Argh! I'm so sorry for not updating. Schoolwork just kinda snuck up on me in a dark alley and beat with a metal pipe. It then proceeded to take me to Real Life court and sue me for all I own. But no worries- I have a really good lawyer from the firm of Wit and Sarcasm. Anyway, here ya go-
Illyria: First question is for Jetpack, from emma2679. Where are you from? *leans forward in intense interest*
Jetpack: *clearly uncomfortable* Um... from Club Penguin? There's not really anywhere else to be from...
Illyria: *nodding in an understanding manner* Mm-hm. Fascinating. Next question, same asker: Do you like Jezzie?
Jetpack: *mechanized voice recording* I'm sorry, I cannot comment on any shipping as of this point. Please stand by for any future chapters/sequel fics.
Illyria: *suddenly very angry* Oh yeah, and Herbert? This is for you, from emma2679. *Kicks where no boy wants to be kicked*
Herbert: *rolls around in pain*
Illyria: Send in those questions! Or at least review... otherwise I have no idea if this is being read! For all I know, only emma2979, Honeybee4Eva, and purplee uzumaki are reading this!
Disclaimer: Yada yada yada. You know what I mean.
"What do we do now?" Memory asked her gently. She bit her lip and frowned.
"We go after the map." She decided and got to her feet, shaking the shortened hairs from her face. "Jetpack can handle himself for a little while."
Memory really doubted this to be true, but he followed her dutifully out of the Docks and into the Town, past the huge crowd gathering around the Gift Shop. He nudged her with one elbow. "Hey, isn't that your friend Mandy?"
"Memory, I don't have time for this. If you try to kiss me again…"
"Oh Mod no, I'm just trying to warn you that she's coming this way." Jezzie's head snapped up at this from where she had been studying her feet shuffling through the snow. Indeed, her old friend was rushing towards her, looking worried. She glared at Memory, silently blaming him for all things evil in the world. He smiled down blissfully at her.
"Jezzie! Oh, you poor dear!" Mandy crushed her in a hug. Jezzie was starting to get enough of all the hugging when her friend pushed her away. "What happened to your hair?" Mandy gasped, fingering the wispy blonde feathers escaping from her hat. Jezzie worked up a tolerant smile.
"Why, it caught on fire during a tragic skiing accident." She said, and hobbled off on her crutches. "Now, I'd love to tell you the story, but I really must be going-"
"Jezzie!" Memory shouted suddenly, pointing to the sky. Mandy turned curiously, and when she turned back, Jezzie and her blonde friend were already gone, chasing after a scrap of white cloud, drifting elegantly away.
Thomas stomped his feet to keep warm, waiting to se the brand new play at the stage, and heard the crumple of paper instead of the crunch of fresh snow. He bent over to get a better look, pulling a wet and smeared paper from under his boot. He was just lifting it up to the light when a teenager took him to the ground in a full-on tackle.
"Argh! Give me the Mod asterisking paper!" Memory shouted at the top of his voice before ripping the page from the fist of the poor, innocent civilian that was probably seconds from wetting his pants in fear. Memory got up, popping the front of his shirt to adjust it over his shoulders. "Merci, mon brave homme. Votre aide est appreciated." He said in French*, and enjoyed the confused look on the man's face.
Jezzie finally arrived, and promptly smacked him on the back of the head. "What kind of stunt was that?"
"A manly and impulsive one." Memory said proudly, receiving another slap.
"We don't have time to screw around." Jezzie chided him, and led the race back to the Docks. "We have to finish this!"
Jetpack wiped the sweat from his forehead for the tenth time in what seemed like only a few minutes, but something inside of him told him that it was closer to fifteen. Gently he eased Rookie out from his metal prison, and bit his lip when Rookie cried out in his sleep. He had been going like this, inch by inch until his teammate was spread out on his stomach, his legs free of anything sharp. But still that asterisk pipe! From his spot behind the ruined door Jetpack still couldn't get to it. It pinned Rookie to the floor, and Jetpack couldn't find a way to remove it.
He had never felt so useless.
Even when he was a child, holding G's hand and waiting by the door for his parents to return, he still felt that by simply believing he could make them come home. He touched his phone and commanded his wooden arms to keep still, while every sensible bone in his body screamed for him to call Jezzie and ask for her help. She was better at this than he was. She was the agent that dealt with the broken survivors. He was the man they sent to clean up the mess.
His fingers opened his phone. Just one quick call… through tapped lines… he groaned and shut it.
"Justin?"
He opened his eyes.
Jezzie, even weeks afterward, would never be able to describe how Jetpack looked when she spoke his name. His hard shield of nonchalance with cracked and worn, his eyes empty holes drilled through the mask of his face. His fingers hung limp and bleeding from where he had cut himself, trying to free Rookie.
The agent that held all of her attention, however, was Rookie. He looked so much smaller without his hat and glasses, almost like a normal kid. She noticed with grotesque shock that a pipe that dropped from the front of the door bent and snaked its way inside until colliding with Rookie's arm.
Memory, who had been scouting around to see if he could get behind the building, came back, huffing and puffing. "It's impossible. There's no other…" he stopped in his tracks and his jaw went slack at Rookie's prone position and his wound. He then proceeded to cross himself and chant something under his breath. Jezzie's French was horribly nonexistent, so she had no idea why the sentence "Notre animateur, en ligne d'art qui, soit sanctifé qu'ils, adresse IP." Was so important.
She moved forward until she and Jetpack were only separated by a few feet of twisted metal and rubble. She swallowed her heart, which had steadily worker its way up her chest and silently asked the question whose answer she was dreading.
Jetpack understood and said quietly, "He's alive."
Jezzie breathed a sigh of relief. Then she got down to business. She took out her phone and hit the hidden trigger, releasing a small wrench made of super-durable black steel. She undid a few bolts and gripped the top of the loosened pipe.
"Count of three." She grunted, and counted. On three, she pulled up, and with a yell and a terrible sucking sound, Rookie's arm came free.
Almost instantly, Jetpack was up and running with the boy in his arms. Jezzie craned her head back to try and look after him, but soon he was lost as he went up the stairs.
Memory touched her elbow lightly, making her jump. "He's going to be okay."
Jezzie's brown eyes misted over. "I hope so."
Memory shifted uncomfortably for a few moments before coughing and reminding her, "We still have no way through."
"Yes we do." Jezzie rolled her eyes and pocked at the huge pile of metal with one crutch. The harder she pushed it, the more it moved. Soon Memory had caught on and was helping her scrape and move the metalwork of the door aside. Even with the two of them, it only opened up a space as wide as a foot. Setting a grim face, Jezzie let it bite and tear at her clothes while Memory mutter something under his breath, probably mourning the loss of his blue team shirt.
Inside, glass crunch under their feet as they made their way to the vault.
"Not to be… how you say… pessimistic." Memory said when they entered the swaying and crunched circle that was noticeably lacking a door. "But how are you planning on getting through the vault… oh." He scratched his head self-consciously when he saw that the rough sides of the cave hadn't been large enough to save the vault walls. The back of the vault had a large hole ripped from it, looking like a much larger roll of tinfoil.
They ducked into it, and found a small, almost ceiling-height tunnel, like a subterranean hallway. At the end there was a very bright light, and the clicking and beeping of electronics. There was a crash and someone cursed, yelling nonsense about wrenches and useless people.
Jezzie peeked at Memory, looking so stoic that if he died his hair, grew a few inches, worked out, and got a nose job he could have passed for Jetpack's twin. She took a deep breath and hobbled forward. Memory came behind her, his feet shuffling.
The light broke over her, revealing the inside of the cavernous room, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered away at her rib cage. Beside her now, Memory muttered "Asterisk."
She couldn't help but agree.
Bad news: I probably won't be updating until after the holidays. Good news: During that time I will be working on a super-mega holiday stand-alone special, titled "Happy Holidays, PSA!" taking place not right now or soon afterwards in the story. Look for it around Christmas... or New Years, considering my inability to update on a set date :)