Hehe, when I said Saturday/Sunday, I meant whenever I was bored and had a lot of time on my hands. So... happy psuedo-Saturday :)
Illyria: Okay, question time. The first new question is for Klutzy. Ready?
Klutzy: *clicks her teeth and snaps her fingers*
Illyria: Great. Now, Purplee Uzumaki wants to know your age.
Klutzy: *clicks and snaps*
Illyria: ... I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.
Herbert: *sigh* You idiot. She said that she's about ten years old.
Illyria: *Grumbles about Herbert's lack of respect* Anyway, the next one is for Jezzie. Honeybee4Eva wants to know how you survived after your parents died. Did someone care for you?
Jezzie: Yeah, I lived with my grandmother for a little while, until I was about thirteen. Then I went to go live on my own.
Illyria: Why?
Jezzie: I dunno. I guess I just didn't like following all of her rules, you know? But it's no big deal. Thirteen is legal caring-for-yourself-age on the island.
Illyria: Fascinating. And for the favorite characters poll, the winners are Jezzie (3 votes) Jetpack (2 votes) and Rookie and Robinson tied (1 vote. Really surprised that someone voted for Robinson.)
Robinson: Hey!
Illyria: Shut up and do the disclaimer.
Robinson: *sighs* Illyria Lives does not own Club Penguin.
Memory was one foot out the door, one foot in, when Jetpack Guy rushed past, successfully knocking him to the ground. The door closed on his ankle for a moment before opening automatically. He cussed colorfully in French, and instead of ignoring it, like he thought he would, Jetpack turned on him, easily lifting him up. Memory's heart lodged in his throat and he desperately wished that his iPod had been playing. Anything to distract him from the wild look in Justin's green eyes. Another shocker to add to the growing list- he had willingly removed his sunglasses.
"Where is he?" Justin demanded. His normally low voice was shot a degree lower with a hard rasp on the throat that with anyone else would have gone with tears. But the Jetpack wasn't one for tears.
"Who?" Memory asked in a shaking little voice, afraid of being pummeled. His ankle was throbbing away to the beat of his heart, a beat that intensified as Justin brought him closer to his face.
"G. Robinson. Anyone." Jetpack growled. "I need to talk to someone."
Memory flew back to the early days of his time at the Academy; to a class he assumed was How to Resist Interrogation. He never really was sure, because the instructor refused to talk at a low volume and had an accent almost as thick as his own. So he worked on his calming down possible psychopath charm.
"Talk to me." He said. "You are not in your right mind, my friend. Please consider-"
"I'm down backing down! I don't care if I'm in my right mind, I need answers!" Jetpack shook him a little and shouted in his face. A rookie girl squealed a little as she ran away.
Memory held up his hands. "Jetpack, listen to yourself. No matter what you hear when you are like this, it will come out as a threat, or a lie, or whatever. The whole island is in terror. Your partner has been removed from active duty. You can cross your angst-bridge when you come to it. But for right now, there are more important things to work on."
"He's right." Jetpack jumped, and Memory flinched to see Jezzie standing off to one side, bent over her crutches. "We still need to save Rookie, stop Herbert. I might not be a PSA agent right now, but I'll be asterisked if I stand by and watch."
Jetpack let Memory slip form his fingers and easily took his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on his nose. Memory dusted himself off. "So, I guess that we are going under the radar. What is our plan of attack?"
Jetpack took a calming breath. "We need to canvas the tunnels. Memory, do you think you can-"
"Already done." He said quickly, only to backtrack. "What tunnels?"
Jetpack ignored him. "I'll see to the damage to the Gift Shop, maybe get inside and try and get Rookie. Jezzie, show Memory the tunnels. And," he looked around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping, "We can't get help from anyone PSA. That means Aunt Arctic, Rory, G, and anyone who knows that we're not supposed to be out. Got it?"
Jezzie and Memory nodded, happy to have their fearless leader back. Jetpack sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Than let's go."
Jetpack was berating himself the entire walk to the town. Alert and aloof, his father always said. Not explode and go on a killing spree with your temper. There was caution tape around the sunken Gift Shop, and a crowd of fearful watchers. Rory was off to one side with a camera crew, waving his arms and explaining in his Brooklyn accent about how unstable the building was, and about how there was no way of knowing if there was any survivors.
Jetpack scoffed to himself.
He sidled along one edge of the crowd, trying to find a gap that had at least a little cover from the cameras or people watching. His chance came near one of the side windows that were covered with a curtain. He bent his head to hide it and easily flipped forward, diving into it and hitting the hardwood floor inside a little harder than he had originally intended. Once he had his breath back, he looked up and around. Things had been shaken from the shelves and the couch had lost a few cushions. A computer in one corner was surprisingly intact. A door leading down had been opened. On silent feet, Jetpack Guy headed down to see if his Rookie was still alive.
The downstairs was a huge disaster, much worse than the upstairs. Pieces of the flooring had been uplifted by the uneven subterranean floor. Nothing was left on any of the walls, all scattered about.
The first body Jetpack came to was Rookie's young girlfriend. He put two fingers to her neck and concluded that she was alive, if only just. Her arms and legs were bent at unnatural angles and red had been combed into her hair. Moving her could be hazardous if she had any spinal fractures, like Jezzie, so with a heavy heart he moved on.
The door to the Gift Shop was a normal sized door, with small pieces of glass ensnared around metal decorations. The glass had been pounded out and the metalwork was twisted. Beyond the gap of the door there was nothing but darkness and a metal tube.
Rookie lay tangled in the middle of it.
Jetpack scrambled over and kneeled down, ignoring the screams of protest from his lacerated limbs. He moved his hands silently over Rookie's body, trying to find a way to help.
There was none.
There was a gash on his forehead, encrusted by blood. His right arm was broken and seemed to be pierced by the metal tube. His legs were trapped under the bent and broken metal.
Jetpack could see that he had tufty brown hair, and was surprised that it was free of blood. As Jetpack struggled with his mind to figure out what to do, Rookie's blue eyes opened.
"Jetpack… sir." His fingers twitched a bit, as if aching to salute. "It… worked."
"What worked?" Jetpack asked gently, just as Rookie's eyes were closing.
The young boy's lips smiled. "She said yes. We're going to go get some pizza… on Friday… isn't that great?"
Jetpack felt his eyes prick tears. But he would not cry. He refused to cry over this young boy. If anything, Rookie deserved to die with the false surety of Jetpack's wooden smile as he said "That's great, Rookie. That's… perfect."
He bent his head and took out his phone. All of the PSA lines were tapped and listened too by HQ, so he couldn't tell Jezzie his situation. All he could do was call her and hang up after she had answered. She knew that it was him, and she knew that things were bad.
When were they not?
Jezzie clicked the phone shut with a deep sense of failure. If Jetpack had nothing good to say, he wouldn't say anything at all.
The silence afterwards was deafening.
"Well?" Finally Memory spoke up, his accented thickened by fear. Jezzie had no answer other than to continue forward into the darkness. Memory swallowed his heart and walked forward, counting steps and watching his compass. They had a rudimentary map plotted out on a sheaf of paper and were almost done, going on what appeared to be the final turnaround, coming out into the original cavern.
"So," Jezzie said, pointing at the map. "Judging by the tunnel's placement, they all… go nowhere. And make no sense." She sighed and closed her eyes.
"Tell me again," Memory prompted gently, "What exactly Herbert said."
"He said something about the PSA not being trustworthy, about Jetpack's parents, and about how… he needed to divert us." Her eyes lit up. "That's it! These tunnels—they're just supposed to distract us." She began following the tangles paths with her eyes. "But from what?"
"What." Memory sighed, throwing his arms in the air. "Who, when, how, why. We don't know anything!"
"We know Who." Jezzie said calmly, still thinking. "We know How, What, and When. All that leaves is Why and… Where." She perked up suddenly as a light bulb exploded in her brain. "Memory, did any other buildings fall? Just the Gift Shop?"
He nodded slowly, not understanding.
"Was there anything wrong with the Gift Shop foundations? Was it just built differently?"
"Everything in the Town was built the exact same way at the exact same time. J, where are you going with this?"
"Quiet. I'm thinking that the Gift Shop fell for a reason… maybe blocking something off." She pointed to a black space in the center of their map. "Did we get there?"
"No." Memory shook his head. "The tunnel leading down there looked too unstable."
"Well, judging by the map and the Club Penguin Map… they correspond. That space is where the Gift Shop is." She handed the map to Memory. "We have to tell Jetpack."
He nodded and was about to answer when a hard gust of wind hit them. Jezzie, unstable on her crutches fell over, crushing him. His hands went up to protect his face, and he released the crumble map into the air. It was swept away, towards the Town.
Jezzie glared in that direction from her spot on the ground. "Oh, now you're just being difficult."
Yes, I am indeed difficult :) Again, I will update whenever I have a lot of time on my hands. So anytime between now and Sunday, basically.
*runs off to go eat deep-fried turkey*