iCarumba, Chapter 1
In Which the Gang Eats Pizza, and, Contrary to Appearances, Nobody Catches a Break
"COFFEE!"
"COFFEE!"
"COFFEE!"
"You can get it at...SKYBUCKS!" The performers gave their voices a break from their gravelly, exaggerated lyric session and made way to the heavy guitar solo, accompanied of course by their almighty air guitars. In the darkened room, it was a show of flailing limbs and bobbing heads, hairs blond and brunette thrashing against each other as flashing lights of every color in between danced alongside.
Within seconds, the solo came to a stop, and they took the cue to shout their finale in unison. "Skybucks Coffee....DRINK IT IN THE DAY-TIME!"
The prerecorded music tape abruptly stopped. The main lights flipped back to full power, revealing two teenage girls in desperate need of both a comb-over and a throat lozenge.
But as they say, the show must go on. "Aaaaaaand...that was our pitch for a Skybucks commercial!" Carly drawled.
"You can just call our agent, Mr. CEO," Sam spoke into the camera, thumb and pinkie raised to her mouth. "And don't forget: we like our cash up front."
"So anyway, this wraps up the show for a few weeks, while we officially go on vacation!" Carly paused, to allow her best friend to run their 'SUMMER BREAK' graphic. "Until then..."
"Have fun at Summer Camp!" Sam picked up where she left off.
"Or Space Camp!" Carly followed.
"Or Fat Camp!" Sam fired back.
"Whatever camp you're going to..." Carly stepped up the camera.
"iCarly shall await your glorious return." Sam joined her, as they waved their audience goodbye.
"And we are...clear for the summer!" Freddie grinned brightly from behind the desktop, logging off from the famed webshow before jogging to the pair of ladies in congratulations.
"Can you believe it," Sam beamed, "This has got to be the first time in like, ever, that we won't be doing a show for two weeks."
"I know, right?" Carly grabbed a brush from her front pocket and immediately went to town on her muffed up top. Preparation; she was a wonderful friend. "I mean, I love doing iCarly and everything, but a gal's got to take a break sometime!"
"Some time off would definitely do us all some good," Freddie chimed in. "So tell me, what kind of stuff do you guys have planned up?"
The brightened eyes, the warm smiles, the whole atmosphere of joviality, like his question, was left to linger in the air for but a moment. And then, as if the cold vacuum of space opened up above their heads, every single trace of cheer was sucked out of the room in an instant.
"...Nothing," Sam sagged.
"Nada." Carly dropped her hairbrush in defeat.
"Summer's gonna suck, isn't it." Freddie joined the hairbrush. Soon, both the ladies crumpled to the ground along with them.
Carly drummed her fingers against the hardwood floor. "I should've known this was a mistake. iCarly was the only interesting thing we had going for us and now we're all going to die of boredom. What was I thinking?"
Sam laid back, eyes pointed toward the ceiling. "Maybe if we all just lay perfectly still, our deaths will be painless?" She then proceeded to take herself up on that idea. For about two minutes. Then she felt the vibration of an incoming call. "Nice, food's here."
Like a bear out of hibernation, the blonde sprung to her feet and hastily made way down the stairs. Left behind in the dust, Carly and Freddie looked down her trail,before sharing a look with each other.
Freddie first broke the silence. "You thinking...what I'm thinking?"
"...Nope." She immediately shot him down before following after her best friend.
Freddie made sure to scowl pointlessly at the rafters before making his own way down.
The sight that greeted him at the bottom of the stairs was far from an unusual one; that is, Carly and her brother staring on amusedly as Sam hunched over some delivery guy's cargo like a gremlin with...whatever it was gremlins obsessively fawned over. Speaking of cargo...
Freddie peeked over Sam's head to the warm steamy box of goodness in question. Across the top was stamped the label "Dig On".
"What kind of name is 'Dig On'?" He marveled aloud.
Something clicked in Carly's mind "I've heard of that place! They've been open for a few months now."
"Oh, so this is the new one?" Spencer said. "I've been meaning to eat there for a while. You specialize in deep dish pizzas, right?"
"That's right," the deliveryman chirped, "That's where the name comes from, in fact. You see, since it's deep dish, we're inviting you to 'dig on in'—"
And it was at that point that Sam, ever the humanitarian, took the liberty of lightening the man's burden. "Don't care, give me food." She defined eloquence.
The delivery guy blinked, his hands gripping open air. "O...kay. So yeah, your total comes out to...Hey!"
"Spence."
"Yeah I know." The elder Shay was already drawing cash from his wallet, as the blonde carried her reward for a long day's not-work all the way to the side couch. It was an unspoken rule around the household that expecting Sam make a payment was a lot like expecting a shark to make a payment; you can stand there with your hand held out, and then you walk away from both experiences minus one hand.
Placing it down on the coffee table, she dared to move her eyes from the oversized box. The pizza guy was gone; three pairs of eyes remained fixed on her. "Oh, did you guys want some?" Three pairs of eyes that didn't blink. "Alright fine," she relented.
Carly went to gather plates; the gentlemen taking up the center couch. Freddie, closest to the pizza, caught a whiff of its contents. "...Just what kind of pizza did you order?"
Sam grinned triumphantly. "Seafood Special. Shrimp, calamari, crabmeat, salmon, turtle, and clams swimming in alfredo pizza sauce. In other words, awesome in a crust!"
He was forced to agree. Say what you will about her, but if there was one thing his friend knew how to do, it was eat well....wait a minute. "...You just said turtle, didn't you."
"Aren't turtle's....endangered?" Spencer asked.
Sam shrugged. "It was a limited time offer," she said simply.
"So...there's little turtle pieces...in that pizza?" Carly reiterated, returning from the kitchen carrying four plates and one eyebrow raised to the air. And then she shrugged. Not the craziest thing Sam's tried to eat. "Cowabunga."
In a surprising show of courtesy, Sam actually waited until everyone was seated and with their plate before making a move for the pizza. "Well let's not just sit here being silent. What's on TV?" the top of the box flung open with reckless abandon. A slip of paper slid under Carly's dish.
"I dunno. " Spencer carefully scooped a slice. "I heard there was a new special coming up: The World's Wildest Picnics Caught on Tape!"
"Booooo." The teens gave his idea the three thumbs down.
Freddie glanced at the clock on his laptop before closing the machine down for his own piece of pie. "...It's just about nine. Maybe we can catch the end of Cop Drama and then figure out what we ant to watch," followed by a cacophony of 'eh's and 'alright's, and finally Spencer reaching for the remote.
"Hey, what's this?" Carly picked up the slip of paper, studying its bright colors. "...Did one of you guys buy a lottery ticket?"
Sam stared blank-faced and then snapped her finger. "Oh that's right, it came with the pizza!"
Spencer looked at her curiously "The...lottery ticket."
"Yeah!" Sam insisted. "It's some promotion they're running. There's a bunch of shows this week shooting from Hawaii, so the pizza guys are doing a lottery and the guy that wins gets an all-expense paid trip for four to Hawaii."
Freddie took an experimental bite out of his slice. Cheers erupted from the screen. "And that's what made you think to order from here?"
"No," Sam snorted. "I ordered because I wanted turtle pizza, are you deaf?"
"That's enough children," Carly, nearly by instinct, diffused the oncoming argument, as she fumbled around her pocket before producing a coin.
"Why do you always have to scratch everything?" Spencer demanded as his sister went to work on the hidden number combination.
"Let me have my moment, okay!" Carly snapped. Her relentless assault soon exposed the first number. "....Fifteen."
Attention absorbed by the task at hand, she ignored the obnoxiously loud colors emanating from the monitor, proudly displaying the number 11.
"Um...nine."
14.
"...Three." Carly concluded. "Alright, my moment's over."
Freddie stared with a critical eye at the television. "...I don't think this is Cop Drama," he said at last.
Carly looked at the five numbers listed side by side on the screen. Silently, she compared them to the five numbers listed side by side in her hand. She blinked. Twice. Three times. Four time—
"I think we just won," she declared. Six times.
"Ha! You're kidding, right?" Freddie chuckled.
Spencer reached over to take the card. The paper slid easily from his sister's feeble fingers. "Fifteen...eleven...nine....." His eyes darted back and forth. "N-no, this is for real. We...we won, the numbers match exactly!"
His words echoed across the silenced living room. The air grew taut with suspense. "We're...going...to HAWAIIOHMYGOD!" Sam pulled the detonator; as she spoke, the apartment broke into a flurry of movement. The walls shook with wails and half-formed phrases of exhilaration, taking at least a couple of minutes for the excitement to die down.
"WE'RE NOT GOING TO DIE!" Carly was glad to be alive.
"You did it, Carly!" Spencer fiercely hugged the person he was forever thankful to get to share genes with.
"What, I don't get any gratitude over here?" Sam Puckett was about as far from being indignant as she could possibly be at that moment.
Her best friend welcomed her with open arms nonetheless. "God bless you and your unreasonable appetite!"
Only Freddie remained in his seat, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is...unreal. Like, literally, this is too good to be true."
"No I'll tell you what's unreal." Sam Puckett was about as close to being indignant as she could possibly be at that moment. "That even a dork like you would look a gift horse like this in the mouth!"
"I'm just saying!" Freddie protested. "What are the odds that on our very first time ordering from a brand new restaurant, we win the grand prize in a contest most of us haven't even heard about five minutes later? None of this is even a little suspicious to you guys?"
"So what!" Sam fired back. "What are you saying, you're not going?"
She glared at him heatedly. Carly had made the motions to break up the fight, but now she too looked up at him, alarm evident in her expression.
"...No, that's not what I'm saying. Of course I want to go to Hawaii, just...nevermind." Freddie relented; he knew when he was beaten. In this atmosphere of bubbly smiles and toasts to the future, of mouths stuffed with seafood and eyes stuffed with wonder, he knew his words would go unheeded.
But still, there was just something about it all that he just didn't like...
"—Not one bit." He exhausted every internet resource at his disposal and came up with a big fat goose egg. The tickets deep down his pockets was real. The plane they were preparing to board was real (and sweet enough, it was a private plane). The airport they'd spent nearly an hour driving to was real, and real people in a real airport in Hawaii awaited their safe arrival. Suspicions aside, this vacation was real.
Additionally, the three suitcases he hefted alongside him were real and were really going to be the death of him if they didn't board in like, yesterday. Getting his mother to consent to leaving him alone, for a week, on a tropical paradise with two trouble-making women and an oaf of a guardian, in reality was easier than he expected. All that aside, the burden which now strained his muscles and threatened the stability of his spinal cord were what she affectionately dubbed the terms to their agreement.
A blast of cold air hit his face as the doors automatically slid open for them. He grit his teeth, drawing deeper in his well of strength to keep pace alongside his friends. "I really don't like—"
"Hey you know what would help with that?" Correction: his friends and the blonde beast flanking his right. "Try complaining about it every five damn minutes, and we'll see if that'll make you like it more!"
A young man, maybe with a few years over the teens, stepped up to greet them as they approached the front desk of the airport. "Ah, you must be the winners of our contest...is there a problem?"
Taking up the rear, the volume of their latest throwdown increased. "Nope, there's no problem," Spencer answered.
He scratched his head, slightly ruffling his own blonde-topped head before delivering his standard company lines. "...Well in that case, on behalf of Dig On Deep Dish Pizzas, I'm here to see you off for you trip." A flight attendant cleared her throat behind him. "Um...if you'll excuse me."
Carly parted her lips to speak, but he had already escaped earshot. Inwardly, she told herself not to worry, but she couldn't help but have the feeling that something wasn't right...
Perhaps it was the table lamp that now hovered in front of her face. Stepping back in shock, her eyes caught the thin wire suspending it and traced its arc back to... "Spencer, put that down!" she yelped. "Why in the world would you take your fishing rod with you?"
Spencer smiled proudly. "Just have faith in me, my dear sister, with this by my side I'm well on my way to having a sweet Summer romance!"
Carly, it turns out, did not have faith in her dear brother. "How is deep sea fishing supposed to help you find a girlfriend?!"
"I'll have you know," he sneered. "There's nothing...nothing...chicks dig more than a guy that knows how to reel in a big one." And he emphasized his point with a flamboyant flick of his wrist.
The lamp whizzed past not one but two heads before shattering against the opposite wall: Carly's as well as their travel guide's, who turned around to inspect the damage. When he turned back around the fishing rod had magically teleported into the young girl's hand.
"...I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," he smoothly sidestepped the matter. "In any case I'm terribly sorry to have to tell you this, but there's apparently a really bad storm going on the Hawaii coast. All flights are getting canceled until at least tomorrow."
Brother and sister alike deflated.
"But still, things could clear up at any any moment, so the captain's advising you all to stay here for the night so they can be ready to lift off as soon as they can." They watched with something like disgust as he pointed them in the direction of their reserved sleeping quarters.
"Aw, I don't believe this!" Carly moaned, trudging down the hallway as she made to look for....yeah, they were still arguing. "I still don't believe it!"
"You know, a week ago we were all literally dying to do something exciting." San gave a great big heave of her suitcase as they finished their trek, into the hotel room. Which was nice but not anything special: basically just four beds and a TV. "And now, right when something exciting is about to happen for us, you're seriously talking about..."
Freddie blinked from inside the room. Sam was frowning at something in the lobby. Suddenly she rushed into the room, a panicked look in her eyes. "You know what Benson, you're absolutely right. We should get out of here like right now."
"Sam what's going on—" Carly started.
"There's no time to explain, hurry!" Grabbing as many bags as she could get her hands on, Sam turned around and stepped headfirst into that person's loving embrace.
"Oh my gosh, what are you guys doing here?" Melanie exclaimed. Kill her. Kill her now.
"...This is...unexpected," Freddie gaped. He had long since been informed the truth regarding the twin's existence, but it remained extremely jarring to look at the two sisters side-by-side for the first time.
"Um...we're going on a plane trip to Hawaii," Carly finally answered Melanie's question. "...Or at least we're supposed to be."
"Yeah, what the hell are you doing here?" Sam interjected, face full of false cheer. "Why aren't you busy doing some nerdy, boarding school crap?"
"I'll have you know," Melanie playfully chided, "I'm hosting a knowledge bowl here for charity."
Sam nodded sagely. "Okay, so you are doing nerdy" thump "boarding school crap."
"Uh...sorry to jump in," and he really was; it was strangely satisfying to Freddie to watch them go at it. "...But did anyone else just hear that?"
They were pretty sure they did hear it. Silently, the five of them searched the rooms's interior. Thump, Thump. "There it is again," Carly observed. "...It sound's like it's coming from the air vent—"
Which promptly opened up, dropping a small figure followed by a trail of dirt. The boy bounced twice off the farthest bed before tumbling down the opposite side.
Spencer rushed to his aid. "Hey kid, are you alrAAAAARGH!" The kid peeked over the bed, and then Spencer found a corner to cower inside.
"Spencer are you okay?" Carly called for him.
"WHY?!" Spencer bawled. "Why must you torment me everywhere I go!"
His sister looked confusingly at the other side of the room. Chuck smiled sheepishly. Carly shrieked. "I thought we sent you away to Math Camp!"
"...You mean Camp Add 'em up?" Melanie looked between the Shays quizzically. "It's just down the street. That's one of our programs."
The young man thought back to the brochure he had handed out in his personal stroke of genius to remove his adversary for the summer. And then he thought back to the person he got the brochure from in the first place, and was looking at him that very second. He slapped his forehead.
As he did someone had grabbed his other arm and tried to drag him to his feet. "Spencer get up," Carly grunted. "You're being an embarrassment to my name again!"
She gave two more good tugs before he finally relented, allowing himself to be pulled from the corner. "Alright! I'm sorry I freaked out, it's just that thi—"
And then his vision spiraled as he was once again manhandled, this time onto one of the beds. Before he knew it, Chuck was all over him.
He managed to get off an eight-hit combo before Sam thought to tear the little punk away from him. "God I don't know what this kid's problem is, but I kinda like him!"
Caught in the air under the blonde's vice-like grip, Chuck was left to gaze murderously at the groaning adult. "Where are the Fat Cakes?" he growled.
"...Fat Cakes? What's he talking about?" Freddie looked at each of his friends before turning to the other Puckett in the room.
"Oh! He must have heard about the knowledge bowl!" She said. "That's the grand prize!"
"...A bunch of Fat Cakes?" Carly questioned.
"Yeah. A month's supply, in fact," she clarified. "We're keeping them in a storage closet for now."
"I see." Sam took pause, looking first at her sister, then at Chuck. She carefully considered her options. Then she flung the kid to the nearest bed, which he again bounced off of. He was smart enough to not try to get back up. "Well, I'll see you guys later."
"Wait, Sam!" Melanie caught her as she made it to the doorway. "You're not allowed to just go in there!"
"Okay," Sam said evenly. "Are you allowed to go in there?"
"Well...yeah, but—"
"Then I'll be, like, you!" She finished, with a pitch-perfect Valley Girl accent. "Later!"
"Sam come back here!" Melanie futilely called to her twin's back. "You know I don't talk like that!" But it was too late; the impostor disappeared around the corner. Defeated, she shut the door with a huff. "...anymore."
But then...what? What was it? Her mind playing tricks on her?
Freddie, peeking from around his unearthed laptop, took notice. And, like many things that day, he didn't like it. It was bad enough he was struggling to find even a half-decent connection to the internet. But all these distractions—entertaining though they may be—were really cutting into his suspicious brooding time. "What's wrong?"
Melanie glanced blankly at him and then at the door, as if neither were really there. Finally, haltingly, she said, "I don't know. I thought I heard...like, a clicking sound or something..."
She wanted to investigate. Her hand jiggled uselessly around the knob. Case closed. "Okay, the door's locked."
"Locked?" Carly repeated. As if the fact weren't strange enough, for some reason she couldn't reconcile this new information with the rising panic in her tone. "Um...who's got the key?"
Spencer, springing from his recent ass-kicking like a breath of fresh air said, "They never gave us a key."
Oh, that was why. "So...we're stuck here?!"
The door persevered against Melanie's increasingly desperate attempts. "Yeah, we're stuck here."
"...We're stuck..." Freddie slowly savored the words in his mouth. And spit them out. "...here."
KSSSSSSSHH, a fifth voice said, grabbing each soul by the chest, yanking out the heart, and sticking it in a blender.
Ten wild eyes pivoted towards the harsh buzz of the monitor. Its display warped snow into chaotic horizontal lines, then twisted and combined and finally wrung out the image of an old man.
"Good evening, iCarly."
They stared blankly at him. Not the face they were expecting.
"I hope none of you have to use the bathroom," he continued, undaunted, "because, none of you are going to be escaping on my watch."
Spencer slowly rose from his mattress. "Is...this about the lamp? Just let us go, and I'll get you a new one!"
Suddenly Melanie gasped. "I know where I've seen you before. You're Ronald Eisner!"
"Okay..." Carly shrugged. "Who's that?"
"He's the president of the Dingo Company....and...this is a bad thing?" She looked confusingly back and forth at the ghastly expressions on everyone's face.
"Very astute of you, Samantha. Contrary to expectations, you do your homework after all."
"But wait, I'm not Sam. I'm her twin sister!" Melanie corrected him; or at least, she tried to. With Carly's hand over her mouth it came out more like "Mmmmhhmmhmmmmmhmhmmhmmmmhmhmmhhm!"
"Now Sam," Carly said sharply, "Let's just stay calm about this. No need to get violent."
She released her. They shared a look. "...Fine. But you...knobs will never get away with this!"
"Nubs."
"What she said!"
Though ineloquent, faux-Sam had a point. "What are you trying to get away with?" Freddie asked.
"...You know, I've been having an eye on you and your kind for a few years now," Ronald explained wistfully. "But, it wasn't until your little spat with my television studio that I began to consider you a threat."
He fumbled around with something offscreen before producing a cigar. "Not you specifically, of course, but the spread of user-created content in general. Webshows, video blogs, whatever cute little term you use while you're going around making fart noises an hitting each other in the ballsack. And the worst part, it's working. Every time someone adds a tick to your precious page count, the less likely they are to turn on the television, or buy a movie ticket."
At last Carly gathered small fragments of thoughts, forcing herself through inky-black lines of dementia, spitting out a sentence. "You...you're kidnapping us...just because we're making better stuff than you?"
Interestingly enough, he was shocked. "Tha—that's what you think this is about? Quality? Quality!"
The shadows overhead threatened to overcome her as she slowly nodded.
Which earned her what was easily the most humorless bout of howling laughter she never thought a human being could make. "Let me tell you something sweetheart," he quipped acidly, "It's not about quality. Hell, nobody even knows what that word means anymore! Now quantity, that's where it's at. It's all about the bottom line. In the middle of the year it's all about which color-coordinated piece of spandex in front of a green screen makes the most nerds want to throw their money at them in; at the end of the year it's all about who can make the pathetic sob story that gets the most award nominations. And mark my words: probably within our lifetime it'll be you. You'll be the bottom line."
Within the barriers of their hotel prison, its inhabitants nearly shivered by his increasingly cold voice. "Honestly, you should feel proud of yourselves. I've looked in the crystal ball. The age on individuality is upon us, and my industry will suffocate because of it."
He finally lit his cigar, placing it to his mouth and drawing a long continuous puff. "...Of course, premonitions and crystal balls are in the end are still only superstitions. To put blind faith in it and leave it at that, that's just bad business. That's why men like myself were born an this planet: to create our own destiny." Like gravity, the tone of his words bore down on the room with the air of finality.
Melanie stared past the growing smokescreen on the monitor. "What...are you going to o with us?" She tried asking the question that still lingered between them.
"What am I going to do?" he repeated, as if it had the most obvious answer in the world. "I'm just sending you on a vacation. You won the contest, after all."
The four looked hesitatingly at each other. "Although I'm sorry to say that we couldn't get you to Hawaii like we promised," he continued. "But instead, you'll be going to our brand new theme park."
He removed the cigar, blowing out a thick cloud. "Right now it's got the working title 'Robot-Pirate Island'. On paper, it's actually really pleasant. But as far as the execution goes...let's just say there are still a few kinks to work out." His finger hovered over a button. "The security will come by and pick you up in just a minute. Have a safe trip...well, at least you can try, right?"
"Wait!" He paused. "...When you say 'Robot-Pirate Island'...do you mean that there are robots and pirates together, or are they just robotic pirates?" Spencer asked a very stupid question.
A fog formed around the display, barely containing a cold, calculating smirk. "...Yes."
The feed terminated.
"Oh man." Carly paced around the room. "This is...this is really bad isn't it?"
Spencer, for what he was worth as a mature adult, denied himself the luxury to outwardly show signs of his distress. He merely sat on top of his mattress, fingers laced before him. He glanced across.
"...Maybe not." Carly whirled around, questioning the smirk on his face. "I was just thinking, if anyone can find something to get us out of here, it'd be our tech genius?" He cocked his head to the other bed.
She looked, and indeed Freddie was typing away on his laptop. Images came by soared past the reflection of his unblinking eyes. "What are you trying to—"
"Got it."
"S-seriously, you got it?!" She shrieked, clambering on top of his bed. And as she leaned over the back of the computer, staring excitedly at the wonderful man she was proud to call her friend, his elated expression, the smallest beads of concentration resting on his brow, illuminated by the screen detailing whatever program or script he assembled which could very possibly save all their lives, she caught herself wondering maybe, just maybe...
"Check it out...'Dig On' is an anagram....for Dingo!"
Maybe he wouldn't even live to get murdered on Pirates-and-Whatever-Else Island. She hadn't decided yet.
Okay, now she has.
Slightly unnerved by the look on the girl's face, Spencer fought to maintain order. "Alright guys, let's just keep a cool head here. So...Freddie doesn't have a plan to get us out of here. That's okay. We still have...a trump card."
Gradually, the red faded from Carly's vision. "What...you mean Sam?"
"That's right!" Freddie thought back to Carly's quick thinking a minute ago. "Since they all think that Melanie is Sam-"
"Why does this keep happening to me?" Melanie lamented.
"-Then that leaves the real Sam free to to rescue us."
"Honestly, all she has to do is let people know I exist, and it'd be better for both of-"
"But..." Freddie discovered the flaw. "We're all stuck in this room. And I've been trying to call my mom—the phones around here can't get a signal. How are we supposed to send word out to her in time?"
"I bet they never have to deal with this on The Suite Life."
Spencer flashed his best knowing smile. "And that's what brings me to our second trump card, someone else I bet Dingo's never counted on being here!"
His practice as an artist certainly gave him some perks, among them being a trained sense of perspective. With that and the monitor's angle in mind, he flung a finger in the direction that he knew to be the blind spot—an empty corner. Then he flung it in the direction of the small foot hanging slightly from the air vent.
"What th—GET HIM!" Spencer led the charge across the length of the small room, performing a diving catch on Chuck's eight year-old ankle. Had it been any other eight year-old, Carly might have felt a little guilty in grabbing her ever-excitable brother by the waist to assist him.
Freddie and Melanie instead chose to sit back and watch as the siblings held on for dear life. They had to admit the boy was abnormally sturdy, but after a minute of struggling he finally fell to their combined might, and he relinquished his hold on...whatever it was up there for him to hang on to.
"You...are not going to screw us around this time!" Spencer shouted as Chuck sank back to earth.
"Screw you!" Chuck came right back. "I'm not sticking around here to get mixed up with you guys!"
"They're gonna kill us!" Freddie pitched in.
"So what, you want them to take me down with you? That's messed up!"
"You've got it all wrong, we want you to get out of here. Just do us a favor when you do." Carly said, fishing around in her bag and finding an ink pen. Now for something to write on. "Just...uh...Melanie, paper?"
"Oh, right!" It was disturbing, sometimes, just how prepared the twin could be. Within seconds of Carly's request, her hand was filled with frilly pink stationary. Which wasn't the greatest idea of what to send, but it was better than nothing. She'd have to make due with scribbling on that and hope for the best that her best friend wouldn't immediately mistake it as something for her to sneeze into.
"There." Carly presented the finished letter in front of Chuck. "All we're asking you to do, is look around for that other blonde lady and hand this note to her, that's all, okay? Please."
Licking his lips, Chuck glanced around him at all four of them, his enemy and his associates, all but begging him...take the paper...just take the paper...
Until finally, wordlessly, he held out his palm. Feeling the tension in the room sudden;y unravel, Carly heaved a sigh of relief as she handed him the note and even considered giving the punk a hug. One step at a time. "Alright, let's help him get in the duct."
A minute later they remained huddled in front of the air chamber, still long after Chuck had disappeared down the shaft and they closed the vent securely shut. Pensively, Freddie said, "So it's all in Sam's hands, huh?"
"If anyone can...she can, right?" Melanie spoke up for her sister. "Because we have faith in her...!"
And no sooner had she said that did they get visited by yet another strange sound. Someone was messing with the door from the outside.
Could it be.....
"So this...this is what destiny must feel like." Samantha wanted to cry. Scratch that, she was crying. "It's so...beautiful."
Somehow, she managed to pump enough strength through her jellied limbs to take small, tender steps towards the treasure before her, the bright pink globes, neatly wrapped up by the twos threatened to blind her with its brilliance; the crate they were stacked in might as well have been the Ark of the Covenant.
She was within arm's reach now. Gradually, tentatively, she picked up a treat from the top of the pile. She lifted it to her face, stroking the plastic against her face. "Shhh...Momma loves you..."
"Melanie?"
"YAAuh, like, yeah that's me," Sam swiftly recovered from her mild stroke. "And...I'm like, totally in the middle of something, so..."
"Hey wait a second!" Oh no this was it she was going to get busted and just when she was so close and life was so unfair, "Since when did you go back to your Valley Girl phase?"
"Oh! Well...you know me!" She answered, wiping the sweat from her brow with the Fat Cake wrapper still in her hand.
"Yeah, I certainly do..." The man chuckled. Sensing the situation shift back to her control, she allowed herself a peek over her shoulder...and immediately blanched.
Never before had she felt so spoiled to have someone like Benson around. The...person standing in front of her was living proof of beings, maybe even an entire culture of beings far more deserving of her wrath than her cameraman. The English language simply did not have the adequate words to describe her disgust of that moment of her life.
She realized it was saying something to her. "—shed tweaking the scorecards, otherwise we might as well hand the trophy over to Team Protoavis right now, am I right?"
"...Like yeah, exactly!" She wore a smile so sharp she was nearly positive she ruptured something. What she wouldn't give to rupture something of his...
Oh God, it's still trying to make conversation. "So, everything's all set. Whenever you're ready, we should hurry up and finish with the final round so we can get back to school and catch some sleep."
"Sleep? But it's only, like, a quarter till seven."
"Well yeah, but..." He blinked. Or, she think he blinked. The glasses made it kinda hard to tell. "It's your idea, remember? To get up as early as you can to make a good impression at the charity drive in the morning?"
"Uh," She had to swallow the lump in her throat before continuing. "Excuse me, but I could've, like, sworn that what we were doing right now was, like, the charity drive?"
He laughed; that was a pretty good joke that Sam made. Heh heh. "Yeah, of course! Today's drive is the Knowledge Bowl, and tomorrow it's the Litter Patrol. You're so silly sometimes, Melanie!"
As her cognition faded by the second, by contrast, the man seemed to have realized something. "Oh no, I forgot the Wizard Hat! Okay I'll tell you what: you go ahead and start the final round, and hopefully I'll have it fetched for you in time to crown the winner. Let's go get them!" She barely thought to flinch as he—oh so bravely—grabbed her hand and led her out of the room of her precious Fat Cakes.
Let it be stated for the record that Sam Puckett was not fond of her twin sister.
"Well...are we dead yet?" Carly muttered just low enough so that their security escort didn't overhear.
"Hey, hey...Don't talk like that. We'll make it through this, I promise." Had Freddie a free limb, he would have lent her his hand for support. In a surprising act of kindness (actually so they wouldn't leave behind any evidence), they were allowed to take their luggage with them. Lucky him.
Spencer struggled as well, carrying both his sister's luggage and his own down the long hallway. "He...he's right, kiddo. We've just gotta...stick together and trust in Sam. You hanging in there, Mel?"
"Oh, trust me I'm fine. But gosh, I hope the Knowledge Bowl goes well without me." What she didn't reveal was about how all these shackles were starting to chafe something fierce. What could she say, her sister had quite the reputation.
"So how about that Chuck kid?" Freddie offered a smile strained under the tremendous weight of his mother's worrisome habits. "I mean...you and Spencer seemed to have some kind of history together, but I think he has a good head on his shoulders. He won't let us down...what? What's wrong?"
"Take that, Team Rocket!" The boy cheered at his handheld game system, as he gained 2,610 experience points. "Now for the Master Ball..." Distractedly, he reached for a Fat Cake.
Somehow, somehow, Samantha was able to look past the expanse of waste product to catch the sun winking at her over the horizon. Beautiful beginning for an atrocious, horrifying day.
They told her that their assigned area, a strip of land in the middle of the highway, only went on for slightly under a mile. In her eyes, that path would be going on for slightly under eternity. Like, if she were to take a single step outside the bounds of her personal torture experiment, she half-expected to just fall off the planet. Funny how that seemed like a bad idea a few hours ago.
Get a grip, she mouthed silently as she adjusted the plastic bag slung over her shoulder. It wasn't that bad. She was far from alone out there, for one thing. There were plenty of other 'volunteers' to give her a hand. Inspired, she scoped them out. It was indeed that bad.
It never ceased to amaze her just how far her new companions, including the dozen-or-so with her on the track, deviated from the common individual. And to her, even that was starting to do them favors; they more closely resembled a hive intelligence. A system of separate, yet bonded, elements operating perfectly in sync to convey its single, harmonized message. Apparently that message was 'Please put an end to my misery'.
It was part of an unspoken balance of powers, she discovered. At any other time of the year, this boarding school would hardly be different from any other school. But once summer comes along and everyone that approaches normal leaves to enjoy their normal vacation, these guys would take control and turn it into a place where "Wanna play a game of Caves & Castles with us?" is the closest thing to normal she's heard out of them.
And then they told her it was live-action. That pretty much ruined it.
Honestly, from the moment she was dragged from their insipid knowledge bowl to that very moment she could only knew of a single exception. If she were inclined to think of her as one.
"Hey Melanie! We're really glad you could make it." The guy from last night ran up to her. Wait, no it wasn't, this one's female...vaguely. "Wow...it's kinda weird seeing you dress so sloppily, but whatever. Could you help us sort the plastics?"
Sam withheld the urge to tell her what she could do with her plastic and obediently followed. "Why would I try to dress up when I know I'm gonna be standing around in garbage?"
"...Well, it's not like that kind of thing's stopped you before."
"...No," she said dumbly. "No, I guess it...hasn't."
Of course it wouldn't. Not her twin sister! Her kind twin sister. Her bright twin sister. Her loving twin sister. Her...
Her whitened grip could have split the trash stick it clenched in two, even as it impaled a cast off plastic cup. As she went to place it in the proper receptacle, in some corner of her vision she thought she saw someone toss out an identical soda bottle as they drove by. Progress.
Just how did she get herself into this mess? Sure, she could have outed herself long ago and been on her merry way, but she figured if she was just going to sit around and wait for the storm to clear up she might as well do something interesting. Even with the loss of her treasured Fat Cakes escaped her grasp, if all she had to do was read some quiz cards to get to sleep in a soft bed in a room to herself, hey, that's still coming out on top.
But now...suffice it to say things have gotten a bit out of hand. Right around the point that she was stuck doing all the work while Melanie got to live it up in a place that had air conditioning. Why it was just like....just like...
"What's the name of that story?" She asked suddenly. "Where those two guys switch places?"
"The...Prince and the Pauper?"
"No, it was a movie."
"...Face/Off?"
That was the one! It was just like that!
But still...it was no biggie. She's been there before, to just roll with the punches like always. It was the other side that irked her. Once she's had time to think about it, she hasn't heard from anybody since she marched away from them. She assumed they'd try to get in touch when the plane was ready. Was the weather really that bad? Even so, they're not even going to try to call her? That's it, one more hour of this and Sis should expect a great big surprise in her bathroom, that's for sure.
"Man, I think I can definitely look forward to a break after this."
She directed that much more at herself than at anyone else, but her companion perked her head nonetheless. "That's a weird thing for you to say."
Dare she ask... "Why...is it weird for me to say that?"
"Well...if anyone, it's the rest of us that are on break after this. Don't you have that other volunteer thing later?"
Oh, okay cool, another one of those! Once Sam got done thinking what she really had on her mind, she wondered aloud, "Just how do I get roped up into doing these things?"
She shrugged. "You're the president of the Student Service Council, you've gotta go to every charity drive." As the features of Sam's face clouded in darkness, almost paradoxically the sun chose that moment to completely break though the shroud of night. "Oh, it looks like another beautiful day!" she announced, accepting the mighty star with open arms, like she was expecting it to pass out scoops of dried fruit instead of hideously incinerated skin.
Let it be stated for the record that Sam Puckett was not fond of her twin sister. Or bright, early mornings.
Oh well. Whatever Carly and the others were doing, she was sure it wasn't going to be nearly as exhilarating as this.
"Now are we dead?" Carly panted.
"I dunno. Ask again in about five minutes." Freddie leaned against what appeared to be an abandoned trolley—as if there were anything they could see that didn't look abandoned in this place. In front of him, Spencer's legs muscles gave out on him, forcing him to let down his blonde payload.
Melanie complacently rolled to a stop at the teens feet. "They could've at least put up the chains when they dropped us off here."
But...where was here, exactly? It was impossibly hard to tell where they were headed from the plane ride, or even for that matter how much time had passed. An what awaited them when they touched down wasn't quick to offer any clues.
As for what clues there were...well, they were certainly in an amusement park. With every uncertain step they took, dusty novelty shops gave way to empty food courts, which gave way to unused cotton candy machines and whatever else. The omnipresent aroma of seawater suggested that they were indeed on an island, but other than that there wasn't even a whole lot that lent to their prison's purported theme.
Of course, it's possible they were completely wrong. For all they knew the place could have been a mecca for nerds of the past clashed with nerd of the future, where swashbuckling adventure met technological revolution. It was kinda hard to tell when you were terrified out of your skull. Add the shroud of night to that equation, and every single thing that they perceived jumping out at them tended to turn them into what basically amounted to a headless chicken parade.
Which brings our heroes to the present, physically exhausted from spending the past few hours sprinting from streetlight to streetlight. Luckily, the sun was up now, shining down on a beautifully crappy morning, and a break was definitely in order...
But perhaps that was what the figure was waiting for, as he snuck behind them. After all, a predator should always go after the prey when they're weak.
And he's always had a soft spot for brunettes...
"Yarr...OOOF!" was as far as he got, as Carly knew all about soft spots and struck his solar plexus. And then his face a couple of times for good measure. She barely had time to cry out in shock before her would-be attacker crumbled to the ground. Hey, so there were pirates after all!
"Wha...don't tell me that was what we were running from this whole time!" He was no Shelby Marx, that was for sure.
"I...think there's a lot more where that came from." Spencer noted, pointing out his gaping associates nearby.
"...Oh." Carly and the gang nervously back up against the trolley, as the group of pirates, three of them, quickly got over their astonishment and went back to attack mode. The one in front bared his teeth, his rather dangerous looking sword glinting against the harsh sunlight.
"I don't know where you landlubbers came from," he growled, "But I'll have the lot of ye walk the plank!" As he swung down with his weapon...
And was parried effortlessly by Freddie, brandishing his own sword, swiped from Carly's victim. "Well you're gonna have to do better than that!" he taunted, as they clashed blades. It wasn't until after the the teen pressured him backwards when a stunned Carly was reminded that the tech producer was in fact a fencing prodigy.
"You know, after that one time, I never thought these random skills would ever be useful again!" She exclaimed as she performed a seasoned take-down on a second henchman making the poor choice of trying to catch her off guard. "Melanie, behind you!"
"What?" The twin whirled around just in time to watch yet another pirate dash toward her. And the pirate reached her just in time to catch her shackles upside his head. "Oh! I'm SO sorry!"
"Yeah, I'll just....I'll stay back here...watch your back..." Spencer cheered on, even as up ahead of the pack, Freddie stood triumphant over the leader.
"Why...you scurvy dogs!" he hissed. Warily, Freddie backed, allowing him to retreat. "You think this is over, don't you? Wait till the Captain gets word o' this, he'll have words wit' the lot o' ye!"
Freddie watched all three of their receding backs with a proud grin. "That was...actually kind of fun."
"Terrifying," Carly interjected, "but fun."
A fit of sniffles caught their attention. Looking down at the ground, they were treated to the sight of Melanie cradling the very same pirate that just tried to tackle her, the nasty bump caused by her shackles covered with a series of colorful band-aids. "What the...."
"And the truth is," he blubbered. "I never really wanted to do this! What I really wanted to do...was make puppets! I wanted my own puppet show, and to have it be seen and loved all around the world!"
"There, there Eugene." She slowly stroked the back of his head. "Now...what do you think your Mee-Maw would say if she could see you now, running around out here and not following your dream?"
"...Tell me, does it ever stop being creepy how that woman has Sam's face?" Freddie whispered, as the now-reformed criminal bid his tearful good-bye.
"It hasn't so far." Happy to take her mind from such matters, Carly looked curiously around her shoulder. "Where's Spencer?"
"Over here! Check this out!" Her brother poked his head out from inside the trolley. "The electricity's still working, I bet I could ride us anywhere on the park!"
"That's a good idea. Sometimes I miss having a trace of mobility," Melanie said, rising to her feet with a considerable amount of difficulty.
But Freddie wasn't so easily sold. "I dunno. Remember what that president guy said, about how there were 'kinks' to work out? We have no idea whether anything in here is safe to ride on, and more to the point we don't even know where this thing will take us."
"I guess you're right...better safe than sorry." Spencer dejectedly leapt from the vehicle...and then paused as he heard footsteps. "...I think someone's coming."
"I hear it too." Carly lowered into a fighting stance as they watched from around the corner...which revealed yet another pirate, considerably more decorated than the ones from before, all shiny gold buckles and bold red cloth.
"Heh. I think we can handle this guy by himself." Freddie, high with confidence and with a chest puffed out, readied his weapon for battle.
The mystery pirate turned his head. An infrared scanner where his right eye should have been slowly took the four of them in and collected data. "LIFE FORMS DETECTED. EXTINGUISH. EXTERMINATE. EXTINGUISH."
'He' took a step forward.
Freddie's arm hung limply by his side. "So, tell me about that trolley idea you had?"
It was with an increasing amount of frustration twinged with more than a little panic that Sam threw her phone down. What the hell was going on? Something really fishy, she concluded, because there was just no way
.
Her frustration was slow and chronic, building itself into a knot somewhere in the back of her skull with every piece of litter she sorted out. When it came to a head around noon, on the bus as they dropped her off to her next assignment, some kiddie camp she couldn't be bothered to know the name of, it came with a heaping amount of screw it.
Her panic arrived swift and sudden, and manifested about as soon as she picked up her phone.
Carly, hands-down the best friend she would ever have in the entire world? No ring.
Huh. I guess she left her charger at home.
Freddie, the mega-spaz who, admittedly, was one of the most reliable people she knew? No ring.
Well, it's not like that's the first time he's ignored a call from me....wait, is it?
Spencer, who despite all appearances and insistences otherwise, she knew to be a responsible and capable adult? No ring!
Okay, this is definitely turning into a serious problem, but just stay calm...
Melanie, that bleeding heart who would probably pause in the middle of traffic to take a call from the twin sister she so cherished for some reason? No bleeping ring?
That's it. I am officially freaking the hell out.
What were the odds that all four of them would have their phones turned off? And in the middle of the day, at that? None. In her eyes the very idea was patently ridiculous.
So...what did happen? She had to find out, and there sure as hell weren't going to be any clues here. She had to...
"Melanie, it's you!" And now some unbelievably skinny poindexter was running up to her. "I know you're busy and everything, but I just wanted to tell you that the council just loves your idea for a 'Save the Dolphins' campaign, and—"
The next thing Skinny Poindexter knew, someone had an iron grip on the front of his collar and he could swear he was staring up into duplicate pits of axure fire.
"To HELL with the dolphins."She seethed through painfully clenched teeth. "The very next dolphin I run into, I am going to roast it slowly over a charcoal flame, and I will serve it with rice, a lemon wedge, and the hottest sauce I can get my hands on."
Let it be stated for the record that Sam Puckett was not fond of her twin sister or bright, early mornings. She was fond of dolphins, but only for their bold, yet complex flavor.
She released him, and he dropped to the floor in a bundle of coughs. She waited with some satisfaction for him to catch his breath. "Y-...you...must be Samantha!" He beamed. "Oh my gosh, Melanie's told us all about you! Hey guys, it's Samantha Puckett!"
More footsteps. Mortified, she turned around. Another nerd stared excitedly at her.
"Ms. Puckett, me and my clan would be honored if you'd play a game of Live C&C with us later. See, we've...kinda been in need of a Troll Knight for a while now and, we were just thinking....you'd...be a...natural..." She fixed him with a withering glare. "...Uh, that sounded...a lot more flattering in my head than it did out loud."
"Look, I'm...flattered, but..." Sam trailed off. Something down the hall caught her attention. "...Hey...Hey you! Come here for a second, I need to speak with you!"
He turned around. He made eye contact.
Then Chuck turned tail and ran for his life.
"Wait a sec...come back here!" Bowling over her adoring fans, Sam followed him around the corner just in time to hear him dash into a room and slam the door behind him.
Feeling the breath of Satan down his neck, Chuck couldn't get to his room nearly fast enough. With a trembling hand, he barely managed to turn his lock. Then he turned around to force his back against the door. Then he looked up at his bed and let loose a high pitched squeal. "Dad!"
Earl looked down amusingly at his son. "Hi there, Chuck. Miss me?"
"W-what are you doing here?!"
He cocked an eyebrow. "Well that's no way to greet the man that's about to let you out early."
Hope, like the most beautiful bouquet, bloomed in his chest. "Really? You mean it!"
"Yeah, I just got a call from the headmistress this morning and she told me you were getting some of the highest math scores out of your whole class, so I thought hey, maybe I let you suffer enough for one summer!"
Chuck couldn't help but to let out a couple of overjoyed giggles. He knew it was a good investment to bribe that smart guy with half his Fat Cake collection. Now, all he had to do was convince his father that they should go out the back and he could maybe be free from...
BUMP BUMP BUMP
His heart stopped cold as the door shuddered behind him with the force of an unholy beast. She caught up with him that quickly?
Earl frowned. "Why do you look so flustered? Who's that behind the door?"
"Behind the-...it's no one dad I promise!" Chuck panted. Were it any of those other dorks he could deal with them. But her....oh no, there was no dealing with her, he knew that right from the moment he met her.
But now his dad was getting suspicious; now he was getting up off his bed, moving him from the door with a stern look. Now he was disengaging the lock and reaching for the door and...
He forced himself to calm down. Maybe he could still get out of this. Maybe it wasn't even
"Can I help you...? Hey, I know you from the hotel!"
No such luck. "Yeah..listen, I'm looking for my friends, and I think your son was the last one to see them. Could I just have a word with him? Please?"
Earl frowned at him again. "Chuck, do you kno—"
Chuck didn't even let the question finish rolling off his father's tongue. "What? What friends? I have...no idea what this crazy lady's talking about!"
"Chuck..."
"What's that?" Sam asked simply, looking beneath his Pocket Boy and pointing out the one item in Camp Add 'Em Up's sparsely decorated room that stuck out like a sore thumb.
"Uh..." Chuck's quick wits failed him as the blonde closed the distance between the doorway and his dresser in the time it took him to babble like an cretin. There was only one person she knew that would carry around such girly stationary.
However, it was definitely not her sister's handwriting, she noted as she skimmed the message. And then she read the message. And then she painstakingly crawled over every single word of the message.
And she went pale.
Earl stepped up to her. "Is...everything okay?"
Sam gulped. She considered her options. She scrunched her nose; there weren't any good options. She decided anyway. "Everything's fine. I just...need you to do me a favor. Could you give me a ride back into town?"
He looked hesitant, but ultimately he relented. "Sure. We can go whenever you're ready."
"I'm ready now. Let's go," Sam answered perhaps a little too quickly.
"Alright, I'm calling shotgun!" Chuck exclaimed, a step ahead of them both with a fully packed suitcase. "...What?"
Chuck's father regarded him with a look he wished wasn't so familiar by this point. "When I come back for you two weeks from now at the end of camp," he declared, "You better believe you're gonna be grounded, mister. And I think I'll take this game with me."
"No, I was just about to beat the Elite Four!" He moaned as Sam shut the door in his face. "Aww...what do I ever do to deserve these things?"
A/N: Well, this was originally meant to be a one shot, but after noting the absurd length of this first chapter I decided to break this all up into three parts. Hopefully, it won't be too long before I finish part 2. Enjoy!
More Random Notes: Apologies in advance for any and all community organizers, geeks, knowledge bowl contestants, LARPers, morning people, and/or dolphin fans that feel offended by this chapter. The thoughts and views expressed by Samantha Puckett do not necessarily reflect the views of the author. Except the part about the LARPers. Get a job, you freaks. Kidding. Or am I? Hmm.
Also, cookies and E-credit for anyone that can guess every single cartoon reference I shamelessly shoehorned in the text.