Ran into some issues with this week's updates, so I'm resetting the schedule again. Already posted it in the Notice section of my profile, so I won't bore you with it.

RE: Guest Review:

Daughtry, eh? Can't say I've been a fan of them, but I'll admit that after looking up that song, it started to grow on me. When I was bored and messing around on my guitar, I found myself playing it more and more, so I thank you for introducing me that song. You may have single handedly changed a lot of the sequel.

Chapter 13: Ohio Is For Lovers

"Hey there,
I know it's hard to feel like I don't care at all
Where you are and how you feel
With these lights off as these wheels
keep rolling on and on
Slow things down or speed them up
Not enough or way too much
How are you when I'm gone?

And I can't make it on my own.
Because my heart is in Ohio."

- Hawthorne Heights

[][][]

Mordecai's eyes snapped open, plunging him back into the real world.

The real world he was currently in was the inside of Martin's apartment, the remains of last night's party being scattered across the room. Sitting up was difficult, the strange position he fell asleep in making his back and neck pop while he did so.

"Aw, man…" he said quietly, looking around at the rest of the passed out partiers.

Luckily his phone was still in his pocket and still had enough charge to display the time.

He shook his head and stretched himself awake while he rose to his feet. Carefully stepping his way to his jacket, he pulled it away from the person who was asleep on top of it.

"Come on," he said while he began to pull on it, the jerking motion causing him to roll back and forth.

Worried about ripping a seam, he 'gently' kicked him in the stomach until he rolled off of it. A close inspection shown a large stain on the front, along with a phone number written on one of the sleeves, the other one missing completely.

After taking his keys from the pocket he tossed it back onto the floor. With a sigh he turned toward the door as Martin walked in, his laptop under his arm.

"Look who's awake," he said, walking past him toward the kitchen.

"It's a miracle," Mordecai said, parts of last night playing through his head, "That party was intense."

Setting the computer aside, he opened one of the cabinets and seen his alarm clock dangling from one of the shelves, "I don't know about intense. Catastrophic, maybe."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Mordecai said, looking at his phone, "I gotta get to work."

Martin nodded, "Alright. Meet up at Anarchy later?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. Think about what I asked."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he said as the door closed.

With a sigh, he looked at the mess his apartment was and began to contemplate how he'd get everyone out. The vibrating in his pocket pulled him away from his planning and caused him to check the incoming call.

The name Bradley was displayed with a number below it.

Shaking his head, he hit ignore as he did the past several times and returned it to his pocket.

"Even if I was in a good mood," he said out loud.

[][][]

After a quick shower, he left his phone on the charger while he hurried to get ready for work, the weekend away coming close to ruining his wake up routine.

Walking through the main door, everyone gathered on the stoop turned and looked at him.

"Bro-decai!" Muscle Man shouted.

"What's up?" he asked, moving to lean against the door frame.

"We were just about to start," Benson said, writing today's schedule on the clipboard.

The tension in the air was strong enough for him to notice in the short time he was outside. The line was divided down the middle, Rigby on the left while everyone else huddled on the right.

Letting it go, he focused on Benson as he clicked the pen closed.

"Okay, we're almost finished with arrangements for the picnic," he said, looking over to where Muscle Man was avoiding his eyesight, "Aside from… complications with the volleyball net, all that's left is labor to set everything up."

Taking a deep breath, he continued.

"Thomas and Rigby, you'll be running the snack stand today. Skips, you and Fives go to the lawn and garden center to replace the flowers that were destroyed last night."

Not waiting to hear the rest of the announcements, Rigby left and started down the path to the stand.

"Whatever," Benson said before he continued, "Muscle Man and Mordecai, I'll leave to finishing the work for the picnic. Try to untangle the volleyball net and fix the holes, if not go and get a new one."

"Are you still set on the tournament?"

Benson blinked and looked up to Mordecai, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Mordecai began, instantly aware that everyone was looking toward him, "We have the tournament pretty much every year, right?"

He nodded, "It's a tradition."

"Sure it is, but it's always the same people who enter, and they always win so no one else joins in."

Folding his arms, Benson sighed, "That's true."

"What if we did something else, like have a concert?"

"A concert?" Skips asked, the more he rolled the idea around, the better it sounded.

"Like a professional band, like the Candy Rappers or Elven Assault?!" Muscle Man asked, becoming more and more hyped.

Benson shook his head, "I don't want the park associated with that kind of show. Besides, it's not in the budget to pay for an event that big."

"That's the best part," Mordecai said, pausing for dramatic effect, "I can get us a band to play cheap, and they're a guaranteed way to draw people to the park."

Seeing Benson was still on the fence, he turned to Muscle Man, "How many people were at the opening of Anarchy when they were playing?"

"Before or after I was arrested?" he asked, struggling to remember that day.

"This isn't helping your argument," Benson added.

"Fives?"

Fives shrugged, "Had to have been close to two thousand."

"Assuming half of them were there for the opening, that's at least a thousand who came for the band. The community knows them, and it's sure to bring in the crowd."

"We could print fliers," Thomas said, giving a nod of approval.

Skips nodded, "I could build a stage."

"And I could not mess anything up!" Muscle Man shouted.

Benson thought about it for a moment, knowing he was outnumbered on this one.

"IF you can get them to agree to working within the budget, I'll run it by Mr. Maellard on the condition that I get final approval of the set list."

"Of course," Mordecai said, several ideas already coming to mind.

"This is gonna be awesome!"

"Skips, you get started on the stage after the flowers are replaced. Use the scaffolding and lights from my personal storage if you have to."

He nodded, "Done."

"The rest of you get started," Benson said, turning to the third page where he had circled something, "Mordecai, I need to talk to you real quick."

Benson waited until everyone was out of earshot before he began, "First off, how was your trip?"

Mordecai shrugged, "It was alright. Seen a few friends, hung around mostly."

He nodded, "Good. I want to talk to you about this nonsense between you and Rigby."

Rolling his eyes, Mordecai sighed.

"Look, I know this isn't easy or anything, but I can't have my workers divided like this. Thomas and Skips are keeping their cool, but Muscle Man is close to losing his mind and Fives'll go along with whatever he does."

Mordecai shook his head, "I don't know yet."

"It's not about who's right or who's wrong, make peace or fight it out. Either way, I need this solved."

"We'll see how it goes."

Benson held his gaze before turning and walking off.

[][][]

Martin turned onto the dirt road and hit the throttle, the spinning tires kicking rocks and dust into the air behind them.

"I don't know anymore," he said, shifting up and checking the gauges, "Everything I though I knew is flipped."

The drive was different, Lyle could tell that from his usual position in the passenger seat. The car reacted differently than it used to. The same car Martin worked on for the past seven years and drove the past five, despite not having a license, seemed… different.

"I bought the other car to destroy the Black Tear, but I don't think I can do it. What do you think?"

"I think," Lyle said with a shake of his head, "You've been talking to my sister too much. Cars are cars, they don't have feelings or get mad when you mistreat them."

"What if they do?"

"What if their headlights are eyes and their bumpers move when they talk?" laughing at the absurdity of the subject, "You need to worry about Bradley. He's been trying to get ahold of you, it's not smart to blow him off."

"I have nothing to say to him and I can handle the Organization," Martin said, veering across the road to avoid a pothole, "They lose one relic a couple years ago and it's suddenly my problem."

The parking lot for the scrap yard came into sight and it looked fairly empty. Hoping they hadn't made the trip for nothing, he swung the car around and stopped near the farmhouse.

Despite needing a paint job, the house was in decent shape. The gates to the yard were closed and had very little rust on them, the same could be said with the corrugated metal screwed over the chain link fence.

As they stepped out of the car, a head peeked out from under the hood of a shiny muscle car beside the garage.

"If I hear any banjos, I'm running," Lyle said, wishing he was back in the city.

The man had started walking toward them while he wiped his greasy hands on a rag.

"Name's Wally," he said while extending his right hand.

Martin shook it, used to the gritty feeling of engine oil, "Martin."

Lyle was hesitant, but settled for a nod and a quick shake. Wally nodded in return, already pegging Lyle low on his manly meter while still unsure of Martin.

"Yard's closed today, not that we'd have anything to wind up that Tonka toy of yours."

Ignoring his comment as best he could, Martin shook his head, "I'm looking for the Mad Doctor."

Wally sighed, "Of course you are. Mary!"

Shortly after he yelled, the door to the house opened and a woman stepped out, shielding her eyes from the early morning sun, "What now?"

"Couple city boys looking for ya."

"Dude, she could check my oil any day," Lyle said quietly.

"That's my daughter," Wally warned before walking back to his car.

They both gulped as she reached them.

"Well, what do you want?"

Martin cleared his throat, still unsure if Wally was serious or not, "Did you program a computer for an '89 Blazer awhile back?"

She sighed, "You're talking about my brother, he left to the east coast awhile back for school."

Martin sighed, "Great…"

"What do you need with him, anyway?"

"I need one of the ECU's he programs. He made one for the Blazer, and I want to compete against it."

"What's so special about this… ECU, thing?"

Martin reached in through the open window and pulled the lever for the hood. Raising it up, he pointed to performance one mounted on the firewall.

"It controls everything about the engine. Ignition Timing, Air to Fuel ratios-"

"Ignition… Timing…"

"Yeah, that's what ignites the fuel that the injectors put into the cylinder."

"Cylinder…"

Martin sighed, "I see this is getting us nowhere."

"Looks like we wasted half a tank of gas for nothing," Lyle added.

Mary blinked and leaned in to look at the ECU, "Wait a minute."

She took off running into the house, leaving them to wait in their confusion. Several minutes later she returned, cd, black box, and string of wires tucked under her arm.

"When he left he forgot these. Last time I talked to him he said to destroy them, but I never got around to it."

Martin took the device he was offered and looked it over, dumbstruck at the realization he was holding an actual ECU from the Mad Doctor himself.

"What do you want for it?" he asked once the ability to speak returned.

"Well," she said with a small smile, glancing toward Skyline as it sparkled in the sunlight, "I've never rode in one of these fancy race cars."

Martin nodded and opened the passenger door for her, "We'll be back, Lyle."

Lyle sighed while he slammed the hood closed, "Yeah, I'll just go talk to Jethro over here…"

"It's Wally," he said before dropping behind the steering wheel.

Lyle started walking toward Wally while they sped out of the parking lot.

Wally looked up as Lyle approached and shook his head, "Runs off with my daughter and leaves this one."

"So, how about that internet?" Lyle asked, doing his best to make small talk.

"What's that?"

With a heavy sigh, he glanced to where a bloodhound was laying in the sun.

"Does your dog bite?"

Wally glanced toward the dog and shook his head.

Lyle crouched down and held his hand out. The dog sniffed it twice before snapping at him, almost succeeding in removing several of his fingers.

"I thought you said he didn't bite!"

Wally shrugged, "That's not my dog."

'Dang it, Martin,' Lyle thought, 'Next time, I drive the girl around while you talk to the father.'

That'll do. Mostly a Martin chapter, but the rest will have their moment coming up.

So, I'll be moving on to the next story on the schedule and go from there.

Thanks for reading.