Author's Note: …I have heard a rumor. I will not tell you what this rumor is, but if true, it would completely alter my favorite coupling. Meaning - you have one even more temperamental author on your hands than you typically might. REVENGE!!!
Timothy ducked behind a tree, trying not to call attention to himself. The teenagers were across the street from him. He was in John's front yard. He took a deep breath, trying to ready himself. He crept slowly towards the front door, wringing his hands apprehensively as he went. He let out a sigh of relief when he reached the front door, but quickly reminded himself that this was no guarantee he might not soon be discovered.
But that would be all right, if he could work out his plan correctly.
He pulled the Welcome mat up, pulling the spare key from the clichéd hiding spot. He let out a groan - it was so hard for his large hands to handle such small tools. He missed the lock his first few tries, but on the third time it slid in easily, and he ran inside once the door unlocked, slamming the door behind him, hoping it would stop the sound of the teens - they had started in with a sledge hammer to his house.
He winced as he heard it swing through the air, connecting with the frail wood of his house, splintering. He silently muttered a thank you to the powers that be that his mother and father were out of the house.
But that called attention to another matter.
Where was Mrs. Wink? He thought for a moment, then remembered John mentioning that she wasn't around much anymore. She had to take care of the payments and John all by herself now. Well, you get rid of one of your responsibilities, Timothy noted, making his way to the basement.
The teens were growing barbaric, losing touch with humanity with each splintering of wood, each arch of the sledgehammer. They were one being…one cruel, sadistic devil who thought to torture that which was not holy, ignoring their own fall from God in the process. Each swing caused a cheer to go up from the crowd into the air, floating there…all of them so enraptured. So joyous in their hatred.
He would put a stop to that.
Fight fire with fire…The best way to fight hatred was said to be with love and peace, but to Timothy Fibb, these people would not be worth it. They would not learn their lesson from this. They would grow up to be the same people they always were, perpetuating it down their lineage so that all of John and Timothy's kind would be hated and persecuted.
Their children would be just like them.
Timothy smirked as he started the engine with his remote, the Super Chair creaking as it stretched out to its full height. He toggled a switch, and it came to life, jogging him across the street. He stared down at the other teenagers.
They stared up, unsure of what was going on.
They were ants. He was a kid with a magnifying glass.
And he was going to enjoy this one moment to punish them. The same way you punished John, when he'd done nothing wrong at all….
John's eyes slowly opened (not that anyone could see behind the shock of shaggy brown hair) when he felt the tremors through the bottom of the bus. He looked around, trying to find the source. The tremors continued for a while, and then became accompanied by a loud 'thud' noise every few moments. The tremors were constant, but the noise was intermittent.
John almost jumped when he heard the knock on the window. He opened it to see Timothy in the super chair. The chair was running along side the bus.
The other passengers were all gawking.
John, however, smiled. He grabbed his things and lifted himself out the window, much to the dismay of those seated around him. One tried to grab onto his leg, to force him to stay where he was, but John quickly moved out of reach. He jumped from the bus window onto a leg of the super chair. The chair stopped, allowing John to climb up to the top. "Hello, John."
"Hello, Timothy," John said slowly.
There was something different about Timothy. His speech pattern, John noticed, was actually quite similar to John's himself. Except that there seemed to be an edge to Timothy's voice. He still had some connection to his emotions. John sat down beside Timothy, staring down at the view.
"Where to now, Timothy?"
"Wherever you would like to go…John."
Author's note: I should be updating this again tonight, but I really need to go do something to cool down. Besides...I think I just turned little Timothy into a psycho.