As Casey had told me earlier, it had started to snow only a few minutes after that old van passed by the Jones' house. I was aware of what snow was, but I can't recall the last time I had seen it. So watching those tiny flakes gently float to the ground felt like a whole new experience to me.

"Mr. Jones…" I said quietly as he rummaged through the closet near the front door. He didn't listen.

"You'll need some gloves Baby girl." He said to Angel as he pulled out a pair of matching pink gloves.

"Okay!' she smiled, wiggling them onto her little fingers.

"You too Casey." His Father ordered.

"I don't need any." His son insisted. "Not even the cold can stop, Casey Jones!"

"You say that now but the next thing you know you'll be smack dead against the concrete from frost bite." Mr. Jones huffed, passing him some black gloves. "Just wear theme."
With a huff, Casey placed them on. "Fine."

"Mr. Jones." I tried again, a little louder this time. "Really… this isn't necessary."

"I think it is." He pulled out a heavy coat, looking satisfied.

I need to learn to have more authority over my words, or else things like this happen.

"You guys really don't have to come with me." I insisted as the Jones family pushed their way out the door.

"Like we are just going to send you off on your own." Mr. Jones said, buttoning up Angel's coat. "There is no way we are letting you go off by yourself. So there is no point in trying to argue."

"But… I mean, you… you really wanna bring Angel?" I asked; trying to find any reason I could to convince these stubborn three not to come.

"She wants to see the exhibit." Casey answered simply. "Besides, it is a flippin' Sponge Exhibit. I mean, that has to be the least threatening place in the whole world!"

While I would normally agree, I also have to think back to the fact that the Game Master set this whole thing up. If he wants me there… well, I doubt that this Sponge Museum will be exactly what I expect.

"Sponges!" Angel cheered.

"But…" I frowned.

"Phillis." Mr. Jones gave me a heavy stare. "We are coming, whether you agree or not."

"I… You…" I sighed in defeat. Honestly, this family; they were all too stubborn, all of them! "If you all really insist. But Casey, why are you bringing your Hockey stick?" I questioned, pointing the one that he had strapped to his back.
"I never leave home without this." he beamed. "Better to be safe than sorry."

"I don't think they will let you go into the exhibit with that though." I frowned.
"Don't you worry Phillis, I got this covered." He grinned.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want them coming. By those looks though I could tell there was no way I was going to convince them against this.

I suppose… there was no harm in bringing them, right? It was a museum after all. What could go wrong in a peaceful place like that?

…Right?
Plus, Mr. Jones looked big and strong and Casey proved he could defend himself. My concern was with Angel. What if something tried to attack her too?! She wouldn't be able to defend herself.

…If she got hurt I…. If any of them got hurt because of me, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself.

Oh the frustration.

"Here Phillis." Mr. Jones moves towards me, placing a fluffy hat on my head. "The snow is supposed to get heavier here soon, so we gotta make sure you are bundled up." He smiled kindly.

"Oh, thank you." I adjusted the hat.

"And a scarf!" Angel handed it up to me. Placing it around my neck, I smiled and patted her head.

"Thank you."

She giggled, skipping out onto the sidewalk. "Lets go!" she cheered.

I'm still thinking this isn't a very good idea, but what else could I do? I didn't want to take the Jones' with me, but I also didn't want to go alone. Was this selfish of me that I was allowing them to come with me on a trip that might be super dangerous?

I don't know.

I don't want to know.

"JD, come on!" Casey yanked on my arm. It was too late to turn back now.

Sponge Museum… Here we come.

I hope this is worth it.

0000

When we arrived at the museum, which surprisingly had a lot of visitors for being something about sponges, Mr. Jones had to do some real smooth talk with one of the security guards to let Casey bring his hockey stick in.

Besides that, it wasn't too hard getting into the place. It was a regular museum, but I suppose it was just rented out for the next couple days to show off the Sponges.

I mean, seriously, this place was practically packed. And for what, some sponges? It was weird, but hey, I have no room to judge what things people are into.

"Ugh, this place is so lame." Casey grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"I like it." Angel beamed.

"Of course you would." He sighed. Smiling back at him, I grabbed a pamphlet and skimmed over it, scanning the words for any clues or hidden messages from the Game master. There wasn't really anything to go off of sadly.

"The Princess sponge." I read as we came to the first sponge of the exhibit.

"It's gotta crown!" Angel clapped.

"It's kind of creepy if you ask me." Casey Jones. "What kind of guy just collects sponges for a living?"

I looked back to my trust pamphlet. "Well it says here that the owner has collected sponges for years from all sorts of famous artists."
"...What famous artist has ever made a sponge? It is a Sponge!" Casey questioned.

"Well… it's cute at least." I shrugged.

"Let me repeat; It is a Sponge." He wiggled his fingers in frustration, "Besides, how is a stupid sponge suppose to help you?"
I frowned, looking to my feet. "...I guess you are right." For all I know, this place could have nothing to do with me and the Game Master is just messing with me. Since I was in a museum on Sponges… it was very likely.

Behind me, I didn't notice Mr. Jones give his son a light hit on the head, nudging him to be quiet. Casey flinched, looking sheepish.

"Let's keep looking!" Angel grinned, grabbing my arm and tugging me to the next Sponge. Stumbling in front of it, I barely had time to look up at it before my phone vibrated.

Be Spam. Be Spam. Be Spam.

Pulling it out of my pocket, I frowned. It wasn't Spam.

"You gotta another one?" Casey squished his face over my shoulder to squint at the phone. "...Open it."

"...I don't really want to." I sighed, but flipped it open anyway.

"Well done! You have figured out my riddle, good for you." The text said. Well, at least I knew I was in the right area. Not sure if I should feel accomplished with that or not.

Lovely shirt by the way." The next text said in a sickening sweet kind of way.

Feeling my stomach drop into my feet, I scanned the area. "Can he see me?" I gasped.

"What?" Casey growled, bending his knees to leap into action. "You mean that creep is actually here?"

Together with the Jones', I looked over the whole room and up to the second floor above. I started to realize however is that I can look all I want, but I don't know what the Game Master looks like. I've never even heard his voice.

Pressing reply, I typed, "I followed your riddle, now what?"

"All in good time my dear. Simple enjoy the exhibit… for now."

"For now." I repeated coldly. "Yeah, I'll do that." I said sarcastically. How exactly was I suppose to enjoy anything at this point?

"The creep." Casey growled. "If that guy even shows his face I'm gonna-"

Mr. Jones silenced his Son by ruffling his hair. "Come on kids, Phillis." He motioned us forward. "We are holding up the line."
"But Dad-" Casey frowned.
"As he said, we gotta enjoy the Exhibit. I'm sure we could stand here all day but get nowhere." Mr. Jones said. "We gotta take a look around." He frowned. "Something about this place don't feel right."

"Agreed." I nodded. Shuffling forward, we all blended into the crowd to get a look around. Following the flow of the people, we passed by many Sponges. After a while, I began to actually read the signs posted along with them.

Might as well try to learn something while I am here.

"The Frog Sponge." I read. "Made back in 2002, this Sponge has been to France, London, and even areas in Russia."

"Awesome." Casey sighed.

"Froggy." Angel clapped. "I wanna name it Jeff."

"Why?" Casey grumbled.

"The Lion Sponge." Mr. Jones said as we continued down the row. "This Sponge was made in Australia and has travelled across the world since 2000."

"…Fascinating." I nodded.

"Truly." Mr. Jones agreed.

"Bob the Sponge." Angel read with a gleeful smile. "Made in 1991 this little Sponge has won the hearts of millions across the country."

"…Bob the Sponge." Casey repeated. The Sponge was square shaped, yellow, and it kind of looked like it had pants on, but I was probably imagining.

"….Sponge Bob Square pants." Angel whispered in amazement.

"…I don't get it." I admitted quietly.

"Oh my god." Casey ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Can we just go home~?"
"No." Angel pulled on his sleeve.

Growling in frustration, Casey yanked his hand away. "This is stupid!" He yelled. "Why don't we just find this guy and beat the information out of him. Handle it Casey Jones style and all that! I can't stand being in this stupid exhibit any longer."

Reaching forward, Mr. Jones slapped his hand against his son's shoulder and yanked him back. "Making a scene won't help son." he said calmly. "I get how you feel though." he patted his back.

"He is right." I agreed softly. "And even if we did that…. we don't know what he looks like. We can't find him even if we tried."

"You can call him." Casey says. "We'll just listen for which ever phone rings."

I frowned. "I would agree… but I can't call anyone with this phone." I had discovered it a little while ago while I was messing with the phone. I can receive and send out texts, but I cannot send out calls. I'm not even sure if I can receive calls.

Whatever, it doesn't matter.

Continuing through the sea of people we came across many sponges. Most of them took the shape of animals or people, but none of them felt any sort of familiarity to me.
What exactly was the Game Master's Plan here? Tell poor Phillis to go around a silly Sponge Museum and see if she is actually stupid enough to do it? Is that it?

Cause I'm feeling like that is it right now.

"Yay, more sponges." Casey trudged forward. "I'm excited."

Obviously." I agreed. Casey frowned at me.

"The Turtle Sponge." He read half heartedly, turning his head back around. "Yay, another animal." Casey faked a cheer.

"It was made back in 2000. That makes it 15 years old." Angel said, sounding very proud of her math skills.

"Good job Baby girl." Mr. Jones patted her head with a proud smile. I chuckled at the two.

"It's younger than me." Casey mumbled.

"It's cute." Angel beamed. We stared at it for a few minutes before the Jones' began to shuffle right along the line. I wanted to join them but… something seemed to glue my feet to the floor. I just shouldn't pull my eyes away from this sponge. Was that weird?

It was as if this little sponge was trying to tell me something. Something really important that I can't seem to remember.

A passing guest hit my shoulder, almost tripping when I felt at hard as a rock upon contact. Seriously, I was not moving from this place.

"Phillis?" Mr. Jones was suddenly at my side, his hand on my shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" I pointed dumbly to the sponge. "The sponge."
"Yeah, it's a sponge, what about it?" Casey huffed. I shook my head a few times, shrugging my shoulders.

"I dunno it is just… familiar to me." I mumbled. Mr. Jones' eyes widened.

"Really?" he moved to stare at it with me. "How so?"

"I don't know." I sighed, rubbing my temple. My brain felt so fried… and my heart ached. It was painful. The longer I stared at this little turtle sponge the more I longed for something that I wasn't even sure how to describe.

Did this remind me of a person or an event in my life perhaps?

Maybe.

It feels almost painful to think about.

Oh gosh… I feel dizzy.

I stumbled, fumbling to regain control over my feet before I hit the floor.

A few light gasps and panic calls from the Jones' echoed in my ears, but the ringing I heard quickly drowned them out.

...Ringing?

What was this? What was this horrible ringing sound? Was I hearing things? Ugh, it is so loud! It was like… the sound of a bell. A really large bell, like one you would hear at Churches.

The sudden and unexpected pain that erupted in my skull felt unbearable. As if someone decided to swing against it like a pinhata!

"Phillis…. phillis!" Mr. Jones was at my side and yelling at me. Casey was doing the same, pulling on my arm, trying to figure out what was going on.

Oh jeez, stop yelling at me, that just hurts my head. Stop…

"Philly!" Angel was practically in my lap, pulling on my shirt, looking like she was ready to cry.

I blinked wildly at her, struggling to place my surroundings. "W-What?" I stammered. "…Oh Angel." I patted her back. "I'm sorry…" I hadn't meant to scare her.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Jones asked, steadying me.

"I'm… I'm okay." I nodded. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry about that."

Mr. Jones shook his head. "Here, let me help you up." Taking his hand, he pulled me too my feet. Stumbling a bit, I leaned into him. "Here sit here." Mr. Jones led me to a chair and helped me sit down. "Casey here-" his father handed him a few bucks. "Go get something for Phillis to drink."

"Leave this to Casey Jones." Casey nodded, running off.

"Phillis." Mr. Jones' was leaning towards me, but I could barely ear his voice. "What just happened?"

"I…" I subconsciously patted Angel's back as I spoke. "I don't know. I just… felt all this pain suddenly."

"Pain?"
"In my head." I nodded. "And the bells. I heard these bells in my head. They were so loud." I closed my eyes for a moment. A strong, sold hand was placed on my shoulder. Lifting my head, I frowned at Mr. Jones.

"It is okay." He assured me. "We'll figure this out."

I wanted to believe him.

A little while later Casey came running back with a few different kinds of drinks in his hand. "I didn't know what you'd like JD." He admitted, placing a few next to me. "So I got a few different kinds. We got um- Tea, Pop, juice-"

"I'll take the Tea." I felt myself say. Something about drinking tea right now sounded so comforting. Grabbing it, I chugged down a good half of it before I felt ready to keep talking.

"…Mind explaining what that was?" Casey tapped his foot.

"I don't know." I repeated my answer to Mr. Jones.
"Maybe you was 'membering something." Angel suggested softly, resting her head on my knee, staring up at me with wide brown eyes.

"I don't think so…" I touched my temple gingerly. "I didn't really see anything, I just heard this horrible bell."

"Like a doorbell?' Casey frowned. "That doesn't really make sense."

"I agree with you on that, but no, it wasn't a doorbell. More like a church bell or something. The sound was really round, so it had to be something big that made it." I mumbled.

"Doesn't really help solve any questions." Mr. Jones rubbed his chin. "But perhaps it does mean something from your past. Maybe the last thing you heard before you lost your memories was a bell?"

"That would make sense." I looked at him. "I mean, it's better than anything I'm coming up with."

"Hey! Hey JD." Casey hit my shoulder, hissing into my ear. Blinking rapidly, not in the mood for games, though I was technically playing a game right now, I looked at him.

"What?" I frowned.
"Look over there." he motioned across the room towards the large rounded doors, where 3 men wearing dark attire entered. They were big, buff, and covered in tattoos.

The Steroid men from the night before!

"Oh my gosh." I gasped, grabbing Casey's arm and yanking him behind one of the panels sticking out from the wall. There could only be one reason they were here and them spotting Casey and me meant bad news.
Why were they here? Was this part of the Game Master's scheme as well?!

"Who are they?" Mr. Jones narrowed his eyes.

"Those are the creeps from before Pop." Casey announced, peeking out from the panel.

"Oh they are, are they?" his voice sounded livid and he cracked his knuckles. Suddenly, it was as if I was looking at an older version of Casey. "I'll teach them to mess with my Boy."

"Wha-" my eyes doubled in size. "I-I don't think that is a good idea." I stammered quickly.

Mr. Jones raised his eyebrow at me. "Why is that?"

"Well I mean… you'll cause a scene." I said, hoping to remind him of what he had told Casey a few minutes ago.

"This is a scene worth causing." he sniffed.

"Yeah, go beat 'em up Pop!" Casey whooped, looking excited that his Dad was trying to pick a fight.

"Beat 'em up!" Angel echoed.

"No." I said desperately, but it was too late. The beast had been unleashed and Mr. Jones was already halfway across the room.
"Oh this is gonna be good." Casey ran after him.

"Casey!" I tried to grab his arm and pull him back, but he was too quick. In a flash he was close to his Father's side, popping his own knuckles.

"Fight! Fight!" Angel chanted.

"Angel please." I shushed her, not wanting her to be influenced by such behavior.

…Though she was a Jones herself and lived with those two, so it was probably already too late to avoid that.

Someone screamed.

Panic filling my veins, I felt a small sense of relief, yet utter shock to find the first thing Mr. Jones has done when he got within a good couple inches of the men was sock on right in the jaw.

People began to scream and back away as a fight broke out amongst Mr. Jones and the three men. It only made it worse when the three men pulled out their own personal knives.

Screaming in terror the crowds rushed for the door, desperately hoping to escape the museum.

"Casey!' I called to him as the crowds began to tug Angel and him away. Pushed and pulled in the massive sea of people, I stumbled into one of the exhibits, tripping over it.

Whoops.

"Sorry." I ended up apologizing to the sponge, quick to place it back where it was. Satisfied that it looked as close as it could from before I ran into it, I leapt out of the exhibit and back towards the fight. Most of the crowds had dispatched by now which made it ten times easier to get back to my friends.

From what I could see, Mr. Jones was caught in a fist to fist battle with the biggest of the goons. I admit I was kind of amazed at the punches Mr. Jones was throwing out. Even from here, I could hear the bone cracking under Mr. Jones fist as he connected it to the man's nose and lower jaw.

Ooh.

Just watching the man's jaw cracking out of place I could feel the pain. Younger children please avert your eyes, good golly.

The doors on the other end of the room flew open and the sound of rushing feet echoed through the room. Around 3 more men dressed in fine uniforms quickly charged the place. The museum security guards!

At least, that is what I thought they were. It wasn't till they charged at me, dark looks in their eyes that I realized this might not be a good thing. I had tried to talk with them too, to explain that I wasn't the one causing the commotion, but they didn't believe me.

They didn't even reply.

And then I saw it. The small tattoos sticking out from under the dress shirt collars. These men weren't security guards at all. They were just more of the Game Master's henchmen.

They charged at me, their arms held out wide, as if they were trying to corner me. Unfair.

I mean, how is a three on one fair in these people's eyes? I dunno.

All I do know is that I felt this massive wave of adrenaline pump through me. It was… odd.

At first I was just starting to back away and avoid being grabbed by one of them, then they pulled out a knife and the whole game changed.

The warning of death that emanated off the blade's surface made my blood run cold. They were trying to cut me, to hurt me. They wanted to kill me.

I turned and ran, ducking through exhibits and trashcans in a desperate attempt to avoid the death in their eyes. Their pounding feet followed after me, just as determined as the men from the night before.

Turning around the corner, I shrieked to find one had gone around the back way, waiting for me. Lunging outward, he thrusted his arm towards me. In a last desperate attempt to avoid him I twisted to the left.

Feeling the blade slicing into my shirt, I stumbled back falling straight onto my back. In a dumbfounded shock, I pressed my palm to the side of my abdomen. Blood pooled from the cut like a wave, seeping through the shirt, staining it in crimson red. It wasn't too deep of a cut luckily, but man did it sting.

"HEY!" an enraged scream echoed behind me. Whipping around, I yelped when something shot past my head into the chest of the goon.

Grunting at the impact, the man stumbled backwards.

Not even sure what just happened, I looked over my shoulder to find Casey. He hands were held high over his head, his hockey stick in his grip. I was wondering why he insisted on bringing that with him. Now I think I know.

"Pick on someone your own size!" he screamed, slamming a few cans and other object he could find at the men using his hockey stick.

"Go Brother!" Angel cheered behind him. "Beat 'em up!"

I couldn't help but stare at these kids as they let out their battle cries and throws/hit who knows what at the Game Master's henchmen.

Note to self.

Don't mess with the Jones'.

I can't believe I finally updated 0.0 I am shocked in myself.

Well, I'm glad I finally got around to it.

And I always enjoy writing about Casey and his Dad beating up bad guys together XD and Angel just being their little cheer leader.