Ciao!!!
Another week, another update... unfortunately my style beta wasn't available yesterday,perhaps some changes will be made when I upload the next chapter, but her preliminary report stated all was OK. So,without further unnecessary words, let's go to...
Chapter 13
Circle LineAmber eyes softening into an array of colors to rival the sunrise captured hers, her inability to reach out to them breaking her heart. Her world narrowed down into the small stripe of land he occupied, then into his face, his eyes, until a brief shadow of pain dulled their brightness as long lashes fluttered over those deep, wise pools of violet streaked gold. His words tore her to shreds with their force, burning her heart into a shriveled black smoldering mass of charcoal, the agony nearly sending her spiraling into the same darkness hat had to embrace him as he fell, slowly, his hair lagging behind his body in a streak of bloody silk. Her mind was unable to process the sounds he had made, frozen for eternity racing at the speed of light, but her heart had reacted, the fire keeping it alive dying and leaving her a shell, devoid of what had made her shine.
"No..." a monosyllable, uttered by a voice that came from her mouth but wasn't hers. She wondered who had said it, since it couldn't have been her, she was still caught in that one moment when his eyes left her to fall shut as his body tumbled downwards, such a graceful fall...
The two men were loaded onto two horses whose riders were a little lighter than the rest, their arms and legs swinging like fleshy pendulums in vacuum, without a will, without resistance. Next to her, she was dimly aware, was Megumi, a lonely tear spilling from her eyes and down her alabaster cheek. Misao seemed to be frozen like her, the lively ninja girl stiff and silent, kunai twinkling at her feet where she had dropped them. Her turquoise eyes had lost their luster and dully stared at the retreating form of tall, trenchcoat-clad man who was as unresponsive as when he had first arrive! d. The shell-shocking event of seeing the youngest Oniwabanshu member alive and in enemy territory nonetheless had worn off, the shock of discovering her aiding his enemy had worn off, and his defenses were back in place. She could not reach him anymore.
"Aoshi-sama!" She whispered his name, husky, tinged with tears unspilled, her voice managed to reach his ears despite the distance between them. He turned around, hard as it was on him, with Battousai's voice grating on his nerves. Go back to what he had... he could not do so. He had sold his soul to the devil himself, and had to follow his master to hell now.
"Bring them to my residence," the Pharaoh commanded, waving his hand at the men waiting for his commands before reaching inside his elaborately styled robes, red, beige and golden tunic shining as he stepped forth from the shadows, drawing forth a long pipe and a roll of tobacco, stuffing his pipe as though he had all the time in the world and lighting it so fast neither of the seven fugitives staring at the strange display of! supreme confidence saw him do it. His gloves were as black as the night as he put the tobacco back into the pocket they assumed was on the inside of his strange, Egyptian-looking robes, lacquered with some strange substance so that they reflected the garish purpur of his tunic. His face was still hidden underneath the strange hat he wore, a contraption looking like a mixture between a twelfth-century style helmet, the double pschent of the Egyptian Pharaohs of old and the feathered hat French musketeers tended to wave around when encountering a lady. These 'feathers' obscured his face from view, growing out from a ring of buckled steel that led into a high tiara styled like a pschent. The one thing that stood out, however, was his eyes. A deep red color, the glowed from the shadows, sending chills down the spines of those watching him intently from the other side of the border.
"You... give him back!" Yahiko cried, anger coloring his face red as he balled his fists at his side and prepared to leap at the monster just standing there, no more than thirty feet away from him, smoking a pipe. Somehow, Megumi managed to catch him, holding the enraged boy back as he futilely struggled against what he perceived as his own weakness.
"Yahiko, stop it!" the female agent commanded sharply, her voice carrying just a hint of the pain she felt in her heart. Her hands trembled as they clenched into the shoulders of the boy, deep, red marks where her fingers bore into his tanned skin attesting to her strength. Finally, he calmed down enough so that she would risk releasing him, now her hands, too weak, useless, hung limply by her side, her poise and elegance slandered by the turmoil inside her heart and mind.
"Pathetic," the pschent-adorned head spoke, his black-gloved hands lightly tapping the ashes out of his pipe, ashes that fluttered towards the ground like birds shot out of flight. "There's that little girl, crying like a fountain… then we have Agent Takani, our bait, one of the infamous Oniwabanshu who doesn't realize she was just being led along because of a promise to her father, two kids, and two poor women who don't know what befell them when they were interned and when they fled. Pathetic. Go home, you'll be the prey of the strong there as well as here. I don't have any use for you. I have Battousai… he'll be an amusing toy. Breaking him will be rewarding… and that roster seems to be Saito's new toy, I won't interfere with one of my army captains if he wishes to play with the weak… you all are too weak. Leave now, or I'll have you shot."
The fugitives stood in helpless fury as the Pharaoh mounted his steed, his strange garments covering his whole body and spreading an out-of-place cheeriness so much in discordance with the man who was wearing them that it was painful to watch. "Goodbye!" He tipped his fingers to the brim of his head and was off, a clownish figure were it not for his cold aura, disappearing into the rising sun. His words had mirrored Kenshin's.
"Kenshin…" Blue eyes lifted from the ground just to encounter a lighter shade of their color in the sky. The seven people standing helplessly in the middle of nowhere weren't even aware of stealthy shadows approaching them, gentle yet rough hands grabbing their elbows and leading them away into the distance, into safety. Their souls ripped from their bodies they followed, uncaring, lifeless, separated from their true essence, parted from their lives. And the distance grew with every passing second…
*~*
He groaned as he came to, head swimming in distant pain, his body still unaware of itself as the hazy outside world swam in and out of focus. His eyes were closed to the world, lights too bright to be real dancing behind his eyelids. The first sense to return to him was olfactory, the sterile, lemony aroma of a hostile environment tangible on his tongue. Tasting the air with a rattled breath, he concluded he had to be in some kind of hospital.
Seconds later, the sounds he could catch confirmed his suspicion, the biting smell enhanced by clanging, sharp sounds resounding through long and empty hallways whose floors had to be coated in a thin layer of elastic material to muffle footsteps to a persistent thudding.
Finally, he dared to venture into the world of the seeing, heavy restraints trying to force his eyes shut broken as he blinked into the yellowish whiteness of artificial lighting. His body felt heavy but not uncomfortable, apart from the pounding ache at the back of his head he was alright, he assumed. His hands, however… they seemed to be missing, no sensation of touch came from the tips of his fingers and his wrists were dipped in ice burning into his skin.
He suppressed a yelp of pain as he tried to move and sharp agony flared out from where his arms met his hands. He was bound, hand and foot, and lying on a wrought-iron bed whose frame was covered by a thin mattress and one worn linen sheet. That, and a small stripe of the wall, lined in black, protective plastic was about all he could see.
"Damn that stupid Saito… he didn't have to hit me so hard," Sanosuke grumbled, pulling his lanky body into a sitting position, fighting the vertigo and sickness in his stomach as he did so. His first impression of his prison was that it was far more comfortable and spacious than he had expected. He even had his own little bathroom, attached to the main room by a broken wooden door. The main room contained the western-style bed he had been dumped on, a fragile-looking table and a woven willow chair that was slightly sagging in the middle of its seat. No windows, just a single light bulb in the middle of the room, attached to the ceiling by a long cable that ran into one corner and disappeared into the flaking plaster of the wall.
"What a cozy apartment," he remarked to himself, "and all to myself!" His wrists protesting his every movement with a flare of agony he tested his bonds, finding them far more pliable and easier to break than expected. Quickly discarding the broken ropes he flexed his fingers, the blood returning into them as it could circulate freely again turned the ghostly white digits a brilliant red reminding the young ex- Sekihoutai of Kenshin's hair.
"That took you even longer than I thought, idiot," a scalding voice stated. Sano turned his head so quickly another dizzy spell gripped him tight and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds before regaining the ability to focus them on the lean man standing in one corner of the room.
"Saito. What do you want?" Sano spat.
"What? I just wanted to smoke in peace. No such place as a cell to do so," The other man put on a look of feigned innocence, one eyebrow drawn up to enhance the look but only serving as a reminder of his sarcasm to Sano.
"Don't give me that crap, Saito. What do you want?" The wolfish man watched him from the corner of yellow eyes before turning on the heel of his boots, cigarette in hands, and leaving the cell, a soldier on the outside opening and closing the door for him. So they were watching him…
"Idiot!" So Saito couldn't resist throwing at least one insult at the young man in the cell. Sano scowled and shot the closed metal door a dark look as it clanked shut with a bang. I wonder how Kenshin's doing… he thought.
The subject of Sano's thoughts was currently blinking in confusion, his head swimming from the blow he had received but his thoughts clear nonetheless, senses alert. Nothing could prepare him, however, for the view of two beautiful midnight blue eyes staring at him when he woke up, eyes that looked suspiciously similar to Kaoru's. Only their narrower shape and more angular position marked them as different from the young woman's. Trying to move the agent found he was lashed to the strong metal frame of the bed he was lying on, hands and feet securely bound by handcuffs of steel, his sakabatou nowhere in sight. Struggling against his bonds he winced as he felt the cold steel of the cuffs bite into his wrists. The figure of the owner of these orbs swam out of focus for a second as he used all his strength to try and break free. Those blue eyes twinkled down at him, eerily void despite their happy luster.
Focusing his thoughts onto his presumed jailer he noticed the weapon he carried on his hip, ceasing his struggles immediately upon doing so, waiting for a better chance. He had to get his hands on that sword… be it a real katana or just a sufficiently convincing prop was of no consequence to him, though the way the young, blue-eyed man- who still was a bit blurry since tears had welled up in Kenshin's eyes as the pain threatened to split his head in two- carried it hinted it was the real thing. Blue-eyes moved closer to him, carrying something in his hands, something wet, judging by the dripping sound that accompanied his soft footsteps.
"Oh, hello, Himura-san. How are you?" a cheerful voice greeted him while strong hands pressed a soft, cool cloth onto his forehead. "Mr. Shishio told me to look after you!" White teeth flashed him a broad grin as the cloth was taken away again.
"Oro? I am fine, that I am, thank you very much," the agent answered, disorientation overpowering his helpless rage at being captured for the moment.
"My name is Seta, Seta Soujirou, and if you need anything just ring that little bell over here!" A youth- he couldn't be more than seventeen years of age, Kenshin reckoned- with very dark brown hair and those blue eyes stepped back from the bed the agent was lying on. Carefully the agent turned his head, muscles in his neck straining as the bindings tried to hinder his movements. The boy smiled at him, these ever-flashing teeth reflecting the yellowish light of the single light bulb that lit the room- since the shadows only ran in a single direction the agent had already deducted there was only one source of lighting. He was small, that Seta Soujirou, he was very lithe, and probably fast, too. His build was too similar to his own for him not to be, in a way, similar.
"Seta Soujirou, could you please tell me what the Pharaoh wants with me?" Kenshin asked calmly, acting as confident as a man in control of the situation despite his rather unfortunate circumstances. He carefully moved his hands so that they crossed at the wrists, luckily both hands were cuffed to the same strut. He needed to stall the boy, needed time.
"I'm afraid I may not tell you, Himura-san, Mr. Shishio forbade me to talk to you. He says you are dangerous. Are you dangerous?" He sounded childlike, innocent, so unlike the emptiness his eyes conveyed.
"Why did Shishio capture me, then? If I may not know what is to become of me, please tell me why!" He didn't care if he sounded pleading, his right thumb had found just the right place, at the base of his left thumb, the little indentation that showed where the joint was connected to his metacarpals… and the boy was standing in the door of his cell, opening it just a little. He had to keep him in there!
"Mr. Shishio didn't tell me- what is it, Himura-san?" The boy was observant, Kenshin had to give him that. The agent hadn't been able to suppress the slight wince when he swiftly dislocated his thumb, slimming his hand and making it possible for him to slip the cuffs off, something he had had to do more than once in the past, and something he would never get used to. At least his hands were free now… almost.
"It's nothing, that it isn't. My head just hurts, that it does," he forced out, trying to sound as carefree as possible while popping his thumb back in and sliding the cuffs off the strut.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Himura-san, but Mr. Shishio didn't think you would follow Mr. Shinomori and Mr. Saito without resistance. I hope you're not too gravely injured… Mr. Shishio wants you to be well!" He walked over to the bed again, having already been halfway out the door that remained slightly ajar. Patiently, the agent waited.
"Here you are, Himura-san, another cool cloth. I'm sorry you have to remain cuffed, but Mr. Shishio thinks it's too dangerous to set you free- huh?"
Kenshin had moved with the lightning speed he was famous for, reaching for the boys' sword as he darted towards the door. His fingers curled around the strong metal of the sword's sheath, and with a rasping motion it was gone from the Regime sympathizer's belt, a tool to carry the young agent to safety. His eyes flickered in the feeble light of the single bulb fighting futilely against the shadows, the amber he had tried to suppress all the time coming forth with a vengeance as he realized he wasn't at camp Freedom the second he stepped through the door.
"Where am I?" he hissed, keeping his distance to the blue-eyed boy who had followed him out of his cell and into the hallway. "What is this place?" The hallway was long, bending slightly into what the agent assumed was a perfect circle. Neon lights were the only source of light, no windows or doors were visible as far as Kenshin could see, only whitewashed walls, flat and sterile.
"Mr. Shishio had you brought to his private hideout, Himura-san. There is no way out from here… so will you please give me back my sword?" Pleading, the boy- who was indeed just as tall- or not so tall- as Kenshin himself held his hands out, "I really like it, Himura-san."
"I'm sorry, I can't give it back just yet," Kenshin said, amber-ringed violet orbs scanning the infuriatingly plain walls for a way outside. His senses tingled with the proximity of danger, and he threw his body aside just in time to evade the tranquillizer dart shot at him. By the time the sound of the gunshot followed the agent had vanished into thin air.
"Huh? He's really fast!" the boy grinned, his eyes darting from one side of the hallway to the other, following a shadow invisible to everyone but him, "Mr. Shishio is right- he is going to be a lot of fun!" reaching behind him, the boy pressed a small, red knob in the wall. A part of it slid aside to reveal a secret storage unit, one of many along the circular underground prison of the Pharaoh. Grabbing the weapon hidden inside he gave pursuit to the blurred outline of a figure that Himura Kenshin was to him, smiling all the time as he imagined how it would be to pit himself against the agent.
*~*
Slender fingers massaged a tense back, a lilting, beautiful voice whispering terms of endearment into his ears while Shishio sipped at the wine in his glass, savoring its fruitiness and sweet, earthy taste. Imported from France, this Burgundy was one of the best wines in the world- and add to its wonderful teasing of the powerful Regime military's taste buds the exciting program his surveillance cameras provided him with… ah, life was good!
"Come, sit down with me, Yumi my dear," he asked, one black glove covering a pale hand trying to ease the strain between his shoulder blades. The gorgeous woman slipped around the couch's leather armrest, her long legs showing off perfectly in the little nothing of a red velvet dress she had chosen to wear. Its impossibly low neckline gave the Pharaoh a view rivaling the Burgundy in its delicacy, no, beating the Burgundy by lengths, and he couldn't resist slipping his black gloves off his hands with one smooth movement, revealing pale skin marred by a few scars but smooth on the upper side of his hands.
"Shishio, what is Sou-chan doing?" the women cooed, her arms encircling her lover's neck seductively. The Pharaoh sighed in delight, caressing soft skin with his calloused fingers. "He is catching us a Battousai, Yumi," he explained, trying to concentrate on the screen showing the two men playing cat and mouse in his prison. Suddenly, a frown creased his brow; Yumi's ministrations forgotten he leaned closer to the flat surface showing an impossible picture: a huge hole in the wall of his prison- leading to the inside, thank the Gods, but infuriating nonetheless.
"That idiot Saito… he let that rooster-head slip out of his bonds! Well… perhaps my faithful wolf decided to have some fun as well… I should send another, though, just to be sure. Could you please ask Anji and Usui to get down to the prison level? There's two little mice running…" Yumi pouted, but without saying a word she went over to the Morse apparatus Shishio insisted on using for passing messages, claiming it was more secure than a telephone. Soon, the incessant clicking of the needle on its pad was the only sound in Shishio's own, private salon.
*~*
Sano stumbled along the never-ending hallway, his one hand steadying him against the wall that seemed to dip away from him, the other clutching his poor head tighter than even the red bandanna that, through a miracle, had made it so far without a single rip in it. He stopped for a second when he thought he had heard the soft patter of feet on the ground, but after shaking his head and listening closely he put the sound off as an illusion his poor, aching head created for him. Reaching towards yet another part of the slanting, curving wall- was it really curving or was this just his imagination as well?- Sano stopped dead in his tracks. Right before him, with his back turned to him, stood the man who, together with Saito, was responsible for the misery Sagara Sanosuke was in. Shinomori Aoshi. Sano had no idea how he had ended up here, but there he was. And in front of the iceman…
"Kenshin!" Sano cried, glad to see the agent alive and well. Though a tad paler than before and looking even smaller in the high, white hallway Kenshin stood proudly, eyes gleaming golden in the neon light, one hand on the hilt of a sword he wore on his belt, the other clutching the saya in a white-knuckled grip. Between Aoshi and him another person crouched, in a defensive position, holding a bare blade in a double-handed grip. Sano blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. That person was just as much of a boy as Kenshin was… or even younger. His short, brown hair was cut in a bowl cut framing his face, some strands haphazardly hanging across his forehead and obscuring deep, merry blue eyes. A lopsided smile cut dimples into his rosy cheeks, but his tense muscles belied his cheeriness. Sano only had time to briefly wonder who that boy might be before the stalemate between the three men was broken, broken by the simple motion of Aoshi taking one step forward.
"Battousai," Aoshi growled, fists clenched into the off-white material of the trenchcoat he wore over his Regime uniform. The boy straightened, smiling at the infuriated ex-Oniwabanshu Okashira.
"Mr. Shishio promised you to be the first, right?" he said. Sano shook his head. That smile was starting to creep him out…
"I will fight you now, Battousai," Aoshi stated evenly as the blue-eyed boy stepped aside, moving towards Sano who involuntarily took a step back. That grin…
"I don't really want to fight you, Aoshi. But I promised Misao I'd do my best to bring you back, to help you find again what you once had, that I did, and so I will fight you if it has to be that way, that I will."
"I have waited for this fight far too long, Battousai. It has taken me six months, six months to find new allies, allies that would aid me in your destruction. You do know who Shishio Makoto is, don't you? He is the one who sent her- Tomoe. She was General Akira's fiancée, and when she was heartbroken after his death he used her to lure you into a trap in Paris. The Oniwabanshu were just casualties… just casualties he called them. It is your fault they are dead. Had Shishio not striven to obliterate you they would still be alive-and the most feared assassins, spies, agents of all time. You will die now, Battousai, to give my men the honor they deserve."
Without waiting another heartbeat Aoshi charged, the trenchcoat fluttering to the ground uselessly as he blurred into a multitude of illusional images of himself. Kenshin stood waiting, tense, drawn, eyes flashing amber, every muscle ready to spring into action in the mere fraction of a second. Sano held his breath. He had never actually seen the agent fight, and by the way that Aoshi moved… well, he just couldn't imagine the- he had to admit it- shrimpy redhead to be faster, stronger, better than that traitor.
Two blindingly fast strokes with both the sword and its sheath later he revised his assessment. Kenshin was faster and better than Aoshi, though not necessarily stronger. The tall man had only barely managed to catch the agent's first strike with his double blades he had pulled from the sheath that had been hidden beneath his billowing trenchcoat, the second had hit him across the ribs and sent him stumbling back, gasping.
"I am not wounded this time, Aoshi, but you don't know what you truly want. Your confusion weakens you, and your dwelling on the past is not helping you either, that it isn't," though his eyes were that of the dangerous, deadly man Sano had only seen emerge once Kenshin spoke as politely as ever, making the ex-Sekihoutai wonder what spirit possessed the agent to make him address his enemy in such a manner in the middle of a fight.
"You talk too much, Battousai. There is no confusion. I need to avenge my men, then I can join them in peace." He attacked again, blades clashing, red blossoming on the right hip of Kenshin where the taller man had managed to slip through his defenses by using his greater reach. This time it was the agent who drew back gasping, his left hand grasping his injured leg. Aoshi attacked relentlessly, his twin blades held like scissors before him, catching the agent stumbling and drawing blood on both sides of his neck. Kenshin fell, but caught himself on his strong arms, flipping upright again, this time fully prepared to meet the taller man with all he had and beyond.
"Aoshi, don't you see? There's one still alive, one who needs you more than any of your dead men. She has followed you as far as she could, if you went to hell she would go there, too. But she is still a girl, and she is in love. Why do you have to break her heart? Wake up, Aoshi, the past is the past, I had to realize this myself. I loved Tomoe, but I had to let her go, for my own sake as much as for hers. Let go of your futile quest Aoshi. Wake up to the present and use your brain and heart both for once!" The agent's voice was as sharp as his blade as he rushed forward with blinding speed, vanishing from sight only to reappear behind his opponent, panting, his sword held in a peculiar stance rectangular to his body, an odd mixture of an offensive and a defensive posture.
Aoshi swayed, nine spots on his black uniform quickly growing in size, one on the outside each arm and leg, his chest, a hairline cut where his scalp met his forehead, one on each side of his body and one on the inside of his thigh. "What… what have you done? I didn't see… that technique coming. I can't… lose, can't die like this… Misao…" he pitched forward, towards the ground. Breathing heavily, Kenshin slid the sword back into its sheath with practiced ease, a remorseful look crossing his features as he flicked the blood off the blade first.
"At least he realized what was important… he won't die if you take him away now, that he won't." He sounded broken, hollow, his voice disjointed from his body as he jerkily moved to stand upright. "Sano!" His eyes widened, for the first time since realizing Soujirou was chasing him and suddenly finding himself opposite Aoshi he realized the street fighter was there. "So you got out as well?"
"Sure wasn't easy," Sano grinned, rotating his right wrist, "I think I sprained my wrist and broke some more bones in that hand… but at least I got out. How about we ask these guys to take Shinomori to the infirmary?" He jerked his thumb at two figures running along the circular hallway, both tall, both muscular. One was the living impersonation of a mountain, the other… Kenshin didn't like the way his ki felt, like that of a snake having become human.
"Oh, looks like Mr. Shishio sent reinforcements!" The grinning kid suddenly had taken his position between Sano and Kenshin again after having somehow vanished during the fight between the agent and the 'traitor'. "I think I'll ask Mr. Anji to bring Mr. Shinomori to the infirmary. Then I can fight you, Himura-san, and Usui… he can play with your friend, okay? Over here, Mr. Anji, Mr. Usui!" He waved the two new arrivals over.
"Mr. Anji? Could you please take care of Mr. Shinomori? That would be very nice of you. And Mr. Usui, could you fight Himura-san's friend? Mr. Shishio promised me I may fight Himura-san himself first!" The two men only nodded their consent. Apparently the kid packed some punch, Sano thought, if he could order men easily twice his age around.
As soon as the mountain-man had loaded Aoshi onto his back and was making his way towards the (presumed) exit of the prison Soujirou turned towards Kenshin, smiling his brightest smile ever. Usui the creepy, meanwhile, eyed Sano as though he was thinking about dislocating his jaw and swallowing him whole, something that made the tall fighter nervous enough to crack his knuckles. "Let's start this party," he drawled.
And the party was on.
… to be continued …
Okee… so this was Chapter 13. I hope you liked it and are looking forward to the next chapter as much as I am… Yuppieh! Even more action next time! Soujirou gets to fight Kenshin… perhaps we will find out why Kuzu Ryu Sen and not Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki was used… and then there's, of course, the question of what Kaoru, Misao, Megumi, Yahiko and the rest will do! Now, as always, some info…
Circle Line: reference to London's famous subway route circling the city. Following Circle Line will always get you back to from whence you started…
The circular underground prison: I visited the DESY (German Electron Synchrotron) this week… and somehow that location just screamed 'prison' at me, with its white walls, the neon lights, and no visible doors of anything in the ring…
Reviewer's corner
Asuka-chan: sorry, no fluff this time… but there will be lots and lots of it, very soon! These girls are not giving up ^_~
CurlsOfSerenity: Whee! All of it in one session? You must be a very patient reader! I usually update SL every Sunday, RtK whenever I can. You know what? I'm going to check out your fics now… or ASAP, I have to play the piano tomorrow, another of these concerts *sigh* Cya soon!Natsuko: Ispiration is high, timme is low... I think I have another hectic week before me, but who cares, right? The Italian-Spanish problem is always in my mind as weell... I constantly mix them! My cousin has been huggled and I told her she was right- makes her more than happy! Now, I've g2g again, there's that piano concert waiting... ^_^
lebleuphenix: Chapter and action have arrived! And now there's another action one coming up next week! Yuppieh!
Brenna, D-chan: Thanks for your encouragment guys, how was your trumpet thingy D.? And Brenna, we'll get together sometime this week!
all: Thanks for reading, and Cya around!!!
Chibi-chan