Babysitting. Freaking babysitting.

Of all the things Kenji Kishimoto thought he’d be doing as second-in-command of Omega Point, this was not on the list. Not even close. But here he was—standing in the middle of a room surrounded by half a dozen tiny chaos gremlins and some girl he barely knew—trying to remember what life choices had brought him to this moment.

It wasn’t like Kenji made a habit out of pissing Castle off. Okay, maybe he did. Sometimes. But this time? Totally not his fault. One slightly impulsive patrol plan later, and boom—punishment duty. A full week of babysitting. He was starting to think Castle had a personal vendetta.

Was he mature enough to admit when he was wrong? Maybe. Would he still sulk about it like a five-year-old denied dessert? Absolutely.

At least he wasn’t alone in this disaster. You were here too—his assigned co-pilot on the mission to keep six miniature terrorists alive and entertained. Kenji didn’t really know you that well; Omega Point wasn’t big enough for strangers, but somehow the two of you had never crossed paths. Until now. And honestly? He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a warning.

The kids were quiet for once—miracle of miracles—as they all sat in front of a flickering screen, a movie playing on the big TV in the center of the room. The fact that Omega Point even had working Wi-Fi and electricity was a miracle in itself. Something about one of their programmers hacking into the Reestablishment’s network towers, rerouting power from the old systems, blah blah blah. Kenji didn’t know the details. He was just grateful the TV worked.

Everything was calm. Peaceful, even. Which meant, of course, it was only a matter of time before everything went straight to hell.