The boarding house slowly buzzed to life as Helga struggled to wake up. She peeked through one very tired blue eye to see Arnold with his arms wrapped tightly around her, still snoozing happily. Helga froze. Her face paled and her blood pressure shot through the roof. Panic seemed to overtake logical thinking and her fight or flight instinct kicked in.
Very slowly Helga pulled away from Arnold's embrace. She watched his face for any sign of consciousness. Nothing. Helga breathed a sigh of relief and straightened her mussed clothes before returning to Arnold's sleeping figure.
"I'm sorry, Arnold," she whispered quietly, "but you just wouldn't understand how it feels to endure one abusive relationship after the other then finally have the perfect person you've been waiting for and feel like you're toxic to them. As cliché as it sounds it's not you, it's me."
She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead stepped back a few paces before taking a quick leap over the bed and catching the ladder to the roof under her bare feet. She held her shoes in her teeth, looking rather ridiculous as she did so, before scaling the wall, opening the window and taking one last longing gaze at her beloved before climbing down the roof top and hurrying out of sight.
Arnold awoke with a panicked start just a few minutes later. His heart was racing as he glanced around the room.
"Helga?"
Arnold slipped out of bed willing himself to calm down. He wasn't sure what had startled him awake so abruptly, but he was still on edge even after regulating his breathing.
After a quick glance around the room Arnold had surmised that Helga had fled the coop, so to speak. He frowned dejectedly trying to understand why she would have left after last night without so much as a 'goodbye'.
Arnold sighed dejectedly before heading downstairs for breakfast.
"Hey Short Man, you're up early this morning."
"Hey Grandpa." Arnold replied, still moping.
"What's the matter, Mr. President?" Gertie asked as she made Arnold a plate of french toast topped with various fruits and whipped cream to look like the American flag.
"It's nothing, Grandma."
The day had passed by painfully slow. The sun began to set casting beautiful oranges and reds across the sky as clouds began to gather, threatening rain. Arnold watched the ominous clouds for a moment before he picked up the phone and tried once again to reach Phoebe, hoping Helga might have ended up there.
"I'm sorry, Arnold, but as I told you when you called twenty minutes ago, Helga isn't here. I haven't seen her since she left my house last night to spend the evening with Eugene and Sheena. I'll call you the minute I hear from her."
"OK, thanks Phoebe." Arnold replied half-heartedly before placing the phone back into its cradle.
Arnold held his football-shaped head in his hands as he released a worried sigh. The phone suddenly sprang to life startling him. Arnold fumbled to pick up the phone and knocked it onto the floor where he answered it.
"Phoebe?"
"Arnold, it's Gerald." Gerald's voice was panicked and stretched thin. "Helga's in trouble.
Arnold felt his heart drop into his stomach.
"Wha-what?"
"I Just saw her fighting with that asshole boyfriend of hers before being dragged in the car."
"Gerald, where are you?"
"I'm by Circle Theater. They hit the highway heading east."
"Shit. Did you try calling the police?"
"Man, how stupid do I look to you?" Gerald scoffed. "Of course I called the cops, but they just told me to stop filing false reports and hung up. Helga wasn't joking when she said they wouldn't do anything."
"Son of a bitch!" Arnold paced his room frantically while tugging on his hair trying to think of what to do. He stopped mid step in the center of the room, his breath hitched in his throat. "Gerald, "he asked far more calmly than he felt, "how soon can you be here?"
"What do you think I've been doing this whole time, knitting? I'm outside your house now."
Arnold snapped the phone shut, grabbed his jacket and darted down the stairs, taking them three at a time.
Grandma stood at the bottom, looking oddly stoic.
"Where are you off to, Mr. President?"
Arnold slid his arms through his jacket before glancing at his grandmother.
"To rescue the First Lady."
"Ok, so where do we go? We don't know where this guy lives, hangs out, anything."
Arnold looked oddly calm, but the throbbing vein on his forehead said otherwise.
"We're going to find that weasel, Mickey."
Gerald nodded slowly before switching his old car into gear and pulling into traffic, heading east.
"Last I heard from Sid, Mickey spends a lot of time at The Needle in the low-rent district."
"Then that's where we're going."
Gerald seemed like he desperately had something to say, but bit his tongue. This did not escape Arnold's normally oblivious nature.
"What?"
Gerald opened his mouth, closed it then opened it again.
"I know you consider Helga your friend and you would risk your neck for any of us, but you seem...I don't know, darker than I've ever seen you. Did something happen between you and Helga?"
Arnold swallowed hard and stared out the window for a moment before answering.
"She stayed the night last night."
Gerald swerved a little in shock, but quickly righted the car to avoid hitting the barrier.
"You did what now?"
"Relax! Nothing happened, well, not really, I mean-"
"Don't you 'nothing happened' me! It's never nothing, it's always something."
Arnold blushed. "Well, we kissed and, well, Gerald, I love her."
Gerald swerved again.
"Would you quit trying to kill us!?" Arnold sputtered holding onto the dashboard as Gerald swerved to correct himself.
"You-you love her? How long has this development been going on?"
Arnold sat quietly for a moment as he tried to think.
"I'm not sure." He replied honestly. "It's been coming on so gradually I hardly know." He thought for a moment longer. "I think it must have started when I first met her. She was muddy and soaked from the rain and looked positively miserable. The first thing I noticed about her was her big pink bow. It matched her pants."
Gerald cast a sideways glance at his football-headed friend as he merged off of the highway and onto a nearby side street.
"We're here."
The Needle was a desolate looking building that had long ago been condemned. Arnold climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him, his eyes fixated incredulously on the place.
"Are you sure this is it?"
Gerald nodded and the two walked towards the door.
"It's chained shut." Arnold stated seeing a thick chain and padlock keeping the door shut. "How do we get in?"
"Pst."
Gerald and Arnold turned towards the source of the noise, but could see nothing aside from an old rusty dumpster.
"Hello? Arnold asked quietly.
"Over here."
Gerald and Arnold exchanged glances before walking towards the garbage bin. The lid squeaked open a little and only a pair of eyes could be seen.
"Password."
"Password? We don't have a-"
Gerald slapped his hand over Arnold's mouth. "We're looking for the funhouse."
"Is the circus in town?" asked the voice from within the dumpster.
"No, it's a carnival."
The lid suddenly swung open and a large tough looking guy with tattoos and large gauges in his ears appeared before them apparently granting them passage.
The pair climbed into the dumpster and crawled through a hole in the side which placed them at the top of a spiral staircase.
"Come on." Gerald said pulling Arnold along.
"What did you say to that guy?"
Gerald glanced at Arnold briefly before answering. "I told him we were looking for drugs. Sid taught me."
"Sid? Sid is into drugs!?"
"Used to be."
Before Arnold had time to panic more they reached another large thug next to a portrait of Mother Theresa.
"We're looking for Mickey." Gerald stated calmly.
The thug nodded and pushed the portrait at an angle to reveal a hole in the wall.
Gerald and Arnold quickly climbed through into the middle of the biggest underground rave in Hillwood. Bright colored lights reflected off the fog from the smoke machines temporarily blinding the duo as loud trance pulsed through them.
Gerald shouted something to Arnold.
"What?" Arnold shouted back.
Gerald shook his head. The music was too loud. He gestured to follow him. Arnold stayed close while nervously glancing around at the people around him. Everyone looked completely out of their minds and it made Arnold uncomfortable.
Finally they weaved their way through the crowd to several tables and bench seats set up on the wall, one of which sat Mickey twitching from whatever he was tweaking out on at the moment.
"Hey Weasel!"
Mickey's head shot up. It took him a second to recognize who was yelling at him.
"My sources tell me you might be looking for some time in the funhouse tonight." Mickey said cryptically
"Actually, we need information." Arnold responded.
Mickey looked slightly alarmed, before narrowing his eyes into a more relaxed state.
"That will cost you."
Arnold immediately pulled out his wallet and shoved the contents of it into Mickey's grubby, outstretched hand.
The weasel counted the money carefully before smiling happily and stretching out on the bench.
"How can I help you boys?"
"We're looking for Reggie, Helga's boyfriend. Do you know where he is?"
Mickey's eyes shot open and bolted upright from his relaxed position into a very alert stance.
"I don't know nothin' about nothin'."
"The hell you don't." Gerald growled angrily and lunged for the sneak. Mickey dodged Gerald's grasp and ran for the door.
Gerald and Arnold chased after him, shoving through couples and knocking people over to keep up. Finally Gerald caught Mickey by the leg as he attempted to scurry up the stairs. The two scuffled for a moment before Mickey managed to toss Gerald into the banister face first.
He ran for the stairs again, but Arnold grabbed him and threw him against the wall.
"Enough!" Arnold shouted in the punk's face. Gerald quickly recovered and stood to the side watching his best friend.
"You are going to tell me what I need to know.
"I told you, I don't know anything!" Mickey squeaked.
"You're lying! I know you know and you're going to tell me!" Arnold grabbed the front of Mickey's hoodie with his fists and lifted him up against the wall with strength he didn't know he had.
"If I tell you I'm a dead man!" Mickey coughed out as Arnold tightened his grip.
"You're a dead man if you don't!"
"Ok! Ok!" Mickey coughed again. "Try the abandoned warehouses. He and his friends go there to dispatch people who cross them."
Arnold dropped Mickey to the ground where he sat sputtering and turned to run up the stairs, Gerald right behind him.
Arnold climbed out of the dumpster and darted to the car as fast as he could go. He tugged on the handle finding it locked.
"Dammit!"
Gerald fumbled with the keys for a few seconds before getting the car unlocked and sliding in, Arnold following suit.
The pair peeled out of the lot and down the street at less than safe speeds.
"Oh fuck!" Gerald cursed under his breath as he went through a stop sign, nearly hitting another car in the process.
Arnold was silent the whole trip until they finally pulled into the warehouse lot.
"Shit, there's a ton of these things! Which one is it!?"
Gerald stopped the car and both of them got out, not bothering to close the doors.
"I don't know, but we can't panic, we have to keep our heads clear enough to help Helga."
Arnold nodded and began running through the middle of the warehouses glancing back and forth between them as he did. Gerald followed close behind him watching for anything Arnold may have missed.
Arnold could feel his heart beating painfully against his ribs and his lungs burning for air as he ran. Where could she be?
The duo turned down another row of warehouses and one immediately caught Arnold's eye.
"That one!" He declared making a beeline for the dilapidated aluminum structure.
"What makes you so sure?" Gerald asked curiously.
Arnold reached the door of number 118. "I can feel it." He whispered before pushing open the door.
Author's Note: Holy shitstorm ahead. Tattered Ribbon is nearly at its climax, the end is nigh, I'm thinking maybe 2 or 3 more chapters. Soooo exciting!