The car ride home was silent and tense. Both of them didn't say one word to each other, making it hard for Wybie to tell if his grandmother was mad at him or not. When they did get home, she turned to him as they stepped out of the car and said quietly:

"Lets put some ice on that face of yours, and some ibuprofen for the pain." They walked to the kitchen and his grandmother prepared the ice pack.

"I'll get the medison." said Wybie, wanting to be helpful.

"No you won't," she said turning to him, "the last time you got into the medison cabinet, you ate all of your multivitamins!"

"I was four," he said in his defense, "and besides, they shouldn't make those Flintstone vitamins taste like candy." She sighed and reached up to the medison cabinet and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen. She then got a glass of water and handed him the pill and the glass of water; after he took the pill she handed him the ice pack. She started to put the pill bottle away when he said quietly and quickly:

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" She turned to him and looked at him.

"Now what makes you say a thing like that, Wyborne?"

"You're disappointed," he said looking away from her, "that I got in a fight. Y-Yeah I did what you told me to, b-but..."

"Wyborne," she interrupted walking up to him and hugging him, "I'm not disappointed, how could I be? You're a good boy, and I'm proud of you, and don't you dare think otherwise." He smiled and returned the hug, glad to know that she wasn't mad at him.

"Now put that ice on," she said letting him go and standing tall again, "and keep it on a good half-hour; after that I want you to go look inside the trunk of the car, there's somethin' rattlin' around in there." He did as he was told to and after he put the ice pack in the kitchen sink, he went out to the car and opened the trunk and inside was a small battered, slightly oily engin. A crooked smile crept on his face and he ran back inside and found his grandmother standing over the stove. He ran up to her and hugged her from behind with more force than was required. His grandmother made a surprised sound followed with a warm chuckle wile patting his hands. Just as fast as he had hugged her, he ran up the stairs and up to his room to change his cloths.

The following weeks were good ones. Every day after school, Wybie would work on the old engin trying to make it work again, while also getting the bike ready to have the engin mounted on it. Even school was fun. The last week was filled with nothing but games or movies to watch or other activities to do. Although Wybie was slightly worried that Jonas was going to do something, but during the last week, he never came to school at all. He decided that since he was going to be held back a grade and since there was nothing that he or his parents could do, they just let him stay at home. Wybie was relieved, he wouldn't have to deal with him for three whole months.

After school was out, Wybie continued to work on his bike or go out and explore the woods and after three weeks, the bike was complete. He stepped back and looked at the bike with a very satisfied look. He walked up to the bike and sat on it and grabbed the key that was in the ignition switch that he had rigged onto the handle bars and held his breath. He turned the key and the engin sputtered and turned and when he thought it wasn't going to work, it started and roared to life. He looked behind at the engin and saw that some smoke was coming out of it, but it wasn't anything major to worry about. He then looked at his right handlebar and grabbed it. He had spent several days working on it, wanting to give his bike a motorcycle feel. He twisted the handle and when he did the engin revved up. A small smile crept up, that was good and all but the true test was coming up. He flipped a switch and turned his bike around facing the open door and with the engin still sputtering, he revved it up again a little too hard because the bike lurched forward and almost left his grip.

"Yes!" He cried out, putting the kick-stand down and turning the motor off. He ran toward the house and flew past the kitchen and up the stairs and into his room. He grabbed his old backpack that contained notepads and jars and other tools he would need. He ran up to his dresser and grabbed his camera that his grandmother gave him when she had gotten herself a new one. Then he grabbed his most important tool, his mask.

His mask was an old welding mask that Mr. Hood had given him several years ago and after a week, the mask had been transformed. He had took a large old microscope's rotator device and three different magnifying glasses had replaced the broken visor of the mask and made it into a three view magnifying...thing. He then put a crankshaft on the right side of it so he could change the views without having to fumble around the mask to reach it. After all that, his artistic side came out and he painted on it so that it looked like a scary yet wicked cool skull on it. His grandmother about had a heart-attack when she saw it, and it took him the rest of the day convincing her not to call and make a psychiatrist appointment for him.

He placed the mask on his head and swung the backpack on his shoulder and ran back down the stairs and was about to fly out the door, when:

"Wyborne! Come here for a moment." He sighed and turned around and walked into the living room where his grandmother was sitting on her chair with some paperwork on her lap and talking on the phone. He patiently waited for his grandmother to finish her phone call, but all too soon he started to dance in place and looking very much like a small child needing to use the bathroom. Finally she put down the phone and looked up at him.

"Now stop that fussin', and stand still like a good boy. I need you to do something for me."

"What?" he asked, sounding disappointed that he couldn't go out. His grandmother looked away with the slightest hint of worry on her face, but then looked back at him.

"I need you to go to the Pink Palace and collect the rent for me."

"R-Really?" he said looking back at her.

"Yes, but do it quick," she said looking as stern as ever, "do not go inside at all and as soon as you have the rent, come back home. I mean it, don't go inside." Wybie had heard this same lecture for as long as he could remember and it was imprinted into his brain, but this was the first time that he was actually allowed to go near it without his grandmother by his side.

"I'd do it myself, but I have to get this paperwork done."

"What paperwork?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? The middle apartment is finally gettin' filled. The left side one."

"That's cool, I'll go and do that now." he said turning toward the kitchen.

"I mean it Wyborne, do not go inside at all." She said standing up sounding all the more stern.

"I know." he said still walking.

"And don't go killin' yourself on that thing you made," she said with a sigh, "I don't feel like having a paramedic scrappin' you up with a sponge."

"I wont." he said and went out the door, jumped on his bike and headed toward the Pink Palace.

Wybie took his time getting to the Pink Palace, deciding to test his bike along the way, revving the engin and doing tricks on it and treating it like a dirt bike more than anything. Oh, yes. He was going to have some fun with this puppy. Soon enough, he had to head over to the Pink Palace. He rolled up to the old building and dismounted his bike and looked up at it. His grandma would tell him that the house was over 150 years old, making it a very large house for its' day, and boy was it starting to show its' age. The fading pink siding was falling off and what wasn't was slowly decaying. Anyone else who would have been renting from it would have probably complained about it, but the three renters never did.

Wybie took off his mask and swung off his backpack and placed them neatly next to his bike and started toward the basement apartment. He reached the door and knocked on the door, then silently counted:

'Three....two....'

Just then three Scotty dogs began barking as loud as they could at the door. The door opened and the dogs ran out and started to bark around him.

"Oh, cease that yapping of yours!" said a small round old woman with a walker. She looked up at him with a smile.

"Hello Wyborne," she said happily, "what brings you here by yourself? Aren't you usually with your grandmother?"

"Grandma had some business to take care of Miss. Spink," he said while trying to pet a dog that wouldn't hold still, "she asked me to collect the rent for her."

"Oh, yes of course," she said while shuffling around, "would you like to come in and wait in side while I go fetch it?"

"No thank you," he said politely, "grandma told me not to....t-to uh, t-to take too long a-and told me to hurry." he fumbled out, lying wasn't all that easy for him but it work and Miss. Spink smiled and walked inside to find the envelope. He waited patiently for her to return looking down at his feet and listening for her to return. It wasn't like he had nothing to do while waiting, he quietly listened to the old ladies talking to each other, trying to remember where they had set the envelope, having another round in there never ending argument. Eventually the envelope was found and Miss. Forceable walked toward the door with it in hand.

"Here you go lovie," she said squinting down at him, "hold out your hand." He reached up to grab the envelope but just as quick as anything, Miss. Forceable shoved the envelope into what she thought was his hand but was in fact his hair. It stayed in place in his hair and he looked up at it from the upper corners of his eyes, his hand still outstretched.

"Tell your grand-mum that I said hello," she said smiling down at what she assumed was his face and went to pat his head but just ended up patting his outstretched hand, "good day young man." She went back inside and closed the door. Wybie stood there for a moment, wondering when he reached their age, would he be just as senile as they were. He reached up and grabbed the envelope and while climbing up the steps, looked inside to see if they had actually filled the check out. Last time they just had placed a blank check inside, but they had filled it out right this time. He put the envelope inside his jacket and walked up to his bike, grabbing his mask. He didn't want to go up the stairs without it.

Mr. Bobinsky was nice enough, but fo some reason or another, there was a cold war going on with the two. He wasn't sure why, but whenever he talked to him and was on his way home, he would always get pelted with beets from Mr. Bobinsky. He put that thought in the back of his mind and shrugged it off and went up the steps. He reached the door and knocked on it. He waited for a moment but no one came. He started to knock on it again, this time longer and harder. Suddenly the door opened and he almost fell forward. He looked up and saw a less than pleased Mr. Bobinsky glaring down at him; he had shaving cream on his face. Wybie gave a nervous chuckle and adjusted the mask on his head.

"Uh, h-hi Mr. Bobinsky," he smiled sheepishly up at him, Mr. Bobinsky didn't say anything, "well, anyway...m-my grandma asked me t-to collect the rent for her, and...." he looked up at him again and noticed the metal on his shirt.

"Oh, I know what that is," he said pointing to it, " I didn't know you helped with that. Say, is that why you're a bit blue? I didn't think that radiation could turn a person blue but maybe there's another reason...maybe all those beets that you..." he paused when a dirty envelope appeared close to his face. He looked up at Mr. Bobinsky and saw that he seemed slightly more annoyed with him, the shaving cream dripping down from his face and onto his shirt.

"W-Well, anyway," said Wybie, clearly getting his point, "I-I'll just give this to grandma and tell her that you said 'hi'." He sheepishly lowered his mask and quickened his pace down the stairs and went toward his bike, but before ridding off, he took one last look at the house. He knew his grandmother always told him to never go inside, but whenever something is forbidden for a child, the more they want to see why. Suddenly he felt something hit his head hard and he cried out and looked down at the object and saw it was a beet and he could hear Mr. Bobinsky cursing in Russian. He looked up and saw him gearing up for another throw; he quickly started the motor and road off toward his own house as fast as he could.

Sorry for the long wait! I got the movie only a week ago and well....yeah, I should be updating my other stories as well sometime this week as well. Thanks for reading!