Oh, that’s a bit of a long story,” she said. “I’m useful, and I do a lot of work on the IT side. You know, the usual. Encryption, security, surveillance, and good ol’ fashioned hacking, mostly. There’s only so much that magic can do in a human world dominated by technology.”

“Plus, she’s our only zombie,” Santana said, grinning.

“Seriously, as if this conversation wasn’t complicated enough, we’re bringing zombies in, too?” I said, confused.

“What she means is that I’ve been through a couple of rough patches on field missions,” Astrid replied, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Hence Alton allowed me to go with you guys, on the Rag Team. He wants to avoid another… incident.”

“Define ‘incident,’” I replied.

“I died,” Astrid said bluntly, and it took me a couple of seconds to fully register that little morsel of weird. “Three times, to be precise. Alton brought me back, but the price he paid was… awful.”

“Huh?”

“Alton’s a rare type of magical,” Wade added. “He’s a Necromancer. One of five in existence.”

“He brings people back to life?” I said, utterly shocked.

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” he replied. “It’s not easy at all. Certain conditions have to be met for a resurrection to occur. The body needs to be in good condition. Any resurrection performed after twenty-four hours will result in a literal, mindless zombie, because the brain decays fast, and the neural pathways start glitching like crazy. On top of that, it takes a massive toll on Alton. After a single resurrection, he goes into an automatic Purge, the worst and most painful kind, that might even kill him. The monsters that came out of him are some of the scariest things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve toured the entire Bestiary. Necromancy is never a solution to death, nor is it portrayed as such.”

“It’s kind of sad, actually.” Astrid sighed. “Having that power and not being able to use it. I mean, he could, but the coven obviously has rules about that. The only reason he resurrected me is because I died while helping the coven.”

“And you can’t keep doing that. It’s taking a toll on him, in the long term, too,” Wade said.

I nodded slowly, before Wade gave me a blunt nudge, pointing at the form. “Come on, fill that out so we can work out your schedule next.”

“Look at you, all stern and serious, like a mentor.” Santana grinned. “I guess you’re eyeing Alton’s position and you’ve started early prep work, huh?”

Wade shook his head. “I found her, so she’s kind of my responsibility. At least until she gets her induction. Then she’s on her own.”

“We both know that’s not true, Wade,” I replied with a smirk. He was worried about me—it was an underlying feeling that I could’ve missed, had I not paid extra attention. He was an interesting bundle of emotions, from what I’d gathered so far. I frustrated the hell out of him, and yet, he couldn’t stay away. And the fact that I could read him made him extra nervous. I was going to burn in hell for how much I was enjoying that state of mind.

“Whatever you think you’re reading, you’re wrong,” he shot back. “You can barely hold it together in a crowd, so I doubt you’re that good at this whole Empath nonsense.”

“Holy crap, you’re an Empath?” Tatyana gasped, and I could almost feel her closing off—or elegantly trying, anyway.

I was already exhausted, and knowing that the more they tried to hide from me the louder their emotions blared through me, I let out a heavy sigh and decided to address the problem. “Listen, yeah, I’m an Empath. I feel you all, and the more you try to keep stuff from me, the heavier I feel it. I strongly recommend that you all just relax when I’m around. I won’t tell anyone what I’m experiencing, unless asked, and only if it’s for a good cause. I’m not comfortable with it either, and I’m still learning to keep it under control, but today has been kind of crazy and my control buttons are all… glitchy. Just don’t worry about me feeling you. I can. And that’s cool. I won’t judge, I promise. Chances are I won’t even pay attention,” I said in one long breath, then turned to look at Wade. “As for you, Mr. High and Mighty, my sensors are quite attuned after all these years, so yeah, I know exactly what you’re going through whenever you’re around me. We both know that I annoy you, and that I make you uncomfortable. And that’s cool. I like making you uncomfortable.”

I ended my statement with a grin. Raffe stifled a chuckle, then pretended to drink from his coffee mug when he noticed my gaze shifting to him. He was a peculiar creature indeed, and I had a hard time putting my finger on what was off, exactly.

“What’s up with you? What’s your story?” I asked him.

He blinked, as if taken by surprise without his pocket notes handy for quick answers. “What… Um, what do you mean?”

“Why are you here? I hear your dad’s the big kahuna in the Council, and this is a coven of Mediocres and jaded rejects,” I replied, giving Wade an intentional sideways glance—instantly feeling his wrath boiling through my veins. My inner devil giggled. “So, how’d you end up here?”

Raffe was a little worried, choosing his words carefully. Anxiety was creeping up, too, along with what sounded like maniacal laughter in the back of my head. This was all kinds of weird, and I was fascinated.

“Can we just call it ‘difference of opinions’ when referring to why I got transferred here?” he replied with an impish smile.

“That doesn’t clear anything up,” I said.

“What you need to do is fill out the damn form, so I can pass it to HR by the end of the day,” Wade interjected.

I gave him a brief scowl, then continued writing my bogus birthday into one of the boxes, followed by my current address and social security number.

“My dad and I don’t get along,” Raffe conceded. “At all. He’s a very powerful warlock, and everybody looks up to him. Some even fear him. I’m very different from the rest of my family. That’s pretty much the whole gist. And they’re all traditionalists, while I’m more of a… liberal.”

“Yeah, I get the whole different-from-the-rest-of-the-family part,” Dylan said. “My mom thought I was going to take up a football scholarship at Yale. Instead I’m here, and I’m signed up for community college so I can stay close to the coven.”

“Why didn’t you go to Yale?” I replied. “Surely there’s a coven in New Haven.”

“I thought about it. Thing is, my magical abilities have a lot to do with my athleticism,” Dylan said, his shoulders dropping. “I’m what they call a Herculean. And the New Haven coven is currently under investigation. The last thing they needed was a raw, late-blooming magical who was bound to stand out on the Yale football team, and not in a good way.”

“A raw magical is kind of like letting a wildfire loose,” Tatyana explained. “Dylan needs constant monitoring in the first year as a coven magical, mainly because he’s just found his Esprit and he has to learn to control it. Right now, he’s like a nuclear warhead, without any safety measures. One wrong nudge, and boom, all of New Haven will witness one hell of a… football game.”

I frowned. “I thought the Esprit was meant to control one’s power, not make it worse.”

“It does. Once you get used to it. And that takes time and practice,” Dylan replied. “Trust me, I know!”

“What’s your Esprit?” I asked.

Dylan showed me his high school graduation ring, cast in silver, with a football encrusted in mother of pearl against a black enamel backdrop, and smiled. “I love football, and I got this from my coach when I graduated high school. It means the world to me. It reminds me of what my life could’ve been, had I been born a human.”

“You don’t sound too excited to be a warlock,” I said.

“Honestly, I’m not.” He sighed. “But it’s kind of growing on me. I’m in an adjustment period, I guess. They want me to spend less time with my college buddies, but that’s not going to happen. Those are my boys.”

I had a feeling he’d spent his whole life pushing his magical abilities back, fighting his nature with everything he had, until one day he went, like Tatyana had so eloquently put it, “boom,” and was detected by the San Diego Coven. My mojo had come in gradually. I’d already had my adjustment period, and I’d never denied my true nature. I hadn’t embraced it, but I’d learned to make good use of whatever I could, to navigate my existence in the “normal world.”

“Have you found your Esprit yet?” Santana asked me, apparently uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. No one seemed to like hearing Dylan’s longing for his human life. Their magical existence was a reason for pride, and they loved it, while Dylan was still struggling with the whole concept.

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find it,” Santana replied, and showed me hers. It was a keychain shaped like a guitar, with intricate and colorful detailing engraved around a Mexican sugar skull in the middle. “I found this in a small souvenir shop in Catemaco, my hometown back in Mexico, two years ago. We just clicked. The moment I touched it, I knew.”

Tatyana then showed me hers, a beautiful sterling silver bracelet with a single, round sapphire. Its crystalline blue was almost hypnotizing. “My mother gave this to me when I turned fourteen. It’s one of the few good things I ever got from the Vasilis clan.”

There was sadness in her voice, uncharacteristic of her otherwise icy demeanor, and I could feel it deep in the pit of my stomach. Wade noticed my expression, but didn’t bother to fill in any blanks, like before. Instead, he pointed at the form.

“Finish that.”

“I hate you,” I replied dryly.

“I’m not here to be liked.”

“Then why are you here?” I retorted.

“He’s one of the best warlocks in this city, and probably the whole state of California,” Astrid said, beaming at me. “He’s not the most likable character in this coven, but his heart’s in the right place and he’s less of a jerk than, say, Garrett and his evil sidekick, Finch.”

They all chuckled, and even Wade allowed himself a half-smile in response to Astrid’s attempt at a compliment. I liked her. She was sweet but blunt. Like a sugar-coated hammer.

“What’s up with Garrett, by the way? I can’t read him. I can’t read Finch, either. And a few other people in this place. I don’t usually get that,” I said, then looked up at Wade.

He didn’t have an answer, and neither did the others. All I got in return were heads slowly shaking and mild shrugs. Raffe seemed interested, though. “Have you tried feeling them? Like, reach out, instead of letting their emotions come to you?”

“That’s not how Empathy works.” I pursed my lips. “I don’t have to try anything. I automatically feel them. The only thing I need to work on is blocking certain or all emotions. I’m like a cellphone tower. Whatever signal comes out, I catch it.”

“I’ve never met an actual Empath. I’ve only read about them in books. You people are so rare,” Raffe replied, fascinated. “I guess they don’t have accurate info on your ability.”

“Or maybe it varies from one Empath to another. Beats me!” I shrugged. “Point is, there are some magicals I can’t read. Five I know of for sure. Garret, Finch, O’Halloran, Preceptor Bellmore, and Imogene Whitehall. There were others in the assembly hall, but I don’t know who they are.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, if I were you,” Raffe said. “Some magicals might have natural barriers. I can look into it, if you’d like. I could also suggest some light reading for you, to brush up on your Empathy knowledge.”

“That would be great, thanks!” I smiled. “Seriously, I appreciate it.”

“Like I said, you’re rare.” Raffe nodded respectfully. “Empaths used to be regarded with great reverence in the Middle Ages. They helped witches avoid the angry villagers and the religious zealots. Today, there are maybe three hundred Empaths in the entire world.”

“Oh, hell, that is rare,” I said, suddenly feeling like a white tiger. Or a white rhino, depending on the amount of carbs I consumed throughout the week.

“She’s a full Elemental, too,” Wade added. “And a Telekinetic.”

The whole team gawked at me, as if I were the single most extraordinary thing they’d ever seen. It was awkward and flattering at the same time, and my cheeks burned with delight. I’d never felt so revered in my entire life.

“Wow,” Astrid breathed, her lips stretching into a bright smile. “You’re freaking incredible, then! I think you could easily compete with Wade here. Scratch that, you’re a full Elemental. I’ll bet with a bit of practice and education, you’ll be running circles around him and Garrett!”

“Dial down the enthusiasm,” Wade replied with a smirk. “She just got a Reading from Adley and was classified as a Mediocre.”

Their faces went blank, and I felt my heart sinking. The mediocrity reminder was efficient in its crushing of my wings—I’d just started soaring and soaking up all the admiration from our Rag Team, and Wade just stomped in and left me tattered. The jerk. Clearly, he was extremely competitive, and that just made me want to beat the odds and actually end up running circles around him, just so I could wipe that smirk off his face.

“I don’t buy it,” Santana said, shaking her head.

“What? That she’s a Mediocre? Adley is never wrong, Santana,” Wade said, crossing his arms.

“Nope. Not buying it. Something’s off. Harley, you should get tested again in a few months,” Santana replied. “There is no way that you’re a full Elemental and an Empath, on a Mediocre level. That title stays with you your whole life, and it seriously limits your magical prospects. I can’t believe it, sorry.”

I shrugged hopefully. “Adley did say I should get tested again.”

“You should!” Astrid nodded. “I’ve been with this coven since I was ten, and trust me, someone like you is once in a generation, at most. You being a Mediocre is like saying that Hiroshima was just a firecracker. I’m with Santana on this one. Not buying the verdict.”

“I’m not surprised.” Garrett’s voice slithered in, prompting us all to look up. “You’re all usually in denial, anyway. But once a Mediocre, always a Mediocre. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Wade’s right. Miss Smith here is… bland. At best.”

Garrett was smirking at me, hands in his pockets, his beige waistcoat unbuttoned and his navy-blue shirt sleeves rolled up. Standing next to him was Finch, along with the other magicals on his investigative team, and they made my stomach churn. I could feel the disdain toward me, and it brought back the nastier prep school memories—specifically the ones that got me sent to the principal’s office one too many times. It wasn’t a good idea to provoke me. I always retaliated.

“I take it you’re the token handsome jackass in this place?” I retorted, putting on an Arctic smile.

“You think I’m handsome?” Garrett replied.

“Don’t you have something better to do, Kyteler?” Wade stood, his irritation burning through my nerve endings.

“Garrett and Wade have been sort of competing with one another since they first got here,” Astrid whispered to me. “They’re both ridiculously good but end up acting like raucous teenagers whenever they’re in the same room.”

That little morsel of information suddenly put things in perspective, where these two alpha males were concerned. Garrett was the harsh realist with a bad mouth and great magical skills, who seemed to love and hate the San Diego Coven, at the same time. Wade was the by-the-book kind of warlock, equally respected as far as his magical skills were concerned, but he still carried that stiff arrogance around like a badge of honor. Both of them were hot, and yet in need of a good slapping.

“We’ve got our action plan ready.” Garrett shrugged. “I see you’re still struggling with an employment form.”

“Alton placed you in charge of the investigative team so you could put your time and resources to better use,” Wade said. “And yet, here you are, proving exactly why you shouldn’t be put in charge of anything other than drinks at the cafeteria.”

“My team and I were just stopping by for some drinks, Crowley,” Garrett replied. “I figured it would be nice to say hello and remind you of the inevitable outcome of whatever you try to do. By the end of the year, I’ll be the top scorer in this place. Not you.”

“I like how you say things out loud, sometimes, Kyteler. It’s almost as if you’re hoping that’ll make them true,” Wade shot back. “Why don’t you focus on the investigative team, for now, and not squander this amazing opportunity you’ve been given? Though, we both know you don’t deserve it.”

“Jealousy is not a good color on you, Crowley,” Garret sneered, while Finch’s steely blue gaze attempted to drill holes into my very soul. Seriously, what in the world did I do to him?

“If you think that’s what this is about, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Santana chimed in, leaning on her elbows on the table.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, chica? Don’t you have a genie to babysit?” Finch shot back, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Are you so insecure that you feel the need to degrade those who don’t put up with your crap, Finch? You should know better than to actively try and piss off magicals who are more powerful than you,” Santana replied through gritted teeth as she shot to her feet.

Raffe gently caught her arm in an attempt to hold her back, and I could feel her softening up a little. She seemed to respond to his touch, her anger subsiding, while Raffe’s dark, gray-blue gaze settled on Finch.

“I could take you on anytime, anywhere,” Finch said, grinning. “You’re delusional to think otherwise.”

“Oh, yeah? How about we try that right now? You clearly haven’t learned your lesson since last week,” Santana said, once again riled up.

“Don’t fall for these cheap tricks.” Raffe intervened, standing up next to her. “You already have two warnings. They’re just trying to get you to lash out.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Santana smirked, watching Finch’s expression turn from bright to sour. “Since it’s forbidden to strike a coven member unless it’s in self-defense, you boys are such cowards that you need us to hit first, so you can have an excuse to behave like the monsters we keep in the Bestiary.”

“I don’t need an excuse to make you choke on humble pie,” Finch retorted.

“Now, now.” Garrett stepped in, visibly amused. “No need to get all aggressive here. If you Rag kids can’t take the truth, you should stick to more human jobs. Surely there are still openings in the center. I heard they were looking for tour guides.”

He seemed to enjoy pushing people’s buttons, avoiding direct aggression just so he could claim moral superiority. Garrett had the makings of an accomplished sociopath.

“Frankly, I’m perpetually fascinated by your species,” I mused, looking up at him.

“I’m not surprised,” Garrett replied. “You’re a late bloomer. Magicals are obviously a thing of wonder for you.”

“No, I didn’t mean magicals when I used the term ‘species.’ I meant mouth-breathers,” I said. “You’re all so insecure and frustrated by your own shortcomings that you need to distract yourselves by picking on others. Anything to get your minds off your own inadequacies. It’s kind of sad to watch.”

The amount of hatred pouring out of the investigative team—except for the two stooges I couldn’t read, of course—was almost suffocating. I’d hit a nerve. Finch opened his mouth to say something, but Garrett squeezed his shoulder and stopped him.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about your inadequacies,” Garrett replied. “The magical world isn’t all glitter and unicorns, Harley. You either get tough or you get trampled. It’s what the rest of your Rag Team doesn’t get, and, apparently, neither do you. We’re not here to spare your feelings. You kids need to toughen up.”

“I don’t need my feelings spared,” I replied. “I just don’t want a bunch of tools poking me because they don’t have better things to do with their time.”

“Someone should teach you to respect your elders,” Finch burst out, and took a few steps toward me.

“You want to teach me about respect? Are you hearing yourself, mouth-breather?”

I didn’t cave in. Years of bullying had already taught me not to put up with this kind of nonsense, even if I had to get physical. All it took was one hit to teach any bully not to try that again—not with me. Finch was clearly asking for it, and judging by the smirk on his face, he didn’t think I had it in me.

Before either Garrett or Wade could step in, Finch moved in closer, his hand reaching for my throat. He probably wanted to intimidate me, given that our glaring contest didn’t seem to have an end in sight. My instincts kicked in, and I got him first with a Telekinetic thrust. The mental lasso gripped his throat, and I waved him away like a pesky fly. The hand gesture coincided with Finch being thrown across the hall like a rag doll.

He landed on top of another table. The legs gave out, and Finch ended up on the floor with another thud and a painful groan, as he held his side with both hands. I’d probably cracked a rib.

Gasps erupted from nearby magicals, while Wade and Garrett kept the rest of our teams away from each other.

“That’s enough!” Wade growled. “Garrett, don’t push this any further. You’ll get us all in unnecessary trouble!”

“Get your girl under control, then!” Garrett hissed, then gave me an appreciative sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Though, I have to admit, she’s got spunk!”

“I’m confused,” I murmured, before Wade grabbed my arm and pulled me back a couple of feet.

Poe Dexter rushed over to Finch and helped him up, followed by Lincoln Mont-Noir. Both held back Finch, who’d come to his senses and was eager to retaliate. Poe even snatched Finch’s custom-made copper-colored lighter, which had started to glow white between his fingers—that was Finch Anker’s Esprit, I realized. One could take the Esprit away from a magical, if they wanted to prevent them from inflicting too much damage. Good to know.

“Let’s go,” Garrett called out to Finch and the others. “We’ve got prep work to do for tomorrow. Leave these snowflakes be.”

With one final smirk, Garrett and his team walked out. Finch threw me a deadly glare over the shoulder, and chills ran down my spine. I needed to keep my guard up going forward. He’d either learned his lesson, or he was going to come back for seconds. In any case, I was ready. Hopefully, others watching had also understood not to try and pick on me.

“What the hell, Harley?” Wade turned to face me. He was livid, and I took advantage of his emotions coursing through me to hold my ground and stand by my actions.

“What the hell what? I defended myself!”

“You provoked him! You’re lucky we were all here!” Wade replied. “Don’t do that again! Don’t let them get to you. They’re jerks who know every loophole in the coven regulations, and you’re new here. There’s only so much Alton will be willing to overlook before he starts handing out the penalties. This isn’t just a school, it’s a coven, and Alton’s not a headmaster here to tackle the bullies. We fend for ourselves before it gets to the point where it needs to be reported.”

“So, this doesn’t need to be reported? Really?” I asked, incredulously.

“No, because Alton’s too busy to deal with this crap, and Garrett’s too gifted and well connected to suffer any consequences over a minor brawl. The same goes for Finch, since he’s Garrett’s friend,” he said, heavily displeased.

“So, what, was I supposed to just let him hit me?”

“His arm would’ve come off if he did,” Santana said from the side.

“You’re not helping,” Wade reprimanded her, then shifted his focus back to me. “You’re part of a team now. If you take a hit, we take a hit. But we stick together. So, measure your thoughts and your actions carefully from now on. Everything you do has an impact on all of us.”

“That’s not fair,” I mumbled, feeling his anger subside.

“Tough luck, Harley. Life isn’t fair.” Wade sighed.

“Oh, gee, thanks, Wade. I had no idea. I’ve been living it up in my elite ivory tower for so long, it’s good to finally come across a bundle of wisdom such as yourself to enlighten me on how tough life can be.”

A few moments went by in absolute silence, and I caught glimpses of my surroundings. Two magicals from the cafeteria were hauling the broken table out, giving me annoyed glances. Their frustration made me feel terrible. I should’ve at least thrown Finch into a clear space, and not ruined the furniture.

Santana, Tatyana, and Astrid seemed mildly amused. Dylan was impressed, and Raffe… well, Raffe was still confusing, half of him laughing on the inside with almost childlike delight, while the other worried about the repercussions.

“Now, fill out the damn form and let’s get this out of the way,” Wade said, resuming his seat at the table.

I sat next to him and put in the last of my details, ending with a signature, while the others watched in silence. Despite what I’d just endured with Garrett and Finch, I still kind of liked this place. It was definitely better on the Rag Team. At least they treated me with respect, my banter with Wade aside. I couldn’t bring myself to trust anyone easily, but I was fascinated by the people I’d been teamed up with. They were all misfits, in one way or another.

Flaring tempers, sharp tongues, and difficult personalities seemed to be defining features in this group. In that sense, I was a perfect fit.