A/N: 10/17/04: Huzzah! I actually started this chapter a few days ago! I'm on a roll! Hehehe… Hmm, how about a few words of acknowledgment to the reviewers first before I continue with the FINAL CHAPTER! Woohoo!
Snowbunny/Chibi-Chibi-Moon/FillmoreFan234: Thanks for your reviews, especially those from Snowbunny! You people really know how to encourage a person to write. Thanks guys!
StarStar16: Thanks for your reviews! I've found out that you've been chatting with Vicki on Ekaphant's board…I'll tell her to tell you that I say hi! Wait a minute, if you're actually reading this then…hi!
Albe-chan: You're a great person too! But my stupid computer won't let me spell your name correctly…
Observer: Folsom can be mean and get anyone to take anything. I'm glad that you enjoyed my Vallejo-centered scene!
Aquamirajie-Tararei: You are crazy! Sheep aren't bovine, they're ovine! :0)
Mr. Big Fish: Glad you enjoyed! (sorry, running out of things to say…)
Rinne: Thanks sooo much for your support in that review! Fillmore fans rule (along with CATS fans!)!
DataFour: Erm…even though it was hard to read your review, thanks! And about the torture device, you'll find out about it in this chapter (if you're still reading this, that is)
And finally, Just A Hint: Thanks for being the first reviewer of Dishonor Roll!!!
The Dungeon RoomIngrid slowly came out of unconsciousness; her eyesight was blurred and she could feel a distinct throbbing pain at the top of her head. It took a few seconds before she realized that she wasn't standing on the ground. Instead she could feel what seemed to be a table tennis table missing the short net against her back. It had been propped up against and anchored to the wall, and four pairs of handcuffs had been cleverly fastened to the table and then locked around her wrists and ankles. These kept her suspended in the air, about half a foot above the ground. The handcuffs also confined and limited how much she could move, which irritated her.
She moaned as the pain in her head became more intense. It was making it hard for her to concentrate on her surroundings. From what she could see was that she was in a completely empty room besides another table tennis table set up in the same fashion as the one she was attached to, and inferring from the tiny window on the wall to her right she was on the second floor of the clubhouse. On the wall to the left of her was a simply made door.
Ingrid tried to remember how she had gotten here…her photographic memory was useless once she had been unconscious. All she could remember was that she had been wandering around an old foosball table when someone had leapt out at her and collided something hard and metallic against her head. Because she had been caught off guard and slow to react, the blow must have instantly knocked her out. Well, then. Chances are the agent who had assaulted her had carried her here.
Ingrid's thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, allowing a small amount of light to enter the room. It was a tall and burly seventh grade boy, and with him he held a small pair of scissors. "Sticky Fingers is here to see you, Third," the boy announced. He stepped to the side, allowing a shorter boy to enter the room.
"You wouldn't believe how much I have longed for a moment like this, Ingrid," said the newer boy, stepping close enough for Ingrid to see his features and recognize him.
"Oh my god," Ingrid gasped. "What the heck are you doing here?"
The Grand StaircaseFillmore climbed the staircase cautiously, looking up into the darkened depths of the second floor. Behind him lay the results of the recent battle; the unconscious bodies were strewn across the hallway like an array of rag dolls.
He quickly reached the top of the stairs, only to be greeted by a new hallway of closed doors. Looking into one door, he could only see an old moth-eaten couch with a pile of moldy pizza boxes accompanying it. In another room all that was inside were a battery operated TV with a game cube. In the next room there was simply a row of four holes in the floor. At first Fillmore couldn't figure out what they were four…but that was before he noticed a roll of toilet paper at the end of the row.
Aw, dawg…Fillmore quickly shut the door.
The treehouse was like a maze; there were misleading hallways and dead-ends everywhere. Fillmore decided that the office would most likely be located at the top of the treehouse, because if it were so well-guarded the office should be at the farthest point from the entrance.
The Dungeon RoomThe boy standing in front of Ingrid had oily auburn-brown hair, and his yellow front teeth were adorned with a row of metal braces…
"Otis?!"
A sinister grin crept across the boy's face, revealing his braces further. "I see that you remember me, Ingrid," he commented.
Ingrid was speechless. This can't be right, she decided. He didn't come all the way over here to find me…
"I've missed you so much, Ingrid." Otis's voice reached her ears as he approached her, and she couldn't stop him when he laced his arms around her waist. "It has certainly been too long for me to bear not having you around to cause trouble with."
Ingrid realized that she should've found him sooner, at school; he was the second smartest student in school! Why didn't she notice that he went to X before? Why hadn't his name become familiar to her until now?
"Do you know what my plan is, Ingrid?" Otis asked her, his voice slightly muffled as he buried his face into Ingrid's side.
"You want to steal the reward money from the school," Ingrid replied stonily. She didn't like that he was getting so close to her—her waist tingled with the feeling of being infected by Otis's touch.
"Precisely." Otis smirked before finally withdrawing himself from Ingrid. "As this club is specifically made of honor roll students, we've all decided that since we are the smartest, wittiest students in X, we deserve the benefit of the money. Don't you agree?"
Ingrid glared down at the boy. "No," she snapped. "No, I don't agree. That money went to the school and was supposed to be used to benefit the entire school with classroom supplies and new renovations"—Whether we needed them or not, Ingrid commented mentally—"not for a large group of dishonest children to steal and use to buy gum and comic books. You all should be ashamed of yourselves!" she declared.
"Well, I'm sorry to say that we aren't," said Otis coolly. "We simply deserve what we want for being better than anyone else. I don't see why a load of ignorant slackers should receive so much money for not performing their best in their schoolwork." For a moment Otis looked slightly upset. "You used to agree with me on a lot of things, Ingrid. What happened?"
"Those days are over, Otis!" Ingrid hissed. She hated to think of her elementary school days before she moved, when she used to wreck havoc on the school grounds with Otis as her accomplice. The two had a history of being the smartest yet most difficult students in the district…but when Ingrid had discovered Otis's plans to overcome Ingrid and control their operations, she immediately went solo. But now things were different. "I've gone straight, I want to stop you, and you're not my friend anymore!" Ingrid proclaimed. "Now if you were smart you'd let me out of this deathtrap and allow me to escort you to the school campus."
But Otis simply glowered at her. "For your information, I am smart. Smart enough not to let you free and spoil my plan…beltie." He spat out the last word like a curse. Then he walked back to the burly boy by the door. "Escort me to my office, Scissorblade," Otis commanded. "We shall give Third a little bit of time to think about the situation…and make the right decision, no doubt. Come along, then." And the boy called Scissorblade walked him out of the door before slamming and locking it.
Ingrid groaned as she relaxed her arms and legs, which she had absentmindedly tightened while she was talking to her long-lost accomplice. Now the chains slackened and she simply hung there, not sure that she would see daylight any time soon.
The Second Floor HallwayFillmore had long since realized that Ingrid was missing. He worried for her safety, as she was as alone as he was in the tree house, but he tried to rest assured that she could make it on her own. She's strong enough, Fillmore consoled himself. If there's anyone who can outsmart a pack of honor roll students, it's Ingrid. He repeated this to himself over and over so that he could concentrate on finding the office.
In the hallway there was a row of doors on each side of the hall, and at the end of the hall there was a large window overlooking the trees outside. He walked to the window and looked outside—noticing part of a room jutting out of the wall above the window. He quickly went to the door to his left, and sure enough there was a staircase leading upward and to the room. Feeling relieved, Fillmore traveled along the stairs.
At the top of the staircase there was a well-constructed mahogany door, with a large brass doorknob. Fillmore took the doorknob in his hand, twisted it, and allowed himself into the room.
There was a small window on the wall on the other side of the room, and underneath it was a small desk. There was an array of framed honor roll certificates nailed onto the surrounding walls…and all of them were awarded to one Otis McGraw. Some of them were from schools out of state. Fillmore noticed a medium-sized silver key on the desk, and upon thinking that it could turn out to be useful, he picked it up and slid it into his pocket.
Fortunately the culprit had been discovered—but unfortunately he wasn't present. Fillmore left all of the other stuff in the room untouched, but exited the office quietly and closed the door with a click. He would have to find Otis and Ingrid elsewhere.
The Dungeon RoomIngrid had fought against the chains with an effort to make them go loose, but to no avail. But she couldn't seem to accept the fact that she had finally been defeated. Now she struggled as hard as ever. Because if she had been able to do anything before…why stop now?
Outside of the Dungeon RoomFillmore was running back down the hallway he came from and checking out all of the doors. He found one that led to another hallway leading downward, and began to follow it. When he reached a corner, he heard voices, and immediately brought himself to a halt.
"How long are we going to leave her in there, Sticky?"
"As long as it takes. I am less than willing to set a capture free when she has the full capability of giving away my master plan to the authorities."
There was an uneasy pause.
"But weren't you two friends in elementary school?" asked the first boy's voice cautiously.
"That was then, and this is now," the second boy's voice insisted sourly. "She's changed her ways, and there's nothing that I can do about it."
Fillmore quietly looked around the corner to survey the setting situation. The two boys, one quite tall and one quite short, were standing in front of a small door at the end of a short, narrow hallway. This just might work…
He could see the shorter boy, otherwise the second speaker, talking again. "To tell the truth Scissorblade, I'm not quite sure about when we should set her free. She could still rat us out when the job is done as well. Maybe we could turn Ingrid into a full member, and gradually get her to realize that she deserves that money as much as the rest of us do."
They have Ingrid!
Fillmore leapt around the corner and in front of the other two boys and snatched his badge out of his pocket. "That won't be necessary, Otis. Cornelius Fillmore, X Middle School Safety Patrol!"
Otis sputtered with rage as he turned to his counterpart. "I thought that the agents had gotten rid of him! You said that you made sure of that!"
"I couldn't help it! The guy's all powerful and stuff…"
"You don't deserve to be on the honor roll list!" Otis spat.
"Excuse me boys," Fillmore interrupted. "Allow me to handcuff you now…otherwise it might get ugly."
As the hallway was so narrow, there were no means of escape. Fillmore took out two pairs of handcuffs and fastened them around both of the culprits' pairs of wrists. "Now I would appreciate it if you told me where my partner is," Fillmore added.
"She's in that room!" Scissorblade replied instantly as he gestured behind him with his head.
Otis glowered at his accomplice, then grinned sinisterly at Fillmore. "Even though you know where she is, you'd have to have the key. And the only spare key I have is in my office, and you don't know where that is located, do you?"
Fillmore removed the silver key from his pocket and displayed it in the middle of his palm. "You do mean this key, right?"
Otis didn't say anything. He simply wore an expression of shock and disbelief upon his face.
Safety Patrol HQ"Aaannnd a hhhaaaapyyy Vallleennntiiinne's Daaaayyy tooooo YOOOOUUU!!! YO!"
Ingrid groaned as the barbershop quartet serenaded her with the fifth singing Valentine she had received from Checkmatey at her desk that day. She politely thanked the quartet, but after they left she ripped the Valentine in half and cast it into her wastebasket.
"Someone's in love with you," Fillmore teased Ingrid. He sat on his own chair, which he had rolled over to the other side of her desk next to her computer. She returned his remark with an annoyed glare. "Shut up. You know that I hate Checkmatey."
"But you could break his heart if you didn't send him a Valentine back, yo!" Fillmore insisted with a mock swoon.
"Then you send a Valentine to him," Ingrid replied.
It was Valentine's Day, the Monday following the day they explored the tree house. All of the agents had been caught and suspended, because when their leader had been stopped they had to follow. Even though this was a great accomplishment by the two Safety Patrollers, they hadn't been given much of a reward, with the exception of having their badges given a free wax and shine. However, it was a victorious week for the Safety Patrol. Vallejo was in a particularly joyful mood, for the HQ wasn't to be converted into anything and he treated everyone to a cup of cocoa to celebrate. "It's a special occasion," the cocoa-draining Vallejo informed Fillmore and Ingrid. Then he had added, "This is just about the best thing you've ever done for me. I'm proud of the both of ya."
Folsom had announced over the loudspeaker that morning what had happened and named the entire club who had made the attempt to steal the money. Then she did the unthinkable; she publicly thanked the Safety Patrol and said that the officers were to have a table reserved just for them in the Cafetorium, and free head-of-the-line passes.
Before school Ingrid had seen Linda as well as three other agents being escorted in orange uniforms to Randal the Vandal's former delinquent suite. While they passed each other Linda had given her the dirtiest look, but her escorts had kept her walking to the large brick building. Ingrid could hardly remember the time when she first met Linda, when she seemed to be an innocent suspect.
But she certainly didn't care, or anyone else on the Force for that matter. Because as far as they all were concerned, the case was finally solved.
THE ENDA/N: Well, that's it for Dishonor Roll. I've had a great time writing this…and I hope that you all like it while it lasted. :0)
Peace,
Rumpelteazer