"Now then, Mr. Roberts.. it seems you have been leading a double life. In one, you are Simon X. Roberts. You go to a respectable collegiate institute, you play video games, you pay sales tax, and.." Zeth looked at Simon, furrowing his brow. "...You take the attendance sheet for your math teacher."

He turned the page. "In the other life, you are a Fanfiction staffer for Starmen.Net, where you have committed almost every flannel-related crime we have a law for." Closing the file, he stared coldly across the table at Simon. "One of these lives has a future... and one of them does not."

Zeth took off his sunglasses, revealing his pale grey eyes. "My colleagues believe I am wasting my time with you -" Simon looked apprehensively from A. Passerby at his left shoulder, to Jamie M at his right "- but I believe you want to do the right thing. We know a known terrorist hacker named Tomato has been contacting you. Everything you think you know about this man is wrong. He is a dangerous criminal. So I'll make you a deal. We're willing to wipe the slate clean, if you help us bring a known terrorist to justice." Zeth pushed the file down the table, signifying this.

Simon looked at Zeth. He looked at the file. And he thought about everything that he knew, and everything he believed to be true.

Finally, he spoke to Zeth. "Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good deal. But I have a better deal. How about I give you the finger -" he did so, and Zeth's eyebrows shot up "- and you give me my /query?"

"You disappoint me, Mr. Roberts."

"Shut up. You can't scare me with this #earthbound op crap. I know my rights. Give me my /query."

Zeth replaced his sunglasses. "What good is a /query... if you are unable to type?"

Simon looked at Zeth in confusion, and then looked at his hands. His fingers were sticking together, through some unknown force. He looked back at Zeth, surprised beyond belief. Above his head, a glowing green word appeared:

"BANFROMCHAN"

Jamie M. and A. Passerby grabbed Simon, holding him against the wall. Zeth stood in front of him, one foot on a chair, tying the laces on a boot. "You're going to help us, Mr. Roberts, whether you like it or not!"

And then he kicked Simon through the wall.