The Runouw.Com Connection Entire Official Copy!

[MessengerOfDreams]

Introduction-Cameron Johnson’s Note
If you are reading this book, you, my friend, have great taste in reading
In all seriousness, though, show of hands, how many people are wondering “Why are you writing a book featuring some random website? What, do you not get out much? Do you even have a life?” Well, there’s a small story behind that. The first question, I mean.
This site, this Runouw.com thingamajig, is very, uhm, unique. It started out as a flash gaming forum, but evolved into a small community of people from around the world, from places like England, Germany and Australia. Games of the non-flash kind, homemade artwork, homemade music (courtesy of my partner-in-crime Jack Walker) and, of course, stories, came into display, putting strength into the community.
Now most of the stories are about activity on the website, fighting the evil spammers with some mythical power over the internet, which becomes a city. I thought “I could write one of these, but my parents would probably think I’ve been online way too long.” I decided that when I write, I was gonna make the website a subject, not a story. I took ideas I previously had for a police officer story, turned most of them into youth, and voila, you have this story here.
The Beatles were right, though, I got by with a little help from my friends, and by a little, I mean I couldn’t have done it without them. Jack Walker from New York wrote half of the latter portions of the book, which at first was a sequel before I combined the books into one. He also edited most of these chapters. Expect a guest appearance from Alana Starr who writes half of chapter 6 and gives me some incredible yet frank support. And nearly every character was created by someone on said website. In fact, my only true creations were Sam and Dania Eastman. Look at the back of the book for a chart with the character names and online aliases that created them. (You may want to read the book first, because this may tip you off to some of the things in the book.)
I hope you enjoy reading a book like no other, created by people like no other. Seriously.
Cameron Johnson.






Chapter 1-Runouw-Jack Walker and Cameron Johnson
Jack Walker’s Portion
(2 Weeks Ago)

Nicolas Locke sat in front of his computer and sighed. He reached his hands forward to the keyboard, and then withdrew them suddenly. He did this repeated for a minute. I can't do it, he thought. This place has meant so much to me. I just - and at long last, he typed in "runouw.com/forums" into his web browser's address bar. Ah, Runouw.com. All of the familiar sights met Nicolas, or "Niklaw," as was his username on the forums. The chat at the top, the list of forums ranging from site News to Super Mario 63 Level Designer Levels to the General Artwork forum. It would be hard to leave here. Reluctantly, he moved his cursor over the button in the top left corner reading, "0 new messages."

Runouw.com was a Portland based Internet forum that had been one of the biggest part of Locke's life since he moved to the city from Australia two years previous. In fact, it was here that he made his first friends, some of which he later met in person while he didn't even know the names of others. A teenager named Rob Stevens had started it under the name, "Runouw," and because of the massive success of his flash game Super Mario 63, it quickly gained popularity. Nicolas was one of the site's three moderators. The moderators' job was to enforce the rules of the forum, and they were the top authorities only second to Runouw. Ah, how he enjoyed the job. It allowed for a unique relationship between him and the other members, not to mention he took great satisfaction out of destroying spammers trying to mess up the forums. But he was going to put that all behind now, and he didn't like it.
Why would he put this joy of his behind him, you may ask? Simple. He had dreams. Those dreams didn’t involve sitting in front of the computer. They involved a lot of work.

He clicked the Board Index button, wishing to take a look at the chat at the top of that page for the last time. The members were busy chatting away about this and that. Finally, he clicked the "0 new messages button" again followed by "compose message." He was about to compose a private message to Runouw. This meant that only Runouw could see it, and in terms of format it was similar to an email. He typed "Runouw" into the box to the left of the words, "Find a member," then clicked "add." He then clicked the subject box and typed in the words, "My departure…"
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Cameron Johnson’s Portion
Buffy span around on her swivel chair, and faced the trio of heroes. Surprising actually, these were all teenagers from around the same area, one of them a fourteen year old. Buffy herself was only twenty-three, but wore so much make-up she looked a lot older.
“So you three,” she started picking up the items on my desk “you are now honorary member of the police”. She gave them a medal each. The young one known as Mic looked at it in awe, the older male, Sam looked astonished, but the eldest, Ema seemed disinterested.
“Thanks” Mic said, not taking his eyes off of it.
“You’re welcome” Buffy smiled. “And now” She directed her gaze at the two oldest, “would you like to join the police force?” Ema’s eyes looked up at this, clearly showing her desire to become one. “You know, always, I always wanted to. That and an architect.”
“Well, I want to ask you a question. How long have you known each other?” Buffy told her.
“I just met Sam, and Mic I’ve known for about a year.” She replied. “So, how do I become a police officer?”
“First off, training.” Was Buffy’s reply. “It shouldn’t take too long if you dedicate.”
Sam looked up. “I always sucked at P.E. Left with a dodge ball phobia. Everyone bum-rushes me, the autistic kid.”
Buffy nodded sympathetically. That wasn’t really her in school; she was the more popular girl, in part due to her English accent, which interested people. “Well, after training we give you a big case. If you don’t botch it up, you basically pass, welcome to the squad, ladidadida and you’re a police officer. The kid… we’ll see, just… we’ll see.”
Sam and Ema nodded, Mic still awestruck and grinning ear-to-ear until he got a phone call. “Hi Mom! Yeah, you’ll never believe it… we’re at the police station... what, no, no, no! It’s good… there’s this cool lady here who wants to make us cops… because we caught that one thief… you know, the one at Cleveland High, the one we got the medal of honor for… yeah, you know... you talked to her… wow… cool! So no explanation needed… Cool… Thanks, Mom! Love ya!” He looked at Buffy and said “Well, I’m a definite in!”
Buffy nodded and turned to Sam and Ema. “Well, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. You in, or are you out?”
Ema grinned. “In like today’s fashion!” she said.
Sam grinned himself. “I can’t come up with anything witty like that… so, yeah, guess I’m in.”
Buffy nodded. “Here are some badges. Granted, they’re not real police officer badges, it’s a different kind of badge. It gives you most the authority of a normal officer, warranting arrests, a search warrant, stuff like this. Well, there’s not much else to say. You’re stationed at Penumbra Kelly Juvenile Hall off of NE 47th and Burnside. We’ll see you bright and early 7:00am Monday. Good luck, and can’t wait to get started!”
The three of them nodded and left, walking out into Lownsdale Square in downtown Portland.
Mic heard a car honk and saw that his mom was waiting for him. “Got to go, guys. See ya!”
Sam nodded and said “Give my regards to Mrs. Davis.”
Mic laughed and said “I will. Have a great day, goofballs.”
Ema giggled. “Great kid.” She smiled. Sam nodded and added “Yeah, his manners need a little tweaking though.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Ema said. “Anyway, isn’t this great? We’re gonna be real police officers! Real, actual, bona-fide police officers!”
Sam nodded. “Not my first choice, but, sounds cool.”
They walked as if traffic wasn’t there and the only surrounding things were trees. Lots and lots of pine trees. “Well, what was your first choice?” she asked him
“Something along the lines of what my dad does. More artsy.” He replied. “Photography, preferably. You’ve seen my work, right? It could work.”
She nodded. “Yeah, as for architecture, I can fit college and police work into my life.”
Sam looked concerned. “You sure you can do it?”
“You are, right?”
“True, but photography… that’s easy. Just go out, snap a camera at the right angle, tweak it a little, and voila! You pass!”
“Well, Architecture is different. I’m working on one project one year long. It’s like a book. You tweak it until it’s just right, and then sell it.”
“Yeah, two totally different things. So I’m thinking about getting started as soon as I can, in summer, so I can have more time in case police work gets in the way.”
“You know, that’s a good idea. I may do that.”
“Ah, it’ll be nice to juggle Autism and all that into a Police Uniform. Stick it to the bullies who presumed I’d be one of the retards in a mental institute.”
“Wow, c’mon, you’re autistic, not brain-damaged.”
Sam laughed for no apparent reason and said “You know what, Ema?”
Ema smiled and said “What?”
“I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, enough to catch the bandit and all that, but you are definitely one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.”
Ema giggled. “That’s so sweet, Sam! You’re pretty cool, too. You, me and Mic make the perfect crime-fighting trio. I can’t wait!”
“And, Ema… I wanted to ask you something.” Sam said as they stopped by the Soldier’s Memorial in the middle of Lownsdale Square.
“Fire away.” She grinned.
Sam turned a deep shade of crimson, stuttered a few seconds and then lied “Crap, I lost it.”
“Aw.” She sighed. “All that suspense for nothing.”
“Tell you what.” Sam added. “If I remember, I’ll tell you. Okay?”
“Sure.” She said. “Well, there’s the MAX. Better head home.”
“Take care of yourself, Em, okay?”
“Will do. You too, okay?”
Sam nodded, and the two parted directions.
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(Present Day)
In the Middle of Portland, Oregon, in a one-person loft was a frequent online blogger. Owning a website for flash gaming, runouw.com, which was named after the alias of its owner, had evolved into a hangout space for preteens and young adults from all over the city, despite the fact that none of them had met before.
Rob Stevens, looked as an online chatter’s words appeared in the chat box "Hey, Runouw! Chat with us!"
Another cynically replied "Yeah, like that will ever happen. Runouw would rather die than chat."
The first responded with a "Yeah lol"
Rob rolled his eyes. He typed a reply “Sorry, busy.”
A shocked face appeared on the chat, followed by “Oh my god! He’s alive!”
Rob smiled. “Surprisingly, yes, although with my brother’s business trip, it’s been awfully quiet here.”
The second chatter replied with “Oh, so you’re halfway here, eh?”
Then a private message (or in plain English, a site e-mail) popped up on his computer. Stevens clicked on his PM link.
The Message was from the global moderator, his close friend only known as Superyoshi. The subject read "We found the fourth moderator!"
Stevens grinned as he was eager to appoint this mystery moderator. Having complete trust in his moderators, odds were he wouldn’t question their decision.
Right when he clicked on the link, a brute force slammed into the back of his head, leaving him slumped in the chair, dead.
The masked man chuckled as if he was playing a game, muttered “sucker”, threw Stevens out of the office chair and sat in it himself.
The next day, runouw.com was closed down. All topics were locked; all the users were banned, as well as the moderators and none of the users knew why Runouw would do that.
All but one. The killer.

Chapter 2-The Case Begins
(-Buffy’s Narrative-)
Penumbra Kelly Juvenile Hall. The home of many rebellious, depressed and even dangerous teens was also a classroom to young adults who longed to make a difference. Three, to be exact. One was loudly smacking approximately 1 foot of the 6 feet roll of Hubba Bubba, another whistling loudly to his Mp3 player, a third excitedly paced around. I, not much older than them, looked at these three and thought to myself “I can’t believe this is the face of the future Portland Police Department.” Whether it was excitement or disdain, I couldn’t discern.
Nevertheless, I, Buffy Clark, continued.
“Felkis, Davis and Eastman.” I stated, in an attempt to look like a large authority among them, although in reality, Eastman and Felkis were both a half-foot taller than me. “You three have been through grueling training to get you in shape that has most adults crying to their mommies. For passing without a hitch, I applaud you, but you are nowhere near done. I called you over here today because I have a test for you today, and for as long as it may take. This test will prove whether or not-“
“Excuse me,” Mic Davis interrupted, stopping his pace and peering towards the exit, “He’s gone now.”
I sighed in relief, since I realized my strict boss had made his exit. Usually he had required that I myself be strict with the interns, which I hate. “Okay, cut the commando crap. How many of you have ever heard of http://www.runouw.com?”
No hands went into the air.
I nodded. “Me either. So, from what I hear, this site is based in Portland, and it is an online forum that centers on flash gaming, more notably, the owner’s game called Super Mario 63. It’s an online fan game that has broken records and won awards. You gotta admit that’s impressive.”
Sam Eastman raised his eyebrows, and removed his headphones completely. “Ah, yes, Buffy. I am a fan of that myself. That was said Stevens?”
I nodded, and at that moment my slight smile disintegrated. “Well, the owner’s name was Rob Stevens, online known as Runouw (don’t ask me where he came up with THAT name), and last night, he was found dead at Lovejoy and NW Station Way in his condominium by Union Station.”
Ema Felkis, who was in the midst of blowing a gum bubble, felt it pop over her face. Undaunted, she wiped it off and said “A murder? That’s always terrible. You know I’m not looking forward to this.”
“Exactly. But it gets more interesting.” I started to tap my foot, my habit when getting excited. “The killer actually used Stevens’ computer to shut down the website.”
Ema grinned. “Which means, whoever killed Stevens could have been after something on the website?”
“Good Job!” I high-fived a beaming Ema. Even Mic and Sam couldn’t help but grin at her cheerful disposition, a staple for her. Sam liked to call her the team cheerleader.
Sam asked “Can I hack into the website? I want to learn more about this… Rinnow?”
“No, I think it is Ranova.” Mic replied.
“You’re both wrong,” Ema put in, “It’s Runowch!”
I laughed. “It is Rinouw- no, Ranwich- no, look; now you got me all confused!” I laughed hysterically for a couple of seconds, then took in a deep breath and composed myself. “It’s Runouw. And, yes, I did bring in a laptop. Now if we could just find a place we can get some dang Wi-Fi, you could sure try.”
Grinning, Sam cracked his knuckles. Hacking was a specialty of his. The Super Mario 63 he had said he had played, he beat by hacking into the game’s system and increasing Mario’s size until he could kick his enemies out of the way. And, yes, he programmed Mario to do that as well. As you know, hacking into someone’s personal life is illegal but if the guy’s dead and you’re working for police, it magically becomes legal.
A few fancy yet boring technological moves later, Sam was in under the alias of Runouw. “I’ll start with the PM’s.”
“PM’s?” Ema asked between chewing gum.
“Private Messages,” Sam explained. “Basically, if anyone wanted to contact him, send him hate mail, or give him details about the website, that would be the way to do it.”
Mic pointed to a PM with a caution mark on it. It read “Need You in Off-Topic Quick.” The Sender was an alias of Blablob. “What, are all members authorized to down three large bags of sugar before you pick a name?” he joked. Sam chuckled. Mic’s wit and humor went unmatched. “Anyways, open it.” Mic continued.
Opening it, the message read the following: “Runouw quick! The moderators are off and Zebterestalala and Lrmaster132 are in a big flaming match! You can’t miss it! The topic is called “Lrmaster Sucks and Fails at Life! They’re clogging the chat with quite precisely chosen swear words, just do something quick! Ban them or something!”
“Yikes,” Ema said. “They’re sure spreading the hate.”
“Yeah, more funny names, too.” I noted.
Thoughtfully, in the search bar, Sam typed in “Ban.” Instantly, the ban log, the history of all those prohibited from using the website, came up. At the bottom were Lrmaster132 and Zebterestalala. The report, by Runouw, read
“Zebterestalala and Lrmaster132
1 month
Starting a full-fledged flame war.”
In a quote bubble, it read “Zebterestalala wrote: Lrmaster I am sick of you! You suck, yo mama sucks, and you’re nothing but a loser! Leave this website, because no one likes you!
Lrmaster132 wrote “Yo zebterestalala you are a worthless person! You can stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. I hate yo guts and you better get off this forum before I send you a virus!”
Ema was horrified. “My god, these seem more likely to kill each other than Stevens!”
“But these guys also have posted hundreds of times.” Mic pointed out. “They probably associated with friends here, and on the right day, could have been peed off enough to kill Stevens and shut down the whole website.”
Sam went back to the PMs. “Hmm… there’s his last PM before his death. It says ‘We found the fourth moderator!’”
“You would probably think I’m clueless,” Ema started, “But what’s a moderator?”
“Basically, another leader. Like a police officer.”
This Ema could understand quite easily.
He opened this message sent by a Superyoshi. Before Mic could quip on an actual name that made sense, Sam started to read.
“‘Hey Runouw. I know with all the spam bots’ Which, Ema, is people who are only on the website to advertise bullcrap, ‘that have been posting non-stop lately; I feel the need for another moderator is in order. Now, I know how bad Blablob wanted this, as he has been doing a lot of volunteer moderation lately, but I think that the guy has a tendency to overdo it, and may be a tyrant as a moderator, there, I said it. I do believe that Avolerators, however, would make a much better moderator, as he is friendly, well-composed and, well, just fit for the job. Blablob would probably be ticked, but, hey, he can’t hack into the computer or anything, so we’re set.’”
Ignoring the urge to impersonate Blablob back to Superyoshi, Sam shook his head. “I swear, if this nonsensically named blablob did kill Stevens, he obviously must have no life whatsoever. And does anyone else notice his ‘Prepare to Die’ topic? Suspicious.” That got me, too. Who makes a topic about people dying?
There was only one message left that intrigued me. It read “My departure,” from a Niklaw. Sam saw me eyeing it and decided to open it.
“Dear Runouw,” it read. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I have decided to leave http://www.runouw.com for a simple reason- it has really in my opinion become a mess, and so many of these people could very simply meet up in Portland somewhere, but are busy hunched over a computer, allergic to daylight. I would manage much better in face-to-face conversation. If you could give me your address, maybe we could organize something like that. Either way, I respectfully depart from the forum, with Avolerators as my replacement. Cheers! Niklaw.”
All four of us raised their eyebrows, well, except Ema, who did not have eyebrows, oddly enough born without them. A characteristic trait, if you will.
“This guy probably got Stevens’ address!” I hissed.
“So our main suspects so far are this blob guy, a zebra, the claw and some Lrmaster thingamajig?” Ema asked, rolling her eyes and adding “Only online.”
“Well,” Mic added, “We haven’t bothered to research family yet.”
I handed Mic a file. “Well, from what I got, the parents live in Charleston, South Carolina.”
Ema sighed in relief. “That’s good, because you all know how much I would hate to tell the family. I’d probably be the first to start bawling like a true professional.”
I sure knew that was the truth, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. “He lives with his brother, Rick Stevens, but that is a high impossibility that he did it. I called him and he’s in Tokyo on a business trip. He is an assistant executive of Intel, over on the west side of the city.”
“So back to the blob guy, the zebra, the claw and the thingamajig.” Sam said. “That can’t be all the people, I mean, there are about 3,000 members on the site, and any one of them could have done it.”
Mic and Ema both seemed to be thinking. Then, as if their minds had merged, Mic started.
“Well, think about it! How many of those 3,000 actually used the site?” Mic referred to the counter at the bottom of the page. “Only 50 on their best day.”
“And out of those 50, how many did you think actually really knew this guy?” Ema pointed out. “I don’t think Stevens is the type that hands out addresses to his place to random people. Only those he trusted. Like the Niklaw thing.”
“Hmm… And I guess it’s safe to say, out of the people he trusted, how many do you think actually had something against him?” Sam jumped into their vibe. “Maybe someone found out about Niklaw’s idea, or Niklaw himself hopped in and closed the website.”
“So, we are all in agreement that Niklaw is the first person we want to talk to, right?” I tried, totally loving it when I can get them thinking like this.
“Exactly.” all three said at once.
They paused and looked at each other.
“That was cool!” Mic laughed. Sam and Ema followed.
After further hacking, Sam discovered his name was Nicolas Locke and he lived at 91st and Ankeny. However, his school, Benson Polytechnic high school, was where he probably was at in the moment, as he was part of an after-school computer class. Rest assured the three would be waiting for him.
“So,” Sam started, shutting the laptop, relieved to have gotten enough of the crappy Wi-Fi signal to finish, “Are we ready to go?”
“Hold it!” I stopped Sam in his tracks. I was digging in the pocket of my Polo jacket and dug out four taser guns. “This guy could be volatile, so you should take some of these.”
Although Hesitant, the usually non-harmful Ema knew logic when she saw it, and picked a taser, delicately placing it in my jacket. Sam cautiously grabbed one himself. Mic, who had previously stated that he always wanted a taser, eagerly grabbed it from me and accidentally fired at Ema.
A half-mile away, a shrill noise scared all the ducks out of the pond at Laurelhurst Park.
“Oops,” Mic shrugged, sheepish. “Sorry.”
All Ema could spit out was “That HURT!”
I angrily snatched Mic’s taser away as Ema limped into a seat. “I better come along with you guys, before Mic, gee, I don’t know, happens to electrocute someone with the entire power system.” I shot him a dirty look that read “Idiot.”
Sam couldn’t help but quip “And let Ema scare away every bird in the tri-county area.”
Ema was the first to laugh at that.
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
Climbing inside of a Crown Victoria, I grabbed a map of the metro area and quickly calculated an easy route to Benson- Follow Burnside all the way down to twelfth, then hang a right and you’re there. I should mention that as great as Ema is, she fails at directions. I sat next to her as she grabbed the wheel and asked “Would you like me to drive this time?”
She shook her head vigorously and focused on the road, replying “Nope. This is gonna be the day. I can do it this time.”
Mic rolled his eyes and said “Dear lord, we’re gonna end up in the next county.”
“You. Zip it.” Ema snapped. “It’s not like you can drive us here, so shut up or I’ll drop you on the side of the road and leave you there.”
Mic groaned and settled down for what could be a long drive. Buffy punched him in the shoulder and grinned. She was getting ready for the show, I could tell.
“So, where do I turn, Sam?” she asked me.
“Uhm, twelfth.” I replied, looking at my map to double-check. I smiled at her, in a gesture of friendliness, and added “Shouldn’t be hard.”
She pushed her vivid red hair out of her eyes and said “Well, wish me luck.”
I grinned and nodded.
About a half-mile down the way, she asked me “What was it again?”
Internally, I was shaking my head in frustration. “Twelfth.”
She nodded and readjusted her focus on the road.
About 3 minutes later, we approached 12th avenue. “Ema, there it is.” I told her. She didn’t seem to notice, blowing right through the complicated 6-way intersection.
I tapped her on the shoulder, and she swerved across a few lanes clumsily. Harried, she gasped out a “What?”
Almost afraid to answer, I replied “You missed it.”
She slammed her hand on the steering wheel, accidentally blasting the horn, surprising all of us. “DANG IT!” she yelled out. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Grand’s coming up.” I told her. “Just turn right there. Next light signal. And this time, turn, please.”
She sighed and actually turned right at the right signal.
“Now next turn right at Lloyd Boulevard.” I told her.
Luckily, this time she didn’t overshoot it. On the downside, she undershot it and got us onto the freeway.
“Goddang it Ema!” I sighed, ready to pull my hair out.
“What, that wasn’t Lloyd?” she replied, frustrated.
“Jeez, Ema. We’re on the freeway. No freaking duh this isn’t Lloyd.” I grumbled.
“Well, what am I supposed to do now?” she replied.
“For Yah’s sake, Ema, you’re a detective. You figure it out.” I told her tersely.
“Well, I’m not going to just keep following this until my hair turns gray, which should be pretty soon if you keep talking to me.” She snapped at me.
“The only thing keeping me talking to you right now is the fact that if I don’t, we’re never gonna get there!” I shouted.
“Ema. Sam. Shut the living heck up.” Mic called at us. “I’m sick of getting ‘Traveling Soap Operas’ on the radio. Get a life, it’s a freaking drive, you don’t need to act like jerks over it.”
Ema turned to the windshield, and 20 minutes later, we were there. Absolute silence.
I didn’t know if I enjoyed it or dreaded it.
I stepped out of the car and walked over to the others. Ema kindly reached out to slap me across the face. “From now on, you sit in the backseat, you got it, jerk?”
I rolled my eyes and started to walk to the school. Uncertain, Buffy and Mic followed, hoping not to get in the middle of it. Opening the doors (and by opening them I mean slamming them against the wall in an effort to blow off steam, and at the same time really improving the police force’s image) I sauntered into the office and asked “Excuse me, Ma’am. I’m looking for a Nicolas Locke.”
Ema butted in and, gently pushing me aside, elaborated “Portland Oregon Police Department. We need to talk with him.”
The secretary raised her eyebrows and told us “Don’t know what you would want with him. He’s a great student.”
I decided to be blunt “A website owner was murdered last night, and he and Locke were very closely connected over the internet.”
The secretary gasped as Ema gave me her first dirty look I think I ever got from her. Ah, well, there’s a first time for everything, and I was glad to retaliate with one of my own.
Mic pushed us both apart. “Yeah, surprising, eh?” he told the secretary charmingly. “But don’t worry; we’ve got more suspects than a Law and Order episode. We just want to talk to him because he was the only one to get Stevens’ address. Is he here? Because we, uhm, hit some rush-hour drama along the way, if you catch my drift, so we’re a tad bit late.” The secretary laughed as I raised my eyebrows at Ema. Ah, who could stay mad when Mic started to talk to people?
“Well, young man,” the secretary replied, full grin on her face, “I do believe that the technology after-school class ended about 15 minutes ago, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to try again tomorrow.”
Ema groaned in frustration. We had just missed him, and we all know why that was.
“Ah, well.” Mic smiled, throwing his hands up in an “ah, well” gesture, and said “That we may do, ma’am. You have a nice day, you hear?”
“One more thing.” The secretary told Mic. “I do wish your companions had your kind manners.”
Mic laughed and gave her a thumbs-up as we walked out. I grimaced and told Mic when we were safely out of the school “You’re lucky she doesn’t know you in real life.” He smirked, rolled his eyes and said “Shut up, jerk.”
Ema ran across the street and angrily kicked the cop car and shouted a loud obscenity. So unlike her. But could you blame her?
“I am NEVER driving again!” she shouted as she launched her foot onto the door, causing a large dent. Not really caring, she proceeded to punch the hood, without hurting her hand, too.
I patted her on the back and told her “Hey, crap happens. We screwed up. So be it. Now we just try again tomorrow, eh?”
Smiling, she winked and added “You are so Canadian.” She loved to tease me like that.
I grinned and shook her hand. “Want me to drive this time?”
She nodded. “With pleasure.”
Mic couldn’t help but add “And so ends another thrilling episode of Traveling Soap Operas. Get in the car, fartfaces.”
“Can you believe this kid had so many manners in there” Ema asked me as we got in “And acts like a jerk out here?”
“Beats me.” I grinned as I started the car.
About a minute later, I honked the horn and shouted “DANG! I missed the turn!”
Ema just started to break out in laughter.
Chapter 3-A Brisk Jog
(Narration of Ema)
I was jogging along the riverside in Tom McCall Waterfront Park. Y’see, I live in a lonely Cyan PDX loft downtown, not too far from Portland State University, as a boarding student from a small town called Lander, Wyoming, escaping without an accent. Okay, so I had never jogged much. Raised Cows? Yep. Fed Chickens and chucked ‘em in the burning pit when they keeled over? Yep. Jogged? Never. Yessiree, ladies and gentlemen, former farm girl Ema Felkis was about to do the extreme.
Equipped with a headband, jogging shorts and an MP3 player NOT equipped with ANY country music WHATSOEVER, as I made it a point to, well, point out, I set off on a local Streetcar to the southern half of the Park, Riverplace, which was right off the streetcar.
I got about a half-mile before I was doubled over, panting and sweating. If only Mom and Dad could see me now, I quipped to myself. I went to turn off my MP3 player, but dropped it on the pavement 3 feet below, jerking the headphones out. It survived, playing out loud.
I breathed a sigh of relief. That was close.
Then, with my luck, someone had to go and step on it. Journey’s voice died into the now worthless piece of plastic.
“Dang it, no!” I yelled aloud, followed by a 360 scope to see who broke it. The one who broke the player swiveled around like a seat in a new Chrysler Town & Country.
“What’s wrong?” he gasped out, still surprised by my outburst.
“Uhm… you broke my friggin’ Mp3 player, that’s what’s wrong!” I said.
The jogger smacked his forehead. A year or two older than me, he had tall jet-black hair and glasses that put Coke-Bottles to shame, resembling 3-D glasses. BIG 3-D glasses.
“Crap!” he muttered. “Sorry about that.” He bent down and scooped it up. Yes, scooped it up. It was that bad. “Man, that thing really is totaled, isn’t it?”
Taking in a deep breath, I replied “Yeah, which is kinda what happens when people step on it.” I sighed and admitted “Anyway, I dropped it, it’s my fault.”
“Yeah, well, anyways, sorry about that.” The jogger offered. “That thing must have cost a fortune.”
“Well,” I nonchalantly replied, “It was only 50 bucks.”
The next thing she knew, the jogger was taking out his wallet. Now if this guy offers to pay me, I will refuse, because it was my fault, of course. What the jogger did, though, was a slight surprise.
“Well, tell ya what.” Said the jogger, handing me a business card. “My group over at Intel around Hillsboro is testing a prototype MP3 player. Since I kinda owe it to you, I can let you test the first official copy. If you likey, you keepy.”
Now, trust me, I couldn’t refuse that. “Thanks!” I said, smiling, as the jogger and I went separate ways.
About 1 hour later, exhausted, I decided to take five for a snack at Cupcake Jones in the Pearl District, the best in the universe. I did NOT do diets. I mean, come on, I’m exercising! While I waited for an angel food topped with chocolate, my favorite (I love the opposing forces of it, it reminds me of my soul), I pulled out that business card and read it.
It said
Intel Department of Testing
5000 NE Butler Rd, Hillsboro, Oregon, 97216
503-555-9712- For More Info, Contact Rob and Rick Stevens
503-555-5321
“Dam of the Dalles!” I muttered to myself, starting on my cupcake and makeshift cursing myself for not getting that person’s name, as it obviously wasn’t Rick Stevens, him being on vacation and Rob Stevens being dead. Sighing, I worked on the cupcake of my soul when my cell rang. Phone, not cage type.
Flipping my Razr open, I said my usual greeting “Ema Felkis, future Portland Oregon Police Officer, how can I help you?”
“It’s Sam Eastman, also future Portland Oregon Police officer. Where are you?” replied Sam Eastman, also future Portland, Oregon Police officer. I can’t help but grin when I get a phone call from… people. Let’s go with that.
“In the Pearl.” I replied.
“Well, we need you at Pen Kelly.” Sam replied. “Mic and Buffy are here, we just need you. We need to make our Runouw.Com memberships.”
“Okay, I will be there in a half-hour, as there are a lot of questions I need to ask you.” I responded, instantly confused beyond belief. “What about Nicolas?”
“What about him? We hardly have anything to charge him on; let’s just wait ‘till we get more proof over the website. All right?”
I smiled, not like he could see it or anything. “All right. See you then.”
“See you then.” Sam replied, ending the call.
I left the rest of my cupcake on the bar, leaving with my head spinning like an overworked merry-go-round from the morning’s events. You see, the only way he could have us make memberships is if the site was open, and he probably did that, being as techno as he is. I just wonder if we are gonna get any repercussions.
Around 11:45 in the morning, right around the time I was due, give or take an hour, I arrived ever-so-un-grandly, looking as if I was beat down. Don’t worry; the only thing that had beaten me down was Holiday Bus Service, as this particular day was Memorial Day. But, hey, who was I going to barbecue with?
Buffy raised her eyebrows. Exhausted, I put up a finger, signalizing “one minute” and took a couple of deep breaths and said in one giant breath frantically, “It’s Memorial Day, so the bus only runs every 35 minutes and I had to walk about 10 blocks to get to it plus I missed plus it was late so It took me a whole…”
Buffy interrupted with a “Breathe out!” and a chuckle. I took a seat and waited for her to speak. “You think you’re the only one with crappy bus service?” Laughing, she added “I was expected nearly an hour ago.”
I sighed, relieved to steer clear of any trouble. I figured that Buffy’s boss had made his exit already.
Sam grinned and motioned for them to come over to his laptop. “Well, with Buffy’s okay, I hacked into Runouw’s account and reopened the site. I posted this notice in the news topic for everyone to see. And, boy was that hard! In doing so, I think I broke everyone’s hearts.” He shook his head and looked down. “My job really sucks sometimes.”
Man, I thought I was emotionally beat from being a police officer. This guy is a fine specimen of “not afraid to show your feelings.” What is it with Sam that intrigues me so?
“Don’t it?” Buffy replied. “Hey, but somebody’s got to do it.”
He nodded and read his own post.
“This is Sam Eastman from the Portland Youth Police Training Department. The Portland Police recently found a dead body by Union Station, and found that it belonged to this Runouw character, Robert Stevens. And believe me, and sorry for breaking the formality, this sucks. Of all the people to pop up dead, it had to be the leader of 3,000 youth of Portland. We are currently working on the case, so if we pop up and visit you, be expecting it.
Sincerely,
Samuel P. Eastman
Buffy gave Sam a comforting pat on the back. “Thanks for taking the fall for us.”
Sam smiled weakly and added “I think we got 30 replies to that, from the more popular members. Our new moderator Avolerators was one of them. What he said was highly interesting. He actually said “This is horrible! But who’s going to run the site? Me, perhaps?” He took a large drink of water from his thermos and waited for a response.
Mic Davis, unusually silent for this long (which really weirded me out), put in, “The guy wanted the whole site? I admit that http://www.runouw.com is crazy in itself, but http://www.avolerators.com? Yeah, real catchy. I can see people trying to pronounce it now.”
“Like Runouw is easy to pronounce.” Buffy quipped. “Is it Run-Ow? Ru-now? Run-oo? Run-Oui? Run-oh? Is it even English?”
Sam couldn’t hold it in, laughing so hard he spit his water out. That caused everyone else to laugh, even Mic, who had regurgitated water spilled all over his shoes. “Gross, dude!” he laughed.
“Charming!” I giggled hysterically.
“Sorry, man, but you definitely know better than to make someone laugh with a mouth full of water!” Sam replied. Clearing his throat, he continued. “Anyway, I thought it would be interesting to go undercover as normal teens and try to get at what’s going on online, so maybe we can actually investigate without ever leaving the library.”
“Library?” I asked. “Why not here?”
“Two reasons.” Sam explained. “One, if I have to deal with piece of crap Wi-Fi one more minute, I WILL throw the computer against the wall. Let’s not test that theory, Two, we need a new computer, because it is actually against the rules to make two accounts on the same computer. Don’t ask me why. Someone actually got kicked off the site for a month for this.”
“Yeesh.” I replied. Harsh.
“There’s a library about a mile’s walk over on Belmont Street. Want to go there?” Sam asked.
Still beat from the long morning, I groaned “Why the walk? I’m beat.”
“I parked my car there.” Sam explained, him having a part-time job there and all. “Would you rather take the bus?”
“God no!” I exclaimed. Pulling out my gum roll, I popped another foot in and said “Let’s go.”
Mic looked at her and said “What is it with you and gum?”
With my mouth full, I replied “I sure do like my Hubba Bubba,” As we walked down Burnside Street.
(Mysteriously Evil Narration)
Director’s Log- May 28th, 2009
“Pitiful Fools,” I spat vehemently from my office chair. Three young adults… and a kid? It would insult me, if it were not so amusing. As if they could stop me. Just because they have a toy badge? I think not.
Having used a computer to hack into a nearby traffic camera, I watched maliciously as my foes walked, almost giddily, down Cesar Chavez Boulevard. Tall oak trees from the next-door Laurelhurst Park started to shade them from my view and then, they were out of sight. But not out of mind, as I knew where they were heading.
I picked up the cell phone of my dead body and started to dial. One rings, two rings, three rings passed, and I was losing patience. After ring 7, I got an answer, but that was the last word of this conversation I was about to let him speak.
“You!” I hissed, not about to yell and get myself caught. “Those twerps are heading to Belmont library! Now, you idiot, if you are able to get my extremely obvious drift, I want you to blow a hole in those plans. I mean, you don’t want to face the consequences of failure, do you?” Before he could stutter a response, I had hung up on him. He’ll do it, of that I am 100% sure.
Suddenly, the door creaked open ever-so-slightly, and not knowing what else to do, I ran. I never said I was a perfect villain. Climbing out a window with my lucky baseball bat in hand, I silently slunk around the corner to the front door and then back in.
A young man was bent over the dead body of my victim, shocked. He swirled around and saw me. Gasping, I ran over to him, baseball bat in hand. His hand grabbed something, flinging it across the room at the exact same time as I hit him. He sunk to the ground, presumably dead.
Panicked, I went to see what he could have thrown, but then I heard sirens. Swearing loudly a couple of times, I sprinted out of the apartment and towards the river. The sirens may not have been for me, but I wasn’t gonna stick around to find out.
Sprinting down Station Way, my path was blocked by a fat Asian man, my landlord. Before he could recognize me, I hit him with the baseball bat, knocking him to the ground, out cold. I always hated that guy.
My next obstacle was a group of train tracks leading to the next-door Union Station. With Trains on them all. No way around these 20-car trains. I swore again, wishing I had gone the other way where there was a pedestrian bridge. Ah, well, got to compromise when the Popo is after you. I started climbing as fast as I could, reaching the top at lightning speed. Not bad.
I ran on top of the trains, severely denting the Silver Tin Can Amtrak I had climbed up. The first of three leaps was simple, as the distance between the trains was about 2 feet. The second was the same, but the third, oh crap. There was a set of empty tracks between them. I swore again, ran along the train and made a sideways leap between the trains. I almost made it, too.
The next scene would find me gripping the side of the freight train as, suddenly, it started to move. I climbed up, started running against the grain in a Southern direction. When I reached the end of the train, I leapt off, doing a couple of dirt rolls upon landing.
I immediately got up, and started running towards the river, weaving in and out of traffic on Naito Parkway. When a Car headed for me, I leapt over it in a single bound. Impressive.
I reached the Riverside trail, got a lighter out and struck it to the wooden bat. It started to burn, to the handle of it which I was holding by the very edge. When it started to reach my hand, I added more flame and swiftly threw it into the Willamette River. A shame. I had gotten that autographed by A-Rod when my brother and I went to a game at Yankee Stadium. But it’s better than a life behind bars.
I sat, depressed, along the pier. I had thrown away pretty much everything. Ah, well, it would all be over soon. For all of us.
End Director’s Log.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 4-Enter the Library
The same morning.
(Sam Eastman’s Narration)
I woke up that morning 20 miles away from the rest of the crew. But don’t worry, I call that home. Yes, I really should move in closer to my two jobs, the other one being at Belmont Library, where I worked as a checkout person (or whatever you call it) part-time. And, yes, I have a couple of Employee-Of-The-Month awards under my belt. The only other benefit than the happiness that came out of it was the better parking space. But hey, no more parking in Walgreens across the street! Whee!
The morning involved me waking up with my roommate, Dave. I am usually always the first to wake up, that is, before I got the alarm clock that woke me up at 6:30am. Hey, I had to leave early in the morning since I lived 20 miles away in Pacific College, Forest Grove.
I shot up as if I had been struck by lightning. Dave pulled his pillow over his head. Typical. He cursed me out a little and added “For God’s sake, Sam, what the heck is with the alarm clock? It’s 6:30! And it’s Memorial Day! My glorious sleeping-in day!” I think he cried a little, too. Ah, that’s me. The straight arrow. Always getting stuff done on time, always keeping it clean and there’s Dave. There’s like an invisible line through our room, because Dave’s side is a jungle, he’s a mess, a frat boy, he wakes up halfway through first period, drinks a LOT of soda, parties religiously, and, did I mention, is absolutely nothing like me.
I tried to grin as I got my clothes on. “Come on, Dave.” I replied. “You gotta grow up someday. And besides, I have a world to save.” I started boiling coffee and frying some eggs in the communal kitchen. Cue Sara and Jessica groaning next door.
“You’re not really thinking that training to be a police officer or whatever is going to help you save the world, do you?” was the cynical reply.
“Well, it gets me through a tough day.” I replied. “Plus you never know. Things could happen.”
Dave groaned and rolled over again. I started to mercilessly beat him… with my pillow. What, I’m not that violent. The big guy groaned yet again like a derailing train and rolled out of bed. “You had better have made some strong coffee, my man.”
We heard our next-door neighbors walk into the communal kitchen, and I could only presume, still in their pajamas. I, in the starring role as Mr. Dutiful, was the only one dressed, plus I had made breakfast. The others, Dave, Sara and Jessica, were still waking up.
Dave elbowed me. “Ooh-la-la, looks like a breakfast date to me. Get your game face on, Sam.” I rolled my eyes, not caring what face I had on as long as it was my honest face.
Dave sauntered into the kitchen, sitting down in a faux-stylish manner. What a dork. I followed in, at the very least trying not to look like a fool. Mission unaccomplished, as I tripped over Dave’s chair and landed face-first on the table, tipping it over. Thank Yah I had not put the eggs on it yet.
Jessica started to giggle and point at me. Jessica, erm, she’s pretty and all, but not a nice person to hang around with. She’s about my height, has long brown hair and golden eyes and happens to be the longtime crush of my roommate, Dave. Hey, if you like people who have lost their soul, Jessica’s your girl.
Sara cried out “OHMYGOD!” and ran over to help me. Now Sara is a lot nicer. Dave happens to think she is very unattractive, her being 5”1 and a tad bit overweight (As if he has any room to talk) but her personality, I think, is one of a good friend. True, I would never consider her anything more than a good friend (as I am awkward in the dating world, let’s just keep it real here, folks) but Sara and I can talk about almost anything candidly without that awkwardness of being a teenager.
“Ooh, breakfast!” Sara squealed as she saw the plate of eggs and the cups of coffee. “Thanks, Sammy!”
Jessica groaned again and said “You couldn’t have made it later in the morning?”
I shook my head. “Nope, Duty calls. Got a big police case ahead of me.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Okay, Gibbs.” She had a habit of mockingly naming me after the character from NCIS, you know, the older guy who takes his job way too seriously. I would have complained, but that happens to be one of my favorite TV shows. Sara shot Jessica a dirty look and asked me “What kind of case is it?”
“The very worst.” I responded trying not to snicker as Dave tried his best to look suave. I didn’t want to laugh out “A murder!” and have everyone stare at me like I was twisted or something. “Uhm, a murder.”
Sara gasped. “Wow, how horrible. How are you guys taking it?”
“Well, the redheaded girl, Ema-“
“You mean the one you like?” Sara butted in playfully.
Ignoring her in equal play, I continued “The redheaded girl always rued the day that we would get a murder, but she’s taking it quite well, although I think it stresses her out a little bit. She seemed unusually frazzled yesterday.”
Jessica piped up “Uhm, Love Doctor, she’s a girl. There are so many reasons she could be stressed. Not that I’ll clue you in on it, I like to watch you suffer.”
“Okay, Jessica.” I turned to her. “I’m going to be frank with you. No one asked you your opinion.”
Jessica and Dave gave me a dirty look, while Sara tried not to hold in snickers. Grinning, I continued. “Anyways, some guy who owned a website for a flash game got murdered, and that’s pretty much all I can legally say. Confidentiality and all that secret agent stuff.”
Sara shrugged and got back to eating. I wasn’t that hungry, just anxious to get to work. My god, I am turning into a workaholic, I thought to myself. I remembered a school project I had to do and lit up. That project sounded like fun.
“Well guys, I’d stick around but I’ve got to do some photography work.” I announced. “Downtown Portland, it’s for a school project. And here’s the good news- it’s due tomorrow!”
Dave cheered. “Whoop! Your first slack-off! You’re a college student now!”
I saw Jessica giggle a little. Dave turned around to see what that noise was, and saw it was indeed Jessica. She turned a little red. He winked. I rolled my eyes with a smile.
Sara shook my hand. “Well, best of luck on that. And thanks for reminding me that I got a project of my own to turn in. Have a great day!”
I nodded. “You too.” I added as I left the building, not getting a goodbye from anyone else. Ah, well. I grabbed my backpack, my wallet, the camera I was borrowing from the school, and left for the bus.
You’re probably calling me crazy right now. I mean, you’re thinking that if I don’t think of someone as connected to me like Sara is in that way, what am I looking for? It’s not that. We just have a different dynamic than, say, me and… never mind.
I left the MAX light rail train at Pioneer Square, Portland’s living room. Since in the University town of Forest Grove, car thefts were more frequent than the year before, I decided to leave my car at Belmont Library.
I found Memorial Day a lonely day, you see, I lived here alone. My parents were professional artists that travelled around the world. If anyone’s referenced me to be Canadian, it’s because I spent my first few years of life in Vancouver, Canada, before my parents and my sister, Dania, started travelling. I’ve been everywhere, man. Right now, my parents and Dania are in Italy, I stayed behind for college.
This particular day, I was using Pioneer Square as part of an assignment- use the space (which included an echo chamber, small geometrical waterfalls surrounding the entrance to the information center, a statue of a man holding an umbrella, and a direction pole showing mileage to nearly a hundred different worldwide locations) in an unexpected yet beautiful way. I went for the umbrella man, ready to show the world what life was like for this particular statue.
Before I got a chance, though, a nearby person with a food cart, popular in Portland, knocked me over. My camera, in all its 12-mexapixel, HD screen, $200, Holy crap it’s a Nikon, “Property of Pacific University” glory was destroyed. A big crack darted along the lens and the screen, and, for the record, you can’t take world-changing pictures with a cracked lens.
“Shii… take mushrooms!” I spat aloud, getting up and surveying my camera. Not only had I no way to take pictures, I was on my way to the land of grade F.
The person who hit me stopped the cart, saying “What was that?”
“Me,” I replied. “You broke my really nice camera.”
The cart-puller smacked his forehead. He had tall black hair and- guess what? Big glasses that put coke bottles to shame. That looked like 3-D glasses. BIG 3-D glasses.
Yes, Ema typed her chapter before me.
“Jeez, let me take a look at it.” Our resident Klutz replied. “Yeesh that really is totaled. Dude, I’m sorry about that.”
“I understand that,” I said, feeling a frustrated vent coming on, “But that doesn’t help me too much, because I needed that camera before next week, because it’s for my college course, or I’ll get an F. A big, frowny face F that has a note from my teacher that says “See me after class” so she can charge me $200 for a camera I didn’t break, which, by the way, is a week’s salary for me and…” I paused. “Sorry for venting all this out on you.”
The mystery person handed me the same card he handed Ema about 15 minutes earlier. “Here, I work for the Testing department over at Intel.”
My face brightened. Intel was not too far away from Pacific University. “Oh, yes, Intel! I live over in that area. Pacific College.”
“I went there, too!” the person replied. “Class of 06. 2006, not 1906.”
“Yeah, I kinda decoded that.” I quipped, grinning. This guy seemed really nice.
“Anyway, here’s my card.” The mystery person continued. “I work for the Intel testing department, and I can get you in to test a new camera. You like it, it’s on me.”
Trust me, I wasn’t about to argue. “Sounds good. Say, what’s your name?”
“Avo Richardson,” Avo Richardson replied. I grinned and left to the police station, not being able to shake the feeling that Avo Richardson sounded oh-so-familiar to me.
I hopped back onto the next MAX train headed my way, stationed right in front of Pioneer Courthouse. I paid my fare, ran on before I missed it and got out my laptop. Hopefully I could catch some Wi-Fi on the train, but, hey, anything beats the Wi-Fi at Pen Kelly. I went onto the mess formerly known as Runouw.com and got ready for a crapload of work. Logging into Stevens’ account, I didn’t finish unlocking all the topics until I passed Lloyd Center, or, in English, 20 minutes. Then the members had to be unbanned. No way in heck I was spending an hour individually un-banning every single member. The train pulled into Hollywood, my station, and I realized that I needed to do this later.
After a mile-long walk down pleasant 42nd avenue through the Laurelhurst Residential area, down Glisan and 47th past stately Providence Hospital, I arrived at Penumbra Kelly. I got my laptop out and started unbanning people. That took about 30 minutes just to get the members that posted. I decided that there was no way in heck I was doing the rest. The way I see it, I think I was saving the future site owner a big job.
Then I had to face the hardest part of all- announcing the death of Rob Stevens to all his fans. I posted one of the global announcements and started typing.
“This is Sam Eastman from the Portland Youth Police Training Department.” (Good, good, starting off strong.) “The Portland Police” (insert hesitant pause, then continue) “recently found a dead body by Union Station,” (try not to break out in tears and/or throw the computer against the wall in anger) “and found that it belonged to this Runouw character, Robert Stevens.” (What do I do to sound like I care?) “And believe me, and sorry for breaking the formality, this sucks.” (Don’t really care how it sounds.) “Of all the people to pop up dead, it had to be the leader of 3,000 youth of Portland.” (Now what?) “We are currently working on the case, so if we pop up and visit you, be expecting it.” (Just a warning shot, that’s good. Now how will they know who I am?) Sincerely, Samuel P. Eastman
Ah, all done. Life really sucks sometimes. I shut down the site, waiting for a flood of “Good Prank! No, seriously,” and horrified reactions. I came back to my senses and cheered up a bit when I saw the wallpaper on my computer that I had never changed since the occurrence.
Mic, Ema and I on the graduation stage accepting the Medal of Honor. Ah, but that’s a story for another time, mate.
I smiled and thought to myself “We ought to hang out more.”
Buffy walked up and said “Hey, Sam, did you even sleep?”
I nodded and replied “I just had an epiphany to open the website up and see what happens.”
She gasped. “You what now?”
I shrugged. “Is that a problem?”
She sighed and said “No, no. I just wish you had let me know before you do this stuff.” She managed a grin and added “That was a good idea, though.”
I grinned. “Well, I gots me some phone calls to make. See you in a minute!”
She nodded as I walked into a separate room.
My next move was to call Mic. I dialed his number and waited a couple of rings before he picked up. “Yello?” he asked.
“Hey, Mic, it’s me, Sam.”
“Yes, I know, due to a technological wonder called Caller ID. Amazing, eh?”
I laughed and replied with “Yep, who knew. With all jokes aside, how fast can you get to the police station?”
“Well, I better leave early, so I can get back before the Memorial Day Barbecue.” He seemed hesitant and then added “That’s at three.”
I sighed. “Lucky. My Memorial Day will probably consist of a turkey pot pie TV dinner. Getting back on topic, see you soon.”
“Be there as soon as I can!” he replied happily, leaving me to hang up.

I grinned, took a deep breath and called Ema. It only took one ring for her to answer with “Ema Felkis, future Portland Oregon Police Officer, how can I help you?”
“It’s Sam Eastman, also future Portland Oregon Police officer. Where are you?” I replied, loving that sound.
“In the Pearl.” Was the reply. And I had a feeling where, too. That cupcake store by the streetcar.
“Well, we need you at Pen Kelly.” I replied. “Mic and Buffy are here, we just need you. We need to make our Runouw.Com memberships.”
“Okay, I will be there in a half-hour, as there are a lot of questions I need to ask you.” Was her response, and I could hear the confusion already. “What about Nicolas?”
“What about him? We hardly have anything to charge him on; let’s just wait ‘till we get more proof over the website. All right?”
She managed a small giggle. “All right. See you then.”
“See you then.” I replied, ending the call.
Cue everything else.
Upon arriving at the library, I told everyone “Stay here. I have to get my flash drive out of the glove compartment. It has the case files.”
No one had seen my car before. Mic, Ema and Buffy looked excited as I walked towards a nice new BMW.
That excitement quickly faded after I passed the BMW and went to a beat-up Ford Escort. The thing looked more like a meteor than a car.
“Yo, ever heard of Cash for Clunkers?” Mic shouted.
“You. Zip it.” I replied, unlocking the door. “Crap!” I called out. “The door handle fell off.”
“Seriously! You might get, say… 50 bucks for that gem!” he laughed.
“I will chase you down if I must!” was the reply.
Horrified, I saw that the car had a gaping hole in the window, precisely cut out. The others saw that I was about to wet myself and ran over here.
“Who the heck broke into my car?” I cried out, horrified about my bad day.
“Who the heck would want to?” Mic replied. I punched him in the shoulder.
“Well, this is just a guess, mind you, but I have a feeling this guy has never broken into a car before, and must have done this late at night, with a small welding tool of some sort.” Ema said.
“And you would think this because…” I urged.
“Well, no seasoned car thief would have just torn a hole in the window.” She explained. “And if he tore a hole in the window, however the heck he would do that, he sure wouldn’t have done that in broad daylight. And look at the hole. So clean cut, it sure wasn’t cut with a chisel, I can tell you that.”
“Ema, you’re a genius!” I said, high-fiving her and climbing through the hole in the window.
Ema giggled and said “I am, aren’t I?”
I opened the door from the inside and said “This is weird. The only things missing are the flash drive and the car radio. And Hoover Dam it, I paid 75 dollars for that! Plus, my copy of the case files was all on that danged flash drive! I am such an idiot!” I slapped my forehead in the thought of “I AM SUCH AN IDIOT!”
“Hey, you’re a novice.” Buffy replied. “All novices make mistakes that could screw the whole case up.”
“Buffy, I know you’re trying, but, please, don’t, it’s not helping.” I said. “Well, might as well just go in and start our accounts up.”
“Agreed.” Mic added.
Walking into the library, I went up to the woman at the front desk, an elderly Chinese lady. “Hello, Mrs. Lee.”
“Hello, Mr. Eastman,” Lee replied. “Thank you for giving us notice that you would need some time off. I am very proud of you, making so much effort into serving this city.”
I beamed. Mrs. Lee had become like the grandmother I had never had. I had become so attached to the library that even moving 20 miles west of it to Forest Grove was not enough to make me resign. “Thank you, Mrs. Lee. May I ask you a favor?”
“You’re a police officer. Go right ahead.”
“We need four computers. Like, right now. And for longer than an hour, too.” I explained. “Could you do that for us?”
“Definitely.” Mrs. Lee replied. “Computer 15, 16, 17, 18. All yours. Good luck, Officer Eastman.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lee,” Ema put in. “You have served your city well.”
Mrs. Lee winked at me and eye-pointed at a skipping Ema. I laughed. Mrs. Lee also liked to tease me like about her. Seemed everyone did. What, am I that obvious? “See you, Mrs. Lee.”
On computers 15-18, we had to face their toughest challenge yet- picking our online usernames.
“What do we do?” Ema whispered across to Buffy. “Do something understandable, or do what everyone else has done-randomly type in letters on the keyboard?”
“If we do the latter,” Mic said, pausing to type in a few keys “Then call me hgjerert!”
Buffy gave it a second of thought and said “I’d say go with what is recognizable to you.” She said. “I’m going to go with Buffooner.”
“Buffooner?” Mic quizzed. “Where’d you get that?”
“My brother. Before his tour of duty he used to say my nickname was Buffooner, because I was always making a fool out of myself.” She replied, starting to feel slightly sad. I should know. She had told me that her brother had been in the army for a year, and was due home next month. It had been the longest year of Buffy’s life.
“Wow, your brother’s nickname for you was quite the insult, if you ask me.” Ema remarked, despite having a sister that was 15 years older than her, did not understand why her brother would call her a buffoon. I gasped to myself, hoping that Buffy wouldn’t take Ema down over an innocent comment.
Fortunately, all Ema got was a hurt glare as Buffy said “It’s a sibling thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
Ema cheerily went to her screen and said “Yeah, probably not. Vanessa’s a decade and a half older than I am. Anyway, I like the Batman movies A LOT. A lot of lots. So I’m going to go with Joker.” She paused, and vigorously shook her head. “Nah, too obvious. How about Riddler? That’s less nerdy fan-girlish.” She quickly typed it in and then slammed her hand on the computer keyboard and hissed “Dang it, I forgot the L!”
“Well, ‘Ridder’,” I replied, winking. “I’m going to go in as MessengerOfYahweh, with no spaces.” Everyone understood that. I hardly kept my faith life a secret. My belief was that of the Messianic, and before you go “Metawhoic?” let me explain. What I believe to be the true original faith, with the belief of the messiah and New Testament of the Christians, and the Torah and Sacred Names of the Jews, but we were here first.
“I got nothing overly creative.” Mic said. “I’m pretty normal.”
That provoked snickers from all three of us.
“Hey, seriously!” he snapped. Giving it a little thought, he thought “Mario is… awesome, no, that spells Mia, Mario is… cool! Yeah! That spells Mic, and goes with the site theme!” He put it in, and said “Oh, wait, there is already a Marioiscool.”
“Put in your address number on the end.” Buffy suggested.
“Yeah!” Mic replied, putting in Marioiscool254, after his residence in Apartment 254 on SE Harney. And, just like that, they were signed up.
Marioiscool254 put in chat “Over here, Buff, MoY, and Ridder!”
Buffooner replied with an “I’m in.” Then the real Buffy whispered “You better not blow our cover over chat!”
Mic started to type “Yeah, like I’m going to actually blow our cover and post our case files on the chat” but then thought better of it.
Ridder posted “Hey, noob over here. But, hey, we all were noobs once.”
MessengerOfYahweh (my new alter ego) replied with a “Should we do a customary grammatical screw-up as all the other noobs do?” adding a little smiley on the end.
A suspect of theirs, with the wacky name of Blablob, replied “You haven’t heard the news? We gotta choose a new name!”
“I’ll say,” was the quip of Marioiscool254. “Because I can’t pronounce Runouw to save my life!”
Buffy whispered. “Good work. Play dumb. And, Mic?”
“Yeah, Buffooner?” Mic raised his eyebrows, thoroughly amused by the name, while wondering if he did anything wrong.
“Very good quip,” she grinned. Mic gave her thumbs up and a smile, thoroughly relieved.
“No, get this.” Blablob replied. “The guy the website was named after got whacked like a Soprano yesterday!” followed by a crying not-so-much smiley, smiley.
“Well,” Ridder put in, “looks like we came in at the perfect time for Teh WORLD DOMINATION!!!!” followed by a devilish smile.
Through her headphones, Ema could still hear me laughing in the seat next to her. She grinned with success written all over her face and turned to the screen again.
MessengerOfYahweh put in an LOL!
“Seriously, people!” blablob replied. “The site is in flames! The members are fighting, spam bots are multiplying, and it’s straight out of brandobrawl’s Runouw’s Forum Story!”
“Well, I know what I’ll be doing on this website!” Marioiscool254 posted.
“Helping us to regain peace and order on our beloved Runouw.com?” blablob asked.
“No, reading Runouw’s Forum.” Was the reply.
Buffy suppressed her laughter, quite unsuccessfully.
MessengerOfYahweh played the undercover investigator and asked “So, who are the people’s choices?”
“People’s? Ha! They hardly get a say-so! It’s all up to the moderators! All 3 of them!” Blablob added a mad face.
“Not exactly a random sample.” MessengerOfYahweh noted. Interesting, but if a mod wanted a site, would he go so far as to delete it after murdering Stevens? I don’t really think so, but there could be another reason.
“What be the calculator’s opinion, mortal?” Ridder asked. While I tried to portray myself in my online alter ego, “Ridder” seemed to be a totally different person from Ema, you know, darker and more playful.
“About 0.1% of our entire population.” Blablob replied “And yes, I used a calculator! Anyway, it’s between the moderators by the moderators.”
“What, no one else?” Ridder put in? “That sucks because I wanted to be the leader!”
I put in another LOL. Ema smiled and put her chin in her hand, satisfied.
“Well, we got Superyoshi. He’s a little rough around the edges, but gets the job done. And there’s Avolerators. He’s a new moderator, but he’s very active and friendly. Finally, there’s Fourinone- my pick. He posts a lot, he is on a lot, and is good to people a lot.”
Nonchalantly, I got out his business card, knowing that Avolerators sounded quite familiar. Ema swerved around, her fiery red hair falling in her face and took a look at my card and, astonished, asked “You got one, too?”
“Too?” I asked. “Was he a tall guy, tall black hair, and gigantic glasses?”
“That put Coke Bottles to shame?” Ema countered.
“That resembled 3-D glasses?” I replied.
“BIG 3-D glasses?”
“Yeah, he was.” I said.
“Yeah, he crushed my Mp3 player and offered to let me test a new one, and if I liked it, I could keep it.” Ema explained.
I felt my jaw plummet like a barbell through a wooden floor. “He did the same with my camera!” I replied, surprised. “Broke it, offered to let me test the new one, and keep it if I liked it!”
“Whoa… what was this guy’s name?”
“Avo Richards- wait a minute…” I found a connection. “Curiouser and Curiouser. Hold on just a second.”
I got ready to log off and hack into these people’s system and get their contact info. But before I could, get this, my computer imploded, the screen glass popping and the hard drive frying. All the other computers did the same.
“Blasted furnaces of…” I spat out, stopping myself short of a swear word.
Then the power went out.
Then Belmont Library caught on fire.
Ema was the first to make a horrifying discovery, “MY HAIR’S ON FIRE!” she yelped, jumping in the air.
“How would you know?” Mic shouted back. “It looks exactly the same as usual!”
“Then tell me why the heck it is burning off!” Ema grabbed a fire extinguisher, spraying it all over her face, stopping the fire and giving herself a large white, foamy beard in the process. Even among the panic and chaos, I couldn’t help but laugh. Her hair had survived, although it was considerably shorter than before. Undaunted, she shook the foam off of her face and we started outside.
I spotted Richardson, the Intel Tester, outside with a laptop in his hand (by Intel, of course), and I could tell from experience that he was hacking, probably into all the computers of the library. “Over here, guys!” I yelled. Ema, Mic and Buffy ran close behind.
Buffy stopped short of the door. “Go!” she called. “I gotta evacuate all the people from the library!”
“It’s a suicide mission!” I yelled back, panicked. “You’ll roast alive like a bird on a rotisserie!” Okay, why must I spout metaphors- or similes- when my LIFE IS IN DANGER?!
“Good metaphor- or simile! One of the two.” Buffy called back. “But there are tons of people in there, and this is what I do, darn it!” And without another word, she dashed back into the library before I could stop her, which I would have.
Outside of the library, Ema, Mic and I chased down Richardson out of the library and into the middle of busy Cesar Chavez Boulevard. Cars grinded to a halt, surrounding them, and the drivers tuned in for an exciting sight- straight out of Law and Order.
I looked up at Richardson and, astonished, saw he had a hostage.
Even more horrifying, it was Mrs. Lee, unconscious and unaware that her life was in the hands of the three teenagers she trusted most. I tried not to burst into frenzied tears. That would look very un-impressive.
“You make a move, she dies!” Avo Richardson shouted. “The whole hostage routine! You know!”
Ema put in “Guess I can forget about that new Mp3 player!”
From what I learned, inside the library, Buffy was guiding people out of the library. “Get out!” she yelled. “It’s not safe in here!” as if the occupants didn’t know already.
Horrified, she noticed that books were banging against the water fountain. She watches Mythbusters, you know. She knew that if that water fountain were to burst open, this place would be going up in a fireball, and would cook her alive.
Back outside, Mic looked at the scene. “It just isn’t right! And this son of a hamster- he… he caused all of this!” he yelled. Angrily, he snatched Ema’s taser and lunged at Avo.
Avo dropped Mrs. Lee and fired his pistol at Mic.

Chapter 5-The Battle of Belmont
Mic’s Journal
May 27, 2009
Once I was asked by a classmate “Why on earth would you want to become a police officer, when everyone knows from TV and stuff how hard it is?”
Well, let me just start off by saying; I’m sure no college student like Ema and Sam, that’s for sure. I’m only 14; I’m just now in High School (at Cleveland, of course, where I am treated like a celebrity, but that’s another story.) Merely a freshman. But I just really want to help people and bring comfort to those sad. Plus I want to kick some bad guy butt. That’s why being a police officer is perfect for me, as I get to fulfill both wishes.
You see, I live in one of the biggest slums in Portland, Brentwood-Darlington. There is very little “Darling” about this neighborhood. It’s not as bad as, say, Harlem, but as far as the city goes, it’s pretty bad. There are boarded-up shops left and right, pothole-laden roads, but the worst is the gang warfare. Took my older brother’s life when he was just 22.
You see, the underlying reason I wanted to be a police officer is to stop gang action like this.
I woke up at the crack of dawn, as usual. What, that weird to you? I don’t sleep well. I got on my computer and started writing. I love to write. My life is enough of an adventure for me, thank you very much, so I usually write stuff like Comedies. I was writing something about how people integrate hilariously in a workplace. Then my mom introduced me to The Office. Ah, well, it’s a funny show, and I always liked Steve Carrell, so not much loss. I just gotta think of another idea. I’d write something like what life is like as a cop with a humorous edge, but the movie Cop Out is coming out soon, and I don’t wanna seem like a copycat. Although, odds are I will go for it. Put a unique twist on it. Hopefully Cop Out will be a failure.
Then breakfast. Mom had just woken up so she made me some French toast. “After all,” she added happily “It IS Memorial Day, and I want to make it as special as possible.”
I grinned with a “Thanks, Mom.” Breakfast was fast, and I was ready to spend a day relaxing, barbecuing, and board games. Unless, of course…
My phone rang, and the ringtone that belted out Life in Technicolor ii (his favorite song) I knew Sam was calling. Yeah, unless that.
I ran into my room where my phone was charging and picked it up. “Yello?” was my amusing welcome.
“Hey, Mic, it’s me, Sam.” No freaking duh, Sherlock.
“Yes, I know, due to a technological wonder called Caller ID. Amazing, eh?” I retorted.
I heard him laugh and add “Yep, who knew. With all jokes aside, how fast can you get to the police station?”
I tried to hide my displeasure. “Well, I better leave early, so I can get back before the Memorial Day Barbecue. That’s at three.”
I heard him sigh unhappily. Poor guy, he’s probably lonely. “Lucky. My Memorial Day will probably consist of a turkey pot pie TV dinner. Getting back on topic, see you soon.”
“Be there as soon as I can!” I replied, trying to lift my spirits a bit.
To make the long story short, Mom wasn’t too happy about me leaving, but, hey, duty calls. I’m gonna be doing this for real someday. “Just be back at three.” Was her answer. “And be careful.”
I nodded “As always.”
Now I sit on the bus, with fear in my heart. What if something happens? What if I don’t come back? How would it destroy my family to have two dead children? Just a case of the pre-game jitters, I presume, but it still disturbs me.
Besides, if I die today, I’ll never get to have a slice of Uncle Ray’s pecan pie like I do on every Memorial Day.
Yours Truly,
Mic Davis.
P.S. I just checked a movie review. Cop Out got 1 star out of 5. Guess it’s safe to start my book.
(Ema Narrates)
Mic was petrified, stopping in his tracks. No one had ever shot at him before. However, when and if you are shot at, it should be the number one rule to MOVE!
“Oh my god!” shouted Sam, who, with no thinking whatsoever, puts his hand in the way and grabs the bullet. Okay, not so much “grab” as “it went through his knuckles.”
“Oh my god!” he shouted again, noticing he had a bleeding hole in his hand, and not only do you not take world-changing pictures with a cracked lens, you also don’t take it with half a hand.
I noticed. “Oh my god!” I cried out.
Sam replied with another “Oh! My! God!”
“I gotta take you to a medic!” I yelled. “I mean, I gotta call 911! Well, somebody must have cause the dang building’s on fire, but you know what I mean!”
“No!” Sam firmly replied. “What about Mic? The guy can’t handle a hostage situation himself! He’s fourteen!”
“If that hand keeps bleeding, you’re gonna lose it!” I yelled, frustrated at Sam’s sudden stubbornness. “Do you want to lose that hand?”
“Do you want Mic to lose his life?!” was the reply.
“Buffy will be out in a minute!”
“How do you know she’s even alive?” Desperation was showing up in Sam’s voice. His eyes widened, he added with tears in his eyes “Please, you gotta protect Mic. You guys are all I have.”
Reluctantly and heartbroken, I sat him down and ended the argument with an “I’m going to get you to a medic as soon as I’m done.”
“That’s the spirit, Ema.” Sam smiled, resting his hand in his lap and leaning against a car, citizens too frightened to get out, but too traffic-clogged to leave.
Meanwhile, Mic, Avo and Mrs. Lee were still perfectly still. I joined up with Mic. “Having fun with the melodrama?”
“Hey, the guy saved your life!” I snapped. I was amazed at what a jerk that guy could be.
“I know; it’s just hard to be grateful when you two are playing soap opera behind my holding up a very dangerous criminal!” Mic replied.
“Playing soap opera, you little creep?” I reached out to slap Mic across the face, quite hard, too. “I’ll have YOU know that the guy is risking his hand and his potential future to save your sorry butt!”
“Ahem,” Sam put in, with that familiar awkwardness in his voice, “I’m right here.”
Mic grew angry, re-snatching my taser and said “I’ve had enough of this bull!” and lunged toward Avo. But before Avo could fire, Mic had already stuck the taser right on his arm, causing the criminal to drop Mrs. Lee, convulse in pain, swear once or twice at Mic, and stand steady again. Mic took advantage of this moment to whip out handcuffs and put them on Avo.
“I’ll read you your Miranda rights as soon as we know how Buffy’s doing,” Mic said, “As I forget how they go.”
Even I couldn’t help but smile, impressed. “You may be a little creep, Mic,” I told him, punching him on the arm and adding, “But you sure did well.”
Mic nodded with a Cheshire grin and a thumbs-up. Avo responded by spitting at the both of us (as in, mostly me.) I wiped it off my face and slapped him with his own spit on my hand.
Now back to Buffy. She was in the flame-ridden library. All the people were out… except her.
You see, when you’re trapped between two bookshelves blocking your way out, escape isn’t exactly easy.
She tried kicking one again, but instead of falling away from her, books by the hundreds fell on top of her, resulting in some nasty bruises. Worse yet, some fell on the nearly-bursting water fountain. Buffy swore loudly, thinking it ironic that firefighters used this exact same method to STOP fires. Climbing out of her book shell, Buffy climbed over the toppled shelf, towards a window.
Then the last book needed hit the water fountain.
Then Belmont Library exploded.
(Narration of Apprentice Firefighter Mark Ten)
At that moment, an ambulance, fire truck and police car showed up at the scene, the ambulance and police having to park 2 blocks to the north in a Walgreens parking lot. The fire truck wouldn’t settle for that. The thing ran across the parking lot, over a planter, and across Taylor Street to the library.
“We’ll pay for that!” I, Firefighter’s assistant Mark Ten called out to an indignant clerk.
The crew readied their hoses and aimed them at the burning library. Then a voice from far below them yelled “Don’t! No!”
It was Buffy Clark, minus a leg.
I looked down when he heard a woman shout, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw what appeared to be Buffy holding her leg. “Holy guacamole, chief!” I called to the fire captain. “She’s real hurt!” The chief radioed the ambulance to send out a stretcher to the fire truck.
Buffy put a hand up and said “Wait, it’s a fake! A prosthetic! I’m all right!”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “They sure are making prosthetics more and more realistic, huh, chief?”
"Uhm... that's no prosthetic." the chief replied.
I grew nauseous and vomited into a bucket.
“You see, shock can do things to a person. This lady has no idea she was holding her own leg.” The chief explained to me.
I grew nauseous again but managed to hold it in.
“Listen!” Buffy called out. “I was just in there! The water fountain exploded and it blew this place up! All that water you have will destroy everything in a quarter-mile radius!” At the very least, the shock did not affect her thought process.
I employed some mental math. After all, I am a Mathlete at Benson. “That includes us, all the traffic, all the houses, stores, and it could catch the gas station and reach up to Laurelhurst Park.”
“In English?” the chief asked testily.
“If we spray that with water, we can say Bye-bye to the Laurelhurst neighborhood.” Which means I could have helped saved a whole neighborhood. Now I was excited.
“Well, miss,” the chief called down, annoyed. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Call a gravel company!” Buffy called. “There’s one about 3 or 4 miles away! Have them dump gravel and dirt all over the fire! It’ll kill it!”
The chief yelled back “What proof do you have for this theory!”
“Mythbusters! And I bet about a million and a half people can vouch for me!” Buffy called. “Plus, I have a badge!” she held it in the air. I know I could vouch for the Mythbusters part. It was my favorite show.
“Holy crap, she’s a police officer!” I called. “Hurry with that stretcher!”
The chief was busy calling the gravel company.
(Back To Ema)
I went back to Sam, whose hand was gushing out blood. “Ew.” I muttered, trying SO HARD not to vomit. “You are in bad shape!”
“I think the bullet punctured a few blood veins, and they’re all just pouring out my hand with no way to get to the other side.” Sam guessed. “But, hey, I’m obviously no brainiac. I mean, I put my hand in the way of a bullet!” He laughed at himself.
“Mic doesn’t act it too much,” I explained thoughtfully, “But he really is probably thankful for what you did.”
“Man, you kidding?” Mic added as he chained Avo to a car door. The car owner watched hopelessly as Avo dented the living crap out of his car. “I wish I had the guts to do that!”
Rolling in with a stretcher, a hospital medic climbed over car hoods and roofs surrounding the young adults and, after bandaging the hand, lifted Sam up. “Can you walk?” he asked.
“It’s my hand, not my leg.” Sam replied, wearily starting the trek. Concerned, I followed the two over car hoods, accidentally taking out a headlight. It was a sad day for cars in the area.
Sam took a little bit of time to quip “Hey, Ema, you should have cut your hair a long time ago. You look a lot better that way.”
I giggled. I gotta admit that was sweet. Uhm… you can forget that, right? “Does it make up for my missing eyebrows?”
Sam raised his. “Hey, I didn’t notice that. It’s been so long, and I never noticed that. As MessengerOfYahweh would say, LOL.”
“And as Ridder would say ‘At least it makes my eyes look bigger.” I replied.
“No, that is a definite Ema thing to say. Too positive. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that Ridder is your polar opposite.” Sam grinned. I nearly became as red as my hair, with a slight smile in an odd time. Sam noticed but said nothing. Thank goodness, as I was not in the mood for embarrassing young people stuff.
There were three people waiting for Sam and me at the stretcher- Buffy, sitting on the side of the fire engine, with half a leg (OH MY GAWWWWWD!) Mark Ten and a mystery person. He had brown hair, was about a couple inches taller than Sam and was wearing a shirt that read “Support the Cause! A Place for All Teens in the City!”
“Oh, my god! Buffy, your leg!" Sam gasped.
"What!" She replied. "It's my prosthetic!"
"Buffy, are you out of your mind? You never owned a prosthetic in your life!" I yelled, shocked. She was really scaring the heck out of me.
Buffy, upon realizing it was her real leg, dropped it and screamed loud enough to scare the re-settled birds at Laurelhurst Park.
Sam shook his head. "Oh my god." he muttered sadly. I just started crying.
Mark Ten introduced himself, then adding “What is this all about?”
“A teen’s website leader got killed and we were checking out the website.” Sam explained. “After that is pretty confidential.”
“You don’t mean Runouw, do you?” Mark asked.
“Why, yes, actually.” Sam replied.
“I was on there!” Mark said, astonished. “Nin10mode!”
Puzzled, Sam said “Sorry, we weren’t that far in.”
The mysterious, tall teenager stepped forward. “H’llo, young of’cers.” He said in an impeccable Aussie accent. “Allow me to be introducin’ myself. The name’s Nicolas Locke. Niklaw if you will. And I was there on the night of Runouw’s murder. I should know. The killer wanted me dead, too.”
Wiping my eyes, I realized that I hadn’t been this surprised since, well, 5 minutes ago. “You don’t say!”

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 6-900 NW Station Way
(Ema Narrates)
Penumbra Kelly Juvenile Hall. Again.
Buffy was at the Oregon Health and Science University Hospital, or OHSU, still in shock. Not about the explosion, but about LOSING HER LEG! Heck, I would be too! Sam had a short surgery done on his hand and had to take a couple of days sick, but that was the worst of it. The hole in his hand had been filled in with some fancy-shmancy scientific material, which felt a little awkward but fine nonetheless. Mic got to go home to his Memorial Day picnic and tell everyone about how Sam had saved his life and how he had stopped an actual killer. Nicolas Locke was politely asked to stay in the Kelly until the following day in a nicer cell so the team could talk to him. Although nervous to stay in a juvenile hall with at least one potential killer, he agreed. Avo or “Avolerators” as he was called on http://www.runouw.com was the prime suspect of the murder of Rob Stevens, or Runouw.
Now what on earth did I do during this time?
Well, first off, I was able to catch up on some classes. Now what on earth was I at college for? Actually, for -gasp! - Architecture. Seriously. What else do you think drew me to the city? Beautiful buildings like the curiously shaped Brick-Red Koin Tower, The Curves of the Portland Condominiums, and of course, the reflective qualities of Cyan PDX. I designed a building, I wish I could show it to you here, it has so many vibrant colors, so many attractive qualities, and, well, it’s just my work of art, and I’m proud of it.
Second, I counted up all my savings. About $560. I took about $100 of that and went to a nice clothing boutique in the Pearl. There, I bought myself a professional-looking outfit that still had a touch of pink in it. What would I do without pink?
Third, I realized that there was no way in heck I was going to spend Memorial Day alone.
I got a bouquet of flowers and made my way to OHSU on the Tram. Taking a look out on the city through the fog, I shook off the last little bits of homesickness I had from Wyoming, which until now had managed to cling onto me for the last year or so.
I arrived on the tram deck and started to walk towards Buffy’s room. Three hallways later, I arrived at her door and knocked. No answer. Talk about getting worried.
Fortunately a doctor answered the door for her. Oh, yeah. Leg. Forgot. Which reminded me, whatever I do, do NOT mention her leg.
I nodded a thank you at the doctor and walked to Buffy’s bed. “Hey, Buffy, how’s your leeeeeee…” I stopped myself in the middle of the word and internally punched myself.
She nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry.” She responded. “I’m okay with it.”
“Wowwee, Buffy, you leapt over three stages of grief from Shock to Acceptance.” I replied, shocked.
She shook her head vigorously. “Not true. I spent all day wrestling with anger,” she pointed to a fallen picture frame “Hence that. Good aim, you have to admit. Then I spent an hour bargaining, which didn’t work out so well because I seem to get no response, and then depression, hence the bags under my eyes. But it’s all over now, the worst day of my life.”
I put the flowers on her table and told her “I hope I made it a little better.”
She looked at the daisies I had bought for her. “Aw, Em, those are beautiful, but…” she was interrupted by a couple of sneezes, she added, “I’m allergic to daisies.”
I groaned, for some reason more disappointed than she seemed to be, and had the doctor remove those to the outside of the room. “Sorry, Buffy.”
She smiled. “No worries, you had no idea. So, about the case, real quick.”
I sat down and nodded. Time for business.
“Well, due to my current condition, it should be obvious that I will not be continuing this case with you guys.”
I nodded, unsurprised to say the least. “I figured as much.” I replied.
“It should take me a month or two of rehab to get back to my old self, or as close as I can get.” She told me. “It shouldn’t take you that much longer to solve this case, after the bombing and the hostage situation, it seems pretty obvious who it is.”
“You mean Avo Richardson, right?” I asked.
“Well, I certainly don’t mean George Clooney, Ema!” she laughed. “Ah, as you can imagine, it feels good to laugh again. I really needed that.”
I nodded with a good giggle of my own. “Well, I gotta go do something with these flowers; I hope you get better soon!”
She smiled and told me “Goodbye, Ema, and good luck!”
I nodded and wished her farewell. Good luck, eh? Man, were we gonna need that!
Sam came in groggily 2 days after the incident, still recovering from a painful surgery. I met him at the door with some bad news.
“We’re gonna have to do this without Buffy,” I told him nervously after the usual greeting.
Sam sat down and, fearing the worst, asked “Why is that?” I could tell he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the answer.
“Dude, it’s okay! Seriously, she’s alive.” I made sure to point out. “She’s alive… just not well. She’s gonna walk again… just on a prosthetic leg, which should take her about a month or two of rehab to get used to. And don’t worry.” I smiled weakly and grabbed his hand before he started to cry or anything. “Buffy’s tough. She’ll pull through.”
“Yeah, so who’s supposed to lead the team?” Sam asked. Good, he wasn’t gonna cry. Not that he’s a wimp or anything, but… I will stop talking now.
“Who really needs to?” I replied. “You’ve got the intellect, I’ve got the good deduction skills, and Mic’s got the great people skills! We’re basically three parts of Sherlock Holmes!”
Sam grinned helplessly. My team cheerleaderness-definite remedy to the after-surgery illness. “Well, Ema, I have a theory.”
“Theorize away, my good pal.” I replied.
“I think we should go to the crime scene.” He replied. “It’ll suck, yes. Be the first dang dead body I ever saw. But we can get some info. Find out more about Stevens. Then we just kick it off Law and Order style. Find out what weapon our criminal used; get some DNA, yadda, yadda, yadda and bada-bing, bada-boom, we got our bad guy!”
Outside I was shrugging and smiling, inside I was finding new ways to use profanities in frustration. “I’ll do it,” I said solemnly, “But I’ll hate every minute of it.”
“I figured you would, but if we’re going to be police officers someday, we gotta learn to do this.” Sam added.
“Well, I don’t want to take the bus, and you would probably hurt yourself doing that,” I said, “So want to call a police escort?”
“That would be good,” Sam added with a playfully dramatic weariness. “I don’t know how I would be able to take the bus.”
I burst out in laughter, loving the feeling of being able to laugh again, just like Buffy.
Sam and I walked over to Mic, who was waiting for him by the door to the jail cells. Mic couldn’t resist but quip “Hey, look what the cat dragged in! Sam, how goes the hand?”
“Styrofoam is indeed an awkward thing to have in a hand.” He quipped back, smiling. “So, can you spare me Nicolas?”
“Nicolas, yes. Buffy, no.” he replied, his grin fading away. “Which kinda rocks and sucks at the same time- let me finish!” he put in, sensing Sam’s discomfort about that idea. Before Sam or I opened our mouths, Mic added, “You see, it rocks because we can show her what we can do! All we’ve learned and everything.”
“Like how to electrocute people, as you seem to be a master at that.”
Mic raised his remaining eyebrow. Sam was the only one with both intact. I never had any to begin with. “That electrocution saved your life, which never would have happened if you hadn’t saved mine. I mean, you learned how not to stop a bullet. And Ema learned how to… well… not screw anything up. I think… anyway, Nicolas. Why do you need him?”
Oh, well, at least I got SOMETHING. The not-screwing-things-up award. Does that come with a trophy?
“We’re gonna take him to the crime scene,” Sam replied.
“Now that’s thinking on your feet!” Mic replied.
(Mic Narrates Now)
1200 NW Station Way. A brick-red studio apartment was what Rob Stevens’ humble abode was once. And, boy, did Rick Stevens have a heck of a shock waiting for him!
The place was a total godforsaken wreck. After his death, spiders and cockroaches were crawling all over the walls and floor. The door was replaced by a plastic screen, flimsily floating in the May breeze. Tables were overturned, his belongings were all over the floor, and only two things were missing- Rob Stevens’ body and Runouw’s computer.
“Where is the body?” asked Sam.
“What a relief- I mean what a pity.” Ema corrected herself before Sam did.
“What do you think happened to it, Ema?” I asked.
Man, Ema loved the feeling of being the smart one. That grin she gets is a dead giveaway. She replied “Well, the killer came back. He dumped the body somewhere. The river is just a few blocks away. I’ll call search and recovery to get the body out.”
Sam grinned, as he usually did when Ema came up with a theory, especially good ones.
“Okay, Nicolas.” I said, taking charge. “What happened to you?”
“Well, it all started when I knocked on tha front door,” Nicolas began “And the bloody thing opened right up! Then, right on the floor was Runouw’s bloody body! Literally! The guy was oozing out blood from the back of his head!”
“Ooh, Gawd!” Ema tried not to retch.
“Ema, you’re still on the phone,” I said with a smirk. She gasped and said “Sorry about that, ma’am.”
“What were you doing at Stevens’ house in the first place?” I continued like I was straight out of a cop show. I think I’m real cool like Horatio from Miami. Ema happens to think that’s the lamest character of all time. I then refer her to the Jay Leno segment “Who cares what they think?” Enough of my very weird tangent, back on topic.
“Stevens? Oh, you mean Runouw. Sorry, took me a minute.” Nicolas shook his head. “Anyways, we were a’meetin’ to think of this idea of opening up a non-alcoholic tavern up somewhere in town. We were gonna call it ‘Runouw’s Tavern.’ That way he could shut down the website and we could all just meet up in person. That way we could improve our social skills while we were at it, and meet new teenagers while we were at it without being ‘uddled in our basement apartments for our entire lives.”
“Hence the spiffy T-shirt.” I replied. I wanted to ask if he had another, but what came out was “Hey, Sam, you getting this?”
“Wha? Oh, yeah I am.” Sam replied, squishing spiders by the pound. “This is absolutely sickening!”
“I found the dang place a wreck, just like this, with the spiders and everything!” Nicolas replied.
“How long had it been since you two spoke last?”
“About 3 hours or so, he had called to tell me to meet him over here. His girlfriend was really interested in the idea and-“
“He had a girlfriend?” Sam interrupted, surprised. “Buffy said he had parents and a brother, nothing about a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, only she wasn’t there when I was.” Nicolas replied. “I reckon she ran down the street, screaming bloody murder with excellent reason.” Nicolas replied. “And I am 100% sure the guy who tried to kill me off was a male… he had too much of a muscular build to be female.”
“You haven’t Met Buffy!” I quipped with a grin, looking around me to make sure she wasn’t telekinetically listening in. And Joy to the World, I found that Ema had a recorder on and, frustrated, swore loudly, then realizing that just made it worse now that I dropped a D-bomb into the recorder.
“I am very intrigued.” Sam put in, scratching his chin. Not in thinking, but to get a spider off of it. “Oh, shoot! Look at that sucker! He’s as big as my eyeball!” Without thinking, he smacked himself in the face to get the spider off. Not a bright move, when you think about it. It did make Ema giggle a little, though, so at least it accomplished something.
“Anyways,” Nicolas walked into the apartment, acting out every move he spoke, “I stepped in, frightened, trying to get Runouw to respond. When that failed, I looked everywhere for his cell phone. I was in the middle of calling 911 when ‘bam!’ someone breaks down the front door and I see he has a baseball hat in his hand. Quickly, before he sees me, I squirt catsup all down my head and then he hits me. Mistaking the catsup for blood, he leaves. I wake up about a half-day later in the ‘ospital. No major damage, except for the first day I kept getting all my words long like this,” he got a goofy look on his face and said “no raisins ma’am, I am totally tabled. No need to raisin about me.” Nicolas laughed with everyone else following. “Man, it feels good to laugh again. Now, can someone get a napkin for me? I need to wipe all this catsup off my hair.”
Sam came out with plastic gloves on and three things in his hand- a brown hair, Runouw’s cell phone and the bat the clumsy criminal had left behind. And a napkin for Nicolas.
“Now, what color hair did Runouw have?” Sam asked.
“Blue as the Ocean in Sydney.” Nicolas replied.
“Guys,” Sam took in a deep breath and stated “Avo Richardson did not kill Rob Stevens.”
“The heck?” Ema replied in shock.
“No, he was working for someone. Someone who works at Intel.”
“Hey, you kids!” came a short, heavyset man in his thirties. “What the heck are you doing?”
“We’re police officers,” Sam replied, as everyone except Nicolas got their badges out. “We’re investigating the death of Rob Stevens. And you are?”
“I’m Brock Lee, his landlord.” Replied Brock Lee, his landlord. “And you twerps have no right to be here on my property!”
“Uh, that’s kind of a police officer right, Mr. Lee.” Ema replied.
“Tell me, do all police officers have no eyebrows?” Lee taunted.
Ema rolled her eyes. She stopped being affected by that ever since the day at the library.
Lee started shouting “You all are probably criminal punks who stole some officers’ badges just to get into this place and steal all my stuff!”
“Your stuff?” I shouted. “This all belongs to Stevens’ next of kin, Rick Stevens! This isn’t yours!”
“Are you kidding?” Lee shouted, shoving Mic aside. “He hasn’t paid rent this month! Therefore all this stuff is mine!” He started to walk in and ransack the place.
“He hasn’t paid rent because he’s dead and his brother’s in Japan making that money to pay for rent!” Sam started to raise his hackles.
“Do you think I give a flying crap?” was Lee’s response. Man, that guy has a major set of… guts!
“If you don’t set this stuff down, I will personally have you arrested for tampering with evidence and theft!” Ema stated, with her badge out.
Lee had decided he had had enough. He picked up Runouw’s vintage Gibson guitar, lifted it up, took a large leap and slammed it over Ema’s head (a hard feat considering he was a half-foot shorter than her) and ran off. Ema sunk to the ground in a heap.
“Oh, that is it!” Sam handed the evidence to me and ran after the man. “You’re in the crap now you fat son of a hamster!”
For a fat son of a hamster, Lee sure could run fast. Sam ran under the Broadway Bridge, which shook unsteadily below them. Lee decided to pull out his shotgun. As fast as he started running, Sam stopped and watched as the man ran across the street. “Crap!” he shouted.
Then a bus hit him. Lee actually bounced up and ran towards Sam, away from it. Sam took advantage of this to clothesline him and knock him to the ground. This time, he didn’t bounce up.
“Lee, you know what you’re under arrest for.” Sam said. “In case you need a reminder, it’s for the assault of Ema Felkis, theft and tampering with evidence. Get ready for a long 10 years.”
After lugging an unconscious Lee back to the apartment, Sam glanced at Ema, who was still on the ground. “Oh my Gawd! Ema, you okay? Let me rephrase that- are you alive? Wake up!” I have to admit, I was actually quite worried. DO NOT TELL ANYONE, OKAY? I’m still trying to look cool, like Horatio.
Ema shook her head vigorously to wake herself up completely. “Oh, hey Sam. No need to raisin about me. I’m totally tabled.”
Shocked, Sam muttered an unintelligible yelp that sounded more like a seal playing with a beach ball. I about jumped ten feet in the air.
“No, seriously, I’m okay.” Ema groaned, smiling a little. “Just couldn’t resist. And I see you caught the guy. You okay?”
“If you are. Any musical notes playing in your head?” he quipped. Ema shook her head, not in the mood for a laugh.
Sam tried again. “And man, you should have seen the guy! He got hit by a bus and bounces up!” he laughed. Even Ema managed a slight chuckle.
“Well, Nicolas,” Sam turned his attention to the guest among them. “You seem to check out. Nevertheless, we’ll still check you on a lie detector before you go. Just to make sure you check out.”
“All well and dandy with me.” Nicolas replied. “It was worth it to watch the show.”
The Aussie and I agree on that one.
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
Nicolas climbed into the back of the Crown Victoria. I decided that due to Ema’s present state, and the fact that today I wanted to make it home without getting lost, I would take the wheel, despite the fact that my hand was still recovering. Ema sat in the passenger seat, my faithful sidekick, exhausted. Mic groaned, rolling his eyes all the way to the backseat next to Nicolas.
“So, Nicolas.” I asked. “What’s up with this whole Tavern thing? I’m really interested in your idea.”
Nicolas didn’t reply. Great, I just reminded him of all his troubles. I thought to myself. “Nico, you there?”
Nico piped up. “Yep, mate. Oy, don’t mention the tavern right now. I mean, I like hammering nails and speaking in tongues because it doesn’t remind me of the things I lost.”
I tried not to grin, but I love that song.
Ema turned back and asked him “Can you please tell us as much as you can? We need this for the case, you know how it is.”
Nico turned away from her gaze, which struck her as odd. Not looking at her, he replied “Well, I’ll try. That sound good, mate?”
Ema nodded, holding her aching head and replied “That’s all we can ask, mate.”
I gripped the wheel as Nico started. “Well, you prob’ly know this already, seeing as you are the police and all, and I deduced that when Samuel here came in as Runouw, but Stevens and I were working on replacing the site with a club for Teenagers all over the city. Sorta like the Boys and Girls Club, only different. We had been planning it for a very short time; my departure from the site was when we were going to start. I had drawn out ideas and everything.” Frustrated, he hit the back of the seat. “But that’s all gone now. It died with Stevens, didn’t it?”
Ema laughed, and boy was I getting confused. Before Nico could blurt out a WTE (considering he hardly ever uses an H) she added “That’s crazy. Stevens had nothing to do with that plan, did he? You were the one to draw it out, you were the one with big ideas, he just had the name, am I right?”
“Holla!” Mic shouted out from the backseat.
I stopped the car, turned back at Mic and asked “Okay, what the heck was that?”
He laughed. “Random Moment for the Win.”
Nico burst out in laughter as I started up again. “One of the site’s favorite catchphrases. And, redhead, I do believe you helped me see the light.”
“Testify, brother!” Mic called out, sounding very much like a gospel singer.
“I totally see it now. I just gotta get a few friends together, find a site… for the tavern, I mean, and voila, Niklaw’s Tavern!”
“Can I get a witness?” Mic shouted as I pulled into a streetlight.
Ema started to giggle and shouted out “HalleluYah!”
I pulled into the streetlight and looked at Ema. How brilliant, I thought. Couldn’t have asked for a better partner. I just sat there, extremely happy.
“Sam?” she asked me, smiling.
“Yes, Ema?” I replied, nearly dazed.
“You know the streetlight is green now, right?”
I jerked my head around to see that it was, indeed, green, and people were honking at me. “Of course I knew.” I said quickly. “Just attending to more important things.”
“Like looking at me?”
“Ah, you know, it’s one of the simpler things in life.” I replied, rather slickly if I do say so myself, as I drove the Crown Victoria over the Steel Bridge.
We arrived back at the station in no time at all.
I approached Nicolas and told him “Well, can we keep you one more night?”
Nicolas was hesitant. “Uhm, why would you do that?”
“Gotta test you on the lie detector, but other than that, you pass, you go free.” I replied.
“Uhm, I don’t really have a choice, do I?” was his reply. “’Cause I called my mom and told her I was in jail because someone got murdered, and she freaked so much that I thought she was gonna disown me.”
I told him bluntly “I don’t suspect you at all, actually. I just think that if I don’t put you on Lie Detector, Buffy is going to kill me, resurrect me, kill me again, clone me, and then kill all my clones too.”
Nicolas burst out in laughter (thank Yah he was not drinking anything) and said “Well, I can respect preventing multiple killings of the same person. Can I have that comfy cell again?”
“No problem.” I told him. “Give you some sketch paper; see if you can come up with some ideas for your tavern, eh?”
He nodded. “That redheaded girl, she really knows how to inspire. I’m totally inspired right now to get to work.”
“Yep, Ema has that effect on people.” I nodded.
“What effect?” she asked me as she walked over to us.
“Oh, only that of inspiration and bringing people out of tragedy.” I replied with a wink.
She smiled. “Glad you’re getting back on track, Nicky.”
“First off, drop the Nicky. If Nicolas is too long for you, call me Nico. Cannot stand Nicky. Second, whenever I get my ideas together,” he told us, “You’ll be the first to know.”
We nodded and led him to the cell. Now where Mic went, we could only guess. Home, it was; our guess that is. And I could do with a little home time right about now.
“Well, Ema, it’s been fun as ever, but I gotta ‘head’ out. Rest that wounded head of yours.” I told her.
She laughed at my phrasing and told me “Wait, Sam, can I ask you a favor?”
“Are you kidding?” I replied with a laugh of my own. “You’re Ema Felkis! Of course you can ask me a favor!”
“Follow me,” she told me, leading me down the hallway into the locker room. She got her keys out and unlocked her locker, a place where we kept our stuff during work. I was surprised to see a large vase of flowers in there.
She got them out, placed them in my hands and told me “Can you find a place to plant these? I got nowhere to put them and Buffy’s allergic, so do you want them?”
I laughed. “Ema, I think it’s supposed to be the man giving the woman flowers. Common courtesy.”
She giggled. “Well, I break tradition.”
I smiled, took a daisy out and handed it to her. “Here, now we’re even. Sound good?”
She put the daisy in her hair and smiled. “Definitely. I shall see you tomorrow?”
“Of course!” I replied, leaving a lot happier than I had arrived.

Chapter 7- The Interrogation Room
ALANA STARR'S PORTION OF CHAPTER 7
(Please note- this chapter has been slightly edited to keep in with the spring timing- our guest writer had mistaken it for winter. Also, everything between “Before I could enter…” and “I pushed the door open…” was an addition this person had forgotten. Hey, no one is perfect.)
(Narration of Ema)
The next day, I got up early to get to the station, for it was that day, THE day. I did my usual things, get up from my bed, brush my teeth, slay pigs, cook the breakfast, I don't want to bore you with the minor details that is my house life. Then when I was good and ready, I got dressed and left my small house sandwiched between the Train Station, several other small houses and the back of the university I go to.
A light blanket of water covered anything not protected by a wall of brick or wood, so I had to wear a Muffler, a big poofy jacket, and a snow cap, yeah, it was kind of freezing. My boots left footsteps and hardly made any sound at all as I made my way towards that place, leaving only small footprints and cracked leaves behind, my breath clearly visible as a puff of white cloud.
I soon come to the station's doors. I turn my head towards the sun just barely climbing over the edge of the horizon. "Man, w-w-why can't it come faster?" I was shivering, I know, I was there. I pushed the glass door on the left and smiled as a flood of sound came from the inside, and a wave of heat, oh, how good it felt, but today, I had to try and be as cold as possible. I walked pass all the people, the warm feelings, and found myself outside a single black door with a brown door far from it on the other end of building. Before I could enter, though, Sam stopped me. He had an envelope in his hand.
“Hello, Ema.” He started. “Hate to start your day with bad news, but the DNA sample, it was Nicolas’.”
My mouth dropped open half a foot. “So Nicolas did it? How can that be?”
“Well, he could have just gotten it beat off of him when the killer struck, in which case we have no plausible suspects. Or it could have been him, in which case his entire story is BS and we have nothing to convict him with. Besides a hair. Anyways, I’ll get the recording started and have someone get Nico started on the lie detector test.”
“Whoa…” I said. “Thanks for starting my day off with a plot twist.”
He winked and, shaking my hand, added “Always a pleasure, Ema. Now go somehow terrify a kid with your terrifying charming demeanor.” He burst out laughing. Normally I would laugh but today, remember, cold.
Sam glanced around the room, scratched the back of his head and said “I’d better get started.” He walked away, muttering “I must be losing it. If I can’t make Ema laugh…” I smiled and shook my head as I pushed the black door open and heard the eerie sound of nothing as I walked into the room.
It felt even colder inside that room than outside the station.
(Narration of Mic)
I was leaning in my disposable chair, having a little chat. That's when Ema came into the room; I could tell she thought the room was cold, 'cause she was shivering.
"So, how was Alaska?" I asked her, trying to pull a laugh out of her.
"Oh, ha-ha, very funny, could we get this started soon?" This was her response, as she was not much for jokes in the middle of rainy season.
"Get Started? Ema, we're already in the middle of talking to the first suspect." I pointed to the other kid on the other end of the table I had my feet on.
"Mic, get your feet off the table." Ema noticed too. Okay, so I HAD my feet on the table. "Okay, "Mommy". You'd do the same if you were sitting here listening to this kids poor excuse for an alibi."
The kid being interrogated was a sobbing mess, jeez, I've been sittin' here for an hour listening to him whine like an alarm.
I scratched my head and thought about what to do.
"Okay son, what's your name?" Ema rested her hands on the table and tried to be friendly with the kid.
"I didn't do anything....I swear....." The kid wasn't even being accused yet, and he is blabbering on about how he's innocent.
"You aren't being accused, you don't have to worry. If you didn't do it, then there isn't anything to fear." Ema used that corny line to make the kid calm down, and you know what? I was surprised it actually worked.
"Alright.....I'm sorry I cried like that......It's just.....you know...." Yeah, like I'd know how it felt to cry for an hour without stopping.
"Okay kid, tell Ema here your name, I've already read it on your file." I told the whimpering kid.
He wiped away his last tear, and with a calm composure, said this,"......My name is Elwood Armin; I'm a 14 year old."
"Okay, tell us your relation with Runouw.com." I told him, finally appreciating the quiet after an hour of Non-stop crying.
"My name on Runouw.com is Lrmaster132, I was a good user there, with a Tyranitar and everything, but then I got banned for a month by Runouw for starting a fight with another guy called Zebtrestalala." Those we pretty much already knew. Except, what the heck was a Tyranitar?
"Did you want to take revenge on Rob Stevens for this?" Ema asked him, dangit, I was about to say that.
"No, I mean, I don't like how I got banned, but I didn't want to kill the man, he was a great man he was." Elwood held his head down as if in honor of this Runowch guy.
"Why did you have the Flame War anyways?" Ema asked him politely."Look, I didn't start it, Zebtrest did, and I was only talking about the new Mod thing."
I didn't buy it; something was fishy about all of this. I decided to pull out my tazer out of my pocket and wave it around menacingly around that guys face, and so I did!
"Mic! Stop!" Ema obviously didn't approve of this, but nonetheless, I did a fake thrust at Armin with my Tazer. Okay, so Ema grabbed me in time so that only a sparkle hit Armin's nose. What happened afterwards was actually kind of funny. It was dead silent when she stopped me, nothing but the sound of roaming electricity and the trickling of a 14-year-old’s pants wetting.
Elwood shrieked out in terror and held his arms out in self defense, but I sat down and Ema took the tazer away from me, while it was saddening for me, it was a wise choice for her. I would have started complaining, and you don't want to hear me complain about my tazer.
Ema turned her head towards Elwood, who resumed Crying, oh gosh. "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, OKAY I ADMIT IT!" Hah, my Tazer Tactic actually worked; I'm going to coin that.
"In actuality, I think I provoked him to start the war with me." Elwood's confession was strange.
"How exactly did you provoke him?" Ema was about as confused as I was. I could tell.
"I said that I should be the new Mod, seeing as how I help around the site, sort of." That last bit made me Ting. Yes, Ting, I just made it up.
"Sort of?" I was pondering about why a "Sort of" instead of a definite.
"Well, I don't really do that much, but I just wanted to feel like the other mods, what with Fourinone saying how great it was...."
"What's this Fourinone's relation with Rob Stevens?" Ema was getting excited on a possible new lead.
"Well, a few days ago, Fourinone was fired as a Mod for lacking the right skills, or something." Elwood was a tree that was out of the sap we needed.
"Alright, you check out right, I think you're free to go, and when I mean go, I mean GO." I pointed towards the door, clearly telling Elwood to leave.
"Okay....umm... can I get a new pair of pants here?" Elwood asked as he got up and walked awkwardly over to the door. I chuckled.
(Back To Ema)
After directing Elwood to where he could get his pants, I heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, that's one string tied up. Only a few more to go." I unzipped my jacket and threw it on the floor; it was nice, because during that Interrogation, it actually started to feel hotter again.
I unwound and looked around, the clock on the wall read 10 minutes to 9, man, I woke up at 8:10, and this all happens in forty minutes.
"So, where's Sam?" I asked Mic. Not noticing he wasn't here just now. Mic walked around the table, and looked around as well.
"Oh, he's behind the glass, he's been recording everything we just did here."
"Hmmm....." I couldn't help but feel that Sam wasn't doing enough work; I just kept "Mr. Good People Skills" here away from tasing a 14-year old.
That's when it happened.
I forgot to pick up my jacket and leave it in a more favorable spot, so Mic unluckily slipped on it when he didn't see, and well wouldn't you know it? He fell on me, and that only made me fall too.
"Oof!!!" Man, the floor hurt when you just got hit with an acoustic guitar yesterday. Oh well, I'm sure I'm going to have some nice dreams, probably.
The last thing I remember before I went out cold was Mic's warm body on top of mine. Yeah, not a good thing to remember last.
(Sam’s Point Of View-Back to MessengerOfYahweh)
I felt a solid thud from my chair in the recording room. It felt like, hmm, say, 275 pounds hitting the floor. I removed my headphones from the spectacle Mic put in front of my eyes and left the recording room, leaving my notes on the table.
An oddly… amusing, yet… awkward sight laid on the ground, with people just walking on by without even the courtesy to see if they were all right. Yeah, as Ema probably pointed out, Mic had slipped over Ema’s jacket, taking them both out cold, colder than that Arctic room they were previously in. They would probably assault me for this, but I knew what I had to do. Hey, at least I had the decency to move Ema’s jacket out from underneath them before I splashed the bucket of water all over them.
That got them up in a flash.
Ema whirled around like a pirouetting ballerina, fury in her eyes. “What the heck was that, Sam?” she yelled at me. “You… you got water all over my new outfit! And I actually spent more than 50 dollars on that!”
I rolled my eyes and quipped “Would you rather I undress you first?”
That earned me a sharp slap on the face. I should have known that would happen. I decided to wisely turn my attention to Mic. “Hey, Eastwood, good job on that interrogation.”
He grinned. “Really?”
“No,” I replied, splashing the remaining water on his face, washing his grin away. “You ought to write the book on how NOT to use tasers for dummies. That was cruel. I am pretty sure you remember lesson on how to interrogate, and scaring the pee out of someone with a taser is NOT one of them.”
Mic shook his head, partly to show his peed-off-ness (And yes, I coined that) at me, partly to remove the water from his face. “You really suck, man.” He grumbled while he and Ema walked away.
It took me a second to decide what to call after them, but I decided on “Well, go on and interrogate Dan, and miss out on this neat Intel I got.”
Ema pulled off another pirouette (and anyone else think she would make a great dancer?) and asked me “What intel?”
“On Fourinone, on the suspects, on Rob’s Girlfriend.” I Replied. “You want to check it out?”
Ema smiled a little bit. Not so cheery since she got hit with the Gibson, so it was nice to provoke a little bit of happy out of her again. “I would love to see what you have.”
Reluctantly, Mic followed. No slight smile on that guy’s face. I may have frozen it off.
Ema stole the swiveling office chair I was using before I got a chance to get in there. But, hey, after sitting in lawn chairs in a freezer, I would too. I got out my notes, sat Indian Style on the ground, and started.
“Fourinone- 18, Asian, Female. Hence the name Fourinone, a respelling of ‘foreign one.’ She lives in the same set of condominiums as Rob Stevens, and you want to guess what her name is? Anyone?”
Ema took a shot at it. “Suki Lee?”
Okay, that totally random guess really, really, REALLY freaked me out. My eyes bugged a little and I spat out in shock “How in the living heck did you guess that?”
“I dunno, I have a friend named that, only she’s 14, a sister of another friend, and… well, I could go on and on.” She replied.
Even weirder than the guess was the coincidence if you ask me. “We-well, another time. Anyway, can you add two plus two? She lives in the same apartments as Rob Stevens and a BROCK LEE!”
Mic yelled “SHE’S BROCK LEE’S DAUGHTER!!!!!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Good job, Mic. Would you like me to get out the case files and you scream all those out as well?”
Mic laughed, not being able to resist that quip.
“Anyway, I’ll get back to that. I did find out something interesting about Suki, Dan, Elwood- they all were apprentices in the TESTING department at Intel. We’ve just hacked off three leads there- the Blablob guy, Nicolas and Brock Lee. We can still charge Brock Lee with beating the living crap out of Ema and all those other things, but Nicolas we can let go after a lie detector test, and Blablob we don’t even have to bring in.”
“Why exactly does it matter that they work at Intel?” Mic asked
“Easy,” Ema started. “When Avo kept breaking Sam’s stuff and mine, he offered to get us new ones at Intel. He wanted us there, but I don’t think he shot Stevens. He’s too nerdy, not very muscular, like Nicolas described. Although if for some wackball reason Nicolas is lying we would pursue him. No, Avo was working with someone from Intel. So our options all boil down to Suki Lee, Dan Zeb-Terra and Elwood Armin.”
“You heard it first from our resident deductress, Mic.” I grinned.
Ema smiled and added “I like that. I’m keeping it. We are just coining phrases left and right toady.”
“So, Mic, I think I will take Nicolas to the lie detector and make sure his story checks out.” I asked. “He’s the link connecting Ema’s idea.”
“Wait a minute…” he paused on while I was on my way out and asked. “You said you were gonna tell us who Runouw’s girlfriend. Who is she?”
Here’s what my highlight of the day was. “Here’s a hint- She’s 18, Female, Asian…” I started.
“Absolutely, positively, no freaking way!” Ema and Mic shouted at the same time.
I grinned and replied, “Yep, Rob Stevens was dating his landlord’s daughter.”
Mic, dumbfounded, said “This just keeps getting better and better.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I got up and left the room, ready to check in on Nicolas. Surprisingly, no one followed me. Not even a “What are you doing, Sammy?” Wow. There’s a first time for everything.
I unlocked the door to Nicolas’ cage (funny wordplay), if by cage you mean “A room nicer than most dormitories-trust me.” He looked up from the sketch pad I had given him and asked “Is it time?”
I nodded. “Just remember to keep a clear head and don’t be nervous.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay, I think I got it.”
I led him down a hallway to a room by the locker room and hooked him up to the lie-detector-thingamajig. I got out a sheet of paper and started reading.
“Do you know Robert Stevens?”
“Yes. Not personally but over the internet, of course.”
“A simple yes or no, Nico. Now, continuing, were you ever in Rob Stevens’ Apartment?”
He laughed. “Yes.”
“Well, no duh, we were just there yesterday. Let me rephrase that. Were you ever in there before yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see the dead body of Rob Stevens?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see who killed him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill Rob Stevens?”
“No.”
“Were you attacked by the killer?”
“Yes”
“Was the killer a male?”
“Uncertain, but he had the build of a male.”
“Have you ever kissed someone else’s girlfriend?”
“Yes… I mean, Goddang you!” He broke out in laughter, and I was rolling on the floor, cracking up. “That will be all!” I said, victorious with my prank.
I grabbed the results. All positive, including the last one. “Well, Nico, you rascal, you’re telling the truth. Pack your stuff, you’re heading home.”
Nico pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! And if anyone asks, I said no on the last one.”


Narrative of Ema Felkis
INTERROGATION ROOM
SUSPECT: DAN ZEB-TERRA.
As soon as Sam and I walked into the room, Dan Zeb-Terra breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank heavens,” he said. “You left out ‘Don’t Tase Me Bro’ this time.”
Sam chuckled, his usual chuckle, low-pitched and quite devious if you ask me. I raised my eyebrows and said “He’s up in the booth recording everything we are saying, so if I were you, I wouldn’t insult him.” Mentally, I was wiggling back into my cold self, as I try to do for interrogations.
Sam cut to the chase. “Okay, here’s the deal. Out of all the people here, we suspect you the most.”
Dan’s mouth dropped to the table. “What the heck- why the heck- when the heck could I have done that?”
“We’ll get to that,” I put in sternly. Acting cold makes me uncomfortable, especially because I forgot my jacket, not to mention was soaked, but, hey, what am I gonna do? I’m a police officer. “First, we got some questions. Have you ever met Avo Richardson?”
Dan’s expression turned into one of anger and loathing. “That son of a- I can’t stand that guy!” he spat out. Literally. I would be washing my hands later. “He’s the illegitimate guy that burned down the library off Cesar Chavez, isn’t he?”
The guy was trying so hard not to swear in the interrogation room. Did Mic scare him or something?
“Yes, and we hate him as much as you do.” Sam put in.
“I doubt it!” he yelled, really getting out of control. “That… that… evil, maniacal person was always messing with my stuff, always making trouble, always bullying me! And then we got to Intel. Every time I had an idea, he stole it! Every time I had something built, he stole it! And he ends up getting promoted to one of the directors or whatever! He’s basically Rob and Rick Stevens’ right hand man. And all on my work! My parents would have been so proud of me, too!” his voice drifted off. “I live in a ghetto, and I’ve got the whole sob story of ‘none of us had been to college’ and that would have been great to have a reason to be able to go!” he slammed his chair against the wall.
I raised my eyebrows. “Go ahead. We got those at the Dollar Tree.”
After he was finished decimating the chair, he sat on the table and said “I admit, the last time I saw Rob Stevens, it was on bitter terms. I had told him that Avo had been stealing my ideas, even showing my original blueprints, but his idiotic brother convinces him that he KNOWS Avo is an honest guy, and tells me he doesn’t believe me, and even fires me as a result. Yeah, I was ticked, but if I were to kill anyone, it would be Avo, not Rob. Maybe even Rick.”
Sam raised his eyebrows at me. “And we barely had to do a thing,” he said.
I turned my attention to Dan Zeb-Terra and said “Well, I personally am a bit suspicious, but I’ll send you to a lie detector, and maybe if you pass, you can take the results to Rick Stevens and he can give you your job back.”
“That would be good,” Dan smiled ever-so-weakly, as we let him out of the building and pointed him to the lie detector.
“Well,” I turned to Sam, “Looks like we’ve got everyone knocked out. We interrogated Dan and Elwood, we don’t need to interrogate Nicolas and Brock Lee, and I can’t help but think I’m forgetting someone…”
“Avo Richardson?” Sam replied. “We gotta find out who he’s working for, remember?”
“Oh, yeah!” I grinned. “This ought to be interesting. Ready to get our helmets on, considering our heads has made favorable targets lately?”
Sam laughed and blurted out “We ought to hang out sometime.”
Now, if I had eyebrows, I would raise them.
He saw my expression and put in “The three of us. The four once Buffy’s up to it. We could barbecue, have a picnic, anything. I don’t like just knowing you guys as co-workers. You’re the family I have here, and I think we ought to… well… you get the point.”
I smiled, embarrassed for him (or was it me?) and said “Yeah. Yeah, I would like that.”
Sam smiled and without another word, walked to Avo’s cell, led him to the interrogation room, and sat down. The smile disintegrated at this point.
He made it a point to wave at him with his injured hand. “Okay, here’s the deal. I got a friend in OHSU with her leg torn off, and I have Styrofoam packed into my hand and Mic has a taser addiction because of you, not to mention we’ve lost one of our libraries, thousands of books, 30 computers, and a lot of collateral damage. I heard some people may have died in there. So right now you are looking at the death penalty. You tell me who is evil enough to have you do all of this, you may live past this year in a prison cell. SO START TALKING.” He punctuated the last three words by banging on the table with every syllable, of course with his injured hand.
Avo told him to go to the less favorable place known to the afterlife.
“You first.” He replied, a quote straight from The Closer. He likes to steal clever cop show lines like that.
I stepped in, feeling the tension like static electricity. “Listen, Avo. Right now your family owes Portland $10,000,000 for the building costs of the library you destroyed. You tell us who did this and I’ll have the city of Portland pick up the tab.”
Sam whispered into my ear “You can do that?”
“I dunno!” I replied.
“Look, do you want to know who I’m working for?” Avo yelled. “Well, so would I! I never met the person who planned all this; all I know is that he worked at Intel- or her! All he or she did was calling me with one of those Darth Vader Voice Changers on.”
“Yeah, can you believe they sell those at Wal-Mart?” I replied.
“Look, the only reason I did this is because THEY HAVE MY SISTER!” he pulled the fist-on-the-table trick Sam had done. “Whoever they are, they have my sister! If they even find out that I’m here, she’s dead!”
I don’t know who the heck writes this stuff, but sometimes I think he overdoes it on the twists.
Like the next thing that happened. A Japanese teenager was banging on the door. Hard. I figured it was a co-worker, so I told her “Come in!”
I had no clue that bombs could be made that big! Seriously, I saw when she threw it; it was the size of my head!
Wisely, Mic had already taken off. Sam pulled my arm and yelled “RUN!!!”
We were halfway to the exit when the bomb went off and Penumbra Kelly Juvenile Hall was destroyed, trapping us inside.
The bomber ran off above us, who knows how she survived! And this deductress had only one Idea who this person could be.
Suki Lee.
Fourinone.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 8-Shrapnel
(Narration of Mic Davis)
I was almost out of Penumbra Kelly when it fell down. How could one bomb take down a whole building? It was just impossible, I thought, but apparently it was. But at the moment I had more important things to worry about. Like getting out from underneath all this wreckage.
I realized that the bomb shelter in the interrogation room was probably a good idea, except our bomber could have used it to get out. She probably did, why didn’t Sam and Ema think of that? Wait… seriously, maybe I should think of getting out from this pile of Pen Kelly.
Furiously, I started pushing things out of the way, broken glass, broken wood, broken bricks, let’s just say a lot of broken stuff. With lots of different names. Luckily, I wasn’t that far off from the outside world, it only took a little bit of pushing and stuff to get out.
But Sam and Ema were still in.
The nearest hospital was a short drive away, about five blocks north. But my legs were hurt, a little; mind you, but enough to keep me from running. I swerved around and saw that Nico and the suspects were huddled by the Cherry Blossom tree, petrified like, well, wood.
Nico was the first to speak. “What the bloody heck happened?”
“What does it look like?” I yelled at him. “The mother freaking building blew up! And we still have people in there! It’s a ‘bloody’ miracle you guys made it out!”
Elwood looked at me. “Who was that who had the bomb?”
“Shoot if I know!” I told him. “But Sam and Ema are still in there!”
Dan looked at me and said. “They’re about the same age. They can entertain themselves.”
I gave him a disgusted look and punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground. “You son of a- they could be dead, and that’s the first thought you think of! There’s a hospital up the road at Glisan. I can’t drive; Elwood can’t drive, so one of you get your cars and let’s get a helicopter, quick!
Nico raised his hand. “I’ve a Scion out back. We can use that.”
I ran as fast as my hurt legs could carry me over to the car, easy to spot as it seemed to have been tricked out a bit. I got in the passenger seat and waited for Nicolas and the others to follow at a painfully slow rate. “What the heck are you waiting for?”
“After me, there shall be no more!” Nico followed.
I gave him an incredulous look.
“So, uhm, for one last time… make… some… ah, screw it.” He said as we started the engine and pulled out onto 47th avenue over to Providence hospital. With an insane Australian behind the wheel, we got there in under a minute, although we nearly crashed a couple of times.
“We’ve made it” Nico announced.
“Surprisingly, alive.” I replied.
Elwood looked at me and asked sincerely “Do you have any more extra pants with you?”
(In Sam’s point of view)
Okay, so obviously we didn’t die. Otherwise we wouldn’t be speaking to you at the moment. But my legs HURT! Like they had been torn into by some shrapnel! Closer inspection proved that, yes, they had been torn into by some shrapnel; I just couldn’t think of a simile… or is it metaphor? Man, I’m sounding like Buffy.
Ema could actually stay conscious this time, but if she slips over a jacket, then there is no way she’d last a minute, which is really ironic when you think about it. She groaned, leaned over and muttered “Did we die?”
“Yeah, because we all know that heaven is supposed to look like a big explosion happened, geez, Ema, what do you think?” I was hurting and in no mood for jokes.
So, obviously, we survived. We were in the lobby, with all the exits blocked by 15-feet tall piles of wreckage, with absolutely no roof above us. The wall of wreckage, yep, that was the entire Pen. Kelly building blown into quite organized piles. The lobby really wasn’t, it everything was scattered around, with no original signs of its original shape except the bench. The sky shone blue above us with an oddly shaped cloud, which looked just like a dinosaur skull. It all seemed so post-apocalyptic world.
Ema looked at my leg and grimaced. “My GAWD, That is bad! You nearly ended up like Buffy!”
Cue the shiver down my spine. “Like, what’s wrong with it?”
“It’s not off or anything, it’s just really, really bloody.” Ema grimaced again, removing a piece of shrapnel. I cried aloud in pain and bit my tongue to ward off a looming obscenity.
“Sorry, sorry.” She replied. “Yeah, we gotta get you patched up. What the heck with, I dunno. This place is blown to bits!”
“How are people gonna get in?” I asked.
“Helicopter, silly.” She replied, awfully bright for someone who was trapped in an explosion aftermath, pulling more shrapnel out of my leg.
I winced and said “I hope Mic got out okay.”
“I saw him,” Ema answered that burning question. “He saw a Japanese girl with a bomb and I think he yelled “Hiroshima’s Revenge!” And ran out as fast as he could.”
“And the suspects,” I asked, overly inquisitive, while Ema pulled out two pieces of shrapnel at once. I yelled. LOUD.
For one of those rare moments, Ema spat out something I shan’t repeat. Here, at least, Yah knows I’ve been guilty of having a quite poisonous tongue. “The suspects!” she added. “Dang it, I don’t know. The Lie Detector Room was a ways away from the interrogation room, but as we can see, all that’s left is the lobby. Maybe they got out, but I can tell you this, Avo is definitely some of the wreckage. He might even be stuck in your leg.”
“Another comforting thought,” I sighed.
“I just don’t get it. We may have never discovered Suki was the killer if she hadn’t blown up the building.” Ema paced back and forth, which was fine with me, as long as there was no shrapnel picking. “It had to be Suki, I mean, Mic made that Japanese reference, and no other Japanese females are connected to our case as far as I know, well, except me, but I don’t count, I’m only half-Japanese, but anyway, we never would have known Avo was behind it if he hadn’t blown up the library, it makes me wonder…”
“Is Suki somehow being blackmailed to blow up places for the real killer?” I completed.
“Yes! Exactly!” she jumped in the air, fist raised. “The killer must be some kind of suicide bomber, only without the suicide.”
“So, if you’re right, we’re dealing with an actual terrorist.” I said, with chills running marathons up and down my spine.
“Think, Sam,” She knelt back down, picking the last piece of shrapnel out of my leg. This one, however, was actually in my bone, and she jerked it out as fast as she could. I shouted loudly in horrific pain, looking at the foot-long piece of wood that had punctured my leg in equal horror and disgust.
“Ooh, that had to hurt,” she said sympathetically.
“Ya think?” I grimaced, fighting off tears.
“But think of all the biggest places that more than one of us has been, Sam.” She started again, wrapping her jacket tightly around my leg. “We were all at Belmont Library, we were all at Penumbra Kelly, and I can’t think of anywhere else.” She pounded the floor hard in frustration.
“The Oregon Health and Science University Hospital!” I shouted. “I was at OHSU getting surgery done, Buffy’s at OHSU rehabilitating, and I might have to go back to have my leg fixed! And when we do, the mystery person will have a new bomber at his disposal!” Man, I wish I had a computer.
“Well, I don’t think there’s any way to figure out who this guy is at the moment.” Ema replied, taking a seat on the bench next to me. “So, want to just talk?”
“Sure, I guess.” I moved my leg out of the way so she could sit next to me. “What about?”
“Are you conversationally impaired, Sam?” Ema joked. “Anything! Our hopes for the future, our friends, our family, well, anything!”
“I’ll take family for $200, Ema.” I replied. “You first.” You see, it had been awhile since I really had a friend like I had Ema and Mic, and it was odd starting over again. We all seemed to have lost track of, you know, just hanging out.
“No, you go first.” She smiled. I couldn’t argue with that smile. Never can, never will.
“Well, what can I say?” I started awkwardly. “I got a mom, a dad and a fourteen year-old sister named Dania.”
“What does your dad do for a living?” Ema asked. “Or your mom?”
“My dad is a world-traveling artist.” I continued, less awkward. “I don’t know where he, mom and Dania are, we lost touch awhile ago.”
“Why did that happen?” Ema, my newfound counselor asked.
I sighed. “They said they were getting a new cell phone number, and would call me when they got it.” I sighed again, bitterly adding “They never did. That was six months ago.”
“You’re scared.” She noted.
“Not so much as confused.” I was really pouring my heart out now. “Why would they just stop communicating with their son? I mean, I’ve tried everything, www.411.com, The Artist Community all around the world, nothing. It really, really scares me.” For the second time today, I fought to hold back tears.
Ema squeezed my hand supportively and said “I’ll go next. I have a mom and two sisters.”
“Just a mom, eh?” I noted. “What happened to dad?”
Ema sighed and said “I hoped you wouldn’t ask that.”
“Okay, then, I won’t.”
“No, you’re supposed to!”
“But you just said you didn’t want me to!”
“But we’re supposed to be letting go of this stuff!”
“But- you just- I don’t get it!”
Ema laughed and said “You are gonna be a real wreck in the dating world.”
I had to laugh at that. Sighing and taking in this conversation, I asked a different question. “Why did you ever leave Wyoming? I know if I lived in Utopia, Wyoming or wherever you came from, I wouldn’t leave.”
“Hey,” she replied. “I’m just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.”
I started singing, rather off-key “Who took the midnight train going aaaa-nyyyy-wherrrrre.”
“That’s some good Journey right there.” Ema laughed. I would have to assume Journey was her favorite band.
Suddenly my face lit up. “I got it!” I said.
“Got what?” Ema asked.
“Not what, who. I know who killed Rob Stevens and hired Avo and Suki.” I grinned.
She didn’t, rather disappointed that the conversation was over. “Well, that was random. Who was it?”
“YOU TWO!” a bellowing teenaged voice through a megaphone shouted from the sky. “THIS IS THE PORTLAND FIRE DEPARTMENT! BEFORE WE LIFT YOU UP, DO YOU NEED MEDICAL HELP?”
“Yes!” Ema shouted. “His leg is bleeding!”
“STAY WHERE YOU ARE! WE WILL SEND A STRETCHER AND TRANSPORT YOU TO PROVIDENCE HOSPITAL.” The voice called, referring to a large hospital 5 blocks to our north. I looked up and saw Mic, Nicolas, Dan, Elwood and Mark Ten. I grinned helplessly.
Well, what is there to say? They lifted me up, I arrived at the hospital, and then I woke up from the anesthesia. Nicolas, Mic and Ema were waiting for me. And I knew who killed Runouw.

Chapter 9-Puzzle Pieces
(Narration of Mic Davis)
Ema squealed when she saw Sam open his eyes. I grinned and told him “Good morning, Sammy. Or should I say good evening. You look awfully well for someone who just had their leg cut off.”
Sam shouted “Oh my god!” and threw off the covers to see that, yes, he still had his leg. I just couldn’t help put pull a fast one on him to really wake him up. Ema and Nicolas laughed, and, although reluctant, Sam put in a chuckle or two as well.
“Apparently I didn’t splash you hard enough.” He quipped. The guy really can quip, I’ll give him that.
“’Ello, mate!” Nicolas greeted in that unmistakable Aussie Accent. “When you’re all rested, I gots something to tell you. Something that’s related to the Runouw case.”
Sam really is dedicated to solving this case. He got up and walked into a chair, bad leg and all, and said “Let’s talk.”
Ema sighed. I’m starting to get the vibe that she thinks he’s thinking too seriously about what Niklaw’s thinking. But that’s just what I’m thinking.
Nicolas, impressed, sat on the other side of the table and pulled out a file. Ema left the room for reasons I shall never know, hands up in the air. And ridiculously, Sam didn’t even get up and follow her. He shook his head and said “Let’s get this over with. I always get that tense feeling when someone is really, really mad at me.”
Nicolas raised his eyebrows but let the subject go. He pulled out a paper with a www.runouw.com Private Message. “Y’see,” he started, “I’d forgotten to shut down my Runouw.com account because I was busy coping with the death of one of my friends. Then I decide to check out the website to get some grief consolation. Runouw was like big brother, y’know?”
Being a big brother, Sam did know. He nodded ad added “Go on.”
“Well, after a little while, I decided to check my PMs. I found out I got one from Fourinone. A shock, it was, to see what it had said. Well, you read.” Nicolas handed him the first paper. It read

Niklaw, it’s me, Fourinone. You’re the only one I can trust.
You may know how Avolerators blew up the Belmont Library in SE Portland. He was forced to do it because someone had his sister. I got a phone call from a restricted number telling me they had my big brother. They even let him speak! I was forced to plant a bomb in a police station. Avolerators is dead because of me. There may be more! I need you to tell me if anyone else was killed. I just can’t live not knowing. Bring this note to police and delete this message. And find out who did this, because I know if you do not by tomorrow, they will kill me.
For what could be the last time,
Suki Lee

“Then I got a voicemail it being as I never answer to restricted numbers. Telemarketers usually trying to get me to buy some insurance for a mythical car. I’ll play this for you as well.”
He turned on his voicemail and it played out loud.

Nicolas Locke, you have been recruited as part of my special bomb squad, it said in a gravelly voice. A special bomb squad that does not look for bombs, but sets them off. We know about your contact with our Suki Lee, and if you do not blow up the Oregon Health and Science University, you and Ms. Lee will be terminated, as well as Ms. Lee’s older brother. Destroy this message or your phone will self-destruct in a day-
“Oh, crap, it’s been a day!” Nicolas shouted as his phone caught fire. He watched helplessly as his phone fell into almost a hundred different pieces, although no other harm was done since Sam had a fire extinguisher in his room.
“I dunno what upsets me more- the fact that we lost the message, or the fact that that was a really, really expensive Smartphone.” Nicolas quipped, downhearted.
Sam held up his recorder. Nicolas grinned. “That sucker’s going down.” Sam grinned himself, big too. Then he abruptly departed, barely noticing his hurt leg. He called back “How many people are in Runouw’s account?”
“Two!” Nicolas called back as Sam abruptly left.
“The ‘eck was that?” Nicolas Locke asked.
I grinned. “He must have just been so excited he forgot he was injured.”

(Narration of Ema)
I was in the dining hall, really worried. I mean, I get the guy to pour out his heart, and he just goes right back to his uber-seriousness like that! I really wish he would lighten up and fulfill his commitment to be friends instead of obsessing over this case… ah, listen to me go on with my girl-speak. Yeah, I know lives are at stake. But look at me! I’m still normal… harried at the moment, yes, but normal!
Sam drags himself out into the cafeteria, finding me like he had some kind of Ema sensor on that badge he kept with him ALL THE TIME. I expected him to excitedly blurt out some details of the case but instead he said “Do you know that you had me really worried when you left like that?”
I decided to deter the situation before we got into some sort of argument. I HATE arguing. “Oh, don’t worry. I was just… hungry!”
Sam was smarter than that. “That doesn’t explain why your hands were in the air like that.” He said, imitating my gesture quite well.
Dang. He had me. And if I were to say anything about Yoga, I would be insulting his intelligence. What else could I do but spill the beans. Not about him, about me. You see, in the past few seconds I had come to a realization. Time to face the facts.
“Ijustdon’tthinkiwouldbeagoodpoliceofficer.”I blurted out very, very unintelligibly.
“Whoa, okay. Slow down. Say that one word at a time.” Sam tried to look serious, but I could see a smile on his face forming.
“I. Just. Don’t. Think. I. Would. Be. A. Good. Police. Officer. Do. You. Understand. Me?”
Sam’s smile seemed to fall off like it was weakly taped on in the first place.
“What on earth could you have taken to make you think that?” Sam replied, stunned. “Did they give you pain pills or something? They gotta be going to your head! I mean, that’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”
“I…” I blurted out, not sure what to follow that statement he had just issued. “I just, you know, don’t think I’m emotionally mature enough for the job. I mean, some nights it just has me so beat down, I just cry into my pillow. It’s really miserable. I feel like, you know, I’m not serious enough, like you.”
That last sentence seemed to amuse him. “I’m serious? That’s a laugh. I’m just like you; some days just have me emotionally torn. But, trust me, the reward is the job. You will never have as much of an impact on people’s lives as you will as who you are.”
He took in a breath and said “And we wouldn’t be a team without you, Ema. You’re like the cheese holding together the bread of our team… I mean, you’re like the marshmallow who keeps our smores… Ugh, forget it; I’m too hungry to think up metaphors or similes. What I am trying to say is that I know I wouldn’t be emotionally stable with my job without you. And Mic, too, but a lot of you. Well, it’s 50-50, well, 33-33-33 if you count Buffy, but… I should shut up now.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Sam sure knows how to word things to make everything seem that much better. I hugged him and whispered “This doesn’t repeat, but you’re like the brother I never had.”
“You just made my day.” Sam grinned, red as a beet dyed red.
“Now,” I said, back on track, “What did Nicolas say?”
“Suki was put up to it for the same reason Avo was, and she’s got a day to live.” Sam replied, back in the zone, which I didn’t mind nearly as much now. “Whoever is behind this- and I’ve got a fair guess too- tried to hire Nicolas over the phone. Notice a trend?”
I jumped into the zone, too. “Moderators!” I hissed, excited. “Everyone who was a moderator on that site was forced to blow some place up, and one actually got fired from the website to throw us off! But there’s one extra moderator…”
“Superyoshi!” Sam replied. “He’s next! We gotta warn the guy.” Sam snatched my cell phone (without asking- the nerve!) and started doing his hacking-techno stuff like he always does. He found Superyoshi’s info, his name was Pete Jacob-Elis, and he owned the Sunny Yoga studios that was all-to-coincidentally located in the Providence Hospital complex WE WERE IN!
“Quick!” Sam shouted, running like he didn’t have an injured leg. I followed as fast as I could.
Eventually, we arrived at Sunny Yoga, and found that no one was there. There were signs of a struggle. “They already got Jacob-Elis!” Sam spat.
“What should we do?” I asked like a faithful sidekick.
“Get the others, we’re going to OHSU.”
“Today?” I asked, surprised. “He surely wouldn’t attack it today. Besides, you need to rest. In case you haven’t forgotten, your leg is beat up.”
Sam ran to the computer and started hacking. About 3 minutes later, he said, excited “They’re gonna do it, tomorrow at three!”
“I will never understand how you do that,” I admitted.
He stood up and faced me. “This is almost over,” he grinned, with an odd mixture of anxiety, happiness and exhaustion. “So much has happened because of this, and it’s almost over. God, Ema, I’m exhausted.”
I grinned. “Just wait until we get the real job, rookie.”

(Narration of Nicolas Locke)

I got into my car, and just started driving. I had no clue what to do. Suki Lee was in trouble, and I had no idea what to do. Sure, I only knew her over the internet, and to be honest, I didn’t even know she was a “She” but I felt for her. Avo was already dead, and I wasn’t gonna let this happen to Suki.

But where could she be?

I thought of all the places that the crew had been, a library, their police station, and who knows where they would be going next? I heard Mic say something about a bomb shelter when Sam and Ema were gone, but how could I possibly get in there?

Ah, screw it, mate. I have to do it.

I parked at the building formerly known as Pen Kelly, but can now be called “OH HOLY CRAP WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO THAT BUILDING?” I took a deep breath and started climbing the debris. About three feet up, I fell, nearly on a sharp piece of wood. That would have sucked, but fortunately, I did not, and was able to start climbing again. This time I made it to the top of the pile.

But all that was there was the main lobby. The Interrogation room was… Goddang it… under the rubble. I groaned. This Suki had better be telling the truth. And she had better be a pleasant person, as well.

I just started throwing things out of the way, wood, bricks and glass and all that. About 15 minutes later, I was about to give up, when I saw a metal hatch in the ground. Not knowing what the heck I was getting myself into, I opened it and climbed in.

I gulped. I went to open it back up and go back home, but when I tried, I found that debris already covered it again and was now falling on me. I hurriedly closed it and looked around me. Talk about a shocking sight.

This was no bomb shelter. This is a tunnel.

Lanterns surrounded each side of this metal pathway. What was this? I honestly had no clue, and didn’t really care. Since I was in this entire pile of BS trying to find Suki Lee, I had better find her.

I looked down the way, and started off faster than a lightning bolt. I didn’t stop until I got to a fork in the tunnel. Was there even a map or anything?

I looked down and saw a keychain on the ground at the right side. I lifted it up and looked at a picture on it. I looked and had no doubt in my mind that was Suki. She had always bragged over the internet about her being Asian, and this woman on the keychain, sitting next to a man a couple years older than her (who I presumed to be her brother because I am cautiously optimistic) was no exception. And she was pretty, as well, with shoulder-length orange hair and a dazzling smile and… that would be a tangent, mates. Don’t make me square it. I put it in my pocket and started off again in the right (get it) direction.

I ran even faster, knowing that I was running out of time. I ran faster, faster, even faster, until I was sure my heart was going to pop. Then, I ran into a wall. Going at my speed, it took me out cold.

I woke up in a dim-lighted room tied to a chair. I could only presume two things- one, I was being held captive by the bas-jerk (a term I created to avoid ticking off Sam) behind this entire BS, and two, I had gotten my Aussie self in some deep doggie doo-doo.

I started wiggling around in my chair, shouting a few obscenities. I couldn’t quite get loose, and they hadn’t bothered taping my mouth shut, because we were a ways below ground.

Suddenly, a female voice spoke up. I swerved around, chair and all; to see that there was someone else in the room with me. And to no one’s surprise, it was Suki Lee.

“Don’t bother.” She told me. “I’ve been trying it for hours.”

I looked at her. “Suki Lee, I presume.”

She replied. “That would be correct. And you?”

I squirmed around, a bit uncomfortable. “I was going to be the man who saved you.”

She scoffed. “Well, that worked out well, didn’t it? So you’re the police that Niklaw sent for?”

I squirmed again. “Uh…”

She gasped. “You idiot! You are Niklaw, aren’t you?”

I turned away from her emerald eyes, laced with viper venom. Partially because they were so piercingly beautiful, partly because I was afraid I would be turned to stone.

She hit her head back on the chair. “Why the he-“

“Let me tell you why the he-. Your little explosion, however forced it may be, has put a police officer in the hospital. They’re trying to stop this entire BS, so there was no one left, so-”

“They sent you?”

“No, I sent me.”

Suki fell quiet as a mime and looked away from me.

I didn’t look away from her. “Suki, you’ve been trying to escape for hours, right?”

She nodded, scooting her chair over so she could see me better. “I’ve done everything. I’ve tried clawing at it, reaching for the knot, squirming out of it, nothing works.”

“Because there is only one teenager here. With two, it could happen, not to mention a bunch of awkward moments that no one else will ever hear of, or humiliation will be imminent.”

She sighed, and chuckled a little bit. “Okay, okay. I’ll try reaching for your knot on the back of the chair.” She moved her chair around a little bit, and then started clumsily untying me from my chair. “Voila!” she said happily as I got up from the chair, ropes falling to the ground.

“Halleluyah, my chains are gone, I’ve been set free!” I cheered.

“That’s great. Now do mine.”

I started untying her knot from the chair. Alas, perhaps due to the angle her chair was at, or perhaps due to the fact that she was so desperate to get out that she had the bright idea to lean forward, when she was untied she fell out of the chair and onto me.

“Uhm that would be one of those awkward moments, Suki.” I told her as she got up off of me.

She sighed and started to go to the door when she heard footsteps approaching. “Footsteps!” she gasped. “What do we do?”

Cue the light bulb above my head. “Okay, Suki, how many cop shows have you seen?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The guards barged down the door, to find that I had been untied, and that Suki Lee was gone.

“Where is she?” They asked me.

“Wow, wow, gentlemen, so impolite,” I started nervously. “Not even going to stop by for a cup of tea?”

“You had better tell us where she is, or you’re gonna die here and now!”

“Gone.” I told them. “She’s running into the sunset, free as a bird.”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, let me handle this.” A teenaged yet sinister voice said out loud. The guards parted way for a hooded figure. He was probably Central American; he had hair about the same length of Suki’s that appeared through the edges of his hood, and was up to no good, I had a feeling, as much as the Black Eyed Peas did of tonight being a good night.

“Hello, Niklaw.” He told me. I gasped as he continued. “Yes, I know your username. You used to be the strictest mod on Runouw.com, well, except Superyoshi of course. But it doesn’t matter now because you are going to die.”

“At the bas-jerky hands of…” I asked him.

“Jacob Blaine.” He told me. “But you may call me Blablob.”

I gasped again. “Why you sick twisted son of a-“

“Ah-ah-ah.” He told me. “You shouldn’t talk to your better that way.”

“What do I have to lose?” I spat at him. “You did this just to become a moderator?”

“No, because I wanted to bring the site down. I hated pretty much everyone on there. But don’t worry, I’m not behind this. And the sad part is that you’ll never find out who is.” He started walking away. “All right boys, fire.”

“Now!” I yelled as I threw Suki, who was clutching to my back, on top of the guards. They both fell to the ground. I took her hand and we started running.

Finally, we reached an exit, popping out inside Robertson Tunnel, the world’s deepest Tunnel, where the MAX train ran. We ran across the tracks and stood on the platform. I had gone a total of 6 miles, all underground.

“I have so many questions.” I told her, hand holding hers still. “But you’re alive. I was so scared-“

She put a finger on my lips. “Does it really matter to us anymore? We’re free. We’re a train ride away from home. We call the police and we can free my brother. It’s all gonna get better in time.”

“I was gonna say, I was so scared I was going to lose you before I met you.” I told her, inching closer.

“That may be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” She blushed. I turned equally as red and said “We should probably get home now. We’ve got a lot of untangling to do.”

“How long until the train arrives?” she checked her watch. I was amazed that it made it this far.

Taking in a deep breath and summoning all my guts, I said “Long enough.” as in a moment swifter than an eagle; I wove our lips together like your Granny’s Crochet.

Mission accomplished.

Although I must admit that saving Suki wasn’t my only mission.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 10-Saving America
(Buffy Clark Narrates, for once)
The next day, at two-thirty, I sat up in my hospital bed at OHSU when I saw Sam rush in. Life hadn’t been exactly easy on me lately, no duh. I had recently been blown up, and started physical therapy yesterday. And, in my humble opinion, I would rather be blown up every day instead. The weird thing was that when Sam came in, he was in a wheelchair. I swear to god, I nearly had an aneurysm.
“Buffy!” He shouted, and to my relief, he got up out of the wheelchair and hobbled over to me. “We almost solved the case!”
“Did you, now!” I grinned with a sigh, beat from the last week. “Who did it?”
“That doesn’t matter,” he replied, his face dropping like an anvil from the Wells Fargo Tower. “I got some bad news. Penumbra Kelly was blown up.”
I shouted a loud obscenity, not really giving a crap who heard. “No!!” she was shocked.
He nodded grimly. “I got a few injuries in my leg, but the bad thing is that Avo Richards was killed in the explosion.”
“Pardon me for not caring,” I quipped, not exactly ready to cry.
“You don’t understand.” Sam replied. “When breaking our things and trying to lure us to Intel wasn’t fast or destructive enough, Avo Richards was forced into it. His sister was being held hostage by our mastermind. He was supposed to get away, killing us, too. But he failed on both accounts, so the mastermind sent another person with this woman’s sister being held hostage to blow up Pen. Kelly, blowing up a potential witness and us, too. Luckily, she only got the witness. She was on Runouw’s website as a moderator, just like Avo. I have a feeling the next bomber is going to be Pete Jacob-Elis, who was a moderator on that site, too. In fact, our original suspect, Nicolas Locke, was a big help. He came to show us the crime scene and we caught a thief, plus he told us that someone tried to force him to be a bomber, but he has no nearby family for them to capture, so he told them to go to the other place. And are you ready for the mastermind?”
“You bet I am. I lost a leg to know that.” I reminded him, almost incredulous that I’d have to.
“It’s Rick Stevens.” He replied.
My jaw dropped about three inches. “He wasn’t even a suspect!”
“He owned the site with Rob,” he continued. “He knew how to learn about the Moderators, who run the site with the Stevens’. He would use that knowledge against them, and have them destroy public buildings. Remember the Jantzen Beach fire?”
“The big fire that nearly destroyed the Interstate Bridge? Yeah, I remember.” How could I forget, we were there. Their first case. As stated before, that’s a story for another time.
“That was an old mod, Crazy Jack.
“Stevens was behind that. With that shut down, businesses across the river, like Kyocera Phones would fail. His brother secretly found out, but was scared to say anything. But when Rick found out that he found out, he pretended to leave on vacation, but came back and killed his own brother. I called Air Japan; they never got any money from Rick Stevens.”
“It’s all coming together…” I was too astounded to say anything more.
“And then the rest happened. The real Runouw.com connection. But what Rick was doing was… well, I should explain that Rick Stevens was due for a promotion to chairman of Intel, as he was good friends with the current one. So he decided to blow away the competition, pun definitely intended. And guess where he was going next?”
I shook my head as if to say “Don’t Know.”
“OHSU.”
I felt my jaw drop again. “You’re freaking kidding me!”
“It gets better. OHSU is the biggest money-maker in the entire state, along with Nike and Intel. Nike would be next, then the Wells Fargo Bank Building, then Bancorp, and every other big competitor in the city. He would be the biggest thing in a metro area of two million people. He would own the city.”
“It’d be like 9-11 all over again!” I gasped, stunned.
“You gotta get out of here. We’ll hold the killer off.” Sam told her.
“You are kidding, right? I’m staying with you!”
“You’re hurt!”
“That doesn’t matter! We’re a team. And do I have to remind you about my leg?”
Sam stopped. “Point taken.” He said. “C’mon, we gotta get everyone out.”
I climbed into a wheelchair and Sam ran as fast as he could, to meet up with Mic and Ema on the Aerial Tram Deck. We passed a sign reading “Rick Stevens from Intel will let you test Intel’s newest!” I scowled, disgusted that people were finding him a nice guy.
Suddenly a doctor ran into my wheelchair outside on a patio 100 feet above ground, overlooking Portland’s skyline, knocking out my cell phone from the holder on the wheelchair and over the ledge. Lord have mercy on whoever that falls on. At least they are near a hospital
. The doctor started to stammer an apology, but Sam’s eyes widened.
“You,” he stammered, backing away. I took his cue and wheeled backward a little. He signaled Ema by whistling “Don’t Stop Believing,” which I could only deduce to be their signal.
Suddenly, the doctor took off his gown to reveal that he had a switch taped onto his chest. Oh Sh-crap. “Nobody moves!” he yelled. “There’s a bomb in the basement! I flip this switch and it’s over for all of us!”
“Pete Jacob-Elis,” Ema started, “You are under arrest for attempted murder and destruction of property.
What the heck was she thinking? I thought. She’s really gonna kill us all!
“I swear, don’tcha put those handcuffs on me, or we’re all dead!” Pete shouted. People crowded onto the aerial tram, trying to get away. No one charged them.
Ema grinned. Grinning?! I thought, dumbfounded. WHO GRINS WHEN SOMEONE THREATENS TO BLOW UP A BUILDING?!
“Go ahead, Pete.” Ema smirked. “Press it.”
Oh my god, I thought in despair. It can’t be Ema!
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
What Pete did next would both shock and relieve all of us. Pete took the switch, and stepped on it. Nothing happened.
“That’s right Pete.” Ema said. “It’s fake. Don’t worry, we’ll get you on the tram and it’ll all be over soon.” Pete dropped to his knees and broke down in tears, traumatized, but managed to stagger into the tram.
Mic, awestruck, said in one sudden breath “Thatwassoamazing!”
I grinned and high-fived her. “Way to go, Ema.”
Buffy was unbelievably happy, blurting out “I am SO proud of all of you. Now, if we hurry, we can get Rick before whoever is behind this detonates.”
“I’m going to assume Rick has the switch.” Ema suggested. “And also assume he has some kind of bomb-making lab, say, below Intel? Or in Intel?”
“The only place he could put it.” I added. “Way to go, deductress.”
Mic sprinted into the room where Rick was holding his public testing. Nicolas, Dan and Elwood were there, Dan testing, Elwood helping and Nic playing the undercover agent for Sam. But he had an unexpected person with him.
It was Suki Lee, arm around Nic’s shoulder. Talk about an eyebrow raiser.
Giving Nic a thumbs up, I abruptly whistled “Don’t Stop Believing.” Believe Buffy, that is our signal.
Nic walked over, badge-equipped and handcuffs in, well, hand, and went to arrest him, when to everyone’s surprise, Rick lifted his shirt up a little bit to reveal a belt with the real detonation button on it. Then another one. Then another one. Then another one. Then another one. Then another one.
One read OHSU, a second, Nike, a third, Portland State University, a fourth, Wells Fargo Building, the fifth, Portland International Airport.
The sixth, Intel.
Ema gasped. Portland State University was her college, remember?
“What,” Rick quipped smugly, “Did you think I was putting on weight? Oh, yeah, baby. I got the whole city in my hand. I just press one of these; I take out 5% of the economy and at least a hundred lives.”
Ema hissed in Sam’s ear “If he blows up PSU, it- it- it’ll really screw up my life.” Her voice faltered a little bit, and she was afraid she was gonna start crying in the single most inopportune time.
Rick heard her. “Well, baby, I guess I know which one I’m pushing first.”
He reached for it, when, suddenly, he was tased by an overeager Mic. He fell on his back, not falling on any switches.
“Why you…” Rick ended that sentence with a barrage of unrepeatable insults as Mic ran back to the rest. “We gotta go for the belt, or the city will be toast.”
I wanted answers, though. “Why the heck would you blow up Intel? You’re about to own it!”
“NO I’M NOT!” Rick yelled. “I’m going to die in a year! Godforsaken throat cancer!”
“Calm down, Rick.” Mic tried. “I only tased you because you were gonna blow us up. Just put the switch down and people here can fix you. You can live, Rick! You just gotta try!”
I’ve seen Mic act like many people, Bruce Willis, Kanye West, even Michael Jackson. But never have I seen him be a motivational speaker. I mean-
: Mic Interruption:
Yo Sam I’m really happy for you and I’ma let you finish but I’m the best narrator of all time!
: Sam shoves Mic out of the way and gets narration back:
See?
Anyway, where was I?
“You! Shut up!” Rick bellowed. “You don’t get it, do you? I want people to feel my pain, so I joined a suicide group. The whole nation. We’re going to destroy the nation with us. We’re sick of the scam America is selling us, the whole freedom bull. So I’m taking her down with me.”
I was shocked. Rick Stevens and hundreds across the nation were planning to commit mass murder on the ultimate victim. America.
Suddenly, Rick bolted. I was right after him, the others following. I stopped them and said “NO! You gotta go to the police. Warn the others!”
Nicolas handed me a cell phone. “I recorded him. I just gotta stop him and Blaine, and we’re all safe.”
“Blaine?” I asked.
“Long story,” Nico replied.
Ema chased after me and grabbed my arm. “No. I am not leaving without you.”
Mic joined up. “Me, too.”
Buffy wheeled over. “Same here.”
I looked at all my blessings, smiled and darted after Rick.
“Sam, no!” Ema called.
Nicolas held up the phone. “I do hate to leave in the middle of a good plot-twist, but I gotta get this to the police station before he blows up the city. Just another day in Paradise, you know.” He and Suki started to make their exit.
That’s when Rick recognized Suki. Uttering an obscenity, he yelled “You escaped!”
“I would not have if it were not for Nicolas!” she yelled back. “He is 10 times the person you will ever be!”
Nic face-palmed and uneasily said “Thanks, but I really wish you hadn’t said that out loud!”
Suki uttered some Japanese, and let me just say, I typed it into Google Translator later and I think I learned some new ways to use certain swear words… not that I wanted to. Rick grabbed Nicolas by the arm and dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the tram. I ran towards him, only to get bowled over by him. I got back up and started to run again.
Unexpectedly, Suki followed me.
“Stay!” he yelled. “You’re not even in the squad!”
“He saved my life.” She replied calmly, so calm it was an effort to hear her. “I believe in repaying that debt, even with my life.”
I couldn’t argue with that impressive statement. “Come on!” I called behind me, while Suki caught up.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Narration of Mic Davis)
Ema looked at us, panicked. “Oh, my god!” I yelled. “What was that guy thinking? Is… is he high on crack or something? He could die out there! I mean, oh my god!”
I grabbed her shoulders. “Ema. Seriously, girl. Relax. A’ight? We got bigger and better things to work on.”
“Like what?” she asked me.
“Blaine, that’s what, whoever that guy is. Nico mentioned something about stopping him.” I replied.
Ema gave it a minute of thought. She does that randomly from time to time. Then, she spoke. “Well, first off, that explains what Nico was doing, as well as the sudden bond between Ms. Lee and himself.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I noticed, but that has WHAT to do with Blaine?”
“Obviously Suki has something against Blaine, powerful enough to create some sort of romantic tension with Nico. Maybe Nico found Suki or something, in some sort of prison, even, or about to be executed, it doesn’t matter what, just that whatever sentence she was getting was carried out by this Blaine character, and Nico perhaps saved her.” Finishing, she took a deep breath.
“So what do we do, with this information?”
“Suki escaped from the interrogation room, right?” She continued. “There was a bomb shelter there. I have a feeling that bomb shelter is not all that it seems.”
“So we go all the way to the bomb shelter and start from there?” Buffy asked, and I have to admit that sounded like a bad idea.
“No, I have a feeling that there were corridors in where the bomb shelter is. Otherwise there would have been no other way for Rick to go around secretly, or this Blaine character. Or a place to secretly store the bombs. I have a feeling that there is an entry point in OHSU somewhere, as well as all those other places. But the question is this: where would the most damage be?”
I took a guess. “Where Rick was doing his testing?”
Ema lit up. “Exactimundo. Let’s go, guys.”
Buffy told us before we started trotting off “Okay, I don’t think I can go with you guys.”
“Valid Excuse, please?” Ema asked.
“I have a feeling my wheelchair won’t like whatever corridors you’re in.” she replied. “I’ll keep an eye on Sam and the tram. Hurry!”
I nodded and told Ema “Let’s go.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
Well, that’s one way to get into a secret corridor.
Ema and I looked at the large laundry chute in the room where the testing had ceased, and panic had ensued. I rolled my eyes. “Run around in circles more, idiots, and don’t leave, because that would mean you wouldn’t get blown up.” I said quietly to Ema. She nodded. “Panicked dimwits.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, ever gone snow tubing?”
She nodded.
“Ever gone snow tubing without the tube?”
She looked at me in disbelief. “Say what?”
I jumped in the chute, laughing my head off. This was no ordinary chute, this one was very large (I mean, it fit me, right?) and didn’t just drop, it had a bit of a curve to it, it was like being a kid sliding down one of them McDonalds’ Play land Slides. I shouted out in excitement as I landed on a big pile of clothes. Ema fell next to me, glee written all over her face like a tattoo. “That was so cool!” she giggled.
I grinned, and gave her a knuckle-touch. “And look where we are. See all those corridors?”
She frowned. “I do. You think we’re in, like, the epicenter of their hideout?”
“More like the transit center of their hideout.”
Ema rubbed her back. “A bit of a rough landing, eh?”
I frowned myself. “Yeah, almost like this isn’t… oh crap.”
“What?” she asked me, as worried as a lobster in McGrath’s fish house.
“Start throwing clothes out of the way, now!” I shouted.
We uncovered layer after layer of clothing of every sort, and I had a feeling these hands would be getting washed later. After a flowery blouse, I saw an object of complete predictably and unmatched horror.
You thought Suki’s bomb was big; this bomb was the size of me! Okay, a lot of things are, but still!
Ema shouted an obscenity out loud. I swerved around and stopped on a kid around my age with a wicked grin. He had a matchbox in his hand, and I don’t mean Rob Thomas’ band… that would be a bad pun, my friends. I should be shot for that.
He grinned devilishly. “So you’re the meddling kids. Pity. You should have brought a dog; you would look like part of the Scooby Doo crew. But this is as real as it gets. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jacob Blaine, but you can call me Blablob.”
Ema and I muttered a unified obscenity.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
Rick threw Nicolas into the tram, jumping in after him. The door was halfway shut.
“I got an idea!” Suki yelled.
“Well, what is it?” I asked.
Suki replied by lifting me up to her chest and throwing me nearly 100 feet over to the tram doorway, blocking it. Suki leapt over me and dragged me out of the way.
“Okay. WHAT WAS THAT?!” I yelled, astonished.
Suki just shrugged and said “Try lifting a bomb the size enough to blow up your building. You’re like a leaf compared to that.”
Rick saw us, yelled out in anger and started the tram. We were now dangling down hundreds of feet in the air above dangerous city streets. I tried to pry him away, but it was no use. Even Suki couldn’t get him to release his grip.
Unexpectedly, Rick stopped the tram right above Naito Parkway, where I had taken one of my best pictures of Portland’s skyline, in my opinion. Nearly every building, from the Brick Red Pencil-Shaped Koin Tower to the sterile Gray Giant Wells Fargo Building, to the glowing Pink Bancorp Building shone in the bright blue May sky.
Rick kicked the doors open, took Nicolas’ cell phone and started to throw it out the window when I leapt onto his back.
Rick dropped the phone with the recordings onto the tram floor, causing Nicolas to grab it swiftly and place it in his pocket. Rick vigorously tried to shake me off the tram, while Suki tried to pull me off with little success. Not knowing what else to do, Nicolas stood up and kicked Rick in a place he’d rather forget, nor a place that would be repeated if he ever got the chance to tell his kids this story. Rick dropped me on top of Suki and doubled over in pain.
“Sorry, Suki!” I quipped as we got up. “Now you two navigate the tram up the hill while I take out the trash.”
“Good wit, mate!” Nic told him, never this excited before. He helped Suki up as he looked at the frighteningly staggering controls. Suki noticed a radio on Rick’s belt.
“We gotta get that radio and call for help!” Suki hissed as I landed a punch in Rick’s forehead. Taking advantage of the distraction, Suki yanked it off his pants and gave it to Nicolas. “Here! Be well!” she said, grabbing him in a last hug, it seemed, before she lunged after Rick, yelling “Cowabunga!” knocking him off the tram.
But they weren’t dead yet.
They were holding onto the side. Pulling a stick of dynamite out of his pocket, he climbed into the Tram, leaving Suki hanging onto the side. “Help!” she cried. “Nic, help!”
Nic rushed over to try to pull Suki off the side. “You got to let go!” he yelled.
“No!” Suki shouted back.
“I can’t grab on to you if you don’t let go!” was Nicolas’ reply. “Just… just trust me, all right? I would never let you die.”
With no further hesitation, she took a deep breath and let go. Almost instantaneously, Nic grabbed her hands and within a second, jerked her up. “I’d say this is a lot better than those trust booths at the carnival, eh, Suki?”
Rick pulled out his bomb belt. “I’ve had enough of this!” He said, preparing to press a button after lighting the dynamite. He succeeded, too.
I gasped out loud, but to my shock, nothing happened.
I reached into my backpack, pulled out something, grabbed Suki and Nicolas and jumped onto Rick, shoving him out of the tram. I grabbed the bomb belt as we fell down to the ground.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Narration of Mic Davis)
I immediately put two and two together. Blablob guy here really does have no life, and he musta been peed off at the mods over the website. Something along the lines of that, but I didn’t care. I just ran over and socked him in his face, taking the matches away as he fell to the ground.
“What good will the matches do?” Ema asked.
“I dunno!” I replied, when suddenly, Blaine’s radio went off with a piercing sound.
Blaine cursed and said “The signal!” as he got back up and started running down a corridor.
I laughed out loud and said “Yes! See that long cord behind the ‘Chesses Crust’ Bomb? That was what good the matches did. Now come on, let’s go. Let Blaine’s boss deal with him.”
Ema looked concerned. “You’ll regret this, Mic, you know that.”
“I really just want to know if Sam’s alive.” I admitted one like I was at a movie theater.
Ema nodded and we took a corridor that seemed to have a little more light in it, signalizing a quicker exit, and voila, in a couple of minutes we were in an inactive elevator car, and pushed the button for the tram deck. When we got there, we joined Buffy to see a shocking sight- Sam, Nico and Suki falling out of the tram, as well as Rick.
At the sight of everyone falling out of the Tram, Ema’s eyes started to water as she buried her face in her hands. “No!” she yelled.
5 horrific seconds passed until Sam pulled up a small pink blanket with ponies all over it. Shocked and slightly amused, I tapped Ema on the shoulder and said “Look!”
Ema dared herself a peek to see that Nicolas and Suki had a death grip on Sam’s shoulders as he used the blanket as a parachute to float down to the ground by South Waterfront, bomb belt in Nico’s hand.
From what I heard later, Rick fell crashing to the pavement on Naito Parkway. He got up, grabbed his head, and tried to stagger off a road when a public bus came his way.
The last word he said I bet would be unrepeatable in public.
The Tram blew up shortly afterward, making a hole between the two electric wires. The tram itself fell on an abandoned house on SW Corbett Street.

(Narration of Sam Eastman)
10 minutes later, I saw Ema park the car down in South Waterfront, the other end of the Tram line and the other OHSU campus.
I had finished handing over the belt to Mark Ten and the bomb squad, as they dismantled it piece by piece.
“It’s amazing, horrifying but amazing.” Ten had said. “At any given moment, he could have destroyed the city. These aren’t really bombs, they’re signals. There would be a member of the suicide crew ready to light the fuse, and it would be all over.” So pretty much, he clarified what Mic already knew.
Nicolas handed the phone to local police, the chief of which was Buffy’s strict boss, Brick Jackson (yes, that’s his name.) Brick listened to the recording. “While I must admit it is a shame that we cannot question the mastermind,” he started, “I am sure our expert hacker could always-“
“America’s Murder.webs.com.” I said swiftly, having done research overnight.
“Or that.” Brick said. “I am very proud of your entire group. I was actually thinking of shutting the internship unit down, seeing as our economy is. But now I see that would have been a ridiculous choice.”
“Glad to hear it, Mr. Jackson.” I replied.
Brick got out some real badges. Real, bona-fide badges. “I think it’s safe to say, you and Ema are both skilled enough to get the real job.”
“What about Mic?” I was swift to ask before I celebrated.
“Unfortunately, at the moment he is too young to have the real job.” Brick replied. “But he can continue his internship, and only death could stop me from giving him a real job as an eighteenth birthday present.”
“Ooh, I love presents!” Mic shouted. “You better be telling me that you gave my buddies a job, man!”
Brick happily nodded as Ema left the handicapped spot. With Buffy, it was true.
Ema looked at me, still wrapped in the pink blanket that saved my life. Nothing too big, but Special Agent Sam Eastman always comes prepared. Yelling “Whoo-hoo!” she ran over to grab me in her most meaningful hug yet. “You’re alive!” she yelled. “You’re really alive!”
“I think so.” I countered playfully. “I have to admit, these last few days seem so surreal.”
“Now, dude, spill the beans about the blanket.”
I smiled and said “It was Dania’s lucky charm for her entire life. When they left Portland, she gave it to me. You never know when you’ll need a pink My Little Pony blanket.”
Brick handed them both a badge. Ema grinned. “Looks like we’re going Goren and Eames, my good pal.”
“I always did like Law and Order.” I grinned, the blanket still wrapped around the both of us.

Chapter 11-R.I.P.
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
“And just like that, a secret plot to literally destroy America was uncovered-“
“Police found members of this suicide crew planning to blow up the Empire State, the Gateway Arch, Mount Rushmore, even whole towns-“
“I do not hesitate to say that these three teenagers may have saved the entire world.” Dan Saltzman, who ran the police department, said over one of the news stations I was casually flipping through.
You see, a lot had happened during the past month. With the former community of Runouw.com in shambles, Suki, Pete and Nicolas agreed to shut it down. But don’t worry. Nicolas opened his place for all the teens of the area. It was built on the former site of Penumbra Kelly and was called Niklaw’s Tavern, a non-alcoholic tavern with games, friends and a good time. Mic declined the internship, deciding to wait until he was 18, and became Nicolas’ main server. Occasionally Ema played Journey on Rob Stevens’ guitar.
And the others? Mrs. Lee of Belmont library was a strong advocate for its reconstruction, making major ground on the subject. Dan Zeb-Terra was named President of the Testing Department in The Stevens’ Brothers place, and Elwood became his right-hand man, as they put all the differences of the past behind them. A funeral was held for Rob Stevens and Avo Richardson, and, yes, even Rick Stevens, despite the fact that none of their bodies were ever found. Mic, Buffy, Ema and I made it a point to attend all three. Buffy also got fitted for her prosthetic leg and is getting adjusted to it at the moment.
One of the coolest parts of Niklaw’s Tavern was that the police station was hidden underground. This meant that Ema and I could just duck down there anytime necessary. It had gotten a little harder when Buffy decided to quit, becoming a teacher at a local high school instead, but we managed a bunch of smaller cases, but nothing yet in comparison to the time we saved the world.
Anyway, I handed Ema the remote. “Five bucks says that you can’t find any news channel not bragging on us.”
Ema grinned and said “I’ll bet Fox News is in the middle of a fight with Obama right now.”
Mic walked up. “More root beer?”
“A sugar coma is not exactly what I need tonight, Mic.” I grinned. “Besides, I’d rather watch Nicolas teach Suki how to dance.”
“That’s sweet.” Ema smiled warmly.
I decided not to say how I was counting all the times Suki dropped Nicolas.
“All right,” Mic replied as he vanished slowly around a corner of the tavern.
Suddenly, the doors burst open. A young female voice called out “Is Sam Eastman here? Someone? Anyone, please! I gotta find Sam Eastman.”
“I’m Sam Eastman.” I called back.
The teenage girl limped forward. She looked as if she had just gone through the furnaces of the other place. But instantly I recognized her.
“Dania?” I gasped. Ema grabbed my arm.
“Sam…” she muttered weakly.
“Nic, call an ambulance! NOW!” I yelled as Nic dropped Suki this time. Suki leapt to her feet and followed.
“Sam… I’m sorry… sorry… It’s mom and dad.” She gasped. “They’ve… they’ve been k…k…killed.”
I fell to my knees, overcome by absolute shock. It couldn’t be. She must be lying! Dania used to play tricks on me like this all the time! I angrily looked into her hazel eyes and saw nothing but the tormenting truth. Horrified, I buried my head in my hands and wept with a bitterness you have never seen.
Nicolas Locke, the owner of Niklaw’s tavern, yelled “Okay, the tavern is officially closed due to family tragedy. Everyone, I respectfully ask you to leave! If you refuse, my girlfriend here has managed to throw a full-grown adult 100 feet before, and you shall be next!” Suki grinned and punched her palm menacingly. She and Nicolas never abandoned humor, even at a dire time like this where life as I knew it was over.
I was curled up in a ball on the floor, not caring how foolish I looked. My best friend of all time, Ema Felkis, who was a fellow police officer, did, however. She helped me to my feet and looked me square in the face. Her face turned to horror when she saw that I had fallen on my face and given myself a black eye. “Dear god, Sam.” She muttered in shock. “You gotta be more careful.”
I responded by falling like a sack of potatoes into her arms, soaking her shoulder with my tears, my sobs shaking me violently. She didn’t seem to understand. MY PARENTS WERE DEAD! She wrapped her arms around my neck and I could feel her own tears on my neck. That was when I decided to straighten up. Fighting off sobs, I decided to try talking to Dania. “Dania, where was this at?”
She started sobbing herself, and I promise you, I would resurrect my parents to get her to stop crying like that. It killed me inside. She managed to choke out “In Ven- Ven- Venice… we were on a boat, and… someone shot the gondola man… we crashed into a wall… and…” she started sobbing again. Ema was biting her lip to the point of it bleeding, and Nicolas just looked miserably shocked as he grabbed Suki’s hand comfortingly, Suki herself tearing up.
“Dania, please.” I begged her. “I’m a police officer now. If you tell me this stuff, we can find who did this. Me and my police officer friend over there.” I motioned to Ema, who did her best to grin. “Now, when was this?”
“Uhm… a week or two ago...” she sputtered. “I woke up in a nice Old Italian woman’s house; her name was Elia, and she gave me money to fly back to Portland, because I knew you would be there.”
Ema walked over, held her hand and asked “Did she give you any clothes? I think that a nice Italian woman would not let her patient go with tattered clothes.”
Dania started to sob again. “I got off the plane and took the Red Line Train and went downtown… and asked for you. You and Sam were heroes, and they told me to go here. I started to go there, but on the Burnside Bridge, someone threw me over and I fell in the water… and someone from the Portland Spirit fished me out, but I… never saw the son of a…” She went back to sobbing.
I did notice that her leg seemed awfully twisted and said “Nicolas, get that ambulance here, now!”
Formerly Distracted by the whole ordeal, Nicolas got Suki’s cell phone out, since his had been blown up in Providence Hospital, and dialed 9-1-1. Ema stood up when Dania said one more shocking detail.
“The man… who killed mom and dad… he was a friend of ours… his name was… Robert Stevens…”
Mic left the bathroom to this scene, oblivious to the events, and asked cheerfully, “What’d I miss?”

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 12 – Jack Walker- Life in Buffy’s World

Buffy Clark's Narration

"James! I do not want to have to tell you again! Put…away…your…stupid…cell phone!"

My class was being terrible today. They could not focus at all. I sighed. Teenagers. Can only focus on their boyfriends, girlfriends, making sure they curse at least twice in every sentence, and their cell phones. Sometimes I wondered why I had quit the police, but I knew very well. Even on a prosthetic leg, I couldn't function as a cop.

"Now," I continued, "since you appear to know so much about the material that we are covering that you feel comfortable texting instead of paying attention, James, why don't you tell me a little about the role of DNA in forensics?"

James's eyes widened. He nervously shuffled his feet and looked at his friends, a request for help in his gaze. But in this time of great need, James's friends didn't respond.

"Uh, I don't know, Miss Clark," he said, his humiliation complete.

"My point exactly," I said, satisfied. "The next time I see somebody with their cell phone out, I will take it, and your parents will have to come get it back. I don't like being strict, but I'll do what I have to do." The bell rang, and immediately the class started to pack up their notebooks and textbooks. "All right, don't forget your homework is to read pages 108-115 in the textbook and answer the questions on page 116!"

Slowly, the class filed out, leaving me alone. I plopped into a chair and sagged down into it. Man, being a teacher can be stressful. I took a minute to catch her breath, and then turned to my computer to enter some grades in.

"Hello Buffy."

I wheeled around and saw Mic standing in the doorway of the classroom. Mic immediately strolled in and took a look around. "Nice classroom you got," he said. "Kind of plain compared to the blood-stained walls at the station, but hey, I like a thrill, so…"

I cracked up. "Mic…" I said, still chuckling, "you haven't slacked off in the humor department." I stood up and limped towards him, then shook his hand. "Great to see you, Mic," I said happily.

"You too," he said. "So, how's the leg?"

"Oh, not too bad," I replied, pulling up my right pants leg to reveal an impressive prosthetic, which looked fairly realistic. "I'm walking a little better now. Still not as good as it used to, but at least I can walk. How are things at the department? How are Sam and Ema?"

"Well, that's what I came to talk to you about," said Mic, motioning towards my desk. I sat back in my desk chair while Mic pulled up a chair to the other side of the desk. "The Runouw case has been reopened," Mic continued. "Sam's parents were killed in parents by a family friend named Rob Stevens, according to Sam's sister Dania."

I gasped. "How is that possible?" I said incredulously. "Rob is dead!"

"I know. There are more details, but we can explain them to you later. Here's why I really came. We want you back, Buffy. Just for this case, if nothing else. The four of us started this case, and the department and we feel that we should finish it. So, are you in?"

I sat back in her chair in shock. Instinctively, this was what I wanted more than anything else, but practically, I was a cripple and a teacher. "Mic…I'm sorry…but what I mean is that I'm a teacher now. I redid my whole life to become a teacher, and I'm not going to undo all of that just because of a single case. I'm sorry, but…I just can't."

Mic stood up. "All right. We'd love to have you, but if that's your choice, hey, I can respect that." He started to walk out of the room, but stopped at the doorway. Looking back, he added, "You know, if you change your mind, all you have to do is show up at the PD." And with that, he left.

I watched him go, and then slumped back in her chair. The truth was I missed the excitement and the fun of being a cop. I looked again at my prosthetic leg, then swiveled my chair back around and got back to entering grades into the computer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam Eastman's Narration

"OK," said Ema. "Here are the facts. Sam's parents were apparently murdered in Venice by Rob Stevens. His sister, Dania, was apparently knocked unconscious, because she later woke up in the house of a woman named Elia, who paid for her flight ticket home. I have confirmed this with Elia."

Mic nodded, but I only responded by keeping my head on the table. My muffled sobs could be heard, and upon reflection, it must have been quite awkward to Ema and Mic. In order to overpower my sobs, I suspect, Ema quickly continued, "Later, in Portland, Dania was thrown over the Burnside Bridge and was rescued by somebody from the Portland Spirit, whose name I have learned is Gary. He confirmed that he rescued Dania. Dania is now at OSHU receiving treatment for her leg and we are here."

"Now, here are the holes in the story. The glaring one is that the murderer was apparently Rob Stevens, who is believed to be deceased. Second, the bodies of Sam's parents were not found. Third, why did Dania end up in the house of an old woman instead of in police custody? Fourth, why didn't Elia give Dania better clothes? Fifth, who threw Dania over the bridge, why, and is this in any way connected to the events in Venice?"

"And sixth," I said, looking up and speaking for the first time during the briefing, "Dania described Rob Stevens as a friend, when to the best of my knowledge none of my family knew him. I only heard of him when I found out he was dead."

"All right," said Mic. "So, we need to interrogate Dania and Elia and inquire with the Venetian police about the bodies of Sam's parents and why they didn't take Dania into their custody. We need to see if there were any witnesses to Dania being pushed over the Burnside Bridge and try to get a description of whoever pushed her. We also need to look into any potential relationship between Rob Stevens and the Eastman’s."

At that moment, the door to the soundproof briefing room swung open. Mic, and Ema, and I turned their heads and unison to face the new visitor: Buffy.

"Sorry I'm late guys," she said. "So, what's the story, Morning Glory?"

Chapter 13-Cameron Johnson-Spirit of Portland
(Narration of Mic Davis)

I gave Buffy a big thumbs-up as she sauntered into the room unsteadily. Ema, chipper as ever, belted out a, "Hey, Buffy! Great to see you." Even Sam lifted his head up and smiled. Buffy responded with a weak smile, trying not to cry from the looks of it. Even though Buffy was only a couple years older than Ema and Sam, she never lost that motherly instinct.

I took a couple of minutes to explain everything out to Buffy. She nodded and summed it up, not taking a breath, with, "This girl nearly gets killed with her parents in Venice by a guy we think is dead and gets rescued by a random Italian with no new clothes or medical care, decides to come to Portland, gets thrown off a bridge, is fished out by someone on a cruise ship and crawls halfway across town to tell us that Sam's folks got killed."

Sam nodded.

"Dang! This case has more plot twists than National Treasure!"

Sam chuckled and said, "I just wonder one thing? Is this going to become a chain? Do we have anything to worry about?"

"Of course not!" our uber-positive Ema replied. "Rob Stevens could have done this before he got killed in Portland."

"But you do know, Ema," he replied, "that the body was never found. It's been a month since the murder was solved. He had plenty of time to go to Venice and... And... Oh god, please don't let me start crying again."

Ema gave him a comforting hug as Buffy added, "But Nicolas saw Rob Stevens dead. And his lie detector thing checked out! Rob Stevens is dead, Sam. And you didn't have to do a thing."

Sam sighed, depressed. "So is this open and shut?"

"It would seem this way, only we have a few people to e-mail. The Venice Police, first off. Ask them to talk to Elia, our mysterious Italian friend. We need to find our friend from the Spirit, find the guy who tried to kill Dania, and find our crucial connection." Ema replied. "And for God's sake, Sam. I know what has happened to you, but try to smile a little. You're depressing me, and we all know how hard that is."

Sam had to laugh at that.

I grabbed my backpack and told everyone, "Well, it's been fun, but I gotta go. I don't work with you guys and I'm expected somewhere by a friend in the hospital."

Almost nonchalantly, Sam replied "Well, okay, see ya." I left the room, a little relieved that Sam wasn't suspicious of me seeing his sister at OHSU.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Narration of Ema Felkis)

Sam set down his laptop bag in my lap. "Well," he stated, "I have my computer here, if you can find any piece-of-crap wifi, be my guest."

Sam and his Wi-Fi. I grinned and researched the Venice police department, and to make a long email short, I told them to talk to our Miss Elia about bla-bla-bla…sincerely, Ema Felkis, Portland Oregon Police Officer. POPO. Funny acronym, if you ask me.

Buffy was on her way to visit Gary, our angel on the ferry, (really catchy, that oughta be a song title) and we were on our way to the Burnside Bridge. With the oddest thing you could think of, a life-size doll of…me.

As you may imagine, when I got that thing out, Sam was instantly intrigued. Intrigued as in he immediately started pestering me about what the heck that was.

"You see, Sam," I said grinning, greatly enjoying this, "If this is in any way related to the Runouw.com case, the guy will want to kill me, so if he tries to throw me off the bridge, he will instead throw my dummy, or at the very least try to attack it. By the time he realizes it is a fake, we will have caught him and arrested him."

"So basically, it's a sting." Sam replied.

I grinned and nodded.
We arrived at the Burnside Bridge, just north of the Saturday Arts Market that was taking place, despite today being Sunday. People were abuzz on Waterfront Park, wandering the many kiosks and tents with vendors of anything from earrings to paintings. The Portland Spirit was docked by a further away bridge, the Hawthorne, whose Green Hues were recognizable a half-mile away. Rain had started to kamikaze from the sky in gigantic Only-In-Oregon drops, creating puddles and sheets of water almost instantaneously. The sky was gray with clouds, blotting out all hints that a sun did exist.
Sam was very amused at the life-size Ema dummy. "How'd you do it?" he asked me. "I mean, I would easily mistake it for you."
I shrugged. "Powell's Books had it up when we were signing the book about the original Runouw murders. I just took it back with me."
"Oh, I thought that was your reflection in the backseat while you were driving us back." He shrugged as we lifted it out of the trunk over on Second Street. He grunted as I lifted it up on his shoulders. "Okay, I really wish it would walk itself like you can." he groaned. "This thing supposed to weigh as much as you, because I think that they added a little too much sand. This thing could break an elephant's back!"
I was too busy snorting and giggling in delight, watching as he dropped the dummy on the ground, taking him with it. He yelled out a bunch of obscenities and kicked it once or twice.
I giggled again and shouted "That's supposed to be me! Who’s the real dummy now?"
He gasped, helped it up before someone called the cops for assault and battery, and started carrying it to the bridge, set it on the bridge, arms folded on the ledge as if she was taking in the view, wished it luck and ran back to the cop car.
5 minutes. 15 minutes. 30 minutes. Staring at a godforsaken lifelike representation of me do nothing but look at the same dang view for a half-an-hour. NOTHING.
I yawned and said "Well Sam, think we should go pick it up and call it a day." Sam nodded and went to get the dummy and abuse it back to the car. Sam was about to grab the dummy when someone, a short, fat Asian man in his thirties pushed it over the edge. I knew I knew that person, I just couldn’t figure out whom.
That same person then pushed Sam over the edge.
I shouted a loud “OHMYGOD!” and ran over to where Sam was just at. To a slight bit of relief, Sam was hanging on the edge, but the screaming was really starting to give me a headache. Oh… I guess I never mentioned Sam had a fear of heights, did I?
Anyway, he was belting out a ton of “OHMYGOD”s, a few “OH CRAP”s and one “DON’T JUST STAND THERE, HELP ME, EMA!” That last one got me into action. I tried grabbing his hands, but I think that it must be a medical fact that Fear improves your grip. The Portland Spirit was pulling through as I tried very unsuccessfully to make Sam let go so I could grab him. I looked down at the cruise ship and saw that Buffy was having a very nice conversation with a guy about her age. What happened to investigating Gary, woman?
“BUFFY!” I shouted as the ship started pulling through, forcing the lift up (and us up on the lift.) “Stop the ship!” I threw my badge down towards her, which plopped into the water a few feet away from the boat. “Uhm… Oops…”
I didn’t know Buffy kept her old badge with her. “Okay, stop the boat! We have two endangered police officers on the lift. I repeat, stop the boat by order of law!”
The lift couldn’t stop though. We were practically vertical as I fell on top of Sam, who was still hanging on for dear life. Now I was holding on to him, who was holding on to the Bridge, which was going up, and we went down the side of the ledge, getting a heck of a friction burn, and then we hit a lamppost, which shot a ripple of pain through my arm.
Buffy was getting out inflatable raft after inflatable raft. I thought Jeez, lady; there are only two people here. You gonna evacuate the city? It took me a moment to see that she was setting up a pile of rafts house-of-cards-style, for us to fall on. She was about halfway through when I told Sam “You gotta let go?”
“No way, man.” He replied, petrified.
“You don’t let go now, not only are we gonna die when that bridge squishes us against the light pole like it is now, our guts are going to rain down on Buffy and about a hundred other people who watch us get painfully killed.” I was getting sick and tired of this.
Sam took a second to mull that over. I was thinking OH MY GOD WHAT IS THERE TO MULL OVER!
“C’mon, Sam. Just trust me. I’m like one of the few people on this earth you CAN trust.”
That made Sam let go.
We fell neatly on top of the first raft, and the rest, pushed by the force, flew out everywhere, one knocking over Buffy and her mystery friend, but, hey, we lived. Our Ema dummy, not so much.
Sam and I landed side-to-side. I had made sure to make a 90 degree barrel roll so he didn’t land on top of me, because that would both hurt and be just plain awkward. Sam took a few breaths, adrenalized, and said “That… that… that was soooooo cool!”
I grinned and said “You gotta trust me more!”
“So who was that who pushed us, deductress?” Sam asked me. Okay, so I turn a little red every time he calls me that. So what?
I replied with an “I know I recognized him, he was short, fat, Asian, maybe 35, do you remember?”
Sam’s eyes widened as he realized who it was. “No wonder you can’t remember, he knocked you over with Stevens’ guitar, remember?”
I gasped. “Now we really have a connection. Brock Lee knocked us over. But… how did he survive the explosion?”
Sam replied with “He must have been working with Rick and possibly Rob Stevens.”
I gasped, realizing if that was true, he kidnapped his own daughter (Suki for those not keeping track) and was going to kill her brother (His Own FREAKING Son!)
Buffy winked at me and asked “You two having fun there?”
Almost simultaneously, we jumped up, pretty dang embarrassed. We hardly noticed the hundred people there. I asked Buffy “Who on earth is that? And where’s Gary?”
Buffy winked at me again as Sam walked over next to me. “This is Gary Davidson, a server on the Portland Spirit, who also happens to be my boyfriend.”
I love plot twists like this.


Chapter 14-The War of the Roses-Jack Walker
(Ema continues to hog the narration.)
"So, all you know is that you saw Dania falling from the bridge and then you rescued her?"
"That's right," responded Gary, who was sitting in an interrogation room with Sam, Buffy, and I.
"And you didn't see who threw her down?" Buffy continued.
"No ma'am."
"All right," said Buffy. "You're free to go."
Gary smiled at Buffy, "Thanks, babe."
Buffy blushed. "Uh…no problem, Gary."
Gary grinned wider, then stood up and left the room. There was an awkward silence as they waited for the sound of Gary's footsteps to vanish, until Sam broke it with a wolf whistle. “Ooh-la-la, Buffy.” I giggled.
"Oh shut up," said Buffy as Sam and I burst into laughter. We laughed for nearly a minute straight, and all Buffy could do was sit there trying as hard as she could not to look thoroughly embarrassed, and she failed miserably. At length we calmed down, at which point I cleared my throat.
"All right," I said. "So, we have learned one key thing from all of this. Brock Lee is alive and involved. This means if we can track him down, he probably knows a lot about what’s going on."
"Sounds about right, deductress," Sam said. Now I blushed, and Buffy raised an eyebrow. Sam, meanwhile, seemed to enjoy watching everybody else except him get embarrassed, as he was grinning from ear to ear. "Anyway," he continued, "That should definitely be our top priority-"
But at that moment he was cut off by the entrance of Brandon Martinez, assistant to the boss of the Portland Police Department. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but we have a new trainee who the boss wants to join your group. Like yourselves not too long ago, a youth, a future police officer."
We all looked at each other. Of all the things that could have happened to this case, this was the one we all least wanted. We had such great chemistry as a team, and we had practically grown up with this case. Brandon seemed to know what we were thinking, and gave us a sympathetic look. Then he walked out of the room. We sat in silence for thirty seconds, at which point the new trainee entered the room. I was somewhat relieved that it was a girl: a little over five feet tall, brown hair, green eyes, kind of pretty, dressed in uniform and all of that fun stuff. I glanced at the others; Buffy looked a little more relaxed than before, whereas Sam appeared to be absolutely appalled.
"Hi," she said rather enthusiastically, also to my delight. "My name's Kim. Kim Clayton. Pleasure to meet all of you!" She then walked forward and grabbed a seat.
There was a short, awkward pause. Nobody knew what to say. Finally, Sam said, "Crud! We're outnumbered now! Now this whole case will be trashed!" Buffy, Kim and I looked at each other, completely confused. Sam continued, "I don't know if I'm gonna survive this case with girls running the show. Their poor judgment and stuff will definitely send us in the complete wrong direction. Like when Ema used to drive, remember?"
Another pause, at which point I broke into laughter, and while laughing slapped Sam across the face, though not as hard as I would if I were really mad. Buffy started laughing too, followed shortly by Sam, and finally Kim, albeit kind of awkwardly. I knew this much; she was gonna have fun adjusting to us weird people. We then proceeded to all welcome Kim to the group and shake her hand and stuff (I jokingly added that we kill people who screw up, so to beware). We all seemed to like her enough. Then Buffy, Sam, and I summarized the case up to this point and brought Kim up to speed on recent events. She appeared to be competent, which was good.
"So," Sam said in conclusion, "our top priority is to track down Brock Lee and find out what he knows. Hopefully that will give us some insight into what is going on."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Kim cheerfully. "Let's go!" I really liked her…she definitely had my enthusiasm, cheerfulness, and energy. But I was definitely better looking. No doubt ab - wait, sorry, that sounded really egocentric. Um, yeah…anyway…
"Well," said Sam, taking out his cell phone, "we ought to get a hold of Mic, I think." He hit a few buttons, and then held his cell phone up to his ear. After a few rings, I heard, "Hi. Mic Davis. I'm probably ignoring you. Leave a message, and there's a slight chance I'll get back to you. Have fun frantically trying to reach me," followed by a beep.
"Hey Mic," said Sam. "We need you back at the station. If you could get here as soon as possible, I'd appreciate it, thanks."
"Well," I began, "now what?"
"Why don't I take Kim here and we'll start our search for our good friend Mr. Lee and give her a little experience in the field under my supervision while you two go to - Where did he say he was going again? The hospital? Yes, that's right - the hospital and try and salvage Mic?" replied Buff.
"Sounds good," said Sam. "We'll catch up with you later!"
"All right!" said Kim. "I get to see some action!" Buff smiled mischievously, stood up, and slowly hobbled out of the room behind Kim. After they left, Sam and I looked at each other.
"Heh," he said. "Newbies."
Sam and I sat in silence as we drove to OHSU. I watched as signs passed us by, lacking anything better to do. Actually, I was trying to figure out what I thought about Kim. On the one hand, I liked her personality and stuff, or at least that was my impression upon first meeting. On the other hand, I didn't like the idea of another member on our team. Maybe this was silly, but I sort of worried that it would somehow cause conflict within the group. Like, maybe she would get in the way of the relationship we all have each other and stuff as friends and whatnot - I don't know. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Suddenly, Sam broke the silence. "Hey Ema."

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Who do you think Mic is visiting at the hospital?"

"You know, I didn't even think about that…maybe a friend?"

Sam glared at me. OK, that wasn't the response he was looking for. I realized what he was thinking.

"Oh, come on!" I said. "He's probably visiting a friend he knows. And if he really is visiting Dania, he's probably just interrogating her."

"So why didn't he just say that? Why did he say 'a friend?'“?

"Cause he's probably not visiting Dania! Why are you so worried? So if he really is visiting Dania, he's visiting Dania!" I sighed. "Look, what are you thinking?"

He groaned. "I…I don't…never mind," he said angrily, slamming the car horn as another car cut him off as he turned into the hospital. For the first time I think I ever did see, did our saintly Sam just give the other driver the bird?

"Come on, just tell me," I said, determined.

He looked at me, and then turned back to the steering wheel as he maneuvered into a parking spot. He said nothing. I sighed. I think I knew what he was thinking, but I wished that he would be a little more open with me. Not for any particular reason, I just…oh, never mind.

We exited the car and started walking to the doors of the hospital. I had unpleasant memories about this hospital as a result of earlier events that were part of this case. I think Sam was thinking about the same thing, seeing his eyes were darting around everywhere as though he were worried he'd see Rick Stevens or somebody in his little organization.

We entered and approached the front desk. "May I help you?" said the stereotypical old female secretary.

"Hi," I said. "We're looking for a young man named Mic Davis. He told us he was coming here to visit a friend and we were wondering where we could find him."

"Sure," said the secretary, picking a list off of her desk and scanning it. "Ah, yes, Mic Davis. He went up to Room 218. Take the elevator to the second floor, and then turn left. You'll find it on the right hand side of the hallway."

"Thank you," I said, grabbing Sam's arm to pull him away, but alas, he still asked the question I was dreading. "Can you tell me the name of the patient in that room?" he asked.

"Her name's Dania Eastman" - at this point Sam turned to me, his face contorted with rage - "Sweet girl. Had a nasty accident and hurt her leg, the poor dear."

"Uh, thanks," I said, quickly pulling Sam away. I walked quickly towards the nearby elevator, dragging Sam behind me, who now appeared to be in a state of shock. I quickly pushed the button, the doors opened, and we entered. Fortunately nobody else got in the elevator with us. As soon as the doors shut, I turned to Sam and said, "What's the matter with you? So he's visiting Dania. So what? What's the big deal? I mean…you act like this is a capital offense or something!"

"I don't know," was all he said before the doors opened again and we were moving. We turned left, walked down the hallway a little ways, and reached Room 218. Sam reached out his hand to open the closed door.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Don't you think you should-"

But before I could finish my suggestion to knock first, he opened the door - actually, he practically slammed the door open - to reveal a shocking sight. Mic was sitting in a chair next to Dania's bed, and they were holding hands, their faces a lot closer than needed. Almost immediately they let go, and both of their faces turned red in embarrassment, but both Sam and I could see it. Sam's face nearly turned purple, and because he looked like he was about to punch somebody, I quickly grabbed his arms to restrain him.

Mic stood up and approached us. Now he appeared angry. He motioned to us to step outside, and we followed, I was still grabbing Sam's arms tightly. Mic shut the door and then rounded on us.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he began in what I like to call a yell whisper. "I'm trying to interrogate her and you just come barging in! Don't you have the manners to at least knock?"

"And what the hell do you think you're doing?" responded Sam, taking a step forward. "Interrogating? Hah! I didn't realize holding hands was part of interrogation!"

"She was sobbing her head off, for Christ's sake! I was only trying to comfort her!"

"She didn't appear to be crying when I came in!" Sam replied, raising his voice.

Mic shook his head and sighed angrily. "Look, can you give me two more minutes? I'll be right with you guys."

"Oh sure," said Sam. "Why don't you just go back in there and hold her hand some more? While you're at it, why don't you two kiss a few times?"

"Sam!" I cried. He was taking this way too far.

"Don't you Sam me!" he replied. "I've had enough of this!" And as he said that, he wrenched his right arm, his dominant arm, out of my grasp, flinging me against the opposite wall in the process, and then punched Mic squarely in the face. Mic was thrown back against the wall, his nose bleeding. Oh crud, I thought.

"Come on, Sam!" cried Mic. "Be reasonable."

"Make me!" said Sam, as he threw another punch. Mic blocked this one, however, and then kicked Sam in the stomach. I watched, exasperated, as the two started a full-fledged fight in the hospital hallway. I rushed forward into the midst of the battle and shouted, "Stop it!" only to accidentally be punched in the face by Sam. This made both of them stop mid-punch as I fell to the floor.

Sam stood frozen for a second, and then rushed over to help me up. "Ema…I'm sorry…"

"Let go of me!" I shrieked, and he withdrew his hand. Now I was hysterical. "What is wrong with you? Why can't you control yourself?"

"Ema…I'm sorry…please…" Sam said, pleading now. Again he reached out a hand to help me up.

"Don't touch me! DON'T YOU EVEN DARE TOUCH ME!!!”

"Guys, will you shut up?" boomed Mic. He had a pretty deep voice. "Look at you! You're a mess! Just because there's a little misunderstanding doesn't mean that we all have to start screaming till we can't scream anymore! I understand why Sam was angry, but we don't need to start World War III over it! If you keep this up, we're gonna get kicked out of here! So just stop it!" Sam and I just stared at Mic, his presence rather intimidating at that particular moment. I give a lot of credit to him; if I were him, I would've beaten Sam to a pulp rather than forgive him, as Mic appeared to be doing. Mic took a deep breath, and then continued, "Look, why don't you two go wash yourselves up? I'm going back in to finish with Dania. We'll meet back here in two or three minutes, all right?"

Sam and I were too tired to argue. We nodded, then helped each other up and started walking to the restrooms. Mic, meanwhile, went back into Dania's room. Sam and I walked in complete silence, not even looking at the faces staring at us as we walked by. Sam then entered the men's restroom and I the woman's. I was relieved that it was deserted. I walked over to the sink and turned on some warm water and started washing the blood off my face. I kept thinking to myself, I can't believe that Sam did that. He clearly needs to work on his temper. I finished removing the blood from my face, then pulled out a comb to fix my disheveled hair. Hey, don't judge me. That's what girls do, all right? Live with it. I then exited the restroom and went back to the door to Room 218 and stood against the wall opposite it. A minute later Sam returned and stood next to me. I didn't look at him, and he didn't look at me. We just stared into space, thinking about whatever. Finally, after about a minute, Sam said, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just lost my temper, all right?"

I said nothing, turning away from him. I knew he was being sincere, but I was still kind of angry. "Will you forgive me?" he asked, desperately hoping for a response.

I didn't say anything for a moment, but at long last, I said, "Yeah, we’re cool."

Sam smiled. "Good," he said. "I'm glad." He reached for my hand, which I let him take. "Hey," he said. "Why don't I make it up to you? I'll take you to Niklaw's Tavern tonight and we'll hang out with Nico and Suki and stuff, all right?"

I looked at him and smiled too. "Sure," I said. "That sounds like fun."

Sam was about to respond, but before he could, the door to Room 218 opened slowly. Mic was standing there, in the doorway, a look of complete shock on his face. He slowly stepped forward, and then nearly lost his balance. Sam and I rushed forward to steady him.

"What happened?" I asked fearfully.

Mic just stood there, still in complete shock. "Mic!" I cried, slapping him across the face a couple of times to bring him to his senses. Finally, he turned his head towards me and said, "My parents. They're going for my parents."

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 15 – The Plight of Davis

Mic steals the narration away from an addicted Ema

Shocked, Sam fell to his knees. Maybe that would have been a lot more meaningful if he had remembered to let go of Ema. She fell on top of him in a heap, half embarrassed, half surprised. I tried to hold in snickers. After all, this was serious.

The two stood up swiftly, almost slipping again on the linoleum floor, and then said in unison, “How'd you figure this out?”

“Phone call from a restricted number with a creepy voice changer. He told me where he was and…and…” I kicked the wall in fury, “that son of a gun let me talk to my parents. They’re in trouble, and the guy…he’s toying with me or something…he said I had a half-hour before a bomb goes off and blows up our house.”

Sam swore viciously. “Well, what are we waiting for? We’re burning bomb oil!”

I put my hand up and said “Hold up. In this entire BS business I left my jacket in Dania’s room. I swear to god, I’ll be right back, Sam.”

“You’d better,” was his response, laced lightly with venom. Ema put a hand on his shoulder and said “Let’s call Kim and Buffy, let them know to meet us over at Mic’s place, A.S.A.P.”

I started running into Dania’s room. She looked surprised. “Mic, it’s gonna be okay.” She reassured me.

I looked at her, black curls a mess, leg broken, and orphaned. “You’re not a prime example of things turning out okay.”

She looked at me. “You’re not me, Mic.”

She had a point. “Touché. I’ll be back as soon as I can, all right? We can talk some more.”

She smiled. “I’d be pleased to see you again.”

I nodded, turning slightly red despite my best efforts to hide it, and left.
You may be wondering, what on Earth was I doing with Dania in there? Well, to be honest, I was actually just talking to her about the case. And the average person who loses their parents and sees it is going to be rather hysterical, so… yeah. Not that’d I’d hold her hand for any other reason, sure, she’s nice, but I’m much too scared of Sam to hold her hand or anything, but in this case I felt need to comfort her. Yeah, even I have emotions. Back to the story.
Running down the halls again, I found Sam with his hand on Ema’s face, both of them turning red when they saw me. All I could think of was the nine letter word “hypocrite.” Okay, that and “Oh my God.”

“Ahem.” I signaled my arrival.

“She still had blood on her face, if you must know,” was Sam’s defense. It was quite flimsy and weak if you ask me.

My response was much less violent than his. I rolled my eyes and scoffed, “Oh, sure! Face it; you two have been eyeing each other, like, forever. Now come on,” I added. “We'd better hurry.”

-------------------------------------------------

Narration of Buffy Clark

Kim and I walked down a street in some of the seedier parts of North Portland - N Rosa Parks to be exact, by Peninsular Park - talking about girl stuff. I told her about Gary, and she told me about Chris, her boyfriend. They had been dating for nearly a year, like Gary and I. We approached the Rose Garden, a beautiful fixture in such a ghetto.

“So how long have these people been working for you?” Kim asked me.

“About half a year, as a matter of fact.” I replied. “These guys are really starting to grow on me.”

“That’s cool.” Kim replied. That’s when I tripped over my prosthetic, and it fell off. Kim screamed in absolute horror and started to run. I hope she never is by someone who loses a real leg, her running off like that.

“No, Kim, No! It’s okay! It’s a prosthetic! I’m all right!” I called after her, suddenly recalling how I used those words when I first lost my leg. Absolute shock. It drives the mind mad.

She stopped in her tracks. “You mean your leg didn’t just fall off?”

“Technically, yes, but no harm done anymore,” I replied. “Now can you hand it to me? I need to put it back on.”

She walked over, handed it to me and asked, “How’d you lose it? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking of course.”

I sighed. “Well, I was in a library when it blew up. Lost a leg, but, hey, better than your life.”

She nodded. “On this case?”

“Indeed. Other damages include Sam's parents.”

She gasped. “Wow, now I’m scared.” Then she giggled nervously. She was pretty funny, that girl.

“Well, no sign of Brock anywhere.” I used my peripherals to look around. “I was told he was here often, and after that incident, he sure wouldn’t be at home.”

“Well, maybe he’s just on the run.” Kim suggested.

“That’d make sense.” I sighed when my phone rang. Life in Technicolor, II to be exact. This only meant one thing. Two, actually. The first being that it wasn’t Mic.

“Sam?” I asked upon answering. “Whatcha need?”

“Bad news. Mic got a phone call from someone holding his parents hostage. We have thirty minutes.”

I fell to the ground, swearing by accident into the phone.

Sam’s slight snickers weren’t much of a sign that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hear me. “Uhm, Buffy, you’re on speakerphone.”

I slapped my forehead. “Ugh, well, where does he live?”

“72nd and Lambert, SE Portland. I’ll see you there.”

"I thought he lived in apartment 254 off Harney Street? Remember? He chose the numbers for his Runouw.com membership after that."

"Not a bad memory. He moved."

“Oh," I said. "See you there.” I hung up. I turned to Kim and told her “Back to the car, as fast as you can run. Mic’s parents are in trouble. We have thirty minutes.”

She looked confused. “Who’s Mic again?”

“The one that wasn’t there.” I helped her out.

“Oh, yeah. My bad.” She replied, breaking off in a speedy sprint. I tried to get up, taking three times to do so. Getting up on a prosthetic is like getting up on skis. I envied Kim.

-------------------------------------------------

Narration of Sam Eastman

We turned on our sirens and lights, and then, to put it humorously, tried to see how many traffic laws we could break if we weren't cops. Mic was in the backseat, Ema in the front. I could not shake what Mic had said about us eyeing each other. Mostly because I didn’t know if it was true or not. Being a teenager is so weird…good thing it was almost over.

I blew through a stoplight at Powell and Milwaukee, crashing two cars behind me. That’s what sirens are for, people. They’re not just for fun. Then I found a semi had blocked my lane and forced me onto an exit heading the wrong way. I followed the ramp, then, suddenly, blew over the concrete onto the other lane, and then off the bridge over Powell altogether. Ema screamed louder than I thought humans could scream. A friggin banshee in the seat next to me.
We landed on Powell wheels first, and man did I feel like an action hero. Take that, Jason Bourne.

Ema grabbed my hand and told me, “That was amazing!”

Mic just started hyperventilating. Oh crap, I scared him more crapless than before…and believe me that would be practically impossible.

I grinned as Ema followed up with “But don’t ever do that again.”

People in their cars were parting the way like Moses in the Red Sea; a cliché metaphor, I know, but it seems appropriate. We passed Cleveland High School, where Ema and I first met. I realized our hands had never left each other, turned a few shades of red, and gently let go. Jeez, we really support Mic in his beliefs, don’t we?

I turned down Foster a few minutes later. Suddenly, a car sped up next to us at remarkable speeds, going as fast as we were. We hadn’t time for speeders right now, so I ignored him. But then the guy started ramming our car viciously, knocking us into oncoming traffic. I pulled a pit maneuver on the car, causing him to spin into the George Morlan plumbing store and knock its huge, famed sign down.

“Who was that?” I gasped.

“An enemy, by the looks of it.” Ema replied.

“I know that, Em, but who?”

She shrugged as we continued to blow through speed lights and lanes of traffic. Finally, 72nd avenue. I took a right and put the pedal to the metal. We were there four minutes later. We had spent about 21 minutes getting there, due to godforsaken traffic on the Ross Island Bridge.

I threw the car door open, jumped out into the house by Stonewall Market and burst open the door.

I ain’t ever seen a bomb that big since Suki attacked us.

Mic’s parents sat in chairs around the bomb, tied up and gagged, the usual. I delicately yet swiftly ripped the tape off their faces. Mic's mom started gasping for air, and then started to spill out words. “He…he…he…he was here…he had a bomb…he has a bomb…he was dressed like a ninja, too.”

There goes any possible clue as to who he might be. Except if he still looks like a Ninja. Maybe he lives with his mother.

Ema burst in. “Oh, shoot; that's a big bomb!” she gasped, eyes bugging.

Mic followed. “Buffy’s here! How long has the timer?”

I looked down, and my eyes bugged. Three minutes. I swore again, and then muttered an apology for my un-professional behavior.

Mic started to unravel the bomb from the chair, and said, “I’ll get rid of this!” Before his parents could stop him, he ran out, carrying the thing with his arms and adrenaline. Pardon me from going all Nico-ish on you, but it's a bloody miracle he didn't collapse under its weight, considering it was practically twice his size. He dashed across SE Flavel Street over to an abandoned storefront, jumping through a window inside it.

I looked outside. Mic’s parents were safe, but Mic was not. Buffy had brought a few cars of reinforcements, and all fifteen of them were investigating the area, if by investigating you mean tearing up the lawn and heading into the house. The Davises didn’t care. Their son was running to the abandoned Red Apple Market with a gigantic bomb in his arms. What else could matter?

Buffy ran over to me. “What is Mic doing?”

“He's going to buy apples. What does it look like he's doing?” I asked anxiously. Kim eyed the building fearfully, glued to the sight like it was a new episode of NCIS or the Amazing Race, which are shows that get me glued to the screen.

Ema put a hand on my shoulder. I looked over at her and said, “I don’t see any more blood on your face, do you?”

She replied with a giggle; brief as it was, it helped me calm down. She always does.

Suddenly, the Red Apple Market Blew up.

And Mic was running out, with only a second to spare, straight to his parents.
Chapter 16 – Hitting the Road

Narration of Buffy Clark

I couldn’t be happier as I saw Mic hug his parents, crying shamelessly, with a mixture of both joy and sadness. Man, I felt like I was going to cry as I bit my lip. Even Sam couldn’t help but grin like the Joker… a lot less nightmare-giving, true, but you get the picture. Ema grabbed his arm and I could tell she was biting her own lip. Kim was still a little shaken over the Red Apple Market blow-up, but, hey, newbies usually never are prepared for their first explosion.

Suddenly, a civilian car pulled up. A 2004 Scion TC with a giant Brown N on the side. Oh bloody lawd.

Nicolas Locke stepped out of it, followed by his Japanese girlfriend – Suki, I believe. “Bloody ‘eck!” he cried out. “The boy’s parents are alive! Good on ya, mate!”

Mic stood up and grinned.

“Who’s the handsome guy?” Kim asked me.

“Um, he’s taken, Kim, and come to think of it, so are you,” I replied incredulously.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Gosh,” was the snappy reply.

“God almighty, we miss everything, Suki!” he laughed. Okay, he wasn’t supposed to be here, but nothing lights up the mood like a visit from Nicolas.

Sam gave him a thumbs-up, causing Nicolas and Suki to duck under the yellow tape and meet up with the two real officers. Meanwhile, Mic requested and was granted 24-hour surveillance around his house to make sure his parents were protected.

Suki, just about always quiet, asked, “What did we miss? I mean, besides everything?”

Ema, our gleeful narrator, kindly filled in the details for her as Nico went to see Mic. “Well, lookee here!” Nicolas called out. “May I get ev’ryone’s attention, please? Don’t be making me get my bloody bullhorn!”

“He does have a bloody bullhorn!” Suki added. Then I heard her whisper to Nicolas, “How did you get blood on the bullhorn, that’s what I’d like to know. You’re not going around killing people, are you?” Nic laughed a little but didn’t care to explain.

The small crowd of me, Ema, Sam, Mic, his parents, A few police officers turned their attention to a freakishly tall and very unorthodox Australian and his usually quiet Asian girlfriend, both of whom were 17 years of age. For the older police officers, that shows respect.

“Our little friend Mic over here has had the best, most movie-script-type day of his life today. And when I say movie-script-type, I say that in the way that he saves his parents, and nearly catches a criminal. Anyway, a round of applause to our young hero, Mic Davis!” Nicolas walked away, holding his thumbs up as he went. The nearby people shrugged and started clapping, Ema jumping up in the air and cheering. After a few seconds, he turned back to face the crowd, a bullhorn with fake blood-stains in his hand (at least I hope they’re fake.)

“And one more thing - I will personally be holding a celebration for everyone here regardless of age in the honor of Mic Davis and his friends, Sam, Ema, new girl and Buffy, at my tavern on 47th, abso-friggin-lutely free of charge!” he shouted through his bullhorn.

This caused even more cheering.

“Mic, my mate, you are riding with me,” Nicolas grinned, winking. He got in the back of the Scion, along with Suki. Sam raised his eyebrows, shrugged and got into the Crown Victoria the Portland Police owned, Ema following apprehensively. Sam was getting really hard to read lately. Kim followed them, ready for awkwardness. I got back in my own compatible-for-cripples Civic as we started down Flavel Street towards the tavern.

-------------------------------------------------

Narration of Ema Felkis

Sam seemed to drive with his focus entirely on the road. This was so totally unlike him; he chats up a storm most of the time, a perk of the job. I decided to be up front with him.

“Sam, you aren’t worried about that hospital thing, are you? Mic seems totally over it.”

He shook his head, but it was hard to believe him when he looked away. “It’s not that. I just get worried. Now Dania and I are in trouble, and then Mic gets dragged into it. His parents were already endangered. Since he’s connected with me, he’s in the crap, too.” He accidentally slammed the horn of the car in frustration, causing another driver to flip us off.

“Flipping off a police officer…you know there really oughta be a ticket for that.” Kim frowned.

“Well, it was my screw-up.” Sam quipped as we passed Mt. Scott Community Center, the place where we first became a group. He noticed and smiled. It was so nice to get that out of him. He grabbed my hand and abruptly told me. “I’m so glad I met you guys.”

I turned a shade of red so deep one might call it, “Embarrassment Red,” and replied, “I’m glad I met you too.”

“I’m going to like it here.” Kim added.

We drove on silently until we reached the tavern.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Niklaw’s Tavern was buzzing with people of all ages. We were able to convince a hospital worker to drive Dania over here, surprising Mic slightly. I was afraid he’d sock Sam in the stomach, but Sam made sure to add that this was more for himself than Mic.

Nicolas had hired a new server, Alex Card, to fill in for Mic during the case and afterwards. After all, business was booming. The seven of us, Mic, Dania, Buffy, Kim, Suki, Sam and I, were lined up at the bar as Alex and Nico started preparing milkshakes. Mic couldn’t stop grinning; it was as if he had turned into a gargoyle. I couldn’t be happier.

“Milkshakes!” Alex called out. I greedily grabbed mine and shouted, “A toast to the Portland, Oregon Police Officers!”

Mic grinned. “To the POPO!” The entirety of us put our cups in the air and did a traditional toast. Sam grinned and looked at me happily. Glad the guy was finally lightening up. He took a big drink of the milkshake and asked, “Nicky, I would like a slice of that cake you made earlier, okay?”

Nicolas grinned and got out a slice for Sam. I found it odd that Sam started walking away, cake in hand. Looking for a booth, I guess?
At least, that was my thought before he threw the cake at my face. Direct hit, too. I fell off my stool to the ground.

“The bloody ‘eck?” Nicolas shouted.

I decided it would be advantageous not to get up. Sam started to freak out and ran over to me, lifting my head up into his arms. “Ema, you okay? Seriously, talk to me.”

I almost forgot what I meant to do. I scraped some cake off of my face and threw it at him. He laughed, scraped it off his shirt, and told me “IT IS ON, FOO!” He started chasing me, as we threw cake back and forth, and soon enough people started to follow our lead.

Buffy took her milkshake and poured it down Sam’s back, causing him to jump up in shock. Okay, even I have to say that was a bit cold (get it?), so I took a salt shaker and started shaking it right in her face. Talk about a sneeze-fest. She fell into a booth, on top of her old boss, Brick Jackson, whose peas she took, one by one and started throwing at him.

“What the - Buffy, you high?” he asked.

“No, just always wanted to do that.” She laughed, running off.

Dania grabbed Mic and shoved his face into his cake. Alex took an orange and squeezed it in Suki’s hair. Kim just started throwing chips in the air, added, “Wait, I’m doing it wrong,” and then poured the entire bag on Nicolas. Pretty soon, a restaurant-wide food fight had erupted.

“What the - you people - look at all the - ah, screw it.” Nicolas said as he took a bottle of Sprite, shook it up and started aiming it at people.

Cue 30 minutes passing. The Tavern was a wreck. Nicolas was laughing as he got out some cleaning supplies. “Okay, peoples!” he called out. “Let’s get started! We had our cake, and threw it too. Now we gotta clean it up!”
I groaned and got up, pulling Sam with me. He immediately wrapped his arms around my neck in one of the nicest hugs I think I have ever gotten.

“Thank you” he whispered in my ear.

“For what?” I asked back.

“I never thought I would be this happy again.” He replied, letting me go with the slightest sniffle.

I grinned, when I got a nasty shock. “Mom!” I shouted out.

“Holy crap, Ema that was… erm… schizophrenic.” Sam replied awkwardly.

“No, Sam.” I replied. “Your folks died, Mic’s almost died, and that just leaves me!”

Sam gasped, sinking back to the ground. “Sorry, but where do your parents live again?”

“Wyoming.” I replied, not at all offended.

Sam swore out loud and said “I saw our ninja when he got away. He broke into that RV Park across the street from where we were and stole an RV. I remember because he took a fence with him.” He sighed. “If there wasn’t so much danger involved, I would laugh.”

I smiled and asked “Do you think that some of the officers caught him?”

As if on cue, Buffy walked up and told us “Speaking of which, I got a call from an officer. Our ninja got away, heading east on I-84. Towards said Wyoming?”

“No!” I yelled aloud. “Sam, we gotta go after them!”

What I could only presume was a protest started to form on his lips but he closed his mouth and nodded. “But how?” he added. “He could be so far away.”

“I don’t care,” I pleaded. “Please.” I started crying with no intention of manipulating him.

Great. Now tears were starting to come to Sam’s eyes. I felt worse and decided to buck up and squeeze his hand tightly. “We could always get our own RV and see if we can catch them,” I suggested.

Sam looked up at me. We’re about level with each other. “I do like an adventure,” he grinned. “That sounds like a good idea. I think I got some leftover gas cards from my college, want to go?” He looked deeply into my eyes, so deep I nearly turned away from major embarrassment. “You, me, all them other people, voila! We hit the road and save your folks.”

Buffy called out “Count me in.”

Kim said “Ooh, Wyoming! Always wanted to go there!”

“And you miss.” Sam turned to Dania. “You are not going anywhere without me.” Dania nodded and added “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

"And you Mic?" Sam asked.

"I'd like to," Mic began, "but I think I'd better go to Italy instead."

“The heck?” I said. “Italy? Alone?”

“Hey, I can do a lot alone. I’m 15, remember?” Mic replied. “Not incompetent. I think I ought to interrogate the Italian police and our friend Elia. The sooner the better, you know?" He paused briefly, then continued, "Usually I know not what the laws are for minors travelling alone, so maybe you could play some cool police move to let me go alone."

“What’ll your parents think?” Sam asked.

“Well, let’s just say I’m restarting my internship with the POPOs.” Mic answered, as if he had thought this out already.

Sam nodded and said “Well, by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and…wait, wrong pronouncement. I now bestow upon you the title of 'overseas ambassador'. Best of luck to you.”

Mic laughed out loud (not that there is another way to laugh) and gave a thumbs-up.

“So it’s settled.” Sam grinned. “Right now, we go to the RV store. We follow their trail. We stop them before they get to Lander. Don’t worry, Ema.” He turned to me. “Yah be my witness, I will do everything in my power to save your folks.”

I turned away from his gaze upon the word, “folks.” Trying to smile, I put in “Well, let’s go.”
-------------------------------------------------

Narration of Sam Eastman

Well, don’t trust Ema on that last statement. We didn’t just pack up and go right away. There were things to do.
First of all, we got Mic’s papers together, and more importantly, Mic’s parents' permission. Although they were extremely apprehensive, they agreed; after all, there were lives at stake. I still can’t help but admire their selflessness.

Over the next few days, we started following the assumed path of our ninja friend. According to police reports and with the assistance of our good friends at Niklaw’s Tavern, Nick, Suki and Alex, we were able to drive through the Columbia Gorge, across the Walla-Walla plains, the spectacular Clearwater Valley in Idaho, through the Montana mountains until we approached the small town of…not Lander, at least not yet.

We had just passed the town of Columbus, Montana, when I yawned as I drove the giant RV down I-90. “So, anyway, how is your relationship with your mom and dad?”

Ema sighed and turned away. Immediately I knew I said something wrong.

“What? Did I say something that offended you?” I asked.

“No, no.” She replied, and before I could press it further, she diverted, “Look, a rest stop. It seems so familiar to me. Anyways, pushing that thought aside. We need to stay here for the night so that way you don’t sleep on the wheel and kill us all.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well, you seem more morbid than usual.”

She responded with “I’m growing up, finally.”

“Don’t,” was my response. “I still like you the way you are.”

All she could do was turn away with a hidden smile.

We pulled over, everyone else soundly sleeping. I went to dump the septic and Ema went to the bathroom - at the rest station, thank god. I plugged my nose and started connecting a hose to the porta-potty. Hey, better than throwing it on the ground.

Suddenly, Ema ran out. “Sam!” she cried out with glee. “I just realized that this was my favorite place when I was a kid.” She was dancing around happily.

I nodded happily and then digested what she said. Upon doing so, I added “A rest stop?”
“No, silly. There’s a small state forest next to it. Across the little walking bridge. There’s a field of sunflowers there. I got to show you!”

“Ema, hold your horses,” I started. “First off, it’s midnight. Second off, I gotta finish the septic.”

“Seriously?” she scoffed. “You’d rather be messing with human crap than trek into a field of sunflowers?”

I got to admit, she had a valid point. “Come on!” she giddily beckoned me as she grabbed my arm. And so we walked across the bridge to this famous field.

Life is perfect sometimes, you know what I mean?
Chapter 17 – Jack Walker-Sunflowers

That Sam character narrates still.

OK, I have nothing against sunflowers, but they're hard as heck to see at midnight. Ema, of course, appeared to have no problem, often commenting on some of the colors and shapes of the sunflowers as she dragged me along. I will never understand how women do that.

Anyway, so here she is, dragging me through the sunflower field, talking about the sunflowers and her childhood and how much she loved this place and so on and so forth, while all I could focus on is trying desperately to see where she was and what sunflowers she might possibly be talking about. I concede that there was a full moon and not a cloud in the sky, so I should've been able to see something, but I guess the smell of the septic must've gotten to my head.

Where was I? Oh yes, she was dragging me through the sunflower…wait, I said this already. Got to focus here. This part of the story is a little awkward to write about, you see. Just give me a few moments and I'll get it.

All right. So we walk through this sunflower field for about five minutes until it eventually occurs to me that I have no idea where Ema is and that her voice has gradually faded almost into a whisper. I tried to direct myself towards the traces of Ema's voice, only to successfully trip over some obstruction that I naturally couldn't see and fall face first into the dirt. Ouch. I slowly stood up, rubbing my clothing frantically trying to wipe off the dirt that I couldn't see. For that one moment, I was glad that I had lost Ema so that she wouldn't see that, because it was pretty embarrassing. After that, I realized that I had totally lost both my sense of direction and Ema's voice. I had no idea how to get back to the rest stop. Great, I thought. Of all of the places to get lost, it's in a sunflower field by a rest stop on a highway. I'm a police officer, for Yah's sake. This is just downright embarrassing.

Lacking any other ideas, I started frantically calling out, "Ema! Ema! Where are you?" No response. Surely she should've noticed that I wasn't with her and she would be coming back for me, right? I tried again. "Ema! Can you hear me?" Still no reply. Now I was starting to get a little afraid. Now what? She couldn't hear me, and if she couldn't find me, then I might be stuck here for a long while, and if I try to find the rest stop I'll probably go in the complete wrong direction and walk off a cliff and plummet to my death. And on top of it all, in the time that we're wasting, Ema's parents might be in serious trouble…

Suddenly, a tremendous force slammed into my back and I fell to the ground face first again. As I stood up to try to figure out what had hit me, somebody started laughing hysterically.

"Oh man, Sam," said the person, "if you could've seen the look on your face."

I turned around, and there in front of me was Ema, laughing so hard she was probably crying, but naturally I couldn't see her face so I had no idea if she was in fact crying. "Oh, I will kill you for that," I threatened, though I was only kidding. Still, I was pretty annoyed.

It was at this point that I had the marvelous idea of taking out my cell phone to use it as a light. Now I could actually see which was great. Ema was still smiling, and she was right, the sunflowers were beautiful. Which is the perfect cue for:

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" said Ema.

"You weren't kidding," I said, moving around my cell phone to examine small groups of flowers. They were brilliant shades; mixes of reds, yellows, and oranges in streaky lines and waves and whatnot. It was really quite something. Eventually we both sat down as I continued to examine the nearby flowers.

"I used to play in this field every time my parents took me on a trip. We would always stop here and we would run out in here and play and roll around in the flowers…well, before…." Ema trailed off.

"Before what?" I asked gently.

"Oh, nothing," Ema said, turning away.

"Come on, tell me. It might make you feel better."

Ema looked back at me, somewhat apprehensively, before sighing and beginning, "We used to be really close, my parents and me. We used to do so many fun things together. It was like that till I was eight. One day, my dad lost his job. He really loved that job and it was good money, but the company was suffering losses and needed to cut back. He went home that night, and got really drunk. My dad like to drink a scotch every now and again when he wasn't working the next day, but he never did anything like this before. Then, he got into a fight with my mother, and eventually he threw a flower vase at her head just as I walked into the room. She slumped to the ground, her face covered in blood. She was unconscious. I begged and pleaded for my father to get her help, but he was too drunk to care. I had to call 911 to get her help, and it was in the nick of time, because she might have sustained serious mental injury from blood loss."

I'm not very emotional, but this was a little sad. Actually, I thought I was gonna cry. Ema started to choke up but continued, "The police asked me how it happened. I could've told them it was my father, but he would've been arrested, and I couldn't have lived with that guilt, so I said that she tripped and slammed her head into the vase. But after that, I never spoke to my father again. Worse still, my mother sort of withdrew into herself, and she rarely talked to anyone. And so our family fell apart, because my father…got…got fired from his job one sunny afternoon." Ema burst into sobs, and her being the team cheerleader, this was a little depressing.

"Hey," I said, grabbing hold of one of her hands. "It's all right. You did the right thing, you know?"

"I know," she said through sobs, "but, it's just so sad…I didn't have a family during middle school or high school, and…and I…I just have always felt so lonely. That…that’s why I moved to Portland. I always act like I never knew why I came out here, but one day I told my mom I had found a college and she told me to go for it, as if…as if she didn’t really care. That’s when I knew it was time to go."

I pulled out a handkerchief (yes, I carry handkerchiefs with me; I'm old-fashioned and proud of it) and handed it to Ema. "Here," I said. I paused as Ema wiped the tears off her face. "But we're all here for you Ema," I continued. "Buffy, Mic, Nick and Suki, me, even Kim. You know they'll - well, I guess I shouldn't speak for them, though I imagine that they would say the same - but you know I'll always be there for you."

Ema looked me in the eyes (my god, those eyes of hers. I gotta admit, just… wow…) and gave a weak smile between her fading sobs and also squeezed my hand. "I know, Sam, I know. It's just hard for me sometimes." We drew a bit closer, and I grabbed Ema's other hand.

"So you're all right? You're not gonna go commit suicide because I brought this up or anything?"

She laughed, to my delight, and we drew a little closer, though I don't think either of us noticed it at the time. "Nah, it's good to tell other people about it. Makes me feel like people care about me and my problems." And a little closer we drew. Our faces were less than a foot from each other now, and my heart was beginning to race a bit, if by a bit you mean, “Oh-my-god-my-heart-is-going-to-jump-out-of-my-body!”

"Good," I said, a bit awkwardly. "I'm glad."

She smiled again a bit. "Thank you Sam," she said, as we drew even closer. I put my hand through her hair, not really knowing or caring what I was doing.

"You’re welcome," I said, as we crossed the line. That godforsaken line that always put that awkward barrier between us for our entire friendship.

At long last our lips touched…

--------------------------------------------------

Oh hi there. It's me, Mic. I hate to interrupt our little lovebirds here, but - who the heck am I kidding? I'm thrilled to interrupt! Fortunately, they don't know I've added this in, so I think I'm safe. I just wanted to say a few things. First of all, what a hypocrite! I know I said this before, but if I dare hold somebody's hand, I get beat up for it, but it's no problem if Sam does it, much less so if he tries to kiss someone. Second, I'm glad they finally got to this point. I mean, they'd been eyeing each other for who knows how long now, and quite frankly, it had been getting boring waiting around for something to happen. Thirdly, I seriously regret going to Italy. I so would've liked to be on the RV, and when Sam and Ema ran off to do their little romance thing, it would have made my life complete if I could've snuck up on them and caught them kissing and totally embarrassed them. But anyway, sorry about the interruption.

Oh, by the way, because I'm cruel like that, I'm going to spoil it for you. They don't kiss. Sorry to strip you of those warm, fuzzy feelings running up and down your spine, but hey, life sucks. Now, back to the show…

--------------------------------------------------

Just as our lips touched, Ema pulled away from me. "What's wrong?" I asked, somewhat aggravated. I had been that close, but she had to pull away. Immediately I started searching for all of my possible character flaws. What was wrong with me?

"Listen," she said.

I listened for a few seconds, but didn't hear anything. My god, was I being punk’d? "You gotta be ki-" but just as I began to talk, I heard it. The RV's engine was running.

"Who would've turned that on?" asked Ema. "Buffy and Kim know we're staying for the night, and I can't imagine why they would turn the engine on."

Then, I heard screeching as the RV presumably pulled out of the rest stop, in a hurry it would seem. "Oh crap, they're leaving without us!" I cried. "Come on!" I grabbed Ema's hand and, guided by my cell phone, we both started running back to the rest stop. I was really quite impressed by our speed, or maybe we just hadn't gone as far as I thought. Either way, in a matter of seconds we were back in the parking lot, watching the RV pull out onto the highway, the septic hose trailing along the road. "They didn't even have the courtesy to turn off the hose," I said, noticing the waste strewn all about the parking lot. Our waste. Food we had previously eaten. All over the parking lot. Am I stressing this enough?

"Oh my god! Ew!" cried Ema, plugging her nose. I followed suit.

"Well this is just great," I said. "They wouldn't have possibly left without us, would they? Not like that?"

"No, definitely not," Ema agreed.

"Something's definitely wrong."

"No kidding, Sherlock."

"Try calling them?"

"And alert a potential enemy to our presence? They may think they've gotten away clean, unsuspected."

"True. Pursue them?"

"With what? They've taken away our method of transportation."

"Call the POPO and ask for a car?"

"They'll take forever to get here!"

"The local police station?"

"We're wasting time! They're getting away!"

I paused. "Take one of these cars?"

Ema thought about it. "Well, I'm sorry for the owner, but we have no choice." She examined the selection. "Take your pick."

I looked, and as soon as I saw it, knew exactly what I wanted. "The Ferrari," I said, pointing to a sleek red Ferrari parked nearby.

"Tsk-tsk," said Ema. "Everybody knows not to park your Ferrari where the police might take it." She grinned almost devilishly. “Far from under the radar, but to be frank, this is me not giving a crap.”

We approached the car and knocked on the driver's window. A man dressed in a business suit was sleeping in the driver's seat.

"Police," I said, holding my badge to the window. The man, who appeared to be very scared, opened up the door and stepped out. Before he could say anything, I said, "We need to take this car to pursue a dangerous criminal. I promise we will make this up to you later." And the man, completely speechless, could only watch as I stepped into the driver's seat and turned on the car, the keys having been left in the ignition. "Let's go Ema!" I said as she got into the passenger seat. As soon as she slammed the door, I slammed the gas with the car in reverse and we screeched backwards. I then stopped, pushed the gear into drive, turned to Ema and said, "Ready?"

She grinned and said, "You bet." God, she was awesome.

And with that, I slammed on the gas again and we flew out of the rest stop.

________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, in Italy…

I hate long distance flights. The jets are as big as your mama in all of those jokes, and as such they're nosier than Aerosmith, Bad Company, Black Sabbath, Metallica, and Jeff Beck combined. What's it all mean? Well, I can't fall asleep, and flying from Portland to LA, then flying from LA all the way out to Rome, and then from Rome to Venice really wears you out. I was really looking forward to the hotel later, but being the daylight hours in Italy despite flying out late at night in America, I needed to start my interrogations now. They better have good coffee in Italy.

I was in one of the famed Venetian boats with two Venetian police officers. I must admit, the city was quite a spectacle. I'm not one to think highly of such things, because honestly, I usually could care less. I must've been tired. Shrugging off the urge to sleep, I employed my knowledge from that wonderful program which they advertise terribly on TV called Rosetta-Stone to speak to them in perfect Italian.

"Puoi portarmi a cui i genitori di Sam scomparso?" I asked.

"Assolutamente," responded one of the officers, a good-looking man in his twenties.

Oh wait, don't read Italian? Pity…

"Can you take me to where Sam's parents disappeared?" I asked.

"Absolutely," responded one of the officers, a good-looking man in his twenties.

"Thank you," I said in Italian. I then went back to admiring the city. So clean. Unlike Portland, or at least the part of Portland where I lived my whole life. The place is disgusting and completely run by gangs. They killed my older brother, you know. Tried to mug him, but brave as he was, he resisted. Bang, bang, bang! Three times they shot him, all through the head. That's proof that bravery is stupid, folks. You want to be brave and look good, join a TV show. Anyway, the bas…wait; Sam will not be pleased with the language…the rascals got away with it too. Not enough evidence, they said. It's the reason I wanted to join the police in the first place. I want to take down those gangs. A sort of revenge, if you will. Only, legal revenge. What? No, I’m not crying. No, I just, uhm… got a contact stuck. I better fix that.

"Here," said the second police officer, who was rowing. He was a short, fat man with a picture-perfect Italian mustache. He pulled into a little parking lot of a sort for boats. Only in Venice, I thought in wonder. We all stepped out and the policemen showed me the crime scene, which looked perfectly normal.

"This is where the spectators said the parents were assaulted," the handsome one began. "When the police arrived, they were already gone. We gathered what information we could from spectators. None of them could tell us what the assaulter looked like. It all happened rather fast, they told us."

"What about Dania?"

"Eh?"

"Dania, the girl."

"Oh! She was not there when we arrived. The woman Elia had taken her. She came to us later that day and said that she had seen the assault and had taken the girl with her to clean up her injuries and calm her down. She was in a bad state, Elia said. She told us that she had sent the girl home to her brother because she was in a state of shock and she felt that the girl needed to be back with her family."

I nodded. The story sounded a little fishy, though. I suspected that either the police or Elia were lying, either way, I was determined to find out. "Take me to the police station," I said.

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting with the Police Chief talking about what had happened, and he appeared to know as much as I did. He appeared to be somewhat elusive on several of the bizarre points of the case. For example:

"And you're sure nobody saw the assaulter?"

"Well, we couldn't really get anything out of the onlookers."

All right. Dude, you are the police, and you're not as strictly regulated as we Americans are. Of course you could get something out of them. I wasn't going to fight though, not now when I didn't know all of the facts. I was able to confirm that there was only one assaulter and that the bodies hadn't been found. That was about all, and it didn't leave me with much information, only the suspicion that the Venetian police knew more than they were telling. I ultimately concluded that I might be able to come to some conclusions if I talked to Elia, and requested that I be taken to her residence.

"Of course," said the chief. And so back I went to another boat, which would take me onward to the beginning of the harrowing parts of my journey. But that's for another chapter.

God, I just love ruining your excitement.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 18-The Thrill of the Chase
Dania narrates
Ooh, Yay! I finally get a chance to narrate! This is almost the best thing that's ever happened to me! Well, not really. You probably think I'm getting a little overexcited, and want to yell at me and shout, "You're doing it wrong!" and be mean to me, but fortunately I don't care too much.
So, that being said, I woke up to find the RV moving at fairly high speeds. I stretched out my arms, sat up, and looked out the window. It was still pretty dark out. Odd, I thought. Didn't Ema say that we were staying at the rest stop for the night? I decided to find out what was going on. I put on a pair of pink, American-Eagle slippers that I got two years ago. They are the most comfortable slippers ever! I wear them all the time. To school? Best thing to wear. Going swimming? Not a problem, they'll dry. Skiing? Pssht, I fall every time I stand up on those things anyway, so it really doesn't matter if I wear my slippers. But that's a tangent. You know, a tangent squared equals…never mind.
So I got on those slippers and then walked up to the front. The living area of the RV is separated from the driving area by a door, which I proceeded to try to open. I failed. But perseverance, Dania! I said this to myself as I concluded that the door must be locked on the other side. I proceeded to knock. "Sam, Ema? You there?" There was no response. I banged louder. "Sam, Ema! Open up!" Still no response, though I swear I heard a quiet, morbid chuckle. All right, time for some girl kick-butt action! I immediately proceeded to try to kick the door down with my American-Eagle slippers on, and, well, instead of breaking the door down, I felt like I had broken all of my toes. This in turn woke up Buffy and Kim.
"Dania!" cried Buffy. "What are you doing? We're trying to sleep here!"
"We're moving, Buffy!" I said. "We're not supposed to be moving till morning! And I can't get to the front, and Sam and Ema aren't responding!"
"Oh, I guess you're justified then," replied Buffy, who was rubbing her eyes. "Now then," she continued, putting on her prosthetic. "Let's see what's going on." She then hobbled over to the door, followed by Kim. "Hey, Sam, Ema, open up!" she said while knocking on the door. No response.
"Maybe we've slept for several decades and Sam and Ema have grown old and deaf," Kim suggested. "Like Rip van Winkle?"
"Quite possibly," said Buffy, "though I'm inclined to think not. Didja try kicking the door down?"
"That's what woke you up," said Dania.
"Oh," said Buffy, pulling out a semi-automatic handgun. "Sam and Ema, I don't care if you're making out in there. You got three seconds to open this door, or else I'll shoot it down. One…" - I drew in my breath -"Two…" - Kim drew in her breath - "Two and a half…"
"Oh come on!" I said. "Two and a half is what third graders say. Just blast the door down already! They're clearly not opening it!"
"She's got a point," Kim volunteered, which I'm sure Buffy found most useful.
"All right. Better get your heads out of the way, suckers!" cried Buffy as she started riddling the door with bullet holes. I couldn't help but conclude that she would've made a way better Rambo than Stallone. Anyway, after nearly a minute of non-stop firing, the gun was empty and Buff lowered it. She then moved forward to examine the damage.
"Crud of a bull!" she cried. "The bullets aren't penetrating the door. Which means somebody has added something to the other side of it, and I'll bet everything I got that that somebody isn't Sam or Ema."
"So what's the plan?" I asked.
"Well…unfortunately, we're in a bit of a fix," said Buffy, as she sat down on her cot-type thing to mull it over.
Meanwhile, all Kim could think to do was to stare out the small windows and watch other cars as they passed. After about half a minute, she commented, "Ooh, nice Ferrari."
I, who was not actually here for brains and experience, decided that I had nothing, better to do than join her, "Wow! That is a nice Ferrar-" but suddenly I stopped. I leaned closer to the window. "Wait a second…is that Ema frantically waving at us?"
This prompted Buffy to come over, and together the three of us looked at the Ferrari. "Yep, that's Ema all right," Kim said.
"And I think that's Sam in the driver seat," said Buffy. She then went back to her cot and pulled out a bag, from which she removed another round of bullets, and loaded them up.
"What I want to know is how they got their hands on that beauty!" I said, still admiring the Ferrari. "That and if you've ever seen the rain." Sadly, I appeared to be the only one present who listened to Credence Clearwater Revival. Sam would have recognized it.
"What I want to know is if this will glass break upon being hit with the force of a bullet," Buffy said, standing back up and firing at the window. It shattered instantly, and the cold immediately descended upon us.
"Thanks for giving us a warning!" Kim yelled, trying to make myself heard over the wind rushing by us. "I'm in a T-shirt for goodness' sake!"
"Kim, if you're gonna be a police officer, you gotta toughen up a little," cried Buffy. "I mean, I'm doing this all on one leg. Be happy you've got two." Meanwhile, Ema rolled down the window of the Ferrari. "Buffy!"
"Ema! Is that thing a convertible?"
Ema turned to check. "Um, I think so."
"Open it! We're gonna try and jump in!"
"Whoa whoa," I said. "Speak for yourself."
"It's not that bad. Worse that could happen is you miss and break all of the bones in your body."
"Oh gee, thanks."
"It's either that or be stuck in here with some unidentified person going to some unidentified place," said Kim. "And, we're leaving, so you'd be alone."
"You've got a point," I said. "But there's another problem. There's no way we're fitting through this window."
"True…very true…"
We now cross an ocean and a few substantial land masses to check on the situation in Italy.

Elia didn't live in Venice proper. She lived in the country just outside of Venice, and as such I could not ride the boat all the way there, which I found tremendously upsetting. Nevertheless, at least I took some comfort in riding in an Italian police car to her home, which was off of a dirt road, down in a little valley situated by a creek. It was a very picturesque home; a log cabin with a very rustic feel (duh), but it was my type of home. When I'm rich and famous and all that (sales on the group's first book have been somewhat disappointing), I'm moving into something like that. I know, I know, I'm shopping for a home that I can't even afford yet, not to mention I'll be too lazy to maintain it, and I'm only fourteen, but hey, even I can have my moments.

The police kindly dropped me off at the top of a somewhat lengthy and winding driveway which was made up of tire marks through grass. Elia had, of all things, a very old Ford truck as her primary method of transportation, which I found pretty amusing. Anyway, I walked down the driveway to Elia's front door and knocked.

After a few seconds, a fairly elderly woman answered the door. "Hello?" she said in Italian.

"Are you Elia?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Who are you?"

"My name is Mic Davis," I began. "I'm from the United States, and am working on the case of Dania's parents."

"Who?"

"Dania, the girl who's parents got killed in the city."

"Oh, yes, I remember."

"I need to ask you a few questions. Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course. Come in."

Now, I must compliment myself on having that conversation in perfect Italian. I should just drop English all together. It would annoy the heck out of Sam and Ema and Buffy and Kim…speaking of which, as I entered Elia's house, I wondered how they were doing.

"Sit," said Elia, offering me a chair at a wooden table. Like I said- a rustic feel. I thanked her and sat down, and she sat in the chair opposite me.

"So, you found Dania in the city. What were you in the city for?"

"I had gone to get some groceries when I stumbled upon the scene."

"What was going on? Were her parents there? The police?"

"There was a small crowd there listening to the girl scream things in English, but nobody understood that she needed help. I knew a little English though, so I took her with me here and cleaned her up a bit. Her parents were gone and the police weren't there yet."

"She was badly injured as I understand it. Why didn't you take her to a hospital? And she travelled home in the same clothes, which as I understand it was torn up and bloodied. Why didn't you supply her with new ones?"

"I asked her if she needed to go to the hospital, but she said she was all right. And, having no clothes that would fit her, I would have had to shop for them, but that would've taken some time and I wanted to get her home as soon as possible. She was very shocked, you know. She may not have been very comfortable in the home of stranger." Elia chuckled a bit. "She was very sweet though. She thanked me for her kindness. It's really so sad when things like that happen."

"Why did you take Dania with you in the first place? Shouldn't you have waited for the police?"

"She was very distraught. I felt bad leaving her alone there, surrounding by a crowd of people she didn't know." She paused, and then changed the subject, "Would you like some tea? I make a very good cup of tea."

"Thanks, I would like that," I replied. As she got up and went to her kitchen, I processed her responses. Well, I thought, her story was passable, but weak. There is something that neither the police nor Elia were telling me, but I was going to find out what it was. I went through the entire story in my head, looking for a hole, but was struggling to come up with something. Now was when I wished for Sam and Ema most.
Speaking of Sam and Ema…the latter narrates again.

So here we are, in this sweet Ferrari on a rescue mission, and I can't figure out which button to press to open the roof! "Hang on Buffy," I called, as I hit a button. Suddenly, the Ferrari slowed down substantially and the RV zoomed ahead.

"What do you think you're doing, Ema?" Sam cried in a voice of absolute shock.

"I was trying to open the roof!"

"Wow, Ema, that's just a fail. You switched me into manual and let the RV get away. Great. The button's right here, you id…" but at that moment, Sam looked me in the eyes, and then sort of fell silent. After five seconds, I think he realized what he was doing, turned that Embarrassment Red color again, then switched back to automatic and opened the roof. "All right, let's catch those _______." The word that goes in the blank starts with a "b" and ends with "ards". You can figure out the rest. And with that, the car zoomed forward, passing cars left and right pushing 125 miles per hour. Gotta love the Ferrari. Soon, the RV was back in sight. Somehow, Buffy, Kim, and Dania had managed to take off a substantial part of the side of the RV so they could now actually jump out.

"We're coming guys!" I shouted, just as a shower of bullets pelted the side of the Ferrari. "Whoa!" I cried, ducking my head.

"The ba- erm, I mean, rascal," said Sam. "The driver's firing at us. Get down under the glove compartment."

"You crazy?" I cried. "I'm not going to just sit here and do nothing and watch your head get blown off. We're a team, remember?"

"Fine. Try and take a few shots at the driver. Just to cover me. Don't go for the kill till Buffy, Kim, and Dania are safely in the Ferrari."

"All right," I said, ducking under the side of the door and only holding the top of my head, my hands, and my gun on top of it so I could see the driver, hold the gun, and shoot it. I took a few shots, and successfully hit the door mirror. "Ha ha!" I cried. "Now he can't see behind him."

"Nice shooting, deductress," Sam said as he pulled alongside the RV. I blushed, but fortunately was not looking at him.

At this point, we were close enough for Buffy, Kim, and Dania to jump. I quickly waved a hand beckoning them to jump. "Geronimo!" cried Buffy as she landed in the back of the Ferrari, narrowly avoiding being hit by a handful of bullets, one of which proceeded to shatter the windshield of a car behind us and send it spinning off the side of the highway. Next was Kim. For a newbie, she did quite well, jumping with ease and also avoiding bullets, and sticking out the tongue at the enemy of ours, nice touch, too bad he couldn't see it.

And then there was Dania. She stood there, teetering on the edge of the hole in the side of the RV, but couldn't jump. "Come on Dania!" I cried. At that moment, a few bullets hit the windshield of the Ferrari, shattering the glass which then proceeded to fall all over the dashboard, off of the front of the car, and two pieces into Sam's right hand. He swore, then yelled, "Somebody take over the wheel!"

"I can't drive," said Kim.

"I can't drive in this thing with the prosthetic," said Buffy.

That only left me. "Quick," I said, "take my gun." We then proceeded to very awkwardly climb over each other to switch seats. Buffy couldn't hold in her laughter, even in this situation. We both turned fairly red as we repositioned ourselves; Sam shooting and removing the glass shards, me driving.

Sam fired a few more shots at the driver of the RV before saying, "Dania, don't worry. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." She gave him a fearful look, and then at long last jumped, losing her slippers in the process. Bullets whizzed by all around her, but once again, we got lucky, and she landed in the back seat (oh, probably ought to mention that this is a four-seater) with no harm done.

Well, almost no harm.

"Oh crud! I lost my slippers! I practically grew up with those things!"

Sam looked at his sister incredulously. "You could've died just now, and the only thing you can think of is your slippers?"

"It's a girl thing, Sam," I said, not taking my eyes off the road. Buffy and Kim nodded in agreement.

"Girls," was all Sam said before taking another shot at the driver of the RV, who appeared to be dressed like a ninja. It nearly hit him, too. But then the ninja fired a shot at us and nearly took my head off.

"Sam!" I said, panicking. The car swerved into two other lanes and brushed the side of the RV once or twice before steadying. I breathed deeply. "That was too close!"

"Well," Sam said. "I can't get him at this angle, and if we move further up he'll have a better shot at us." Buffy and Kim, meanwhile, were now taking a few shots at the ninja themselves. One of Kim's shots went through the open door window and shattered the RV's windshield from the inside.

"Nice shot girl!" said Buffy proudly.

"Thanks," Kim said, blushing slightly.

"Hang on," said Sam. "I've got an idea. As soon as I give the word, get as far away from the RV as you can."

"Why?" I asked, not so sure about this idea.

"Just trust me." He then leaned over the door and fired at the two wheels in range. Both were direct hits, and the tires instantly began to shred. "Go-go-go!" he cried as I swerved to the lane furthest to the left, the RV being in the far right lane. The ninja took a few parting shots at us, but it was too late. The tires shredded completely and the RV spun out, careening over a rail and down into a ravine.

"Holy crap," said Dania. "That was impressive."

"Pull over," Sam told me. "Let's see what state our ninja is in." I shifted back to the far right lane and then braked to a complete stop. We all immediately exited the Ferrari, which, I have to say, was pretty beat up. There were bullet holes down the entire right side and hood of the car and the windshield was shattered. I momentarily felt bad for the owner.

That was before I saw the RV.

It was wedged in between the two slopes of ravine about a foot above a little stream. The sides were completely wrecked, and the front had taken some serious damage too. "Let's go down and take a closer look," I said, as Kim and Sam followed behind me, completely awestruck. Buffy's prosthetic leg wouldn't have taken too kindly to the ravine, and Dania was shoeless, so neither came with us. The ravine was steep, rocky, and slippery, so we had to go slow, but after about three or four minutes we reached the RV. I've never seen anything as totaled as that RV was. Man, it was a wreck. I can't even describe it. Just imagine the most completely totaled RV you can think of, and that's probably about what this looked like.

Kim walked past me and went to the driver's door. She tried to open it, but accidentally took the whole door off. Yeah, that's how bad it was. There, slumped in the driver's seat, was our ninja. Kim checked his pulse and breathing, and then pronounced him dead. She then removed the mask.

"Hmm, this guy mean anything to you?" she asked as Sam and I reached her.

"Oh…my…God…" I said.

There, sitting in the driver's seat, was Rick Stevens, dead as a stone.
Tea time in Italy

I continued to ponder Elia's story for a few minutes while she made the tea. They're both not telling me something, which means they are both working together in some way, but for what purpose? As I was piecing together the puzzle, I heard Elia's footsteps approaching. I turned around in my seat to face her, but she wasn't holding tea.

She was holding a gun.

Oh dang.

Elia then began, in perfect English, "You will come with me. Resist and I will kill you."

"So you're not Italian, are you?" I said, partially testing her, partially trying to kill time, partially trying to get some good info. She didn't respond, so I continued, "So that increases the odds you're in the same league as Rick Stevens."

"Enough!" she said. "Go out the door, now!"

Hmm…tough choice. Should I stay or should I go? Great song by The Clash…you should listen to it if you ever get a chance. Anyway, I figured that my fate would probably be the same anyway, so being the slightly arrogant and bold person that I am, I ultimately decided to stay.

"I'm sorry, Elia, but I haven't finished questioning you yet."

"This conversation is over! Outside, now!"

"You're just gonna have to make me shut up then. Come on, pull the trigger!"

I watched her facial expression with one eye and her finger on the trigger with the other, waiting for the right moment…when suddenly I grabbed the wooden chair and held it in front of me as a shield, and fortunately I timed it right. She fired and hit the chair, saving me. I then dived out of her range and quickly pulled out my gun. The only problem was that I really didn't know if I could shoot a woman. Hard to believe I'm actually somewhat considerate, I know, but I am on occasion. This was one of them. I just stood around a corner, waiting for her to make the next move. Gradually I heard footsteps approaching. I realized I only had one shot. The footsteps, which were rather infrequent, slowly got louder and louder. Just as she turned the corner, I slammed her head with my gun, hopefully only knocking her out. But I wasn't going to stick around to find out. I instantly turned and ran out of the house as fast as my legs could carry me.
I started running up the hill back to the dirt road, when I noticed that there were five police officers standing at the top, guns pointed at me. "It's all right!" I called. "It's only me!"

"You will come with us now," said one of the police officers in English.

I stopped dead in my tracks. That sounded eerily like what Elia had said, which meant that her and the Venetian police are working for the same people and probably have been involved with everything that's happened in Italy from the get-go.

More importantly, it meant that I had to run, since trying to take on five armed men with one gun would be suicide.

I immediately turned around and dashed back down the hill towards the creek. I had no idea where I was going, but I figured that the creek must lead somewhere, so I ran towards it. Bullets were missing me left and right. I couldn't believe my luck. I was actually outrunning bullets.

That's when one got me in the back of the foot.

I flipped forward and slammed to the ground. God dangit! I could feel the blood gushing out of the wound. It hurt like heck. The bullet was probably lodged on a nerve or something, because I was screaming in agony. I couldn't stand up, let alone walk. Desperate, I did the only thing I could think of left to do. I reached for my cell phone…

Chapter 19-Cameron Johnson-Empire State Of Mind
Ema narrates for the umpteenth time.

I sighed as I headed up the ravine to Buffy and Dania. Sam followed, then Kim.

“So…” Buffy said, waiting for information.

Sam and I looked at each other, Kim being unaware of the person. He looked at me. I looked at him. Then, in perfect unison, we blurted out, “It’s Rick Stevens.”

Buffy fell down in surprise. “This just keeps getting worse and worse. First Brock, then Rick. Who’s next?”

“You,” I looked at her with seriousness in my eyes. I held her surprised gaze for a half-minute, and then started cracking up. “Holy crap, you’re so gullible.”

Buffy rolled her eyes while Sam nearly burst a gut beside me. The rest exuded awkward chuckles. But, hey, Sam laughed and sometimes I think that’s all worth it.

“But I am surprised,” Buffy told us, “that Rick survived the fall. Not only that, but uninjured. How did he do it?”

Sam threw his hands up in the air. “Well, we don't know that he was uninjured. He may have been treated and stuff. But either way, we can’t ask him, can we?”

I shrugged. “Ah, well, crap happens. Never stopped us before.”

He nodded. “So, we head home now, after this heckuva adventure. Our mastermind seems to be dead.”

I grabbed his arm. “Not even close. According to Dania, Rob is alive. We never saw his body. Not to mention Nico was telling the truth, so Rob could have faked his own death.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “We would be studying that best from Portland.”

I looked at him, trying to keep the Embarrassment Red from showing up; after all, there were people here. “Sam, I want to go see my parents. I need to see my parents. I’m so close.”

He looked at me and told me “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

I nodded. “I do. It’s about time.”

Sam nodded and grabbed my hand.

Buffy shouted down to us. “Hey, Romeo and Juliet! We got another car!” This was good, because the Ferrari was suddenly worthless with the bullet holes and the wreckage, and… you know. A young woman popped out of a Lincoln SUV. No Ferrari, but, hey, Lincoln Navigators are always good.

I walked forward until I got a view of the woman, who seemed about 35, and when I recognized her, I squealed in delight.

“Nessi!” I giggled as I ran up to her in a big hug.

“Emmy!” she replied in equal happiness as she accepted my hug.
Sam came behind me and looked at the woman. “Well, judging by the way you two look so much alike, I would presume this is your sister.”

Nessi nodded. “Vanessa Felkis, nice to meet you.”

Sam shook her hand. “Sam Eastman. Always nice to meet a Felkis.”

Five minutes later, we were all situated in the car’s backseats. Sam and I sat together, as usual, the girls filling in the last seat. It was weird, not being in the front seat of a car.

Vanessa. Best sister you could ask for, but a very odd relationship. She’s 15 years older than me, and spent most of my memory living away from me. She was a chef, owning a restaurant in Lander, and visited often until you-know-what happened.

Twenty minutes later, she sat at the wheel, dazed at what she had heard. “Wow. This all happened over one case?”

I nodded, but then realized that she couldn’t see it. “Yes,” I replied.

“And you never gave up?”

“Not at all, ma’am.” Sam told her. “If anything, it motivated us further.”

She laughed anxiously and told us all, “I don’t know if you’re all crazy or just plain amazing. Well, for what it’s worth, I hope you succeed.”

I smiled. “Aw, thanks, sis.”

She nodded and said “Well, we have about four or five hours until we reach Lander. Y’all should catch up on sleep.”

Sam yawned and said “That sounds good. This has been the longest day of my life. About twenty-four hours ago, we were drinking in Niklaw’s Tavern, when all of a sudden hell broke loose.”

I followed with a far more colossal yawn. “Dang, that was twenty-four hours ago? Wow, in this time, I have been knocked off a bridge, punched in the face, fallen onto a boat, rode in a car that leapt an overpass, started a food fight and had the most wonderful and emotionally cleansing night of my life, not to mention chased down an RV, all with a span of nearly 1,000 miles.”

Sam put an arm around me with a seeming nonchalantness (a made-up term that makes my spelling corrector want to commit suicide) but I knew he was trying to be smooth. I winked at him but let him be. He blushed and whispered “I never meant to hurt you, and I never want to hurt you again.”

I sighed happily and said “It’s cute and all, but you’re just going to be spouting off like that?”

“Yeah, uhm, to be honest, this is stuff I’ve wanted to tell you since we met and beyond.” He admitted, lowering his voice to the point of inaudibility. “You see, I’ve had a crush on you since we met. That day we met Buffy, I wanted to ask you out, but, you know, nerves.”
“You do? You did? Really?” I said, blushing. “How sweet.”
He nodded with a raised eyebrow, grinning ear-to-ear.

I smiled, feeling extremely special, and closed my eyes. It was going to be tough, facing my parents, but with the support and, yes, even love of those around me, I was going to get through it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking in the morning feeling like P-Diddy… sorry, I hate that song; it just gets engrained in my head what with it being played on the radio like a drug. Anyway, I wake up in the morning in an SUV seat, Sam on my shoulder. It wasn’t light morning, more like the song, “It’s 3AM, I must be lonely.” But I’m not. My friends, my family and Sam are around me. And I knew it was time.

I got up, opened the door with everyone else still asleep, and started to walk the fields of our farm, long abandoned and torn-up. This place had become a nightmare, a cancer I had to escape. I still had a key to the front door, and I walked right to my Dad’s bedroom. I cracked the door open and turned on the light.

Dad jumped up, and reached for his gun. I put him through a larger shock as I said, “Dad, it’s me. We need to talk.”
Dad muttered a surprised obscenity.

“Listen, dad. I know it’s been nearly ten years, but I’ve kept this in for that long. I’ve been away from home for two years, and it’s been a lot less lonely than living in my own home. What you did that day was wrong, Dad, but it’s not that you got into a drunken rampage; it’s that we’ve allowed it to get into something that divides our family. I’ve done it, you’ve done it, and Mom’s done it. Heck, even Vanessa has done it, whether or not she meant to. I’m sick and tired of three different individuals living under this roof. I want my family back. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” At the end, I felt tears spring to my eyes, but, no, I had to be strong.

Dad just looked at me, stunned, for an entire minute. This was it. Either this would be the last time I ever spoke to him, or maybe, just maybe this would work. Finally, he got out of bed and walked over to me. He was quite intimidating physically, and I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. As he reached me, he put his hand on my shoulders. “Ema,” he said. “My Ema. You’ve grown up.” Then he started crying, and that’s when I could no longer hold it in.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Narration of Austin Chau

“Batter up!” was heard throughout the entire stadium. Not some minor-league namby-pamby lame old kindergarten game, mind you. I was a New York Yankee, and those neighborly Mets were going down. Neighborly as in the neighbors you want to kill.

I stepped up to the plate, spit on my bat, and resisted the urge to spit on the umpire. What a tool. The guy tried to punch me in the face over taking his drink during an inning. Guy doesn’t know how to handle a mistake. Anyways, I looked at the pitcher, nodded and gave a thumbs-up as a gesture of good luck and got ready for the swing. The ball flew through the air towards me. Time to kick out my rookie status.

The connection was made, and the ball landed in the crowd. Hopefully I would get to autograph that later. I walked around the bases, high-fiving the basemen that were friendly enough and making feeble attempts with the ones who weren’t. Not to mention waving to my fans. That ball was not going to be fetched until game’s end.

Finally, I reached home. The umpire was waiting, and he punched me in the face for real this time, knocking me to the ground.
I gotta say, what an idiot to do that during the game instead of in between innings, when people are focused on the commercials and game music and whatnot. I’m a nice guy, so I didn’t fight back. I just got up and sat on the bench while the Mets’ coach started chewing the umpire out. GOOD.

Our coach, Ben Stanley, came over to me. Good man, like a father figure, of sorts. “Man, Austin, you okay? That ump can pack a punch!”

I nodded. “Just a bit woozy.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you leave the stadium for a couple of minutes? Get some fresh air. It’ll clear your head.”

I nodded. “Thanks, coach,” I said as I headed outside the stadium amid confused fans.

Outside the stadium, I got out my iPhone. Yeah, I'm a regular techno nut. Around this time when I had breaks, I would post on Facebook, or that old website - what was it again? - Oh yeah, Runouw.com. It had great people there, and I used to live in Portland, too. Then I became a Yankee. Moving day.

I went to Facebook. “Don’t worry, I’m alright,” I typed in. I would have posted it, but then the unthinkable happened.

Yankee Stadium blew up, and then collapsed upon itself.

Instantly I knew I was the only survivor.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Narration of Suki Lee

“It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you now… said I wouldn’t…." Lady Antebellum was coming out of the radio until Nicolas angrily changed the station again. “For the bloody grace of God, Alex! How many times do I gotta tell you not to keep changing the bloody station? This country music is nothing but dog crap in its purest form!”

Alex, not even looking up, kept sweeping the torn-up tavern while I washed the tables. “Y’all ain’t got such great music taste yourself," he said. "Who the heck could hate Lady Antebellum? That song’s a classic and a heck of a lot better than your frigging scream-o. That just gives me a headache.”

“Everything that you say to me GETS ME ONE STEP CLOSER TO THE EDGE, AND I’M ABOUT TO…." Alas, we never heard what Linkin Park was about to, because Alex changed it again.

Nicolas slammed the bag of garbage on the ground. “Man, I cannot believe that Sam and Ema, not to mention all the little people that help them along the way, just up and left us with a mess like this! This place looks like a…a Grocery Store Tornado hit it.”

“A grocery store tornado?” I asked, snickering. “You’re serious?”

“I was gonna say a feeding frenzy, but that sounded even more ridiculous,” was his reply.

I giggled and set my washcloth down. Confused, Nico shrugged until I started walking toward him and then abruptly kissed him. Nothing new, but never gets old.

“Fabulous, Suki. You’re amazingly fabulous.” He told me breathlessly.

“Oh my gravy, get a room or start cleaning.” Alex griped.

I rolled my eyes and started washing again. “That reminds me…” Nicolas said thoughtfully as he went to change the radio station. Personally, I was sick of the war, so I made a threat.

“You two either turn the radio off, or I will personally turn it to Z100. You will be forced to listen to Ke$ha’s god-awful song over and over and over. Not to mention things like Lady Gaga, Beyonce, and anyone else you guys hate.”

“You mean like that godforsaken Owl City Song?” Nicolas punched a wall in anticipation of the song he dreaded. “I have that son of a gun embedded in my head.”

I giggled, unplugged the radio and set it behind me. “You know what, let’s forget the radio. We gotta focus on cleaning.”

That caused two people to groan loudly.

I wiped another table down with my washcloth. Most of it was Sprite, courtesy of Nicolas, so he should have no reason to complain. The sun was setting in the sky, and it looked beautiful. And here we were, stuck cleaning. I’d have to change that.

“C’mon guys, you gotta go outside with me. This sunset is definitely once-in-a-lifetime,” I told Alex and Nico.

“As the man with the laptop on YouTube said, why the heck not?” was Nico’s ever-so-witty reply.

“Naw.” Alex replied. “That’s too girly. Besides, haven’t you seen this place? We’ll be here all night!”

“Whatever, workaholic,” I teased as Nico and I walked out. Ah, well, all the more romance for us.

There’s a bench situated under a cherry blossom by the street. Nico and I sat under the tree, petals falling daintily on us, as we watched the sun set into the houses across the street, all the while talking about whatever came to mind. Hey, couples are allowed to their conversational privacy.

Amid a sentence, I saw someone walk into the Tavern. He looked familiar, too. As If I had seen him before. Once. “Hey, dude, the tavern is -" I called, but he just walked in, ignoring my every word. Ah, well, workaholic man can take care of it.

I turned back to Nicolas and started talking again when gunshots went off.

I shrieked as the figure, with a hood on now, ran out of the tavern just as we ran in. I would have liked to have chased down the bas…sorry, Sam; I mean Dou…dang it! This is hard! Anyways, I ran into the tavern, and saw Alex, surrounded by a large pool of blood, unquestionably dead.

I screamed so loud I nearly passed out.

Nicolas looked at me, horrified. “That shooter, I knew him. Blaine… he’s back.”

-------------------------------------------------

Narration of Sam Eastman

I was waiting for Ema outside in the field of weeds. Not quite the same as the sunflower field, but good enough.

“You’re a brave woman, Ema,” I said as I grabbed her arm.

She smiled weakly. “You really think so?”

“I wish I could have told my folks that I wanted to see them more, that I only left because it was best for them. Sure, I never would have changed anything, but it was one of the hardest things I’ve done, and I wish I could have kept in touch with them,” I explained.

She looked up at me. “Thank you.” She said as she inched closer to me. Nothing was going to stop me but divine intervention this time, to quote Jason Mraz.

“You’re welcome,” I told her. Then I whispered, “Let’s hope no one starts driving away.”

She giggled, and for the first time since we had met, our lips touched and connected. Man that was worth the wait.
Complete bliss. Those are the only two words that can describe it. This time, we managed to last about five seconds before -

“Hello!” Kim waved her arms in the air as she ran towards us. “Will you two snap out of it? This isn’t a syndicated episode of I Love Lucy, this is serious! More like…a, uhm, syndicated episode of CSI!”

We broke apart, a bit embarrassed, but not caring all that much anymore. "What's the big deal?" Ema asked, almost laughing a bit.

“Yankee Stadium just got blown up!” Kim told us, shocked.

“Say what now?” was my reply.

“Yeah, Yankee Stadium! Only one freaking survivor!” She kicked some of the weeds. “Man, I am so sick of things blowing up in my face!”

"Er…we're on the other side of the country, Kim," I said, the response to which was a simple rolling of the eyes.

Ema looked at me. “You think there could be a connection?”

I groaned. “Rick’s group, they were plotting something like this. Blowing up entire small towns, Mt. Rushmore, the Gateway Arch, and what could have more people per inch than a stadium? Especially the world’s most famous one.”

“Who would have killed themselves doing that?” Ema asked me.

“Any one of them. They were a suicide group, remember?” I replied.

“Well, we gotta get to New York!” Ema replied.

“But the thing is, Em,” I told her, not really noticing Kim anymore. “We have no way to get there. The Ferrari's sort of totaled. Any ideas?”

“My dad’s a pilot.” She told me. “He was- that is…that was the job he loved so much. He still has a plane; he can get us to New York easily.”

“Yeah, good idea. Anyway, I'll get Buffy and Dania and then we'll hit the road.” I said as Ema let me go.

Man, we really gotta stop doing that when everyone is around.

I did tell her this. "Hey, Ema."

"What is it, Sammy?"

"You're getting your drawl back."

She blushed. "Am I?" she replied, testing it out. "I am! Wow, and I've barely been home!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam still narrates.

“Yeah I'm out that Brooklyn. Now I'm down in Tribeca. Right next to DeNiro but I'll be hood forever. I'm the new Sinatra and since I made it here I can make it anywhere yeah they love me everywhere-“

I changed the station in our rent-a-car, seriously missing the Ferrari. The song is catchy enough censored, but in my opinion, Stephen Colbert does it much, much better. Ema's Dad had flown us into a small airport an hour or so north of the city, at which point we piled into a rent-a-car and headed down to the city. And here we were.

Anyway, I drove down Jerome Street to 161st avenue at where Yankee Stadium Should Have been, but wasn’t. It was just a pile of Debris.

One person in a baseball uniform stood alone, just staring at where the stadium had once been, seemingly shocked by the disaster. He looked as if he was in space, and it was, to tell the truth, kind of creepy. We pulled our car alongside us and greeted him. He just looked at us, and then in a near monotone, asked us “Who are you?”

“We are here to help you. And you?” said Ema.

“I am the survivor. My name is Austin Chau.”

“Okay, Chau, do you know who did this?” asked Buffy.

He crumpled to the ground and started to sob. “I don’t know what happened…I was out there…Ben was in there…boom… everyone died…Ben is dead…” and anything else he was gonna say was muffled by violent sobs.

I knelt down. “He’s in shock. He can’t help us. We need to get him to a hospital.”

-------------------------------------------------

Narration of Dania Eastman

Sam’s not a firm believer of driving and using the phone, so he gave it to me to hold on to. While he was talking to the bawling guy in the uniform, he got a call.

I answered it when I saw that it was Mic. Nice kid, really funny and really sensitive. “Hello, you have a direct call from ‘The Eastmans.’ Will you accept the charges?”

“Oh, hi Dania.” He replied. He didn't sound good at all. “Is Sam there?”

“He is, but he’s coping with a bawling baseball player, so can he take a message?”

“Um, okay, quick. I just got shot in the foot and there are people after me…the police…and Elia, and I’m in real trouble, send help.”

“Mic,” I said worriedly, but he hung up.

Sam turned to me. “Who was that?”

“It was Mic.” I told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry,” I lied. “He was just calling to tell us that things are going pretty well. He’ll brief us when he gets to a hotel.”

He nodded. “Thanks for taking the call, Dania.”

I shrugged with a feigned nonchalantness, feeling the guilt already.

-------------------------------------------------

Narration goes back to Sam

Kim looked at Austin. “Wow, I feel bad for the guy.” She sighed. “I wish I could help.”

“Well, you’re charming enough. Why don’t you try talking to him?” Ema asked.

“Because I have a boyfriend.” She told me angrily.

“Really?” Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows. “If Nico were single, we all know-“

“Oh, shut up about it, Buffy. You know I was kidding. I’ll talk to him. Just leave me alone for a little while.”

I shrugged and walked over to a neighboring Starbucks across the street. Ema, Buffy, and Dania followed.

I ordered myself some strong coffee and Ema one of her fruity little lemonades. Buffy treated herself to something with a lot of whipped cream and Dania - wait, what relevance has this to the story?

Okay, back on track. I know you people are dying to know our coffee habits, but still…

“So, Dania, anything else Mic wanted to tell us?” I asked Dania innocently. Surely our Mic would not call us without a joke or story to accompany it.

She squirmed in her seat. “Um…nothing.”

I couldn’t quite believe her. “You sure you’re telling me the truth? Because if you like Mic, I don’t have a problem with that anymore.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…just a minute, you said ‘anymore.’”

Now I squirmed in my seat. Before I could continue, I heard gunshots outside. "Oh crap!" I cried as I ran out as fast as I could. Everyone except Dania followed.

A shocking sight lay in front of us.

Kim was on the ground, covered in blood with a gunshot wound to the chest.

“No!” Buffy screamed. “No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no!”

I checked for a heartbeat. “She’s alive, but barely. Austin, who did this?”

Austin pointed to a running fat man, and immediately I knew who. But before I could get my gun out, Buffy was running after him, prosthetic and all.

I started to cry, but tried to keep it hidden. “Ema! Call an ambulance! Now!”

Then another gunshot was fired. I looked over, fearing for Buffy’s life, when I saw Brock Lee lying on the ground, dead as well. Buffy put her gun away, kicked him and started calling his corpse all sorts of names.

Ten minutes later, an ambulance arrived, carrying Kim into it on a stretcher. Buffy climbed into the back with her. “You go!” I told her. “We’ll catch up when the police got there.”

Buffy nodded as the ambulance carried her off.

I walked up to Ema, who was also struggling to hold in tears. I put my arms around her neck and said “Ema….” That was all that I was able to get out before we burst into tears, crying in each other’s arms. How many were going to die before we solved this case?

Suddenly, Ema’s voicemail alert came up. She let go of me, cleared her throat and got her phone out.

Surprise came into her eyes. “It’s, um, you.”

I looked for my phone. I didn’t have it. “Oh my God, answer it.”

Ema pressed a button and the following life-changing message played.

“Ema, it’s me, Dania. Hopefully you don’t know where I am right now. All I can tell you is, I am flying out to Mic. I was lying when I said things were going well. He’s in trouble, and I’m going to Italy to help him because…” she paused a little as we took this in “just because. Just trust me, guys. I can do this. I love you, Sam. Dania."

I stared at the phone for thirty seconds, unbelieving, before at long last saying, "The rascal! She took my phone!"

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 20- Wounded
Ema narrates…she seriously ought to be checked out for some psychological disease in which she always must…never mind…

"Call Buffy," Sam said. "See what's going on with Kim. We need to get to Italy as soon as possible, and I'd like her to come if Kim's stable."

I nodded, hit a few buttons on my cell phone, and then held it up to my ear. "Hi, Buffy? How's Kim?"

"She's in bad shape, but she's stable."

"You guys at the hospital yet?"

"Yeah. They've already removed the bullet and done a whole bunch of other medical stuff on her, and she's appears a little better."

"Is she talking?"

"No, still unconscious, but they say she'll come around in a little while."

"All right," I said, taking a deep breath. "Listen. Mic is in serious trouble in Italy, and out of sheer stupidity, Dania took off after him, only informing me via voicemail right now. We don't know what trouble, we don't know anything. All we know is that we need to get to Italy now. Can you come?"

I heard Buffy sigh. "I feel bad leaving her, but I guess if she's stable, I ought to go with you guys. Meet you at JFK in thirty minutes." And with that, she hung up.

"Well?" asked Sam.

"She's coming. Let's get to JFK."

Ten minutes later, we were in a cab on the way to John F. Kennedy International Airport. I had already called the airport to make arrangements, and we were set to take off in one hour. We sat in the back of the taxi. Sam was just staring out one of the windows, worry written all over his face. I, not being able to think of anything better, volunteered, "It's going to be all right Sam."

Sam only turned further away from me. I decided that this was not the time to push it, so I just sat back in my seat in silence. Suddenly, Sam said, "Give me your phone."

"What?"

"I need your phone to call Dania."

"Oh," I said, handing him the phone. He started dialing the number. "Put it on speakerphone," I said.

"All right," he replied, as it started to ring. As soon as the screen said the word "connected," Sam instantly started screaming into the phone, "Dania, what the heck did you think you were doing, running off like that? You could get yourself killed! We've already lost enough lives on this case; we don't need one more. Where are you anyway?"

But instead of getting a response, Dania simply hung up. "Dang it! You stubborn little devil!"

"Want to try Mic?" I suggested.

"Good idea," Sam agreed as he started to dial Mic. It rang a couple times, before Mic picked up. "Hello?" said Sam.

"Sam! Do not come to Italy! Don't worry about me, just don't come to Italy! No matter what he says, don't-“but at that moment, Mic was interrupted by a gunshot.

"Oh my God," I said, but then another voice came on.

"Hello Sam and Ema," he said. It was a deep and morbid voice. "Thanks for calling," he continued, before bursting into sinister laughter. Definitely like the Joker. Always makes me wonder why The Dark Knight never got an Oscar nom. Ema being the “Ridder” she is, she’d probably agree with me.

"Who are you?" said Sam. "And what have you done with Mic?"

"The first question is of no importance to you. And as for Mic, I have just shot him in the stomach."

"What!" I cried.

"You see, I had ordered him to tell you to meet him at a certain address upon your arrival in Venice in order to discuss his findings. The truth is that that address is where I am currently located, and it was meant to be a trap so we could capture you. However, because your friend was foolishly brave, he has now been shot in the stomach. If it wasn't for his little girlfriend here, I would let him die, but out of courtesy for the lady, I'll keep him alive for a little while."

"They've got Dania," muttered Sam. "Those horrible people have Dania."

"Anyway, because your friend had to be brave, I'm gonna have to do this the hard way. The two of you and Buffy will get on the plane for which you are booked, per your arrangements with John F. Kennedy Airport. As soon as you land in Venice, you will be apprehended by two men. Do not resist, or I will blow up the airport. You will then be taken to me, at which point I will tell you all you want to know. Any deviation from these instructions, and I will kill Mic, Dania, and your parents Sam." And with that, the man hung up.

"Wait." said Sam. "My parents are alive?" But the man had already hung up. Sam just slumped down in his seat in shock, grasping my hand, tears streaming down his face. "My parents are alive."

"Great," I added. "We've walked right into their trap."
Narration of Buffy

I wasn't very comfortable leaving Kim. So, imagine what my comfort level was when I discovered that I was leaving Kim to get on a plane to take us straight into the hands of the enemy.

Yeah, not very high.

I responded to Sam and Ema's description of the party with several groans, gasps, and hyper ventilations. Well, all right, I'm exaggerating a bit on the last point. I'm a police officer; I have to be able control situations like this.

Nevertheless, I wasn't in a very good mood on the flight. My stomach was churning, and not from craptacular airline food. The three of us sat together in silence, thinking about what was to come, and in Sam's case, particularly about his family, all of which were alive, or so we were told. I was worried about Mic the most, as he was the only one this side of the ocean with a gunshot wound, as far as I aware. Finally, as the plane initiated preparation for landing, I turned to the other two.

"So what do we do?" I asked, because we sort of needed a plan.

"Well," said Ema, "we don't really have a choice, do we? If we don't follow what that guy said on the phone to the letter, he'll kill Mic and Sam's family," she lowered her voice to a whisper here, "and potentially blow up the airport. We can't put that all on the line, and I don't think we could deviate from the instructions without him realizing. He'd realize before we'd have a chance to get there. Besides, if we don't go with the two guys who are…uh…meeting us," Ema's eyes followed the flight attendant as she walked by us; "We won't know where to find this place."

"Actually," said Sam, "that's not entirely true." He held up Ema's cell phone. "I hacked into this to find out the location of Mic's phone." On Ema's screen was a map. She snatched it away with a piercing look and told him “Who asked you to mess with my phone?” She managed a wan smile however as she looked at the screen.

"Hey," I said. "Aren't we supposed to put cell phones away while the plane is in flight?"

"Uh…well, yes, but is that really the important thing right now?" Sam asked. "Now then, Mic's phone is at these coordinates."

"Do you think that's where we'll be taken?" I asked.

"Probably. I can't imagine he'd shoot Mic in the stomach and then move him. He'd probably die, and the guy said he was gonna keep him alive."

"Do you really trust him?" I asked incredously.

Sam looked away into the clouds. "No, but in this case, I'll hope for the best."

"All right," Ema said. "So we think we know where they are - flight attendant," Ema quickly hissed an interruption as Sam hid the cell phone. When she passed, I continued, "So as I was saying, we think we know where they are, but what advantage is it? We get to the same place if we go with the two guys meeting us, and we're guaranteed to get to the right place."

"We'll have a chance to get in with weapons and whatnot," I suggested. "A better fighting chance."

"True, but what if they realize we're missing before we can get there. We can say goodbye to Sam's family and Mic. And we might not even be going to the right place. I don't think we have any alternative. We must go with them."

Sam and I looked at each other. Ema was right; we had to submit ourselves to captivity. Just what I wanted to be doing today. Man, I could've been back at the school in Portland, safe and sound…actually, not true…given the students' maturity level; somebody might throw something at me and take my head off. But that's a tangent, which, the square of by the way…never mind, that's a real tangent.

We landed soon after, and, after standing around for ten minutes waiting for people in front of us to take down their carry-on luggage, we exited the plane. Almost immediately upon our entrance to the terminal, two guys that looked like they could take on Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime approached us and said only, "Come with us."

And so off we went.
Big Gulp.
Sam narrates as part of the secret plot…um, well, not-so-secret anymore…to end Ema's narrating addiction. Yeah, about as secret as the Undercover Detectives on the Amazing Race.

As soon as we exited the airport, we were blindfolded, so where we were going only Yah and our captors knew. I'm not very good at estimating time without a clock, so I can't say how long we were blindfolded. I believe we were in a car for some part of our journey. I did not say a word, and neither did Sam or Ema, for fear of repercussions. Anyway, after some time, I was thrown to the floor of…some place which I couldn't see. That is, until my blindfold was removed.

We appeared to be in what could be likened to a throne room in a palace. The rectangular room, longer in length than in width, was made almost entirely of a dark marble, with a high ceiling held up by marble pillars, and was lit by torch. Buffy, Sam, and I were at the foot of a staircase, which led up to where the king might sit, keeping the simile, or metaphor - English was never my strong subject - going. Standing there was a fairly tall young man, who couldn't have been older than Buffy. Behind him were Dania and my parents, all tied to chairs, and my parents gagged, and next to them, unmoving on the floor, was Mic, lying in a pool of blood. I immediately stood up in an attempt to get to them, but was thrown to the ground by an unseen force behind me. Turning around, I saw that the two men who had brought us here, presumably guards, were standing behind us, and four more guards were stationed near the entrance. All were armed, and our weapons appeared to have been removed. It looked pretty grim.

"Welcome," began the man at the top of the staircase, in a voice sounding strikingly like John Cleese. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Rob Stevens."

Ema gasped. "You're Rob Stevens? Rick's brother?"

"Yes, Rick, may he rest in peace. You did a solid job on the RV, I heard, especially your newest trainee. Ah well. Life goes on, although probably not for her. Now then-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Buffy, well, interrupted, "but aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Ah! Very good! Yes, I am supposed to be dead." Rob began to pace the room. "I faked my death, employing the use of various chemicals and whatnot to create that image. That is why Nicolas passed the lie detector. I was, by all appearances, dead. But I was very much alive. This way, I would not be suspected, and up until this point it worked, exactly as intended. I applaud you for your gullibility."

This guy had a sharp tongue. "Why have you brought us here, you son of a-?" I asked.

"You could call it revenge for all that you've done to screw my plans up, not to mention for the death of my brother. You could also call it insurance that you won't get in my way again."

"Why are you doing this, and what are you planning next?" Ema asked.

"Ah! Good question! You see, I believe that, given the bombing of Yankee Stadium, I have the leverage to make demands to the federal government using the threat of blowing up the White House as the alternative to accepting my demands. And believe you me; I will execute that threat if I do not get what I want. And why? Because I believe that there are too many problems with the United States of America and we need a quick and radical solution. Rick may or may not have explained the ideology of this during your IBM encounter. So, my demands are simple. I am, in essence, initiating a coup d’état. I and my followers will take over the American government."

"Sounds like fun," Buffy suggested bitterly.

"Yes, I am quite enjoying it," said Rob sinisterly. "Now then, before I send you away, a few things you may want to know. Elia, the Venetian police, Brock Lee and Jacob Blaine have all been working for me. The latter, if you do not already know, killed Alex Card at Niklaw's Tavern. A pity; he was supposed to kill Nicolas and Suki, but circumstances and the fact that he actually had a heart prevented it. Blaine is here in this room now."

From the shadows behind my parents and Mic emerged Jacob Blaine, who walked up to Rob and stood beside him. "It is a pleasure to meet you all again," he said.

"Blablob, as he was known on the pitiful forums I created, have been my right-hand men, and, have done a lot of the planning for me. The forums, by the way, I created solely to allow for the blackmail of the mods to carry out the bombings in Portland. The same goes for my dating the darling Suki before my supposed "death". As a result, she joined the forums, and I instantly made her a mod. Speaking of which, you may be wondering about Intel. In actuality, it was a cover-up for the Portland branch of our group, America’s Murder. We would simply destroy Intel as well to cover up our tracks. We kept our nationwide headquarters in here, Venice, to keep the police off of our tracks. Apparently it did not work as hoped, but still a good outcome."

"Finally," Rob took a breath, and then continued as his face spread into a devilish grin, "my favorite part. Your sister, Sam, has known everything the whole time!"

"What?" I cried. "How?"

"Sam…" she said, bursting into sobs. "I'm sorry…I was blackmailed…they told me…they told me they'd kill Mum and Dad if I didn't keep my mouth shut and…and do what they said…"

"Yes indeed. When the police took your parents, under my orders, we also took Dania. We told her that we'd keep her parents live, but she had to do several things. For starters, she had to return to Portland as she was and tell you that your parents were dead, Sam. She secretly kept us informed about your doings, and when you were romancing at the rest stop, Sam and Ema, and Buffy and Kim were sleeping, she secretly let my brother into the RV. Finally, we had planned in advance to have her fly to Italy following the Yankee Stadium bombing, which we timed with her flight, as a lure to bring you all here. And if I do say so myself, it worked extremely well, better than I expected. For that, I owe her substantial thanks."

"Anytime," Dania replied coldly, spitting at him.

"The whole story with Elia was fabricated, and she lied about that also, all under our orders. This enabled us to lure one of you, in the actual case Mic, here as well as serving as a cover for the truth long enough for us to execute our plans."

I looked at Buffy and Ema. There was no doubt about it. We had played right into their plans every step of the way. We had done nothing to stop it. We weren't even aware of it.

"Now, I think that will be all," Rob said. "Take them away."

"Wait!" Ema cried. "What about Dania and Mic and Sam's parents? You have what you want. Now let them go!"

"Ha!" Rob cried. "So they could go back home and tell everybody about what we're doing? I think not! Guards!"

"Is Mic alive?" Buffy asked.

Rob stared at her coldly. "If I had wanted him dead, I would've shot him through the head."

Well, I'll tell you this much, the guy can rhyme.
Sadly, Ema found out about the ploy. She narrates again.

Great. We're screwed. That was what I kept thinking as we were led by "guards" to a Venetian police station. That's what they told us anyway; they had blindfolded us again so we couldn't see where we were. As it turns out, the guards were in fact members of the Venice police. When they removed my blindfold, which I'm estimating was ten minutes after our departure from Rob; I was in a grimy cell with Sam, while Buffy was in an adjacent cell. The police were locking us in.

"Um," Buffy began, "can I ask why I'm in a different cell than them?"

"In the words of the boss," said one of the policemen, "since you're all gonna be spending the rest of your lives here, he wanted the two lovebirds to be together. In case…you know." And with that, he burst into laughter as he and his companions left us. I made sure to tell him to F off. Days gone without an obscenity- 0. Yeah, I’ve been keeping track.

"Great," said Sam. "Not only are we trapped here, but I've just been epically humiliated!"

"Tell me about it," I said; red as a beet, out of both anger and embarrassment.

"Hmm," said Buffy. "We're the only prisoners here. We have no windows, and it's quite dark."

I looked around. Buffy was right. This floor of cells was naturally poorly lit, and we were the only ones here.

"Furthermore, there is no way these cells meet sanitation codes," I added. "I can only conclude that these cells are secret and underground."

"Hmm…sounds about right deductress," Sam volunteered. I blushed, but now that we were out in the open, it didn't matter so much.

"So here's the question," I began. "How the heck do we get out of here?"

"Well, I don't know," Buffy volunteered cynically, "but the way it sounds, we have a lifetime to think of a way."

Thanks for the encouraging words Buffy.

Chapter 21-Things Are Not Always What They Seem
(Narration of -gasp- Dania Eastman)
I looked with substantial hate as Rick left the room at last. What a bas-jerk, as I am told Nicolas of the Tavern would say. Whatever the heck could provoke him to take over the world is way, way beyond me.
I looked down at Mic. Poor thing, he looked like he was near the gates of hell. And it was entirely my fault. I started crying again, out of pure guilt. And to add to my suckage meter, I accidentally woke up Mic with my bitter sobs, and as soon as he opened his eyes, I read a lot of suffering in them.
“Owwwwwww.” He groaned, to further validate my point.
I looked at him. He was really in horrible shape. “Oh hi, Dania.” He said. “I missed the show. What the heck happened?”
I internally swore at him, not exactly wanting to recap my betrayal to him and the rest, but the kid is literally dying to know. I started telling him how they were forced over here, how it was Rob, and Jacob all along, and worst of all, how I had been blackmailed. I didn’t really get past that because I started bawling my eyes out.
Mic looked up at me. “This is great! Your parents and Sam’s parents are alive! I’m alive, you’re alive, are the rest alive?”
I nodded. “For now.”
“Look,” Mic told me. “No one’s here. So why don’t you and I get out of this mess? I’ll try to untie you, you patch me up, and we leave in nothing flat?”
I tried not to smile too much, but the idea of getting out of this mess was too good to pass up. “Okay, you sure you’re strong enough?”
He nodded. “Adrenaline comes in handy, Dania. I swear to god that without it, I would have died a long time ago.”
I smiled down at him and said “Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Narration of Nicolas Locke)
Now, you may have been asking, what were we doing in all this mess? Why, we were following the bloody killer to this place! What, you thought we were celebrating Alex’s death by sipping cocktails?
Well, maybe we should have. We heard everything from the air vent we had crawled into. And, lawdy, lawdy, lawdy, was Suki a mess in my arms… which was really awkward since we were one- trying to be hidden and two- you know how hard it is to hold someone in an air vent?
Not only did she find out that Alex was a traitor all along, but that her deceased boyfriend was alive and was one- a villain and two- using her behind Rick’s back. She couldn’t stop sobbing, trying so hard not to make a noise, which was getting harder and harder.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Before I started wailing like a newborn Kangaroo (that is an Aussie-inspired metaphor I just made up and I am proud to admit it) I told her. “Suki, Suki, listen. I know this is, to be frank, fricking horrible. It is, but you know what, with what we have, we have to move on.”
She sighed. “I know, but it’s just… evil. I… I really can’t describe it any other way, except… evil.”
I looked at her tear-stricken face and sighed again, classily wiping away a few tears. “Well, these two seem to have it figured out. We really ought to help Sam, Ema and Buffy out of jail.”
“Well, we could always get the keys to the jail cell.”
“Yeah, let’s ask Rob for the keys and hope he gives them to you.” I responded incredously.
She lit up. “That’s it!”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Suki, Suki, Suki.” I said nervously. “You sure this is going to work?”
She looked at me with those deep pools of green and told me “Trust me.” as she put sunglasses over her eyes.
I nodded nervously and gulped as we walked into Rob’s office.
“Whoever it is, can it wait?” he said, looking around his shoulder. “Oh, who are you two?”
What a relief, he didn’t recognize us.
Perhaps I should elaborate. Suki and I had clocked a couple of guards and taken their clothes. Suki watered down her hair to make it seem dark and straight instead of wavy, and she had the sunglasses over her eyes to avoid Rob looking into his ex’s unmistakable eyes. I had sunglasses and a hat on to avoid him recognizing me.
“We’re part of your crew.” Suki told him in a voice deeper than usual tinted with a faux Southern Accent. “Atlanta, Georgia branch. We were sent over here to work with you by our boss. Don’t believe you’ve met. His name’s Dave Jones, but everyone calls him Bulldog.” Ah, let me explain. Sam’s not the only hacker in the vicinity.
He nodded. “So, how are things in the Atlanta group?”
“We’re just that much closer to blowing down the Peachtree Tower.” She continued. “But we were sent over here when we heard you captured those infamous twerps from out West. Told you needed more guards. So where do we go?”
“Ugh, go to the police station down the road; help the guards out over there. I’ve got the main hall guarded.”
Suki looked at me and raised an eyebrow, but saved us by saying “Well, you heard the man, let’s go. Right down the road, you say?”
“Yes, ma’am. You know, you look so familiar to me. Like an ex-girlfriend I had.” Rob told her.
I held in a gasp, but Suki coolly told him “Everyone says that, darling. Arrividechi!”
I followed her out the door of the office and into the street.
We walked a ways and stopped. For a second, I swear to god I pulled a Sam and just stared at her. When I realized my error, I blurted out as we started walking “That. Was. So. Dang. Brilliant!”
She giggled. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely, that was just so smooth, so polished, as if you had rehearsed it. Great Southern Accent, by the way.”
She looked at me and said “Why did he say the main hall was guarded, it clearly wasn’t?”
I held her hand. “Does it matter? We’re in! We’re gonna get them out of the cell, and then we’re gonna get the rest, and then we’re gonna kick some butt, and then get out of Italy, and get back home, dismantle the evil group, and, and, and SHYYYYYYYYYYYYAAH!”
She giggled and put a hand on my face as we slowed to a halt. “Italy really is a beautiful place, isn’t it?”
I squirmed a little bit and said “Do you really think this is the best time for romantics?”
She looked at me and said “Does it really matter?”
And with that in mind, you can give us some personal space while I kiss the love of my life.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
Man, even with Ema in the same cell as me, things were depressing. We were beat, it seemed, and we knew it. Now we were going to spend the rest of our lives in this rotting hell.
I looked at Buffy, who was asleep, and sighed. Man, if only she had stayed with Kim. She wouldn’t be trapped here, she would be back teaching and back with Gary, who seems like a real nice guy. And Mic, he was dying in the other room. His parents let him go here out of pure selflessness, and now he was going to die in vain. And my sister, my parents. They’re gonna spend the rest of their lives bound to chairs.
I looked at Ema, whose head rest on my shoulder. We had it easy; we were going to spend eternity together, albeit not in the best circumstances. I sighed and fought to hold back tears.
I didn’t succeed, to say the least. They streamed down my face, and I struggled to keep the sobs from leaping out of my mouth.
Ema looked up at me, saw my anguished face and said “It’s gonna be okay, Sam. America will stop this. They always do.”
I sighed and said “With what, Ema? The police?”
“National Security, the army national guard. As much of a horrible person Rob is, we at least get to spend our hostage situation together, the three of us. And try not to worry about family; they’re alive, at least.”
“I really want to get out of here, Ema.” I said, choking up.
Suddenly, I heard a guard fall to the ground. Then the other. Then the third.
That’s when two new ones ran into the room. I had no clue who on earth these people were until the male started speaking.
“Alright, mates, we have Rob’s trust! So you guys are free to go!” he said as he unlocked the cage.
I grinned. “Ah, Nicky, you pull through again.” I said as I we fist-fived.
Ema squealed and said “This means we’re one step closer!”
“To the edge, and I’m about to- sorry, random singing for the win again.” Nico told us.
Suki unlocked Buffy and asked “Are you okay?”
“Barely mentally,” she replied. “Just really missing Gary, that’s all.”
“So, Nico, how’d you even get here?” I asked.
“We followed Jacob-Ellis.” He told us. “The bas-jerk took a plane over here, and we knew Mic was over here, so we thought he was in trouble. We undercover-ly followed Jacob over here, not wanting to kill him- okay, I wanted to kill him after he killed Alex, God bless his soul for sparing us, but we wanted to be led to Mic and so we didn’t kill him, yet.”
Suki interrupted. “But I saw Mic and Dania trying to escape. We didn’t see anyone watching them, but when we talked to Rob, he told us to go here to guard you, because they were guarded. Someone’s there and they’re trying to escape. They need help.”
I ran up the stairs. “Well, then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
Narration of Da Other Eastman

Despite his injuries, Mic was able to untie me easy. Now what to do about his shot stomach. And his foot, which I noticed was still bleeding. I took the rug that Rob had in his grand room and with a snicker on my face, grabbed it up and wrapped it around his wound. I hope that godforsaken piece of crap cost a hundred-thousand dollars. Although it was tough as heck, I was able to rip a piece off and wrap it around his foot. He shouted in agony, grabbing the chair and squirming around a little.

“Don’t fight it, Mic.” I told him gently. “I know it’s hard, but don’t fight it.”

He grabbed my arm, quite hard, too, digging his nails into my skin. It was a bit painful, but I let him, because Yah knows what kind of pain he’s in. Nevertheless, he settled down. That takes an awful amount of trust considering I’m the cause of his pain.

He looked at me and said “Thanks, Dania, you’re a lifesaver.”

I smiled a little. “It’s really the least I could do.”

At that moment, someone trotted in the room, and I could smell the trouble from a mile away. I looked up, and in all his cocky glory, Jacob Blaine, the son of a bi - um, never mind. But I really hate that guy. He messes with people's heads a lot. At first, I thought he was a friend, back in Italy after he left Portland, (I later learned that was when he was holding people like Suki captive) but I thought the same of Rob Stevens, too. To tell you the truth I was really falling for Jacob, him being my age and all. That was before I learned about everything and the blackmail started.

He grinned at me devilishly. “Hey, gorgeous.” He told me, and I saw a gun in his hand. “What do you think you are doing?”
I looked at him, and out of sheer hate and heartbreak, spit in his face. I tried to, but I could only reach as far as his chest from the ground. Still, pretty good air.

“What godforsaken business is it of yours?” I said.

“Well, I have a gun, and you don’t,” he sneered.

“What are you doing down here?” I spouted venomously.

“Well, let’s see, baby. You’re not tied to a chair. Your parents are. You’re wrapping a rug around your new boy there. Could I resist?”

I rolled my eyes. “You call me baby one more time, and I swear to Yah-“

“You’ll what? Punch me with those pitiful fists and in turn I shall have no problem blowing your boy’s brains out right here and now and dragging you around with me,” he told me snappily as he turned his attention to “my boy”. “You’re so pitiful,” he laughed. “You think you can save the world, and we all know that you’re doomed to die in your enemy’s possession. I know it, she knows it, and you know it.”

“Don’t listen to him!” I pleaded.

“Your brother thought that he could save the world, too, you know.” He continued, as a look of terror came across Mic's face, his eyes fiery with rage. “All we wanted was his money, his wallet, maybe his phone, too. He thought he was a hero and could take us. We were, after all, coming for you next.”

Mic looked at him, horrified and enraged.

“Mic, he’s lying, don’t listen to him!” I begged. Surely he was lying. Please, Yah let him be lying.

I saw Mic get up, and I knew that my pleading was for crap. “You monster! You sick, twisted, demented, low-life, murderous - "

“Keep them coming,” Jacob said, snickering like this was a game.

Mic shouted out, “You son of a _________-" as he lunged for Jacob, stomach wound and all, but Jacob dodged the attack. As for the hidden word, I’m sure you can guess

"Oh, you want to play, eh? Well, come and get me then!" cried Jacob as he started running out of the room.

"No Mic!" I cried as he started to run after Jacob, but it was no use. Despite two partially undressed bullet wounds, the bullets still lodged in his body, nothing was gonna stop Mic from getting his revenge except death. My worry was that death was exactly what he was gonna get. But I knew that I shouldn't interfere. This was his battle and his alone. I sighed as a started untying my parents.

--------------------------------------------------

Narration of Ema Felkis, yet again. I’m starting to think that she got a cold one day and decided “what the heck, I’ll write a story about our adventures” and then everyone found out, and started pitching in and… tangent, sorry, you know a tangent squared equals…

We ran up the stairs, and approached Rob’s office. I put my ear to the wall and heard a heated argument between Rob and someone on his phone.

Nicolas looked at us and said “Let Suki and I handle it.”

I nodded. “Good luck.”

“Semper Fide,” Sam said.

I looked at him oddly. “That’s the navy.”

“Doesn’t make it any less fun to say.” He replied as we peeked through the door.

“All right, let me call you back.” Rob hung up and said “Oh, it’s you two. Get lost; I have important business to attend to.”

“This is far more important, darling.” Suki put on a southern accent again.

“All right, you two. What is it?”

Nicolas pulled out a gun swiftly and aimed it at Rick, and by the look on his face it seemed it took all of his willpower not to shoot him in the head.

Rob looked, in all respects, shocked. “You two… you’re traitors.”

Suki took off her sunglasses and said “Better than that, darling.” She then reached over to slap a surprised Rob in the face. “That was for faking your own death.” She muttered, dropping the fake accent. Another few slaps. “That was for all the rest.”

“Just a slap, Sukes?” he said, sneering. “I got off rather light, wouldn’t you say?”

Nicolas put the guard’s gun right up to Rob’s face and told him “You will come with us now.”

They walked out of the office, and I raised my eye…never mind. “Good work, you two. Remind us to get you jobs.”

Nico shook his head and said “Nah, I’m really a lighthearted tavernista at heart.”

I’ll have to add that to the Nictionary.

We started running again, into the room that Mic, Dania, and her parents had been in earlier, the one where Rob had revealed to us his secrets. "Mic, Dania-" I began to call, but suddenly stopped dead in my tracks.

“No…” Sam said, and I could tell he was holding in more sobs.

“Why, I…” was all I could say.

Nicolas just looked at the scene, mouth agape.

Chapter 22- Lightning Crashes-Jack Walker
Sam narrates.

OK, I don't do drugs, but I couldn't help but consider that perhaps somebody may have slipped something into my food or drink at some point recently, because there was something seriously wrong with this picture.

My parents were holding Dania at gunpoint. Correction, double gunpoint. Each had a gun.

Well, this was certainly a twist.

Not being able to think of anything better to do, I pulled out my gun (courtesy of one of the guards that Nicky and Suki pawned, as the former would say) and said, "Mom, Dad, it's all right. We can go now. We can leave this wretched place and go back to Portland."

"Drop your weapons or she dies!" my dad replied. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Rob was running away at remarkable speeds. Let the coward run. We have important matters. I looked at Ema, Buffy, Nicolas, and Suki, telepathically begging an alternative of them. Sadly, none of them have the power of telepathy.

"Do what he says," I said, and we all dropped our weapons.

"Good. Ellen, could you pick up their weapons and handcuff them, sweetie?" My dad said aloud.

"Of course, darling," my mother replied. What the heck was going on here?

I decided to voice that question. "Um…Mom, Dad…what are you doing? What's going on?"

"Quite simple, honey," began my mother. "You see, Rob left something out when he was briefing you guys earlier. He and Rick are not the masterminds of this whole scheme. We are."

"What?" the five of us cried in unison.

"What's with the what?" said my father. "You all go deaf lately? I know those jail cells are crummy, but they're not that bad."

I looked at my companions, who looked back at me, shock written all over their faces. This can't be right. I must be dreaming. Wake up, Sam, wake up. But it was too real to be a dream. Everybody and everything looked perfectly real. There was no mistake about it. And no mistake meant that we were screwed. Again.
Mic narrates.

I wasn't kidding when I said adrenaline could work wonders. I had two holes in my body, including one in my foot, yet I swear I could've won a track meet at the rate I was going. And I can't even run that well.

I was pursuing the son of a gun Jacob Blaine through the hallways of whatever this building was that I was in. I couldn't believe that he of all people had killed my brother. And I couldn't stop thinking that I was gonna make him pay.

Problem was, despite my record speeds, Blaine had faster record speeds. I wasn't sure why he was running. Was he a coward? Maybe. But I didn't care. I just kept running after him. I had knocked out a guard stationed outside of the room where I had left Dania and taken his gun, so I had a fighting chance. Honestly, I would've run after him even if I didn't have a gun. I'd rather have died trying than not tried at all.

I turned corner after corner, following the torches of the poorly lit hallway. I must have been underground, probably right above a sewage complex, because there was a thin layer of murky water on the ground. Gross, I know, but in case I didn't emphasize this enough, the only thing on my mind was Jacob Blaine and three bullets in my brother's head.

Finally, I reached the end of the hallway. Problem was that I could now either go left or right in a different hallway, and I had lost track of Blaine. Dang. I did not come this far only to let him get away. I dared not stick my head out into the new hallway for fear of having it shot off, so I just stood at the end of my hallway, desperately hoping for a sign of which way to go. Suddenly, I noticed that the water was rippling slightly off to the left, so without thinking twice I pulled out my gun and ran to the left. Sure enough, there was Blaine, running down the hallway. I fired my gun and he fell to the ground, the water surrounding turning red. Satisfied, I stopped running, and instead walked forward to examine the body. But as I neared, I noticed another problem.

The dead man wasn't Jacob Blaine, but merely another of Rob's guards.

As I came to this realization, I felt a searing pain in my lower back and fell on top of the body of the guard. Instantly I knew what had happened. Blaine must have sent the guard to the left knowing I would follow him while he stood to the right waiting till my back was turned. Then, he fired his gun.

I knew that I was dead. I now had three bullets in my body; one in the back of my foot and two in my stomach, one from the front and one from the back. I had let go of my gun upon the bullet's impact and it had flown ten feet away. I didn't have the strength to get it. But I wasn't going to die like this. I heard footsteps running the other way, and taking my chances, yelled, "Blaine!" The footsteps stopped.

"Come back here, you coward, and finish me off properly!" I cried.

From a distance, I heard the reply, "As you wish." He started walking back towards me. I turned my head to watch him approach. He snickered. "Like I said, you had to be the hero, just like your brother." He stopped within three feet with me, and then cocked his gun. "Any last words?"

"Yes," I said, shifting my hand slightly. "Go to hell, you son of a -insert 5 letter word here-!" And before Blaine could respond, I grabbed the gun off the dead body of the guard and fired it at Blaine's hand, taking it right off and his gun with it. Blaine stared at his stump of a wrist for ten seconds, completely stunned, before falling to the ground in pain.

With my last bit of strength, I hobbled to my feet and walked to where Blaine had fallen. I cocked the guard's gun, and then, mimicking his voice, said, "Any last words?"

"Oh please," said Blaine, tears coming to his eyes, "don't kill me. I'll do anything! Just don't kill me!"

I gave him a cold, hard stare. "When my brother stared death in the face, he had the guts to take it like a man. He's dead. Now here you are staring death in the face, and you don't even have the guts to take it like a little girl. What does that make you?"

Blaine could only respond with a soft "please."

"Fine. I'll finish the riddle. It makes you deader." And with that, I fired four bullets into his head, one more than he had fired into my brother's head all those years ago. Finally, I thought, my life was complete. I stared at Jacob Blaine's lifeless body for a few seconds before sinking to the ground, depleted of all of my energy, probably never to stand again.

Cameron Johnson

Narration of Ema Felkis… hey, you in the front, no complaining!

I was in shock as we were led back to the jail cells by the guards. Sam and I in one, Nico and Suki in one, Buffy in the third. The thing on all of our minds was “Where was Dania?”

Sam was banging on the bars, in a living nightmare. His sister was being held captive by her parents, who had become inexplicably evil, and he had no idea why. All he could do is shout for his sister helplessly, tears coming to both our eyes. I hated to see the guy in so much pain.

He turned around, looked me in the eyes, and asked me “What are we going to do? Getting out once, we couldn’t have done without Nico and Suki, and now pretty much everyone’s been caught. We’re going to die down here!”

I looked back at him, tears in my eyes. “But, Sam…” I stuttered. “It-it-it just can’t end like this! The good guys always win!”
Cynicism clouded those heartfelt eyes I adored. “This is the real world, Ema. Things don’t always work out that way in real life. This isn’t a fairytale.”

I shook his shoulders. “You can’t give up hope, Sam!”

“I have nothing left to put hope in,” He told me.

That hurt my heart; I think it skipped a beat or two. I resisted the urge to cry and said “Not even me?”

He looked at me and said “No, no, Ema, that’s not what I…Ema, you’ve got to…I mean…” he grew angry and started unleashing a volley of vulgarities at the guards. I just sat as far away as I could from him and sulked. Maybe things really aren’t going to turn out right. But, hey, everybody hurts…everybody cries…everybody hurts…sometimes…man, I wish I at least had a harmonica.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps, rather clumsily, down the stairs, and the guards fall down to the ground again, and when I saw who it was, I nearly passed out.

----------------------------------------

Narration of Dania Eastman

I was shocked. I thought it was the Stevens, obviously; I had no idea Mom and Dad were behind this. I loved them so much; how could they hurt me so? How could they change from the loving, caring parents that took me around the world into these villains? How could they let people like Rob and Jacob treat me so horribly and blackmail me? Why would they want to take over the world?

I sobbed my eyes out while I was carried to a nicer room, much to my parents’ annoyance. They kept telling me “There’s nothing to cry about, sweetie. You were a good girl.”

“Don’t call me sweetie, you horrible, horrible people!” I screamed as Dad set me down on a nice bed.

“But you are our sweetie,” was Mom’s response, and I was getting nauseous.

I just screamed, “Leave!” as a response.

The rolled their eyes and started walking away, door closed and locked. I should know, I tried to open it.

Finally, I flopped on my bed and started sobbing. My brother and everyone else I cared about was locked away, forever, Mic was probably bleeding to death somewhere in this world, the Venetian Police won’t help us, America is going to be taken over by my murderous parents, and I was stuck here.

I sat up and wiped my eyes. No way I was gonna sit here and watch the world go on a one-way trip to hell. Literally. I looked around the room for a way to get out, but on first sight, I saw nothing. Then I looked a little closer at one of the wooden bedposts of my canopy bed. It had a deep cut on one end, and with a bit of coaxing, I was able to break it off of the rest of the frame. I ran off of it as the entire canopy crumbled under itself.

I then started beating on my door, breaking it piece by piece. I swung with a strength I didn’t know I had, until, finally, the door crumbled down. Guards looked surprised as they saw me with a three-foot tall bedpost in hand. I grinned wickedly and gave them a “come here” motion. On that cue, they lunged for me. I gave the first one a whack in the head, the second in the gut, the third one in the… you figure it out, you know, head, gut…wow, that was close to another tangent. No squared reference this time.

Man, I was becoming quite the kick-butt warrior, eh?

I gave it a second of thought, and then decided that going for Sam and the rest was a bad move. I mean, they aren’t dying, they have power in numbers, and I don’t think I could take on another guard. I decided to find where Mic went.

It was rather easy, actually. Just follow the thin stream of blood. I ran down the hall, dropping the bedpost and preferring to hide from guards instead. I was almost spotted a couple of times, but I had a mission, and I wasn’t going to fail.

I found that the trail ended below a sewer I swear to Yah, I almost turned back. You have fun in the afterlife, Mic, because there is no way in heck I am going to walk into…aw, who was I kidding? Soon enough I was foot-deep in human waste-filled water.

It didn’t take me long to find Mic and Jacob, both lying motionless in the water. I didn’t care about Jacob; it was Mic who I wanted to see alive.

I looked closer and realized that would probably never happen. Tears flooded my eyes yet again as I took Mic into my arms, shot three times and begged him to wake up.

Then, in a rush of adrenaline, I lifted Mic over my shoulders and started running. When we got to a ladder, I climbed up with only moderate difficulty, not really noticing the weight of a world on my shoulders. I popped up out of a manhole.

Unfortunately, it was in a busy street, and I nearly lost my head in a ridiculously cartoon-like way. When the coast was clear, I ran down the street, around corners and onto a boat.

I set Mic down gently in the boat and told the gondola man “The nearest hospital you can find, stat!”

Unfortunately, seeing what he interpreted as a dead body in his boat, he jumped out and started running. I shouted an obscenity and started rowing, rather clumsily as a matter of fact. I looked at a map and saw that the hospital was a right and a left away from here. I told Mic, “Don’t worry, Mic, I'm gonna get you help,” as I started pushing the gondola down the stream.

----------------------------------

Narration of Ema Felkis.
What, no comment on her narration?

I looked up in awe as Kim of all people walked down the stairs, past the guards she knocked out, to let us out of our cages. I hadn't seen the large ace bandage around her chest yet.

“Kim… how… I mean, wow!” I sputtered like Sam’s car going over 25mph.

“Hey, guys!” she grinned proudly as she unlocked the cages. “Nice to see you!”

Buffy looked shocked, and worried. “Kim, you’re nearly dead. Why are you here?”

She shook her head. “No, the doctors are amazing. I was patched up easily.”

“How did you figure out how to get here?” was Buffy’s next question.

“Are you kidding me, Buffy?” Kim responded. “You’re all over the news! America’s in bad shape, Buffy. The suicide group is ready to blow up the White House. Everyone knows you’re here, but America isn’t taking any risks. So I had to.”

Nicolas scoffed. “That’s mother freaking nice, America. Had we been in Aussie, the Prime Minister himself would be running over here to save a hero. We risk our lives to save them, and they can’t even return the favor!”

Suki looked at him mournfully and said, “Does it really matter? We’re free again, and one stronger. We will survive.”

“Oh, god, Suki, now I must fight to prevent myself from singing that out loud,” he joked.

Suki smiled and hugged him before we started filing single-file out the doors. Sam and I were the first ones out.

“Hold up guys.” I told them, hand out. “We need to get us clearance outside of the building. Give us five minutes, and then just follow the path of the knocked-out guards.”

Buffy nodded. “Um…okay. Stay safe.” She smiled at us. “And guys, I am really proud of you.”

Sam and I smiled back, Sam adding a typical, “Couldn’t have done it without you," as we ran up the stairs, grabbing one of the guards' guns that Kim had knocked out.

I poked my head through the door and looked around. No one yet. I tried to remember which way we came in, from the right, I believe. I motioned a silent Sam to the right side and we started running.

Soon, we were forced to stop when we came across a group of guards that were around the corner. Through gritted teeth, I said, “Don’t move a muscle.” He nodded, causing me to roll my eyes, but I said nothing more.

For about a minute, we stood motionless, refusing even to twitch. Suddenly, a small chunk of the dilapidated ceiling fell on Sam’s shoulder. He bit his lip to avoid crying out in pain, but he might as well have, because the piece knocked him over onto the ground with a conveniently loud thud.

The guards whirled around, and I reacted. I shot at the fluorescent lights, shattering them all over the guards. This distracted them, not to mention provided a few nasty cuts and scrapes, and we were able to make our exit. I pulled Sam up and we started running again.

We got to another corner, where Sam told me, “I owe you one, Em.”

I nodded and turned my head around the corner. Bad move. A bullet whizzed through the air, missing my head by about a quarter-inch and removing a very uneven strip of hair. Sam yanked me back instinctively and, without a gun, ran forward to the guards. I watched in awe as Sam dodged bullets that seemed sure to hit, took a guard’s hand and threw him to the ground out-cold, kicked a second one in the stomach while in the air, and took the third to task with a beautiful uppercut.
He motioned for me to follow him and we were off running again. Pretty soon we were at an exit. Only there was one problem. This was the wrong exit. I could tell because nothing looked as familiar as the first escape. I kicked the ground in frustration. We had made a wrong turn somewhere!

Sam looked at my worried face and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I would be, if we had gone the right way,” I vented, frustrated beyond belief.

Sam sighed. “Well, there’s nothing to do but to keep walking.” He grabbed a map from a rack and said “I can’t tell what this says, can you?”

“Well, this is a police station.” I said. “That would be polizia, right?” She took a look around her and, seeing the ocean said, “We’re right along the beach, so I guess since the place, I think, was below a sewer plant, we head along the beach closest to water until we find it.”

He nodded and, grabbing my hand intensely, we started to run. Soon, we ran out of all our energy, which was spent on beating up guards and escaping jail, and so decided to start walking. Then, I remembered. “Oh, no! Buffy!”

Sam slowed to a halt. “Oh my God, I forgot all about them, Ema. Well, hopefully they have our logic.”

Still nervous, I said, “We should probably wait here. Yeah, that’d be best.”

Sam smiled. “Ah, Italy. You know, being hostages and stuff, I never got a chance to take it all in, you know. It really is beautiful. I got to go back here sometime.”

I never let go of his hand. “That would be nice. I don’t remember the last time I was this close to the ocean. All we had back in Wyoming was a lake, a small one, mind you, for the summer. This ocean…it’s just amazing.”

Sam nodded. “I’ve traveled all around the world with my family, seen the ocean so many times, but it never gets old.”

I nodded. “It goes on, and on, and it never ends.” I said as I rested my head on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful.”

He nodded. “Why can’t life always be this easy?” he said with a sigh.

I faced him and told him “Then it wouldn’t be as fun.”

He smiled at me. “That is true, Ema.” Before checking his watch. “Well, the others are lagging behind. No hurry, though.”

I wrapped an arm around his neck and said, “Right. No hurry.”

I started to lean closer to him when suddenly a horrible pain seared through my leg. I screamed piercingly as I fell to the ground, trying to see what that was. I looked up and there were Sam’s parents, guns in hands.

I always heard that your boyfriend’s parents usually suck, but these guys take the cake.

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Narration of Kim Clayton

Ah, at last, I get to narrate! Brilliant! I would have narrated earlier, but I really wanted to create that sense of, “Oh my God, she’s dead!” You know, I just love messing with your heads.

Buffy, Nico, Suki and I were outside the police station, wondering where Sam and Ema were. We had made ourselves useful by knocking out more guards and taking their guns, but now we had been just standing around for five minutes. Our cynical Buffy suggested that they were hiding somewhere making out. What is it with Buffy and thinking that they’re making out, I swear to god!

“Buffy, seriously.” I told her. “They could be in trouble and that’s all you can think up? Show some common sense, woman!”

She sighed. “Well, I’d rather that then them being dead.”

I rolled my eyes. “Cynicism sure isn’t dead with you, Buffy. They probably just went too far or got lost or something. Too bad they don’t have their cell phones. I mean, whoever is behind this, Rob Stevens, I think, would probably have taken your cell phones, right?”

Buffy looked at me. “Rob Stevens isn’t behind all of this.” She took a breath. “Sam’s parents are.”

I gasped. What the French? “But…they’re dead…and yet, they…this does not compute…”

Suddenly, about a quarter-mile away, a gunshot rang out, followed by a shrill shriek and a figure thinly in the distance falling to the ground.

“Oh holy guacamole.” I said.

Buffy said, “I’ll re-brief you along the way.”

And off we ran, and in-between taking deep breaths, Buffy told me pretty much everything you know that I didn’t. I finished that talk in some serious freaking confusion. But that didn’t matter because we had a shot person on the ground. The real police weren’t exactly going to help, so…

I ran the fastest out of all of them. I do run track at Cleveland High, and so I had an advantage of sorts. I was the first to realize that two people that I assumed to be Sam’s parents had gunned Ema down. I shrieked in terror, but was somewhat relieved that she was conscious, clutching her leg and crying out in pain. Sam was horrified, having a standoff with his parents. This had to be the suckiest day of his life.

For a minute, nothing happened, and all was silent except Ema’s heartbreaking cries of pain that happened on and off, about every five seconds. I looked at Sam’s face, and he was trying so hard not to show any pain, but I could see tears fill his eyes. I swear to God, I almost lost it and shot his parents brainless.

Suddenly, his dad (whose name I later learned was named Timothy) started running across the beach towards Sam. This struck me as both weird and stupid, until I saw him yank Ema up by the arm and drag her over to where he and Ellen were standing, despite Sam’s best efforts to stop him.
Sam shouted a loud obscenity.

“Now, Sammy, you know not to talk that way,” Ellen said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“I don’t give a crap! You let her go right now or I swear to god I will tear you to shreds!” Sam shouted.

Timothy looked at all of us. “You all leave now. Your girlfriend goes with us. This girl has been half the source of trouble in our plans, and I’ve had enough. Leave now or she dies.” He said as he put a gun to Ema’s head.

Sam looked as if he was SOL. He tries to save Ema, she dies. He lets her go, he faces years of guilt, and she lives in misery forever. He doesn’t want to kill them; they’re his parents, somewhere deep down. He stared them down for another minute, the rest of us running to a safe distance.

Then an amazing sequence of events followed.

In a split-second, Sam gets his gun out, aims and shoots at Timothy, knocking him to the ground with a bullet in his hand. Timothy’s gun accidentally misfired when he was shot and shoots Ellen in the head, knocking her to the ground, dead. Seeing that he killed his wife, he aims at Ema in point-blank range, albeit with shaky aim, and gets ready to fire.

Simultaneously, all six of us fired at him. He stepped back, stunned, before crumpling to the ground, as dead as can be.

I fell to the ground in absolute awe, dropping my gun and blurting out, “What the hecky just happened?”

Lightning crashed into the ocean, and rain started pouring down on the scene. Sam, with torment in his eyes, ran over to Ema, and asked, “Are…are you okay?”

Ema responded with a weak nod.

Sam opened his mouth to say something else, and then broke into a sob in Ema’s limp arms. Rain cascaded on him as he took Ema into his arms to mourn the death of his parents for a second time.

To quote an appropriate Live Song, “Lightning crashes, an old mother dies…”

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapter 23 – O- Jack Walker and Cameron Johnson

Narration of Buffy

On the whole, the scene was quite sad. Sam, cradling Ema in his arms, standing over the dead bodies of his parents, while Kim, Nick and Suki, and I just stood there silently mourning with him.

Gradually, it dawned on me that Ema ought to be taken to the hospital, which I pointed out. Ema had passed out at this point, probably due to immense pain. He looked down at her, then nodded, and, taking one last look at his dead parents, walked behind me to a nearby unoccupied boat, the rest of the crew following close behind. We sat in complete silence as I rowed to what I believed to be a hospital according to a map lying in the boat. It was quite surreal. It was over. It was all finally over. But it felt like as though we had only just begun.

After a few minutes we reached the hospital. We all exited the boat in silence, and then walked directly into the hospital's emergency room.

"Excuse me!" I said. "I have a shot patient here! I need immediate medical attention!"

Immediately two nurses rushed over to us with a cot, onto which Sam placed Ema. "Follow us," said one of them, and we all followed, in silence.

We swiftly walked down white corridors and tile floors, passing closed door after closed door. So much suffering, so much pain. Finally, the nurses motioned us into an empty room. I signaled Kim, Nick, Sam, and Suki to enter before me, but as I was about to enter I noticed something else even more concerning.

Fifteen feet down the hall were two more nurses rolling a cot on which lay a very badly bloodied body, and following the cot was…Dania.

"Oh my God!" I cried as I started running down the hallway. "Dania!"

This prompted Sam to hurry out of the room and follow me, calling back to the others, "Stay with Ema!" Dania looked up, initially alarmed at two figures charging at her, and then relieved when she saw it was us.

"Sam!" she cried, running towards him. They met with an embrace I should only be blessed to see again between two siblings. Both were crying, though tears of joy or sadness I knew not. After fifteen precious seconds, they broke apart.

"Dania," Sam said suddenly. "Where's Mic?"

Dania simply bit her lip and looked down, and we all knew.

"Shiitake mushrooms!" cried Sam as we all bolted down the hallway towards the cot. And sure enough, our fears were confirmed. There, lying on the cot was Mic.

"Jesus," I said. "What happened?"

Dania started sobbing hysterically. "I…I don't know…he got shot again…I wasn't there…he…he was unconscious…I don't even know if he's still alive!" And then we lost her to tears.

I looked at Sam, panic on my face. "Three bullets kill people even in Hollywood movies."

He nodded. "I'd better go tell the rest of the group. Stay with Mic!" he said as he started running back to Ema's room.

I wrapped an arm around a hysterical Dania as we followed Mic and the two nurses into another room. They motioned us to sit in two chairs by the door as they put on masks, gloves, and a white hood like thing that doctors and nurses will often wear and immediately set to work, grabbing various tools and such that for the life of me I couldn't figure out. I winced as what looked as one of them inserted what appeared to be very large tweezers into Mic's stomach while the other held the skin apart. Blood spurted out of the wound as the nurse removed a bullet. She said something in Italian, then the other nurse turned Mic over on the cot and they repeated the procedure, removing another bullet. Then they went for the foot, again repeating the procedure and removing the final bullet. The nurses then removed their gloves and washed their hands, then approached me.

"His organs are not damaged," one said with a strong accent, "but he has lost too much blood. Unless we can find a donor soon, he won't make it."

Dania buried her head in my arm as her sobs became more profound. I tried not to show any emotion as I coolly asked, "What blood type?"

"O. We need somebody else with O blood type. Only 4% of the population carries that."

I grimaced. It didn't look good. I knew I was A, but I didn't know about the others.

"Test me," said Dania, regaining her composure. The nurse nodded, and then beckoned her to follow. I in turn ran back to Ema's room.

"Guys! Are any of you blood type O?"

Ema, who was now conscious and smiling, said, "Not me, why?"

"Mic needs it. Badly. Dania's getting hers tested right now, but if any of you know, the sooner the better."

Sam looked up. "I'm not." Nick and Suki nodded in agreement.

"Great. It's all up to Dania then."

"I'm coming with you," said Ema, trying to get up, but Sam instantly grabbed her and gently lay her back down.

"You're a great friend," he said grimly, "but a fool. You can't walk and you know it. Come on guys."
Ema got up and into a wheelchair with great precision, despite the fact that her wound hadn’t been dressed yet. Sam smiled a little and started to push her wheelchair as fast as he could as we all immediately filed out of the room. Down the hallway again…how many times would I walk down it before the day was done? We soon reached Mic's room and were met with a very pleasant surprise.

On another cot lay Dania, the transfusion process already started. She smiled as we walked in. "It's gonna be OK," she told us, and at last no longer able to contain it, I burst into tears. Suki followed suit, followed by Ema, Kim and then Sam. Only Nick didn't cry. When we all raised eyebrows, he simply shrugged and said, "We Aussies are tough." But even he wiped a small tear from his eye.

---------------------------------------------

Narration of Sam Eastman

It’s May again, and the flowers bloom beautifully, with birds chirping and all the good spring stuff. It had been a few months now since we closed the Runouw.com Case, presumably for good. The true masterminds, my parents, appeared to be dead, as did Rick, Rob, Brock and Jacob. Oh yeah, about Rob. I forgot to tell you that he was killed by one of his own guards, who mistook Rob for one of us and shot him. With the entire leadership down, their organization crumbled and either disbanded or was caught by the police. We were all awarded Congressional medals of Honor by the President himself for our services to the country, and once again we achieved worldwide fame and were all over the news. And that was about it for the case. Oh, yeah, Yankee Stadium is being rebuilt as we speak.

As for college, I put it on hold. I had a job, and even though it had its horrific downs (like being forced to gun down my evil parents), it had its amazing highs (Ema, Mic, Buffy, Kim and saving the world). I didn’t even do much photography anymore. Sometimes I question if I ever wanted to. Kim, however… that’s another story.

With Rob and Rick dead and his parents imprisoned for being involved in running the South Carolina branch of their organization, ownership of Rob’s apartment was given to me. Dania and I moved in and cleaned up immediately, although it took a few days. I was glad to be closer to Ema and the rest. I got a new car as payment for the job from the new landlord (who just so happened to be Suki’s mom, Mrs. Lee from Belmont Library) which was a 1990 Ferrari that, while in bad shape, was better than my old clunker. Right now Mic and I just finished fixing it up every Sunday.

As for Ema, I am glad to call her the love of my life. We’re maintaining a great relationship, and I seriously regret not falling for her sooner. She still does architectural work, and is in the process of getting a building design passed by the city. I’m always at the front of the stands watching her.

Buffy officially quit her exasperating job at the school and became the police chief of Portland, despite the fact that she still hobbles. As for Kim, she recovered fully from her gunshot wound, but, hey, if she could leave the hospital with a bullet still in her heart, fly halfway across the world and save our butts, recovery’s just a hop, skip, and jump away from that, as she would say. She got a job in April when she turned 18, and is a respectable member of the squad.

Mic. Ah, Mic. As you recall, he got shot twice in the stomach and in the foot. It took some time to recover, but soon he was back with the force continuing his internship. He has kept busy taking down the gangs of the city, and doing a good clean job of it too. No taser misfires as far as I'm aware. Meanwhile, ever since he bought her a brand new pair of American-Eagle slippers, Dania has been visiting every day. I tell you, I hope it doesn’t take as long as it did for Ema and I for sparks to fly between them.

We buried Alex Card at the base of the Tavern, under the Cherry Blossom Tree. Nicolas went as far to rename the Tavern “Card's Tavern.” But it wasn’t as catchy, so he changed it back within a week, still paying respect to the drawl-laden bartender by putting, “Rest in Peace Alex Card…It’s a Quarter after One and We Need You Now,” on the Tavern sign. A nice touch, I guess, but between you and me, it’s a bit gaudy.

At the Tavern, Nico and Suki are celebrating their one-year anniversary, and I couldn’t miss it. They were extended family, and besides Dania, the only family I had now was all of my friends. I would enjoy this like I would my parent’s anniversary.
I went into the parking lot by Union Station, looked at the Ferrari, got my keys out and hopped in. I put the key in the ignition, and the turned it sideways, hoping for the best.

Nothing happened except a few pathetic putting noises. I banged on the dashboard and tried again. Voila! The engine purred beautifully. I started the gas and drove down 5th avenue.

Ema was on the balcony of her CyanPDX building when I started honking, feeling like a star. In just over a minute, she had run out the building and jumped the door into the convertible.

“Wowwee, Sam, this is beautiful!” she told me as she made herself comfortable.

I looked at her for a few seconds, before I realized what I was doing. I turned, what does Ema call it, Embarrassment Red? To, erm, justify myself (yeah, that’s it) I leaned over and kissed her, for the first time without interruption. I let her go and sat down, breathless, after a few seconds.
After we had gotten our breath back, I told her, “Well, Mic and I have been working on it. I wanted to surprise you.”

She grinned at me and said, “Ready to jump some overpasses today?”

We knuckle-touched and I said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The car cruised up 4th Avenue with record speeds, oblivious to the law we guarded, if just for a moment.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
We pulled up to the tavern in about half the time MapQuest suggested, mostly because we broke so many speeding laws to do so. We ignored the constant horns honking, middle fingers and swerving cars, all that mattered was me, her and the car. I opened the door, looked up at the sign. Per my recommendations, the song lyrics were gone, as well as the gaudiness. Ema and I walked, arm in arm, into the tavern.
Everything was silent upon entering, which confused the heck out of me. I walked into the main hall, to be greeted by no one but Buffy, Mic, Kim, Dania, Nico and Suki. They all had smiles on their face, genuinely glad to see us. “Welcome back to Niklaw’s Tavern.” Nico said as if I had never been there before. “The best place on earth.”
I nodded. “I know.” was all I said.
Suki shook my hand and said “Thanks for coming to our anniversary party. We never would have had this moment without you guys. Had this case never happened, we never would have met. You never would have fallen in love like you so obviously have. You see, with this case, we have had tragedy. We have had heartbreak. But our lives have changed for the better so much because of it. We saved the world, but more importantly, some of us grew closer with our families, some of us have fallen in love, some of us have gotten a chance to pursue our dreams, and we all have grown into better people than we were a year ago. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I started to tear up, and from the looks of it, so was Ema. “Thank you, Suki.” I said. “I… I really needed to hear that.”
Nico laughed. “That’s my woman.” He said proudly, sweeping her off her feet into his arms amid giggles and shouts. “Now, enough of the beautiful drama, who wants cake?”
All of us put our hands in the air. That’s when I noticed my sister and Mic had never let go of each other’s hands the entire time Suki spoke. When I saw them, Mic jerked his hand away as he placed his other one down. I smiled and put them back together.
“Uhm…” Dania said, embarrassed.
“Wow?” was Mic’s reply. “What the hecky just happened?”
“That’s my line!” Kim giggled.
I laughed and got a slice of that cake from Nico.
Ema took her slice of cake and said “Come on, Sam. Let’s find a booth.” I watched her walk off towards them, when she pulled an all-of-a-sudden swerve-around and threw the cake in my face. I fell to the ground, my own cake landing in a heap on my shirt.
I wiped cake off of my shirt and shouted out “It is on, foo!”