The vision of the hospital in front of Ross and Mike slowly started vanishing. The two teenagers watched as everything around them slowly started disappearing, but it seemed to be fading into something else.

By the time everything was clear once again, the two of them saw that they were now in a completely different location. They didn't even know if they were still in Mike's past.

"Where are we?" Mike asked.

"Looks like some sort of forest," Ross replied.

The area around them was very dark and the air was very still. It was obvious there were outside, mainly due to the soft sound of dirt being crunched as they walked. And although it was pretty dark, it looked like there were a lot of trees around them.

"Hey Mike, what's that light?" Ross asked.

Ross pointed out to a small red glow emitting itself from several yards away. Quickly, Ross and Mike started running through the thick trees and pushing bushes out of their way as they tried to find out what the red light was.

When they were only a few feet away, they saw a group of smaller kids sitting around a small fire. They were all laughing and smiling and were holding small twigs, all of them with marshmallows on the end.

One of the kids was a girl with a face full of freckles and brown hair. There was a boy with long, curly red hair, and sitting next to him was another boy with dirty blonde hair that covered almost everything down to his eyeballs.

"Hey, Ross," Mike said, "we're still in my past. That kid right there with the dirty blonde hair is me."

"Really?" Ross asked.

"Yeah. I remember now," Mike said. "This is a camping trip I went on the summer before I met you."

"Cool," Ross said, looking around and studying everything about the area. When doing this, he saw a pile of carefully carved wood shaped into perfect cylinders. They looked pretty light and maneuverable.

"Hey Mike, what are those long rod things for?" Ross asked, pointing to them.

"Hmmm," Mike said, recalling seeing the sticks there. "You know, I really don't remember."

There was something really troubling about those rods of sticks that Ross couldn't quite place his finger on. When it came down to it, who would put a random pile of sticks there? Ross was sure it wasn't a big deal, but the question was bothering him. The sticks looked like they were serving a much bigger purpose than what just sitting there. If Mike and his camping group didn't put them there, then who did?

Mike started slowly walking over to the large pile of sticks. "Ross, I think it's time I play one-on-one with my past, what do you think?"

"What do you mean?" Ross asked.

Mike picked up one of the large sticks from the top layer of the pile and started walking around to his younger self.

"Wait, Mike, I wouldn't touch those if I were you," Ross cautioned as he reached out to Mike (for some reason).

"Pfft," Mike said as he spit air through his lips. "What's the big deal? It's only a stick, you know."

Saying this, Mike tapped his younger self on the shoulder, instantly grabbing his attention.

"Hey, wanna play some stick ball?" Mike asked with a smile on his face.

"Hey Mike, he looks just like an older you!" the girl with freckles pointed out to the younger Mike.

"Yeah!" the boy with curly red hair said. "He looks like he's twelve and not ten!"

Ross laughed to himself as the memories of how naïve as he was then came flooding back to him, but he was still concerned about what Mike was doing.

"Come on," Mike said as he pulled his younger self up from sitting on the ground. He walked over and picked up a fairly large rock. "Let's see how well you can hit."

Ross soon realized what Mike was going to do was just play the kiddie version of baseball with a stick for a bat and a rock for the ball. And he was going to use one of those strange and mysterious sticks lying around as the bat.

"Oh, one-on-one with your past…I get it," Ross said. "All right, Mike, put the stick down. Someone's going to get hurt."

"Ross, relax," Mike said in his normal carefree voice. "I never got hit on the head when I was ten."

Ross was upset that Mike didn't heed his warning, and soon, Mike was going to wish that he did.

Ross sat down and watched as Mike handed the perfectly cylinder-shaped stick to his ten-year old counterpart. Mike stepped back several feet and held a somewhat large rock in his hand. After taking about eight steps away from his younger self, he threw the rock underhand.

Mike of ten years swung the stick, but he swung it too hard (being the reckless kid he was back then) and let the stick go flying out of his hand.

Ross watched as he saw the stick fly right past him and crash into a tree. Upon hitting the tree, the stick was totally destroyed. The tip was smashed into several smaller pieces while most of the lower part of the stick remained in tact.

"Nice swinging," Mike commented to his younger self. "Come on, if you want to swing like the great Yaz, you need to at least hold onto the bat."

But when the younger Mike was about to say something, a giant flash appeared in front of everyone. A small portal of white popped up out of nowhere, and Maverick walked out of it. Accompanying him were Kline and Sandra.

The younger kids around the campfire got scared of the three adults appearing out of a random portal and ran into the woods, screaming. However, Ross and Mike stayed and confronted Maverick and his two bodyguards.

"Hey Maverick," Mike said with a smile on his face. "How's it going?"

"I thought I made it very clear not to interfere with the past in anyway!" Maverick snapped, looking very upset.

"I told you not to touch those sticks," Ross said.

"Wait a minute!" Mike yelled. "You're getting mad at me just because I broke one of those sticks? What's the big deal?"

"Maverick told you not to do anything that would change the past!" Klein screamed.

"And you completely disobeyed him," Sandra said, finishing Klein's thought.

"Come on, they're just sticks!" Mike continued insisting.

"That's simply not true," Maverick said. "Those sticks were part of the past, and you destroyed one of them. For interfering with the past, you must be punished."

"Punished?" Mike yelled. "For what, my younger self breaking a stick?"

"I'll see to it that you will never have the opportunity to do this. The only way I can guarantee neither of you change history like you have is to destroy you as children. Kline! Sandra! Take care of these two."

"Yes, Maverick," the two bodyguards said in unison.

Maverick formed another white portal and disappeared though it. He disappeared as soon he went inside, leaving Ross and Mike to deal with his two bodyguards.

Without Klein or Sandra even doing anything, two more white portals were formed besides each of them.

"I hope you enjoyed being teenagers, you two," Klein threatened. "Because it doesn't look like you're ever going to see that time."

Thinking fast and through his panic, Ross picked up a giant stick and threw it at Mike. "Mike, catch!"

Mike caught the large stick in his hand. "Wait, Ross, what for?"

"Fighting!" Ross yelled. "Remember those moves Bien taught us?"

"Oh, yeah…" Mike said.

Klein jumped over to Mike and pulled him into the white portal closer to him. The portal disappeared as soon as the two were in there. That just left Ross standing, ready to confront Sandra.

"Farewell," Sandra said.

Ross picked up one of the giant sticks from the pile and got ready to fight with it. But just as he was ready to start fighting her, Sandra pulled Ross through the white portal.

Just because a stick was broken, Maverick now wanted Ross and Mike to be killed as younger kids, just so they couldn't live to be old enough to interfere with the past. But Maverick considered "breaking a stick" interfering with the past.

Why was Maverick so angry just because a stick was broken? What was the reason Ross and Mike had to be killed as little kids just because they went to the past and broke a stick?

The answers to these questions would soon lead Ross and Mike on another adventure that was unlike any they had either been on before. And what would erupt would be beyond anything that either of them could have imagined.