Wow. And here, I thought I'd get a small break from this story by waiting until I reached 100 reviews. Turns out, I reached 100 reviews for my story in just one day. You people must really love my story. LOL. (Bounces up and down) I reached 100 reviews! WOOH!! And I couldn't have done it without my loyal readers. Thank you all for reviewing. Now, here's your reward: another chapter! I hope you like it!
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"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!"
"Turtles count 'em off!" Dash and Gasman cried, pumping there little fist in the air while they laughed happily at the TV that was in the motel room we were all sharing.
Dash stood up from the bed they shared with Angel and Mini, holding his arms up and crossing them slightly over his face, standing in a pose with his legs spread across and his hands closed as if he were holding something. "I'm Leonardo! I will kick your shell with my awesome twin katana's! Kiyah!" he cried, jumping off the bed and doing a high kick, landing on his feet and slashing his arms down as if he were trying to slice and dice someone.
Gasman smiled and also stood up from the bed, spreading his legs and bringing his left arm up and his right arm down as if he were holding something behind his back. "And I'm Donatello! Beware my mighty ninja skills that I can do with my Bo-staff! Hiyah!" he yelled, also jumping off the bed and bringing his arms down as if he just whacked someone with his imaginary Bo-staff.
"Don't forget me!"
The two boys turned to see Kat standing in a pose similar to the one Dash was in earlier, an evil-like smirk planted on her lips. "I'm Raphael! If you get me angry, consider your shell kicked by my mighty sai's! Whatcha!" she yelled doing a quick high kick, spinning into a perfect 180 and slashing her right arm forward, then spinning in the opposite direction and slashing her left arm forward.
Gasman looked at her quizzically. "You can't be Raphael," he told her.
The smirk on Kat's face suddenly fell as she looked at Gasman with a slight irked look on her face. "And why not?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.
"Well, because, you're a girl and all the ninja turtles are boys." He explained.
Suddenly, at that moment, Conner and Dash gasped fearfully as their attention turned to Gasman and Kat. Dash looked at the slight twitch of Kat's jaw muscle, the small flame beginning to burn in her dark eyes, the little movements of her hands starting to form into fist. He shuddered in fright and quickly got in front of Gasman, spreading his arms as if acting like his human shield.
"Whoa! Whoa, Kat! H-he didn't mean anything by that. I mean, it's okay if you're a girl. You can still be a guy character if you're a girl. I mean, it's not like it's against the rules or anything. Hehe."
I noticed that Dash's talking wasn't really getting through Kat, so it was up to me to stop her.
"Kat. Please don't try beating Gasman to a pulp. He didn't mean anything by that. Remember, we've only known you guys for a week," I told her, hearing Angel and Mini getting out of the shower. (A/N: to all you sickoes out there, it's okay for two six-year-olds to shower together!) "Come on, it's yours and Nudge's turn to take a shower. We only have about three hours to get ready before the festival."
Kat sighed while her and Nudge grabbled their towels and walked into the bathroom. I looked around the motel room, feeling a strange feeling that something was missing. Let's see, Gasman and Dash are watching TMNT, Iggy and Conner are talking while taking a few glances at the TV, Angel and Mini were playing with Total, and Fang was on the laptop we 'found' at Itex. But where was the oh, so loveable yet slightly annoying Miles?
"Um, Kat," I said before her and Nudge got into the bathroom.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Um, do you know where Miles is at?"
Kat looked up in wonder and pondered on the thought until she looked back at me. "I remember waking up at around four fifty-seven in the morning because I had to use the bathroom. Miles just got out of the shower and was gelling his hair when I asked him where he was going."
"Which is . . .?" I asked, waiting for an answer.
"I think he said something about going to the Ventura festival early." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. What do I look like, his mother?"
Geeze. Mental note: Avoid Kat in the mornings.
"Why would he go to the Ventura festival five hours before it even starts?" I asked her.
Kat looked at me, bringing her arms up a little with a bored look on her face. "Let's see. If I were Miles—the biggest Simple Plan I know—and Simple Plan was going to do a concert in a city we're in already, what would I do?" she looked at her right hand. "Stay with my flock and wait a couple of hours to see them in concert?" she then looked at her other hand. "Or sneak out and actually get to see them arrive and get ready for the concert."
Her right hand began to lower while her left hand began to rise. She looked at me and gave me a smile. "I think we all know the answer to that question."
Thank you, Ms. Straightforward.
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Third Person Switch
It was really close to five o'clock when Miles snuck out of the motel room without Max or anyone else noticing. Well, except for Kat, but, hey, someone had to know where he was at. To Miles, it felt like an hour since he first arrived at the area where they were having the Ventura festival. It probably has been an hour too, since he over heard someone say that it was a little over six.
Miles sighed, leaning against a nearby wall while watching a few people setting up the stage where the concert was going to be held. He crossed his arms, doing a quick look around to see if there was any type of van that the band members of Simple Plan might come out of.
Nope. Nothing.
"Man, my wings are sore." Miles complained, reaching his hand to his back and trying to rub his wings, but they were too tucked in his windbreaker. He grumbled, wishing he could just take off the stupid windbreaker and spread his wings out, letting them stretch open.
Or better yet, have Max rub them a little. Give his wings a good message.
Miles' thoughts
Miles moaned slightly, feeling the wonderful sensation of Max's fingers gliding through his black, red-tipped wings in a gentle, pleasurable message. "Ohhh. A little to the left."
Max giggled girlishly, bending down slightly and whispering in Miles' right ear lustfully. "Anything for you, Miles," she said, dragging his name a little bit, which made an enjoyable shiver run down Miles' spine.
Max's fingers slid across his wings, rubbing them gently up and down with every miraculous touch that managed to make Miles let out pleased noises that escaped his lips.
"Oh, Miles, you're so tense," Max told him, pressing her body slightly against his, pressing her lips against Miles' ear.
Miles grinned. "Oh, you know. Trying to show that loser, Fang, that you're mine isn't easy. It's very stressful and he just won't give you up without a fight."
Max giggled. "Oh, Miles. You're so caring. I'd so pick you over Fang any day. Plus, you're a lot hotter than he is."
Miles' grin seemed to get wider as he turned around, lying on his back this time and facing Max. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist, pulling her closer against his body and staring into her brown eyes with lustful thoughts running through his mind.
"Then you better drown me in ice, babe. 'Cause I'm about to get a lot hotter," he said, grabbing the bottom of Max's chin, tilting his head, and pressing his lips against hers in a sensational, lustful kiss that would soon turn into something more later on.
End of Miles' thoughts
Hehe. In your FACE, Fang.
"Alright! The van's here! Make sure security keeps an eye out for any crazed fans coming after Simple Plan!"
Miles' eyes suddenly popped open as his 'daydream' came to an end. He turned to his right, watching as a big, black van/bus began to make its way into the area where the Ventura festival was going to held at. Miles stood up from his leaning position, watching the van drive right past him and beginning to park in back of the stage where Simple Plan was going to be performing.
"Holy shit," he whispered, his dark eyes growing wide as he saw the five members of the pop punk band step out of there black van one by one.
Feeling a large smile spread across his lips, Miles quickly dashed towards the stage where Simple Plan was going to be performing at, passing the entry-way of the Ventura festival until a rather large, tough-looking, Caucasian man stepped in front of him, blocking Miles' way.
"And where do you think you're going, young man?" he asked, looking down at Miles with his pudgy arms folded across his chest.
Miles looked up at the over-weight security guard and stepped back. "Alright, Tiny. The greatest band in this entire, freakin' universe is only mere feet away from my presence! Now, help a fellow fan out and let me pass by and ask them for a couple of autographs."
"I don't think so, Junior," the security guard told him. "The concert starts at twelve. Unless you want to get busted and not come to the festival at all, I suggest you run back home and wait 'til your mommy and daddy bring you here," he said in a mocking tone as if he were talking to a small child. Miles didn't really like this. He hated it when people mocked him by treating him like a little kid. It was one of his really big pet peeves and Miles had very evil ways of dealing with people like this.
He looked around his surroundings, making sure not too many people were paying attention to him and the security guard. When the cost seemed clear, Miles looked back at the security guard, a sadistic smirk spreading across his lips.
"Alright, dude. I didn't want to tell you this, but if you know what's good for you, you'd step aside and let me into this festival to meet up with Simple Plan."
The security guard let out an annoying snort. "Or else what? You'll whack me with that little chain you have hanging on the side of belt loop? Or stab me with your ridiculously spiky hair?" (A/N: forgot to mention that Miles also has a chain hanging from his belt loop. Oops)
Oh, you are seriously gonna get it, old man!
Miles glared at the security guard, grabbing onto the opening of his black trench coat and sliding it off his shoulders. The trench coat fell with a 'plop' while he undid he undid his windbreaker and snapping his wings open and letting them stretch out nice and wide. He looked at the security guard with a serious, yet, evil glint in his dark eyes, holding back a pleasurable moan at the wonderful feeling to have his wings spread out nice and wide.
The security guard's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates as he stepped back a couple of steps away from Miles, almost tripping on a cable cord that was hooked up to the stereo for the stage. "W-what—what the hell are you?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Miles asked, shrugging his shoulders and giving the security guard a pleased smirk, stepping closer and closer towards him. "I'm the Angel of Death."
"The Angel of . . . Death?"
"That's right." Miles grinned, looking down at the security guard. "And you, my dear friend, have been a very, bad, man. You should know that the Angel of Death is a major Simple Plan fan. And you wouldn't even let me get one, little autograph from them. Well, how's about we look at this another way. Either you let me through, or I'll rip out small intestines and start whipping you with them. And trust me, I have the power to do that."
The security guard suddenly went blue. His eyes were so wide it looked like they were about to pop right out of their sockets, his chest was heaving up and down as if he were having a heart attack, and beads and beads of sweat began forming all over his face.
"So, what's it gonna be—uh—Chuck?"
The security guard gasped. "H-how do you know my name?"
"Um, hello! Angel of Death. I know everybody's name," Miles told him.
This dude's name is actually Chuck?
The security guard hesitated, looking around to make sure no one was watching until he looked back at Miles and gave him a nervous smile. "Alright. You can go see the band. J-just don't hurt me okay. I'm too young to die and I've got a loving family back at home."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Miles said, grabbing his windbreaker and trench coat before he ran full speed towards the stage.
Man, it pays to be a science experiment with wings. Thank you dudes from the School. I take back all the crap I said about you guys. For now, that is.
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Well, that's the end for that chapter. Again, I apologize if this chapter sounds a little out of there. I'm having an off week. I miss my friends and I haven't really gotten use to not seeing them every day yet. Oh, well. Maybe when I go to my grandparents house and start seeing my cousins again, I'll get return to not writing such crazy chapters. See ya soon! Maximum Ride rulez!