Page 78 of Hercules

But he didn’t spot one.

Even if Lois suddenly donned her whole Natasha persona again, he wouldn’t be fooled. Every inch of his soul and shred of his senses was positive of it. So certain of every difference, stunningly significant yet exquisitely small, from her employer.

Selfishly, he indulged one more moment to revel in the ongoing appraisal.

Greed that became an instant backfire.

From the moment his wildcat launched herself at Natasha.

“Holy sh—"

And here came the next jolt, too swift and severe for its own good—especially courtesy of the last person he wanted to owe another favor to. But he was only an observer as Nao Ito cracked a directional snap of his fingers, to which a pair of his goons reacted by twining their elbows with Lois’s.

The action scooped her up by a few inches, like she was a child tantruming about separating from a friend. His Scribester wasn’t oblivious to the insult, swinging her head to snarl at them both.

Her fury didn’t stop there. She pummeled. She kicked. She even circled her head wider, eyeing the expensive fabric covering one of the dudes’ biceps, before sinking her teeth into anything she could at the spot.

“Eeeeaaagh!”

Which was more than the assholes gave her credit for.

Not that she had time to gloat.

“Nat!” she yelled.

“Lo?” the starlet muttered, though her confusion clearly clarified when spotting the approaching Haneda security guards. As their steps quickened, the woman dipped a series of low bows. “Sumimasen,” she pleaded. “Watashi no yujin wa tsukarete imasu. She’s just tired. That’s all. Tired!”

From the second Nat spoke, she was forgiven. But the guards were barely into autograph requests when Lois broke free and sprinted over, seizing her boss by the elbow. Her own apologies to the uniforms were triple the fluency as Natasha’s, buying her their respectful bows.

“I’m not tired. And there’s no damn time.”

The desperation in her rasp was bested only her frantic glance back—at Herc. It was the only message required.

He sprang to action, wheeling around, working to block the charging goon posse as much as he could. Was he tempted, for a nanosecond, to simply snap their necks? Did demons piss in the Styx for fun? But there’d be no fun if the five airport guards multiplied to fifty, barreling down on their spot because of a yakuza “incident”.

It was time to use the lessons of his Labors. To think smarter.

And harder.

As in the way he didn’t care how hard he head-butted Ito’s fierce but wiry front runner. Direct hit, thank the gods. The jerk was decommissioned for the foreseeable future.

As in, at the same time, how he spread his arms to hoist up two more henchmen. Two more targets down, registered by the simultaneous cracks of their ribs.

As in the wild race of his mind as they dropped next to their comrade.

How to best take out the rest of the pack?

Ito.

He grinned as the asshole’s name ignited his senses. The head of the hagfish school. Disable him, and the other wakaishus would falter. Not completely, but enough for him to spot the weaker leaks and then—

“Oh my goodness. Isn’t all this enough to wake up a girl after a redeye from LA?”

Natasha’s intercession wasn’t over-the-top odd—though a bizarre enough shade of blithe to snag Herc short. He angled back toward the starlet, wondering why more of his attention was now arrested. And as he instantly observed, Lois’s. Her insistent hiss conveyed the same thing.

“Nat. These guys aren’t here to razzle-dazzle you, okay?” she spat. “Hey. You have to trust me on this, and you have to do it now.”

But the starlet was already posing again, one hand pressed to the space between the headphones braced around her neck.