Since author's notes are somewhat insignificant, starting next chapter, all my obnoxious ramblings will be posted at the end so the beginning isn't too chatty.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Sticky, trembling. His captor said nothing. A couple seconds later, a blindfold was roughly knotted around his head, rope around his wrists, and he was ruthlessly tossed onto a hard, flat surface.

This turned out to be the bed of some type of vehicle; there was the sound of a revving motor, and he lurched forward before regaining his balance.

The ride lasted only a short while. It was late afternoon at this point, and where the sun would normally be beating down, uncomfortably hot, everything around here was cool.

"Get out," grunted the man.

Sticky wrestled against his bindings to no avail.

"Now!"

He stumbled off of the vehicle and was shoved brusquely forth. "W-What are you doing?" he stammered.

"Keep your mouth shut," he was advised, and suddenly a metal door clanged, a padlock clicked, and he was… alone?

"Hello?" whispered Sticky, unable to produce a louder sound. Nobody answered. Nervously pacing around, unable to see, he came to the conclusion that he was indeed by himself, at least for now.

Was this all his fault? He slumped to the floor, leaning against a wall of cool, uneven, flimsy-feeling material. And Cleo…

He flinched, thinking about her. He'd kept quiet about it around his friends, and even Reynie had the tact – or adequate distraction; he and Kate were numbskulls if they thought he hadn't noticed their, well, whatever it was – not to question him further. They knew he liked her. That was that.

Except it wasn't. Cleo was… perfect. She was highly intellectual, but in a bright, inquisitive, slightly shy and very endearing manner. Nobody teased her anymore, of course – in fact, her wittiness and confidence quickly won over the class – and she was, from what he observed, relatively popular. Unaccustomed as he may be to social situations, even Sticky understood that the fact that she spent so much time around him, the outcast, was something.

Or so he thought. Now, he wasn't sure of anything. Exhaling loudly, he buried his head in his knees, as his hands were currently pinned behind his back. If only Kate or Reynie were here. Or Constance, even. Anyone who was good at this type of thing: at figuring out where they were, how they got there, and what they must do in order to escape.

The lock screeched, a high, metallic sound that made Sticky's ears ache.

"H-Hello?" he asked nervously, aware that his eye was twitching.

The door slowly slid open. Was he in some sort of sketchy storage unit? One of those thin-walled sheds that people store rusty old gardening tools and long-forgotten memorabilia in?

A girl's voice said softly, "Take off the blindfold." Sticky started. It was Cleo, he was sure of it.

Another voice he identified from earlier said gruffly, "But he said to –"

"I know. Take it off."

Two begrudging hands reached over Sticky's head and unknotted it. Blinded momentarily, he blinked several times. When his eyes had re-focused, the door was shut and Cleo was standing there, a very defiant Constance by her side. The little girl's lower lip trembled, however, belying the fear that was quite natural when your three best friends are taken captive by a rather threatening crowd – a crowd, no less, that you had incorrectly thought yourselves to have eliminated already.

"Hey," she said timidly.

Sticky did his best to look unforgiving and frigid, but only succeeded in appearing confused and frightened (both emotions of which he was certainly feeling as well). "So are you going to tell us what's happening?" he asked.

"I don't know that much," she said pleadingly. "I was pulled into this – the McCrackens are family friends and when my dad lost his job we needed the money that Mr. McCracken paid us if I did him and Kenzie a favor. I had no idea you were involved – I'm sorry – I didn't know that –"

"That this was a group of evil, despicable men with absolutely no motive to try to overpower us? For heaven's sake, they have pencils that can kill you! Pencils!"

"I know, I know," said Cleo, running her fingers through her hair in dismay. "But there's no way out of it – don't you see?"

"You could try just not doing what you were told to," said Sticky, beginning to get frustrated. "Has that occurred to you?"

"Well, as I was supposed to keep you blindfolded and bound and relay the message McCracken asked me to, I'd say it has, and I've already put my life on the line."

"Oh please," butted it Constance crossly. "You have no clue what it's like to put your life on the line. Do you have any idea what the Society has done? We risked our lives time and time again for the 'greater good' or whatever you want to call it, and we beat these guys. Ledroptha Curtain isn't even – well, is he involved?"

Cleo gave a blank expression. "Who?"

"There," said Constance in satisfaction. "Curtain isn't even involved, so why in the world would McCracken be so intent on kidnapping us and doing exactly what we did to him not too long ago?"

"It's revenge," said Sticky quietly. "It has to be. What other explanation is there?"

"You think so?" Constance looked at him imploringly. "This is all to avenge his imprisonment?"

"What other reason could there be?"

Cleo was wringing her hands at this point. When the two others looked at her expectantly, she shook her head. "I can't weigh in on this one," she said, sounding a bit more like her old self – or at least the Cleo that Sticky thought he knew.

"Well, can you tell us what's happening – oh." A half-smile spread across Constance's face, her head tilted. "You might want to put the blindfold back on – too late."

A second later, before Sticky or Cleo could do anything, the door slid open, revealing Mackenzie. She stood with arms akimbo in the entrance for a moment.

"Hello," she said evenly. Sticky shivered, then glanced at Constance. Why had she smiled? Shouldn't she be – well, not trembling, but worried? But no, she was watching the girl in near amusement.

"Hi," said Cleo, taking a long, shuddery breath.

"How are our… friends?" asked Mackenzie.

"Good," squeaked Sticky.

"I doubt that," Mackenzie said simply. "Didn't see this coming, did you?"

"Where are Reynie and Kate and S.Q.?" asked Constance loudly.

"I'm afraid your partners in crime were compensated on the way over." A truck rumbled distantly down a road which proved to be covered in gravel. "Oh, look, here they are."

"Sticky?" came a muffled voice. "Constance?"

"Reynie!" shouted Sticky. "Are you alright?"

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow. "Now, we can't have that," she said, and whistled sharply. The driver leapt out of the van, carrying a familiar-looking paperweight. There was a thump and he emerged a moment later. "All better," he said, winking at the kids. Sticky was horrified.

"Make sure they're quiet," ordered Mackenzie.

They. So it wasn't just Reynie, thought Sticky. Were Kate and S.Q. in the van too? He peeked at Constance again. She looked bored.

"So," began Mackenzie, sliding the door shut and locking it from the inside. "You two have been very… naughty. And father hates naughty children."

"You're my age!" burst out Sticky. "How can you call us –" Behind Mackenzie, Cleo shook her head in a subtle warning. He clamped his mouth shut.

McCracken's daughter gave a thin, haughty smirk. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Unfortunately, the opportunity to do this the easy way is long gone. You could've chosen it earlier and you didn't. Your loss."

"We went with you!" protested Sticky. "We came willingly!"

"You friend Kate did not," pointed out Mackenzie. "That is, by the way, the reason you will not find her in the van. We took her someplace special."

"Kenzie…" Cleo shot her a beseeching look. "Please?"

Mackenzie rolled her eyes. "What a disappointment," she said, speaking in that cool, level, unnerving tone. Turning back to Sticky, she continued, "At any rate, if you don't want to get hurt – or, should I say, if you want to survive –"

Constance, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor and scowling, suddenly leapt up, beaming. The door was ripped open with a loud, deafening sound of reluctant metal scraping against a cement floor, and before anybody could say or do anything, there was a flash of blond hair, a glint of steel, and Mackenzie fell to the floor. Kate Wetherall – black-eyed, bruised, and scraped up – stood triumphantly where her victim had just moments ago.

"Kate!" cried Sticky, throwing his arms around her jubilantly.

"You're welcome," she said, grinning and giving him a painful squeeze in return. Looking down at Constance, she said in mild wonder, "You knew I was coming, didn't you?"

Constance nodded.

Kate ruffled up her hair. "Good call, Connie-girl." Surveying the scene, she brushed off her hands and gave a heavy sigh. "I really didn't want to have to resort to this, but McCracken's men were being positively aggravating."

"You knocked her out with your bucket," Sticky noted. "I'm impressed."

"Well, this is a hardy little guy," said Kate, inspecting it ruefully. "I do hope no permanent damage was done."

"I'm sure Mackenzie will be fine," said Sticky consolingly.

She gave him a confused look. "Oh, no – I was talking about the bucket."

Not quite sure how to respond to the fact that his friend had just rendered their arch enemy's daughter unconscious and was far more concerned about the precious weapon she'd used to carry out this feat, Sticky asked anxiously, "But there was a man in the truck – the van –"

"I got him with another dart," she said smartly. "We'd better run, though." Her brow knotted up. "What are you doing here?" she asked, looking at Cleo keenly.

"I'm not really sure," said Cleo with a small, uncertain laugh.

"Well, are you coming with us?"

"I –" She glanced over at Sticky, who resolutely fixed his gaze on the wall across from him. "Okay, I'll come."

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, we have an evil band to defeat and some loved ones to save. Manageable, but we've got to get a move on."

Hope the ending wasn't too abrupt, but I'm starting right now on the next chapter.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the positive reviews! Yay I don't suck at writing action scenes!

For someone who basically has no life, I'm surprised at and apologetic for how little time I spend on writing right now. I have no idea why. So, sorry. I will continue to update as soon as possible.

To answer one of the questions in the reviews, I actually wrote it since I'd already done like 80% of it when I announced the contest, but I did and will incorporate some reader-submitted ideas in this chapter and so on.

Just so you know, I think this contest thing is awesome, so I'm leaving it open-ended. If you PM me something I really like and use, I'll write you a one-shot.

I'd just like to say that you guys rock. This fic has been so fun to write, and it's gone on beyond my wildest dreams! The fact that people enjoy my writing and stuff means so much to me. I love sharing it and it makes my day whenever I get a review. Although this fic isn't going to be over anytime soon, I hope once it is done you'll still follow my other stories and whatever other writing things I decide to do.