Things take a turn...For The Worst.

It was a normal day at Foster's. Mac had come over to visit Bloo as per the norm. His crush on Frankie was still active, but today, he would be shot down. When Bloo was off playing video games with Wilt, he went to talk to Frankie.

"So," said a passing imaginary friend. He was tall and lanky, with green fur and a red top hat, "did you hear about about Frankie and Bob?" Mac stopped dead, following them,

"Yeah," said his companion. He was short, with puffy blue hair, and a single eye, walking on impossibly skinny black legs, "I saw her kissing his cheek with my own eye. You shoulda seen him blush; I thought he'd turn tomato." Mac spoke up,

"Please tell me you're kidding." said Mac, doing everything not to cry.

"No," said the blue bush, "I don't know how to lie." Just then, he heard more footsteps, and a voice: Frankie! Mac jumped into a closet, as Frankie talked into her cell phone,

"Yeah," she said, giggling, "I kissed him on the cheek. He blushed so hard, it was adorable. I wish you could have seen it." Well, no more evidence was needed. It was clear as day, straight from the very lips that kissed Bob, Frankie had found someone, and would never date Mac. Devastated and soul crushed, Mac ran out of Foster's, and didn't stop until he was back home. When he arrived, he shut the door to his room, and locked it behind him. He began to write an angry letter to Bob, when suddenly, the door swung open. There stood the last person he wanted to see right now: Terrence.

"What's up, baby bro," there was mischief in his voice, and a smirk on his face,

"The door was locked for a reason," said Mac, flatly, "what more do I need to do? Post a sign saying keep out, big stupid brother?" A very poor choice of words for Mac. Terrence stomped over to his desk,

"Whatcha writin' there?" he asked, and shoved Mac away, picking up the letter,

"Dear Bob,

How could you steal Frankie from me?" Terrence continued reading, in a mock sadness voice.

"Put that down!" Demanded Mac, but Terrence was enjoying this too much to obey. He pushed Mac away with his foot, and kept reading. When all of a sudden, a shrill voice sounded,

"TERRENCE, YOU GO TO YOUR ROOM, AND FORGET ABOUT DINNER!" Terrence put the letter down, walked away, grumbling as he went. Mac's mom focused on her younger son.

"Come with me," she said, and Mac followed her. They sat down on her bed,

"What was that about." Mac told her about what happened at foster's that day, and how he was writing that angry letter to mellow out.

"Honey," said his mother, "don't look at it that way. Instead of being upset that Frankie is with someone that isn't you, be happy. Be happy that Frankie found her special someone, and that she herself is happy." Mac hadn't looked at it that way. IT wasn't going to be easy, but Mac knew he had to let Frankie be happy, and find someone else.

But before he could thank his mother, there was the deafening sound of wood and metal giving way, and landing in pieces on the floor. There was the clatter of multiple footsteps, and then Terrance's voice yelling, "What the heck?!"

Men in charcoal gray suits stormed in, one of which dragged in Terrence, with a twelve caliber pistol to his head, as he sobbed and begged to be spared. Mac's mother gasped.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, "what do you want? Money? Our TV? You can take what you want, just please don't kill us."

"Get over here," said one of them meanly, grabbed his mother and holding her against him, drawing a similar pistol and pointing it at her head.

Mac was getting ready to panic. He'd never been in this situation before. Another man came in, but he stood out like a sore thumb. He was tall, with broad shoulders, ebony hair on his head and face, and wore an ivory suit. He took a drag from a massive cigar, and puffed out a cloud of smoke like he was a dragon, even though it was a no smoking room. He then flicked the cigar all the way across the room and it landed in the trash can against the wall.

If he could flick a cigar that big across the room, with just his index finger in such a calm mood, Mac hated to think what he could do if he was angry. He looked around the room, "It's nice," he said, his voice clear, deep, and loud, and he was serenaded with a chorus of agreements from his men.

"Real nice," "Not too shabby," "I'd not mind living here." The man then stared down at Mac. His shades hid his eyes, but Mac wouldn't be surprised if there was ice in the stare. "I don't think the janitor would like cleaning blood today."

"He'd hate it," "Ruin his day," "What a rotten job for him."

"So," said the mob boss, "don't give him that job, young man. If you tell us where the one you know as Bob is, we'll leave, with no harm done to you or your family. I think you'd hate it too, if these nice carpets were covered in blood."

"You'd be none too happy," "A regular grump," "What a rain on your parade."

"I warn you," said the man, "my men have itchy trigger fingers, so don't take too long to give me what I need."

"Real itchy," "Might need lotion," "Too dry." Mac didn't like what he was about to do, but didn't want to see either his mom or brother die, even if Terrence was a major pain the butt.

"He lives and works at Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends."

"Thank you, young man." Said the man, "you've done me a big favor."

"Real big," "Ginormous," "Monumental."

"Come," said the boss to his men, "he lived up to his end of the deal, let's live up to ours." The men released their hostages and cleared out.

…

On the limo drive back to the hideout, the man pulled a titanium cell phone from his expensive suit pocket.

"Big J," he said into it, "how are you?"

"Good," said the voice on the other end,

"Splendid," said the boss, "listen, I have a favor."

"What shall it be?" asked the voice,

"Go to a place called Foster's home for imaginary friends. Find Bob, and if he's not there, make an offer they can't refuse, so they MUST send him to us."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Get to it." He hung up.

The next day at Foster's...

All was well at Foster's, when suddenly, the door flew across the foyer with the thunderous sound of wood smashed by a being of astronomical strength. He was tall, very muscular, and orange fur.

"Here's Joey," He said, and commenced terrorizing the house.

"I'm sorry," said Wilt, addressing him, "but that is definitely not okay." Joe found this annoying, grabbing Wilt by the neck,

"Shut it, Pencil Neck." He yelled, and threw him to the floor, leaving him gasping for air. Enraged, Eduardo sprinted towards him, head down and horns in a lethal position. Lethal, that is, to all except for Joe. He grabbed Ed by his horns and spun him around, before releasing him and tossing him through the wall. He rolled to a stop on the lawn, before spinning into unconsciousness.

Coco Laid an egg which unleashed a catapult that launched Bombs.

"Where is Bob?!" He demanded, returning the bomb to the sender. Coco was sent flying like a rag doll by the explosion. She survived, thankfully, with only minor injuries.

"Bob's not here," said a voice. It was Frankie, holding a mop like a staff.

"Oh," said Joe, pretending to turn and leave, but he switched direction and charged at Frankie. She tossed the mop like a javelin, but Joe merely caught it and threw it behind him, all without changing speed. He grabbed her around the neck. Madame Foster charged like a knight, but with a kick, she was sent flying into the wall, before she too, fell unconscious. Joe held his thumb into Frankie's neck. She struggled, for his thumb closed her windpipe.

She tried as hard as she could to pull it away, but it was like trying to move a giant boulder with a toothpick; unless you're Superman, it's impossible. Soon, with the oxygen not reaching her brain, she passed out.

"You killed her," said a voice behind her. Mac stood there, enraged.

"No," said the fiend, "she's alive, just passed out. Now if you want to see her alive again, you'll send Bob to the Marble Docks." And with that, Joe left. Thankfully, none of his victims died. It was like he was being careful.

Mac ran outside, trying to chase the figure, when all of a sudden, a huge bus pulled up.

Bob had been out changing the oil on the bus, so he was oblivious to the attack. When he pulled near the house, Eduardo was laying face down on the lawn.

"Oh no," said Bob, his worst fears confirmed. He parked the bus and ran to the purple giant. Rolling him gently to his back, he put his head on the behemoth's chest, before heaving a sigh of relief; a pulse. He noticed the splinters in Ed's face, and the huge hole in the wall. He ran inside, and he saw the carnage. Wilt was trying to breath again.

"Wilt," yelled Bob, running to the red giant.

"Oh," said Wilt, his voice raspy due to his damage throat, "you're here. WE just had a huge beast tear us all down. He got Eduardo, like you saw, and me. He also got Coco and Madame Foster." Foster limped down the stairs, and looked at Bob,

"He has Frankie," she said, before passing out due to her injuries. That was it. Bob was tired of running. IF it was a fight they wanted, so be it. They had sent a monster to damage the home, and with the girl he was falling for gone, it was the straw that broke the mule. If it was a fight they wanted, he'd grant their boon.

"They told us," said Mac, running in winded, "to send you to the marble docks."

"Then so be it," said Bob. He ran up to his room, and opened his dressor. He saw what he was looking for, and hid it under his shirt. He then took the Frankie's sedan keys from a coffee table and drove like a mad man down there.