I am so sorry that this has taken so long; I can't even believe how long I've put this off. I really like this story and have no intention of letting it slip through the cracks, though the updates with admittedly be fewer and further in between.

/TWO WEEKS- SAMANTHA MANSON MIA FOR SIXTEEN DAYS AND FOUR HOURS.\

Timothy Otis could hardly believe himself, what he was willing to risk on a girl who had lied to him for the better part of two years. He couldn't stand his own weakness; his resolve was not strength. Any logical person would have hesitated when a man, out of breath and sounding all shades of sketchy, called his home number from Sam's cell phone. It was like some poorly plotted horror movie, a small town trapped by ghouls that exacted their own brand of the law. Why in the hell would he dare venture there, to Amity Park, when he knew that no good would come of it? And yet he did not so much as hesitate to jump into his Saturn and floor it through a colorful variety of states.

This Tucker Foley character wasted no time on pleasantries, he had simply and dryly explained the situation, panic evident but not taking precedent. Tim was no fool, he knew that his informant had neglected to elaborate on certain portions of their experience; he could hear it in his voice and sense it in his demeanor. He played brainless lackey, asking for the time and the place before he took an extended absence and filed his girl missing, per instructed.

Any rational human being would question Sam's motives, her reasoning behind lying to him. The thought that Tucker could be delusional briefly surfaced but was soon after dismissed, his story made more sense than the cryptic one he had been reluctantly given. The car trip consisted of second-guessing and cursing Sam's name to the high heavens, but he never considered turning back. It had never been an option; she was his girl and he was not about to abandon her.

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"How in hell can we trust this guy?" Dash was not revered for his subtlety. Pacing had become a custom to the crew, and every source was beyond exhaustion when Tucker had contacted 'the boyfriend', as he was so lovingly referred to as.

"He loves Sam, he can help." Tucker said simply, not bothering to pay any sort of attention to Dash's scowling.

The blond man was not so convinced, "how could you even know that? He could be calling up every reporter in existence to sell this, and if he does...we're all as good as dead. When silence is broken what use are the bargaining chips?"

Tucker was unmoved, "I could hear it, and I know what it sounds like." His eyes were fixed on Jazz, who happened to be far out of earshot, attending to equipment. Dash did not take well to this, following his gaze with rapid succession. For a meathead he was awfully perceptive.

"Maybe she could never see him like that, and he's wasting his time." This allusion had positively no pretense, though Tucker feigned ignorance.

"They've been living together, of course she sees him like that." He stated, brow furrowed, knowing that he was risking physical injury. Dash stepped forward, his breadth somehow more intimidating when directly before him.

"You think I'm blind? D'you think I can't see what's right in front of me?" He questioned, teeth grit and stance menacing.

"That would explain your low interception average in high school…" Tucker commented smugly, as though he were the one with the six inches of additional height and years of weight training.

"Hey…not cool." Dash barked, struggling for the perfect geek-related retort when a familiar voice unknowingly interrupted the escalating argument.

"Hey, guys, someone's here...and he's cute!" Jazz exclaimed, reemerging from behind a high-tech periscope, momentarily oblivious to the daggers being exchanged between her two special little fellows.
"That eliminates Tim." Tuck muttered beneath his breath, already having conjured up an entire persona and appearance for Sam's significant other. He imagined at least three piercings and a tattoo. When he came face-to-face with the actual man, bewilderment instantly clouded Tucker's features.

Jazz immediately introduced herself, having toned down from the neon suit into sweats and a T-shirt. "This ghost thing, it's for real?" It was in his first question that the crew discovered that, like Sam, Tim had the tact of a storm trooper.

"It's for real." Dash affirmed, positioning himself adjacent to Jazz, possessiveness and hostility pouring off of him in waves. "We don't have a chance in hell without some more able bodies, you in or out?" He asked, tilting his chin inquisitively.

"Is Sammy top priority?" Tim shot back bitingly, his tongue razor sharp.

"Yes!" Tucker and Jazz exclaimed in an entirely jinx-worthy moment, eyes meeting and averting for a single unmistakable moment. Dash ignored it with great difficulty, nodding slowly and with evident uncertainty.

"Than do you even need to ask?" The tension alleviated, but by no stretch of the imagination alleviated. Jazz, acting in her infamous role as peacemaker swooped in with complex plans as well as a kind offer for a jump suit, one hastily withdrawn the instant a snickering Dash referenced the X-Men.

Jazz stalked off, fuming only slightly, a reaction Dash in turn overreacted to. Tucker clamped an open palm over Tim's shoulder, smiling with sadism as the sweet sound of Jazz's shrill angry voice broke the unofficial silence.

"Welcome to the team, bro."

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Samantha had lost hope. It was a clichéd happening that she had often times seen in cinema, but she never truly believed that she could ever experience it. She had been wrong.

Daniel allowed her any knowledge she may stumble upon; he kept nothing secret or sacred. His confidence was her hindrance; he knew perfectly well that there was no danger of her escape. How would she possibly achieve that? Toothpick, shoelace, bobby pin? She wasn't MacGuyver; even the geekdom of Tucker could not possibly escape the elaborate prison Daniel Fenton had constructed.

Try as she may, try as she might she could not coerce any sort of explanation. Unlike in Bond movies he did not pace about her prison cell twirling an imaginary mustache, eager to reveal any and all important grand schemes. He was open and flippant, sarcastic and cruel and all the while she could not bring herself to despise him, the only ill will she was capable of harboring was resentment of what he had done to a once great man-and this he would pay for…eventually.

Sorry to fangirls like me who were longing for some Banny dialog but I'm kind of rushed, my computer does not allow me to post updates and I am using my aunt's seeing as I'm babysitting her kids. Tell me, what do you think? I tried to beef it up a little bit, but to get it posted tonight I fear it had to be this length.