The following morning, Keas and Marcy return to their apartment after a night in a hotel. Each of them have on a gas mask along with a bucket full of cleaning equipment: scrub brushes, sponges, paper towel, cleaning rags, heavy duty cleaning gloves, a small fan for ventilation, and 4 gallons of bleach carried by Keas. Blood is completely covering almost every inch of the small apartment. "Man, it's no wonder we're renting this place for cheap," Marceline comments. "Aren't the police supposed to clean the crime scene after they gather all the evidence?" she asks aloud. She begins her work at one of the windows. Once it's done she opens it for some fresh air. Keas sets up the small fan to blow into the room and they both remove their gas masks. He then starts scrubbing the kitchen counters, saving the floor for last.
"I like blood baths, but not in our home," Keas mumbles. Marcy overhears and bursts into laughter, her hand coming up to touch her forehead. Horror instantly overcomes her at the wet sensation now on her skin. Keas cracks up at her expression. He treads carefully over to her while trying not to step on the cleaning supplies. He uses a clean rag to wipe her forehead. "There. Much better." Marcy gives him a sheepish smile, a light blush trying to dust her cheeks.
"Thanks, Keas." After that kiss to her forehead last night Marcy can't stop thinking about it. Keas had never done anything of the sort before. A thought gives her pause, her hand becoming still on the second window. How long had Keas thought of doing that? Or was it a spontaneous moment based on our situation? She's not sure which one she would like it to be. Marcy's known him for years now, but sometimes she has no idea what he's thinking.
Keas notices how still Marcy has become so he works his way over again and places his hand on her shoulder. She jumps at the sudden touch. "Are you ok?" he asks. Marcy gives him another sheepish smile. She brings her hand up and rubs the back of her neck.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just got lost in thought, I guess," she responds. When she pulls her hand away from her neck her eyes widen at the red liquid on her glove. "Damn it!" she grumbles. Keas can't help but let out a laugh. "Oh, you think that's funny?" She swipes her hand across the bloodied table and flicks the blood at Keas, getting red splattered on his black hoodie. He raises his brow as if asking her if she's serious. Marcy responds with a mischievous smirk and off they both go, throwing blood at one another in a frenzy. Blood is flying everywhere and covers both of them in various places from head to toe. Marcy was smart enough to wear a red shirt and dark blue jeans so the stains won't show so well, but Keas' white shoes and light blue jeans aren't so lucky. Neither of them seems to care about the mess as they continue, laughter filling the whole apartment. At this point they both don't have a care in the world.
Unfortunately like most things the fun must come to an end. Marcy's phone starts playing "With Every Heartbeat" by Robyn so she takes off her gloves and fishes it out of her purse by the door. She doesn't recognize the unknown number, but she answers it with a "hello?" anyways. "Marcy speaking."
"Yo, it's me, Franklin. Does your offer still stand?" she hears the familiar voice on the other side. Marcy feels a touch on her cheek. She moves her eyes to the right to see Keas with a rag in his hand. She can guess he's cleaning her face of the blood.
"What did you do this time?" she can't help but ask, a smile tugging at her lips. She hears him sigh on the other side.
"I'm with a friend and he's driving. Recklessly. We got cops behind us and we can't shake them," he responds. Now that he's mentioned it Marcy can faintly hear police sirens in the background. The sound of gunshots makes her pull the phone away from her ear.
"Die you wastes of meat sacks!" she hears a disgruntled man shout. That must be the "friend."
"Where you at?" Franklin asks. Marcy raises a brow at the poor sentence structure.
"That depends on where you are?" she replies. She can hear a faint groan of irritation and lets out a chuckle of her own. "Sorry, that was rude. We're at our apartment by Vespucci beach."
"Well shit, we're headed toward Sandy Shores." Marcy raises a brow; she doesn't know where that's at. "We're going the opposite way," he clarifies after her pause.
"Then just turn around. We'll meet you by the festival with a boat. We can hide out on the water," Marcy tells him.
"Good idea. Call me when you have a boat and a location," he responds.
She grins wide. "Sure thing, friend. Stay alive." She hangs up and quickly turns to Keas. He jumps back from her quick movements and raises his hands up, a slightly bloodied cloth in his right hand. She notices that he's wiped his face clean as well. "Time to get going, Keas! I'll get my swim suit and a boat," she tells him as she makes her way to the bedroom. Keas stands there for a couple seconds before following her.
"I'll get changed, too."
At the bed of a gloss black Vapid Sandking SWB is a blond man in orange swim trunks. He stands there blatantly admiring some of the gorgeous young ladies closer to the water. He doesn't say anything; he's just leaning against the side with his arms crossed hoping his muscles will bring in the ladies instead. He has suffered through high school being overweight and has finally worked hard enough to become better than just fit. Hooked to the back of the truck is a beautiful white speedboat on a trailer. If only his muscle doesn't work, he hopes the boat will give him better chances. He's always wanted to be approached by a woman first.
Unfortunately for him, he's been standing there for well over an hour; the young ladies showed up after him and have begun to wonder why his boat isn't in the water yet. A few have started getting kind of freaked out by him just staring at them and have begun packing up. He begins to give up and starts turning to climb in the truck when he catches sight of a woman walking toward him. Her auburn hair stands out against the bleached beach sand. His gaze glides down her frame, taking note of how her pale green bikini top fits her just right. He spots a touch of the green poking out from underneath her dark blue jean shorts that end just a couple inches above her kneecaps. As she grows closer he can see how her toned muscles raise slightly with each step she takes. He watches as a 'Nightmare Before Christmas' keychain bounces with each movement of her hips. Finally she looks his way, and he spots the way her smile reaches her slightly pale green eyes. He feels his heart skip a beat when she starts making her way to him. He's shocked. He was so sure by this point that no one would approach him, let alone a beautiful woman like her.
The woman stops in front of him, a bright smile still on her pale pink lips. "Hello, do you live around here?" she asks, tilting her head to her right a bit. The man raises his eyes from her pink bellybutton piercing to meet her eyes.
"Uh, yes, I do. Why do you ask?" he blubbers out messily. She covers a chuckle with her manicured hand.
"You see," she starts, laying a hand on her hip, "I'm here on vacation and have missed my boat back at home. Is there any way I can take a ride in yours?" He looks up from her breasts when he notices she wasn't speaking anymore. He realizes that she's a few inches taller than him.
"Wah, uh… Yeah! Yeah, I can give you a ride! O-on my boat!" He stumbles over himself trying to figure out where to go first. He points to the cab of the truck dumbly with a sheepish smile. "I'll get it in the water," he mutters. The woman lets out another covered chuckle.
"You do that."
After a clumsy first time launching the boat the man and woman are now finally out in the open water. A strange silence remains between the two. He is a nervous awkward mess while she seems perfectly calm. After a few minutes he works up the courage to speak after shutting off the engine.
"So, uh… I never caught your name?" he tries to speak calmly. He sees her smile, but she doesn't turn towards him from the passenger seat.
"You can call me Marcy," she responds. "What about you? What's your name?" He finds himself relax a bit knowing she was willing to talk with him.
"I'm Blake. Black Aldridge," he tells her with a smile. He notices her smile grow a little sad when she stands up and he loses his. Marcy moves to stand next to him, and then places her hand on his shoulder.
"Listen, Blake Aldridge; I'm going to be honest here. I only went up to you because you have a boat, but you seem like a really nice guy." Blake smiles a bit, but it falls quickly after her next sentence. "But I only need the boat." She reaches into her purse and pulls out her heavy pistol. Fear overtakes Blake. She doesn't point it at him, though; she just holds it in her hand. "Now don't get me wrong here, Blake. I don't plan to shoot you, and I don't want to hurt you. But my friends need my help and to do that I need a boat. Unfortunately for you, yours was the first boat I came across." She pats his shoulder once. "So this is where you need to make a decision. It can go one of two ways. Either you can swim back to shore and let me take the boat for a few hours, or you can stay here and join me with my three criminal friends," she tells him calmly. "Oh, and if you call the cops we will kill you." His eyes grow wide and he sits there for a short time, debating his options. Coming to a decision he looks up at her.
"Will I get my boat back?" he asks. He wasn't a daddy's boy; he worked hard to save up the money for this boat. Marcy grins and pats his shoulder again.
"Sure thing. After the heat dies down I'll return it to you here, I promise." Blake sighs and reluctantly stands up from the captain's chair. A woman finally approaches him and she's stealing his boat. How did he not see this coming?
Marcy gives him a sad smile as he jumps off the boat and heads to shore. She feels bad for taking it from a nice guy, but her new friend is in danger and she said she would help. She climbs into the captain's chair and heads to the end of Del Perro. After pulling out her phone she dials Franklin's now saved number.
"Hey Marce, you got the boat?" she hears Franklin's voice ask. She scrunches her nose at the nickname; she absolutely hates being called 'Marce.'
"Yeah, I'm almost at the end of the pier now. Keas is up top with his shotgun to give you guys some cover while you come down to the boat. And uh, don't call me 'Marce' again. Just Marcy," she responds. "Are you guys close?"
"We're just about to get off Del Perro Freeway near Backlot City. We'll be there in at least 5 minutes," he answers. Her mind goes black for a moment. She really needs to learn the layout of this city.
"Alright, sounds good. I'll be here," she replies. Please let everyone be alive at the end of this.
"Was that her?" Trevor asks over the sound of the sirens. Franklin pockets his phone before pulling out a submachine gun.
"Yeah, they're ready for us. Her boy's gonna give us some cover," he replies. He sticks the gun out the window and opens fire on the cops. He blows out the front tire of one cruiser, but the cop is persistent and continues chasing him while riding on the rim. "Damn," he mutters.
Trevor raises a brow at Franklin. He had only mentioned that he had a friend that could help them out and nothing more. He's not sure what to expect now knowing there's a couple waiting for them. His perverted mind seems to take over playing a scene with a stereotypical blonde beach slut and a man that closely resembles Lamar for some reason.
Franklin grips the steering wheel and pulls it towards himself so they turn onto the pier. Trevor snaps out of his growing disturbing thoughts and growls at Franklin. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he shouts.
"You're gonna drive off the pier! Punch the fucking breaks!" Franklin shouts back. Trevor spots the end of the pier growing closer and hits the breaks while jerking the wheels to the left. The car turns sideways and stops just before hitting the man standing at the edge of the pier. The tall pale man lifts his long barrel shotgun and rests it on the roof of the car. Franklin climbs out first so Trevor can climb over and come out the passenger side. Franklin gives the bright redhead a smile. "Thanks for the help, Keas," he tells him. Keas glances to Franklin briefly before turning his attention back to the incoming police cars.
"You keep Marcy safe," he replies. Franklin nods in response just as Trevor climbs out of the car. He eyes Keas' over 6 foot frame, taking note of the younger man's strong physique. Franklin pats Trevor's shoulder.
"Come on, Marcy's waiting." He jumps from the edge and dives down into the water below. When Trevor looks back to Keas he spots the police climbing out of the five vehicles. Keas fires both shots, hitting two men square in their faces. The police open fire on him and he takes cover just after a bullet grazes his shoulder. Trevor looks between Keas and the boat below.
"Fuck!" he shouts, holding the 'F' longer in frustration. He pulls out a pistol as he also takes cover near the front of the car. He groans in irritation and switches his weapon out for an advanced rifle. He hears a few pistols run out in their clips. As the cops reload Trevor and Keas take aim and fire. Keas gets off both shots of his double barrel, killing two more. Trevor takes out three and injures one in the leg. They duck down behind the car again to reload. "Nice shooting," Trevor subconsciously compliments. Keas turns to him and smiles, catching Trevor off guard. The smile is a lot more innocent than what he expected.
"Not bad yourself," Keas compliments in return. He jerks his gun up to snap it back into place before standing up and taking aim again. As Trevor goes to stand, he notices the customized hatchet strapped to Keas' bare back and the fact his blue swim trunks have little yellow rubber duckies on them. He feels himself grin as he takes aim at another cop while more police cars pull up. He has a feeling this is going to be fun.
Franklin climbs into the speedboat himself and gets the floor wet with his soaked clothing. Marcy hands him a towel she found beneath the bench seat along the driver's side of the boat. While she was waiting she decided to take a look around the storage areas of the boat to see what she would have on hand. She found five hundred dollars in the little glove box in front of the passenger seat, along with a pack of cigarettes with 6 joints rolled inside. The bench seat on the driver's side has life jackets and a first aid kit as well.
"Thanks," Franklin says. He takes a seat in the passenger chair to her left. Marcy waves her hand dismissively like before.
"It's really no trouble at all. Cleaning my apartment can always wait until later on. How did you get the police after you, anyway?" she asks. She crosses her right leg over her left and rests her elbow on her knee. From there she puts her chin on top of the fist she made. Franklin scratches his head a bit.
"Well, my uh… friend Trevor was driving and this guy walked out onto the road, which made us stop. Trevor and he got in a yelling match because of it, and then Trevor got pissed and ran him over. A lady saw the whole thing and called the cops. From there it just kind of escalated," he explains. Marcy tries to stifle her laughter, but she can't seem to stop herself and lets out a hearty laugh. "What's so funny?" She tries to calm herself down.
"I'm sorry. Something similar happened to me a while back, but I was able to lose them before it got this bad. Maybe next time you should drive," she suggests. He rolls his eyes but smiles.
"Yeah, no kidding," he mutters. The sound of an explosion has both of them looking up at the pier. Two adult-size figures fall from the pier, one of them laughing all the way into the water. The two people swim to the boat side by side and climb up simultaneously. Marcy eyes the unfamiliar man, but hands him a towel nonetheless. "Good to see you two alive," Franklin speaks up. "What was that explosion?"
Trevor's eyes follow the woman as she drapes a towel over Keas' shoulders. He takes in her appearance and doesn't miss the silent, friendly smile passed between the two. He connects the dots that this must be the woman Marcy who was mentioned earlier and the friend Franklin called for help. He turns to Franklin while lifting his right hand, a sticky bomb balanced in the palm. He glances back to the pair of friends. "It was Keas' idea," he explains. When Franklin sits in the driver's seat everyone else sits on the bench seats, the couple directly behind him. Franklin starts the engine and pushes the throttle open, speeding away from the fiery pier. Trevor eyes the odd couple, his gaze shifting between the two. "So," he begins loudly to draw their attention, "how did you meet our mutual friend here?" he asks, gesturing towards the driver. Marcy gives him a grin.
"He was being chased by some bikers near the airport. After I stole a car to head into town Franklin came along and stole it to get away from the bikers. So Keas and I hijacked a truck and went after them. After getting rid of his pursuers we talked." She shrugs casually. "I understood his position and let it slide, and then I offered my help at a later date. Turns out it was today," she finishes. She told Keas the outcome of their escapade at the hotel, but he still paid full attention to her as she spoke. She gestures to Trevor then to Franklin on her right. "What about you two?" she asks. She notices Trevor's face scrunch up. Franklin glances over his shoulder at her briefly.
"A mutual friend," he replies first. Keas looks between the two while Marcy raises an eyebrow. Trevor points at Franklin, the rest of his fingers are clenched tightly.
"I wouldn't call that fucker a friend," he speaks up. He turns back to Marcy and says, "More like a mutual colleague." Marcy nods in understanding; it's obviously very complicated.
After silence falls among the group they slowly begin to hear a faint noise growing louder by the minute. Wub wub wub wub. The three sitting in the back begin turning around before spotting the helicopter headed towards them with "SQUAD" on the side. Keas instinctively grab his shotgun, although he wishes he had an assault rifle instead. Trevor smirks and pulls out an RPG. Keas and Marcy become owl-eyed at the sight.
"I got this," he says simply. He shoulders the weapon, takes aim, and fires before the helicopter gets a chance to take a shot. In a loud fiery explosion the helicopter falls to the water. However, they still hear the sound of the blades turning as if nothing happened. Franklin turns to his right and sees another incoming chopper.
"Shit!" he shouts. He pushes the throttle open fully to dodge the machine guns bullets.
"Woah!" Marcy squeaks out. The force pushes her back, but Keas wraps his arms around her to ensure she stays on the boat. "Trevor, do you have any more rockets?" Marcy yells over to him. The stressed "shit" she hears obviously means "no," so she reaches back into her shouldered purse and grabs her heavy pistol again. Trevor takes his advanced rifle out again and they both begin firing at the helicopter. Trevor is able to take out one of the cops riding in the back, but he also gets hit in the shoulder.
Franklin turns the boat to the left so the helicopter has to change coarse as well and follow behind them. A police boat sees the commotion and takes off from their spot near shore. They catch up enough to be a bit behind the helicopter. "I have rockets!" Franklin yells over all the noise. "Someone take over driving!" Marcy wastes no time. She hands her gun to Keas who then continues on the offensive. She makes it to Franklin unharmed and they expertly switch positions; she remains standing to see further out on the water. He quickly takes out his RPG and Marcy wonders where he kept it at. He tries to take aim, but the choppy water makes it very difficult to stay still.
"Take the fucking shot!" Trevor yells at him. Franklin fires. The pilot tries to move out of the way, but the rocket hits the tail anyway. He loses control of the craft and it starts coming down slowly. Despite desperate attempts to land in the water, the helicopter crashes into the following police speed boat anyway. The collision creates a huge explosion making all the occupants of the white speed boat to be propelled toward the front. Marcy smashes into the steering column, the wheel jabbing her ribs just below her breasts. Her forehead hits the top of the leaning windshield thanks to her standing height. She can feel liquid drip down next to her right eye and can assume it made a cut. Despite her dizziness she continues to navigate the boat away from any more possible pursuers.
After driving at full throttle for a while Marceline sees the San Chianski Mountain Range grow closer on the GPS. No more police were after them now so Marcy slows the boat down until it comes to a stop. She cuts the engine and turns to see how the others are doing. Franklin is on the ground, his RPG nowhere in sight and a hand gripping the passenger seat to keep steady. She looks him over a bit and feels relief to see no signs of blood. Trevor, however, is clutching his left shoulder where blood is still seeping out of the bullet wound, although it doesn't appear to be flowing as bad as it was at first. She also sees blood on his thigh, but she's not sure if he's injured there or if it's just from his shoulder. Finally she turns to her left to take a look at Keas and she can't believe her eyes. He's completely uninjured save for the graze on his right shoulder that he gained prior to rejoining her. It's very rare for him to come out with little to no injuries when they go into a dangerous situation.
Keas spots Marceline's gaze on him and offers her a smile. She smiles in return. "Are you ok, Marcy?" he asks her. Subconsciously her hand comes up and touches the cut on her right temple. The blood has already stopped flowing, but what has already come out still remains on the side of her face.
"I think I'll be ok. I just got a little banged up from the explosion," she responds. A dull but painful ache squeezes at her lower ribs when she talks. She'll have to take a look at that later; she has a more pressing injury to tend to. "I need you to stand for a bit, though, Keas." He does as told and Marcy lifts the seat to get to the storage below. She grabs the first aid kit inside and puts the seat back in place. Franklin and Keas watch her as she makes her way over to Trevor. He doesn't notice her until she takes a seat to his left. He turns to her with a raised brow. "Take off your shirt," she says simply to limit her own pain. Trevor's other eyebrow joins his right one, his hand falling away from his shoulder.
"Look sugar tits, I know you want to thank me for saving your life, but I prefer not having an audience," he responds with a coy smile. Marcy's right eye twitches slightly. Keas stands from his seat, but a raised hand by Marcy makes him reluctantly sit back down with her gun still in his hand. Marcy puts her rights hand on Trevor's shoulder; places her thumb over his wound; and presses into it as hard as she can, her thumb going inside the hole. Trevor yelps in pain and tries to jerk his shoulder away, but her grip is tight with her nails digging into his skin.
"Do not call me 'sugar tits,' do you understand?" she says loudly despite the pain. She lets go of him and he instantly covers his shoulder with his hand again. "I came over to patch you up so you don't bleed all over the boat. Now accept the fucking help and take your damn shirt off." Trevor shoots her a glare, and she happily gives it right back. Electricity seems to fly between the two. Trevor looks away first to look at Franklin for a bit of help. Upon meeting his glare Franklin throws his hands up as a sign that he's staying out of this one. Trevor then looks at Keas. He's leaning forward in his seat with his left elbow resting on his knee. His tomahawk is lying on the seat next to him with his right hand placed loosely on the handle. In his left hand he holds Marcy's pistol between his legs, his twitching trigger finger resting along the side of the gun. Trevor looks back to Marcy, his glare met with a cocky smirk. He lets out a low growl but proceeds to take off his blue shirt. He hisses in pain once he gets to his shoulder.
Gentle hands take the fabric from him and carefully pull it away from the wound before moving the shirt down his arm. Trevor watches Marcy carefully as she does so in case she tries anything funny again. Marcy does no such thing. She slowly and tenderly touches around the wound, taking note of the spots with any discoloration. His face scrunches up a few times but he doesn't make any audible complaints. She checks the back of his shoulder and shakes her head.
"There's no exit wound, so the bullet is definitely still inside. It's appears to be stopping some of the bleeding right now, so I don't want to take it out right here. I'm going to put a temporary bandage around it and rinse it out so it doesn't get infected, and then I would like to remove the bullet once we're at a safer and more stable location," she finally speaks. She opens up the first aid kit and begins pulling a few things out.
"How do you know so much about wounds?" Franklin asks. Marcy simply points across the way at the redhead and continues to gather what she needs. He then turns to him. "Keas?" The redhead looks at Franklin and gives him a sheepish smile.
"I'm shot a lot when working," he says simply. Franklin nods. Yeah, he can see why that would make sense. If he went to the hospital every time he gets injured when doing a job he would get caught a lot easier.
"Thank you for your help back there, Keas. And you too, Marcy. Honestly when I called you I wasn't sure if you really were going to help," Franklin admits. Trevor yelps when Marcy dabs his wound with peroxide. She raises a brow at Franklin who is now off the ground and in the passenger seat.
"Of course we would help. We are people of our word; we never go back on an offer," she responds. She places a patch of gauze over the wound and holds it in place with some medical tape. "There. That should do it for now." Her eyes trail down to the blood stain on his pants. She still isn't sure if he was hit there as well or not. Trevor notices her gaze on his lap and smirks at her.
"If you want to look me over for more wounds I wouldn't mind back at my place, babe. But those two would have to wait outside," he says cockily. Marceline's right eye twitches harder this time. Keas stands from his seat, and this time Marcy doesn't stop him. He stomps over and grips Trevor around the throat. From there he easily lifts the shorter man from his seat just enough that his feet can't touch the ground.
"Don't speak to Marcy with disrespect," he growls out lowly. He drops Trevor back into his seat. "She didn't have to help you. She could have let you deal yourself, but she too nice for that. Be thankful next time." He leans in close, his blue eyes shaking with bloodlust. "Next time you're mean I'll throw you at cops with bombs," he threatens. He nods to Marcy before going back to his seat after she nods back.
Trevor rubs his neck, glaring at the two of them in turn. He knew saying something of the sort would cause another hostile reaction from the couple, but he wanted a better idea of who these two really are. He's come to the vague conclusion that Marcy's looks really distract you from really getting a read on her. She's nice until you call her anything other than Marcy, and she seems to know her way around dangerous situations.
Keas is even harder to read. He knows his way around a gun and has fairly good aim to boot. Not once when going against those police did he miss a shot. He's street smart based on when he suggested using bombs on the police cars to get away, but he seem to have a problem speaking correctly. Although, what stands out the most about Keas is his protectiveness towards Marcy and his imposing figure. On second thought, Trevor finds that Keas may actually be easier to understand despite his intimidating appearance.
Trevor raises his hands in defense to Keas' harsh glare and Franklin's disapproving look. "Alright, fuck. I know when to admit I'm wrong." He holds a hand out to Marcy. "I'm fucking sorry. Thank you for the help," he snaps. It doesn't sound completely sincere to her, but Marceline takes his hand for a handshake anyway.
"Apology accepted," she replies with a smile. She pulls her hand away first. Now, are you injured in your leg or is the blood just from your shoulder? With the amount that's there I can't quite tell." Trevor blinks for a second before looking at his pants and spotting the blood stain on his thigh. He mentally slaps himself. It never occurred to him that she actually was checking him for other injuries when he caught her looking at his lap.
"No, just the shoulder," he responds. God he feels like an idiot.
"Wait a second, why didn't you ask if I was ok?" Franklin speaks up. She looks over sheepishly.
"Well I looked you over and didn't spot any blood so I figured you were ok enough," she replies. He crosses his arms, but he understands where she's coming from. Trevor did have the most crucial injury out of all of them. "Sorry if I made you feel left out."
"Yeah don't worry about it, it's all good," he says dismissively. "I'll get us to shore and find a ride," he states as he moves to the driver's seat.
"My place is the closest from here. We can head there for now," Trevor offers.
"Sounds like we have a plan, let's get going," Marcy replies with a grin. The hot sun shines down of the four as they make their way to Trevor's safe house. With the day only partially done, who can know for sure what will happen next with this strange group?
Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading this. I am having so much fun writing this, and I really hope you have enjoyed it so far as well. Please let me know what you think so far and review. It's what keeps me motivated to work on this, otherwise I get caught up with other things. Thanks again!
-Jen