We finally got to Jake's introduction, I will admit out of the shows my ranking always goes RC9N, DP, then AD:JL. I"m sorry for more experienced Jake Fans, I do love him and plan to flesh him out with the rest of the cast. I based Jake and Fu on some humorous interactions I've had with my own dad and dog. Since they're both from NYC I figured they would be a little ruder than the others in our roster. On that note I felt like it was a missed opportunity that Jake in the show was never shown as bilingual- so I did my best with my research and concluded that the Longs probably speak mandarin and some thai.

For reference what Jake is saying isn't actually that bad- but there isn't exactly an English equivalent, a pretty common insult in mandarin is to call someone an "egg" since they typically smell bad. The more you know. ~Cosmo


Sneaking back into the hotel wasn't exactly smooth sailing turns out Mrs Driscoll, and of course, Mr Driscoll was waiting with her.

Mrs Driscoll was perhaps the easiest on Randy. Having no children of her own she often thought of her students as being her family. "Mr Driscoll" had a more firm yet boney hand, with a strict approach. So while Mr Driscoll was busy laying it on— ranting and raving stacking on disciplinary actions— Mrs D was sweetly recalling her own wild highschool tales.

The pair then went on reminiscing until they dismissed Randy entirely. He swiped his hotel card contemplating exactly what kind of trouble he was in. Mrs Driscoll trouble or Mr Driscoll trouble. Hopefully, Mrs D wouldn't remember until the end of the trip.

Randy entered the cool dark room, popping his neck. Hotel sweet hotel. It was a smaller room he was supposed to be sharing with Julian, but Julian apparently slept in a coffin. Which he brought from home. Cunningham wasn't exactly sure what to expect from Julian, though his first bet was that Julian would sleep on the balcony like some kind of gargoyle.

Suppose it made it easier to do his nightly exercises. Randy was never athletic but being the sole protector of Norrisville has a way of turning your stomach from a six flab to a meat grinder. Randy glanced at the door frame to the bathroom, he let go of his ribs. Resting his crutch against the door handle socket, Cunningham launched himself from the ground to the door frame. Several vertebrae crackled with the sudden stretch. It burned as his bones were being spread even further apart, splitting and splintering—

He pumped his arms, pulling his chin above the frame. With a gasp, Randy dropped— exhaling.

"Still got it," the ninja declared triumphantly despite the ache reverberating through to his spine.

Okay so maybe he'll skip the twenty reps in favor of a cold shower and pain pill-induced sleep. Though first— he found his laptop and slid into the cushy pristine hotel bed.

Randy-man-Candy: hey Howard

Graveyard-party-punch: dude where have you been? You've been NNS for like 6 hours! And seriously you're lucky I have all forms of IMs otherwise this relationship would be strained.

Randy-man-Candy: I know I know you're a tech genius, but I had a good reason, and I wasn't a total NNS— it was mostly AFK, the last ten percent was NNS.

Graveyard-party-punch: okay but seriously what the hell?

Randy-man-Candy: what? I had to do something. It's this long story. I'll tell you over the phone tomorrow.

Graveyard-party-punch: I've added Amity Park to my news updates and so far I've seen some wacky stuff about a dragon and ghost dude… but no ninja?

Randy-man-Candy: like I said long story, and I'm trying to keep a low profile.

Graveyard-party-punch: I still don't even know how you managed to get good enough grades to make the field trip.

Randy-man-Candy: I'm full of surprises Howard.

Graveyard-party-punch: sure… eyeroll

Randy-man-Candy: sarcasm is unbecoming.

Graveyard-party-punch: … so if you're getting good enough grades to go on the field trip does that mean you might make the scholarship for Fisttech?

Randy sighed. He could hardly think about his choices for the hotel breakfast bar, let alone college.

Randy-man-Candy: have your parents at least thought about community College?

Graveyard-party-punch: no. They really want me to join a legacy or some kind of bull crap.

Randy-man-Candy: then I'm going to get the fisttech scholarship. We are going to stay together no matter what.

Graveyard-party-punch: look Randy you don't have to, you're obviously gonna be too wiped with ninja work- you know the actual work that saves people versus algebra or whatever.

Randy-man-Candy: I dunno… is it going to be worth it if I don't remember any of it? I'll have flunked and not have anything to show for it.

Graveyard-party-punch: I wish my parents actually listened to me when I said I don't want to go to college. I'll hate the idea even more being a business major with no friends.

Randy-man-Candy: That won't happen, trust me- we're both going to freaking kings in college.

Graveyard-party-punch: Have you picked your successor as the ninja yet?

No. Of course, he hasn't. He had actually been dreading it. It wasn't like Randy was totally without wisdom to share with the ninjanomicon, but why would he subject some other freshman to the utter confusion of navigating a double life? Maybe it wasn't noble- maybe it was selfish of him. Randy would much rather take on the burden of being the ninja for the rest of his life than give it away to someone who wasn't prepared for it at all. Randy had to make a lot of sacrifices to get this far, not seeing it through to the end wasn't an option.

Randy-man-Candy: There are some candidates I can pursue.

He closed his laptop. Randy took in a breath. As soon as this job is complete, at least he won't have to worry about paying for a fancy education. He'll have enough money to buy an island, maybe two. Maybe he'd have enough to buy the Packers. Snickering to himself, Randy decided he was done smelling his own B.O and peeled himself out of bed.


Jake on the other side of town was filling an ice bucket. Hopefully, it was going to last the night to nurse his wounds and keep Fu's 'special drinks' cold. The motel was thankfully not busy. Jake took a moment to make sure the coast was clear- he wondered if Fu's trick could be used outside of the big apple. He hit the ice machine in a distinct pattern fluctuating in pressure. Ending the sequence by kicking the machine.

Quarters spilled out of the ice machine's slot and onto the floor.

"Hùnzhàng!" the noise of the coins hitting the ground made him jump, "I guess it works better in small towns."

Kneeling down on the carpet he collected the coins, Jake felt a twinge in his deltoids, Maybe no more ceiling crashing for a bit. At the end of the hall, a door creaked open.

"Kid, you done with that ice? I wanna get blitzed watching the poker quarter finals!"

Jake rattled the coins in his sweatshirt, "ey- yeah dog, I'll be there in a sec, I'm gonna cop some chips- Since SOMEONE tore out the minibar."

"Hardly a minibar if they charge you nine dollars for some almonds!" Fu sounded like he was tossing something on the ground in the room.

Muttering to himself Jake rose up, "Some people abuse their animals, some people get abused by their animals."

Fu poked his wrinkly face out of the doorway, "Are you sassin' me out there?"

"I'm aching out here, boss," Jake placed the rapidly chilling bucket against his hip, "and you want ice for your sauce! Yes, I'm sassin' you!"

"I would love to help but in case you forgot-" He whistled, standing bi-pedal," I'm eighty-nine pounds of pure hound." Fu then barked a request, "Front me some funyuns and I'll get you back later, aight?"

"Yeah, Yeah, That's six you owe me, Dog." Jake scowled, "bèn dàn…"

"I get it you're hurting, and away but I don't want to hear your trash barge mouth!" Fu gripped the door, "God, I regret teaching you only swears."

Jake gave the 'up yours' gesture despite the immense pain it caused him, his sense of humor was stronger.

Fu flared his nostrils," You're so lucky I don't rat you out to your grandpa."

"Hey, at least I didn't break his classic teapot from 4 generations ago!" Jake snapped, "You were there when it was being sculpted on the wheel for heaven's sake."

"It was ugly and you know it! Now go get daddy some funyuns!"

"Ugh!" Jake groaned, inching to the stairs, "Fine!"

He turned- to see a rather wobbly man in a suit, returning from his happy hour. He stumbled toward Jake. He felt his own age at that moment, despite having traveled on a red-eye flight to legitimately the middle of freakin' nowhere with only one skatepark and hardly any worthy bodega in sight. Fought countless monsters. He managed to figure out how to rent a room by himself. But still hesitated when handling drunks. Adults still towered over him. Jake realized that this guy just witnessed him talking to his dog rather rudely- which was something he considered routine and normal.

Fu quickly landed on all fours and began barking heartily at the stranger like how a regular dog would.

Faltering for an excuse, Jake chuckled awkwardly," Don't you ever converse with your dog in a different voice like they're a person…?"

Wobbling away the man gave Jake a strange glance and moved on. Once the man walked back into his own room, Fu coughed, "Gugh- I hate doing that. Look, kid, hurry up and don't melt the ice, and after the poker match we can call up gramps and go over the game-plan, an' stop swearin'."

"Yeah, Yeah- That's still six you own me." Long trotted down the stairs to the vending machine.

The motel wasn't like an overpopulated place in the city, though obviously it's seen better days. The fluorescents on the ground floor seemed to flicker.

Jake looked out to the courtyard and the dried fountain. Amity Park more likely had a hard time keeping the tourists once they checked in. Ghost tours being your main outlet as well as your biggest pest seemed to contradict any business model. Jake also noted the yellowed grass. Perhaps ghosts weren't only dead things around. The flower boxes didn't appear any better off. Though one flower at the very end of the line towards the main office has some fight left in it.

Jake turned the corner to the vending corner. The laundromat appeared to be out of order entirely. Chains clad the door and a sign recommending the launderama a couple of blocks further into town shifted with the breeze. Some vandal had scratched the sign, "beware!"

Now, what on earth could be so dangerous about a couple of broken dryers? Jake imagined a fire spawned by excess lint in the ducts. Maybe he did pay attention when his father spoke. Something about liabilities and assets-?

Jake plopped his quarters into the machine. Funyuns… He quickly punched in the code B8. The coil crawled toward the opening. God was this day going to ever end? Impatiently the dragon jostled the ice bucket. Either everything was faster than him, or he had to adjust to the speed on par with-

The lights suddenly cut. Only the glow of the vending machine remained. Jake slapped the side of the office, "Ey- You gotta pay your bills bro! Gah-"

The vending machine coil stopped abruptly, as the machine lost power as well. Getting further annoyed Long kicked the machine, "Are you kidding me right now? Does nothing work in this place?"

Percussive maintenance was a no-go. As Jake continued to rough up the machine the chips only tipped further back into the mechanism.

Then the dripping started.

Jake didn't dare to turn around, the fountain slowly worked up past a trickle and sprayed with full pressure. He felt the warm droplets glide onto his scalp, trailing down his neck.

Swiping at quickly he pulled back a red-stained palm. He silently prayed that it was just rust-colored water-

"Okay, screw the funynus, this is whack-" He mumbled to himself, it wasn't a habit he was fond of but seeing as he was rarely alone when he faced threats having someone to talk to was comforting. He seethed, "I'm so out of here."

He spun on his heel hoping whatever he felt was just wobbles from upstairs- Jake turned to see a portly man in overalls… a blue bloodless face-

"OoOOoOO! BEWARE!"

Jake startled, surprisingly keeping a good grasp on the bucket handle- Flames tangled around his opposite hand exposing his dragon claws.

"I'm the BOX GH-"

Efficiently and cruelly Jake clasped a hold on the specter's neck. He shook the ghost in his claws. Slightly spooked but still frightfully out of this ghost's pay grade, "T-th-this isn't your night, chief. I'm not in the mood dawg."