Author's Notes: In order to become the new kid, you must submit the following data to me (quidfieldsjunkyahoo.com): Your name (as you want it to appear in the story; both a full version and short version would be appreciated), a brief description of your personality (so that I can write YOU as a person into the story), and whether you wish to be good or bad (optional, but may be a key factor in whether or not you're chosen). Without this data, I have no way of writing you into my story.
Also, I may have been a bit bad at updating my story. Final exams are closing in, and I am REALLY FRIGGIN' BUSY! I'll update as much as I can. I'm going to attempt to turn it into a F/I romance fic, but don't expect to see any of that anytime soon. It will be discrete. Anyhoo, now that that's out of the way, here's more of my story.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What are we doing here?" Ingrid asked. Fillmore didn't stop moving. He kept walking persistently toward the back end of the library. He still answered Ingrid's question, though.
"In the movie viewing room in the back, there is a creative writing club that meets on Thursdays," he said. "Chances are fairly likely that we'll meet Bruce there for questioning. Or, if not, we can at least get some information about his whereabouts."
Fillmore and Ingrid entered the viewing room. Inside were five people sitting around a table, all of which were girls. Each of them stood up when the safety patrollers entered.
"What are you doing here?" the blonde girl at the head of the table demanded. "I don't recall any new members signing up!"
"Relax," said Fillmore. "We just need to know everything you know about Bruce Storm. We figured that this creative writing club..."
"Creative writing FAN club," the girl corrected. "We are a club of people who appreciate the literary illustriousness of the creative writing competition." The girl reached into her book bag and pulled out a large stack of papers, which she set on the table. "We collect and analyze all the stories that have been sent into the competition. Every last symbol, irony, simile, metaphor... you name it, we'll analyze it."
Fillmore walked up to the pile and began to shuffle through them. "Any chance I could get a copy of last year's winner?" he asked.
"I don't know what you'll want to read that for," the girl said in a bitter tone. "The second place story, 'The Rain's Bane' by Bruce Storm, was by far a better story." She pushed Fillmore away from the pile of stories and pulled out Chase Kristofer's story. "Kristofer's story is horrible! I mean, look at this title: 'Bullies of the Night!' Honestly, what self respecting writer would give their story such a pathetic and cliché title?"
A black haired girl in the back stood up. She seemed taken aback. "It's not a bad title!" she screamed. "It's perfect! The word 'night' sets the feel of a looming fear!"
"Forgive her," the blonde haired girl said. "She's the only one here who liked that story. She's been through a lot of bullying, so she's emotionally attached to the subject. It affects her judgment."
"It's fine," said Ingrid. "Can you tell us where Bruce Storm is?"
"It's 4 o'clock, right? He's part of the track and field team, so he'll be practicing there."
"Thanks," said Fillmore. "Can I bring Kristofer's story with me?"
"Sure," said the blonde girl. "We aren't going to need it."
"Then thanks again," said Fillmore, grabbing the story just before leaving with Ingrid.
Bruce Storm crossed the finish line, much faster than anyone else running the 200-meter. He was fast as lightning.
"Whoa," said the coach, looking at Bruce's time. "Nice run, Storm. It's hard to believe that's only a practice run."
"I think I ran a bit too fast today, coach," said Bruce. "I'm feeling a bit tired. I don't think I could run any more today."
"That's okay," said the coach. "We've only got a couple more minutes of practice anyway, and there are a couple of kids who want to talk to you."
"Probably some more of those creative writing fans," Bruce said. "This won't take long. But thanks anyway, coach."
Bruce storm went to the locker room, showered up, and changed. After that he went to meet the kids who wanted to see him: Fillmore and Ingrid.
"How do you do," he said to them. "To what do I owe this meeting? Autographs? Insights to my stories?"
"Not today," said Fillmore. He and Ingrid showed Bruce their badges. "We're safety patrol, and we need to talk to you about a few things."
Bruce dashed between Ingrid and Fillmore, moving too quickly for them to react to him until he was at least ten feet (three meters) away. After that delay in reacting, Ingrid and Fillmore gave chase. They were able to keep at an even speed to him, because he was tired from practice, but they could not catch up with him.
He rounded a corner and disappeared behind the school building. "Ingrid," Fillmore said. "Go around the building and see if you can intercept him. I'll keep chasing him straight on." The two split up, Ingrid rounding just before the corner, and Fillmore just after. He saw Bruce Storm go around a corner again. "Right to Ingrid," Fillmore said to himself. But while he ran on, he tripped over someone's leg. As he pulled his face from the ground, he saw the person who had tripped him, but a hood covered the person's face concealing their identity. Luckily the person forgot to remove their foot as Fillmore fell, and was trapped beneath Fillmore's foot. Fillmore grabbed the person's arm with one hand, and with the other held out his badge.
"X-middle school safety patrol," he said. "You're coming with me."
He pulled off the person's hood. The person who'd tripped him was the blonde girl from the creative writing fan club.
"My name is Victoria Winters," she said. Victoria was in the questioning room, speaking into a tape recorder. Fillmore was the only other person in the room.
"I was just there to try and stop you from getting Bruce in trouble."
"Girl, you led me to him," said Fillmore impatiently. "What made you suddenly change your mind?"
Victoria didn't answer.
"You're trying my patience," said Fillmore with a sneer. "Either you tell me how you connect with Bruce Storm, or things are going to get ugly." Fillmore pounded his fist on the table. "Now, are you going to help me?"
"I realized that he might be in trouble and went to protect him. I'm not 'connected' to him in any way."
Vallejo entered the questioning room. "I'll take it from here Fillmore," he said. He shoved a large doughnut into his mouth and approached Victoria. Fillmore started to leave, but stopped halfway through the door and listened.
"Sorry about the inconvenience," Vallejo said to Victoria. "You're free to go."
"What?!" Fillmore yelled at Vallejo. "How could you just let her go?!"
"Two words Fillmore," Vallejo said between doughnut bites. "Forced vacation. Whether or not you want to accept it, you're still temporarily off duty. Nothing you do until the vacation has ended is done under the safety patrol. Therefore, you aren't allowed to arrest people. Sorry Fillmore, it's for your own good."
Victoria gathered her things and stood up. "You mean I can just go now?"
"That's right, Miss Winters," said Vallejo.
"What about Bruce? Does he get off too?"
"I'm afraid not," said Vallejo. "He was arrested by officer Third, who isn't on vacation. He's staying for questioning."
Victoria ran out of the room, her anger turning her face red. She bumped into Fillmore very hard, enough that it obviously wasn't an accident.
"Fillmore," said Vallejo. "You need to learn to follow orders around here. You can't just make your own rules and expect people to comply."
"Funny," said Fillmore. "I was about to say the same thing."
Also, I may have been a bit bad at updating my story. Final exams are closing in, and I am REALLY FRIGGIN' BUSY! I'll update as much as I can. I'm going to attempt to turn it into a F/I romance fic, but don't expect to see any of that anytime soon. It will be discrete. Anyhoo, now that that's out of the way, here's more of my story.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What are we doing here?" Ingrid asked. Fillmore didn't stop moving. He kept walking persistently toward the back end of the library. He still answered Ingrid's question, though.
"In the movie viewing room in the back, there is a creative writing club that meets on Thursdays," he said. "Chances are fairly likely that we'll meet Bruce there for questioning. Or, if not, we can at least get some information about his whereabouts."
Fillmore and Ingrid entered the viewing room. Inside were five people sitting around a table, all of which were girls. Each of them stood up when the safety patrollers entered.
"What are you doing here?" the blonde girl at the head of the table demanded. "I don't recall any new members signing up!"
"Relax," said Fillmore. "We just need to know everything you know about Bruce Storm. We figured that this creative writing club..."
"Creative writing FAN club," the girl corrected. "We are a club of people who appreciate the literary illustriousness of the creative writing competition." The girl reached into her book bag and pulled out a large stack of papers, which she set on the table. "We collect and analyze all the stories that have been sent into the competition. Every last symbol, irony, simile, metaphor... you name it, we'll analyze it."
Fillmore walked up to the pile and began to shuffle through them. "Any chance I could get a copy of last year's winner?" he asked.
"I don't know what you'll want to read that for," the girl said in a bitter tone. "The second place story, 'The Rain's Bane' by Bruce Storm, was by far a better story." She pushed Fillmore away from the pile of stories and pulled out Chase Kristofer's story. "Kristofer's story is horrible! I mean, look at this title: 'Bullies of the Night!' Honestly, what self respecting writer would give their story such a pathetic and cliché title?"
A black haired girl in the back stood up. She seemed taken aback. "It's not a bad title!" she screamed. "It's perfect! The word 'night' sets the feel of a looming fear!"
"Forgive her," the blonde haired girl said. "She's the only one here who liked that story. She's been through a lot of bullying, so she's emotionally attached to the subject. It affects her judgment."
"It's fine," said Ingrid. "Can you tell us where Bruce Storm is?"
"It's 4 o'clock, right? He's part of the track and field team, so he'll be practicing there."
"Thanks," said Fillmore. "Can I bring Kristofer's story with me?"
"Sure," said the blonde girl. "We aren't going to need it."
"Then thanks again," said Fillmore, grabbing the story just before leaving with Ingrid.
Bruce Storm crossed the finish line, much faster than anyone else running the 200-meter. He was fast as lightning.
"Whoa," said the coach, looking at Bruce's time. "Nice run, Storm. It's hard to believe that's only a practice run."
"I think I ran a bit too fast today, coach," said Bruce. "I'm feeling a bit tired. I don't think I could run any more today."
"That's okay," said the coach. "We've only got a couple more minutes of practice anyway, and there are a couple of kids who want to talk to you."
"Probably some more of those creative writing fans," Bruce said. "This won't take long. But thanks anyway, coach."
Bruce storm went to the locker room, showered up, and changed. After that he went to meet the kids who wanted to see him: Fillmore and Ingrid.
"How do you do," he said to them. "To what do I owe this meeting? Autographs? Insights to my stories?"
"Not today," said Fillmore. He and Ingrid showed Bruce their badges. "We're safety patrol, and we need to talk to you about a few things."
Bruce dashed between Ingrid and Fillmore, moving too quickly for them to react to him until he was at least ten feet (three meters) away. After that delay in reacting, Ingrid and Fillmore gave chase. They were able to keep at an even speed to him, because he was tired from practice, but they could not catch up with him.
He rounded a corner and disappeared behind the school building. "Ingrid," Fillmore said. "Go around the building and see if you can intercept him. I'll keep chasing him straight on." The two split up, Ingrid rounding just before the corner, and Fillmore just after. He saw Bruce Storm go around a corner again. "Right to Ingrid," Fillmore said to himself. But while he ran on, he tripped over someone's leg. As he pulled his face from the ground, he saw the person who had tripped him, but a hood covered the person's face concealing their identity. Luckily the person forgot to remove their foot as Fillmore fell, and was trapped beneath Fillmore's foot. Fillmore grabbed the person's arm with one hand, and with the other held out his badge.
"X-middle school safety patrol," he said. "You're coming with me."
He pulled off the person's hood. The person who'd tripped him was the blonde girl from the creative writing fan club.
"My name is Victoria Winters," she said. Victoria was in the questioning room, speaking into a tape recorder. Fillmore was the only other person in the room.
"I was just there to try and stop you from getting Bruce in trouble."
"Girl, you led me to him," said Fillmore impatiently. "What made you suddenly change your mind?"
Victoria didn't answer.
"You're trying my patience," said Fillmore with a sneer. "Either you tell me how you connect with Bruce Storm, or things are going to get ugly." Fillmore pounded his fist on the table. "Now, are you going to help me?"
"I realized that he might be in trouble and went to protect him. I'm not 'connected' to him in any way."
Vallejo entered the questioning room. "I'll take it from here Fillmore," he said. He shoved a large doughnut into his mouth and approached Victoria. Fillmore started to leave, but stopped halfway through the door and listened.
"Sorry about the inconvenience," Vallejo said to Victoria. "You're free to go."
"What?!" Fillmore yelled at Vallejo. "How could you just let her go?!"
"Two words Fillmore," Vallejo said between doughnut bites. "Forced vacation. Whether or not you want to accept it, you're still temporarily off duty. Nothing you do until the vacation has ended is done under the safety patrol. Therefore, you aren't allowed to arrest people. Sorry Fillmore, it's for your own good."
Victoria gathered her things and stood up. "You mean I can just go now?"
"That's right, Miss Winters," said Vallejo.
"What about Bruce? Does he get off too?"
"I'm afraid not," said Vallejo. "He was arrested by officer Third, who isn't on vacation. He's staying for questioning."
Victoria ran out of the room, her anger turning her face red. She bumped into Fillmore very hard, enough that it obviously wasn't an accident.
"Fillmore," said Vallejo. "You need to learn to follow orders around here. You can't just make your own rules and expect people to comply."
"Funny," said Fillmore. "I was about to say the same thing."