Sorry about the long delay. Between my keyboard going out, my car failing emissions, a mild bout of dysthymia, and the seasonal job I started, I haven't had the time to work on anything. The job's over, so I have the nights to get back into this.

The tone of the story may take a noticeable turn here, but we'll have to wait and see.

And we're off to see the wizard.

Chapter 19: Born To Be Wasted

"Oh the beat's gonna bash gonna break it up
This car's goin' fast gonna speed it up
The night's not gonna last so let's keep it up
We were born to be wasted

Oh the rock's not gonna stop so let's rip it up
The beats are gonna drop you can trip em' up
Your mind is on fire but it's not enough
We were born to be wasted"

- 009 Sound System

[][][]

With the sky stained orange in the wake of the setting sun, Mordecai helped load the last of Martin's gear into the trunk of his car.

"That was incredible," Lyle said, tossing his bass into the back seat, "I'd never heard Betty put out that much power."

"You're telling me?" Martin said with a shake of his head, "I don't know what steroids you had plugged into that outlet, but I need to know where to get some."

Mordecai laughed, the action making his fatigued headache transition into full blown migraine, "For once a mistake paid off."

Slamming the trunk closed, Martin sighed, "Well, better luck next time. Maybe someday you'll get more than a verse in."

"Maybe," he said, patting the pocket of his jacket that was filled with the phone numbers of at least a dozen women who were impressed by his sportsman like prowess.

[][][]

"Hello?"

"Put me through to the old man," he growled, arms crossed as he leaned against the van.

His breath entered his body quickly, and left in a raspy snort as he struggled to keep his anger in check knowing any disrespect to a member of the family would be dealt with immediately. His left hand held the phone against his ear, leaving his right hand free to absentmindedly tap against his left bicep.

"Yeah?" a tired sounding voice answered.

Quietly clearing his throat, he began, "It's done."

"Good. How did they react?"

"Benson was obviously le-"

"Benson?" the voice asked, a slight tone of confusion poking through.

Blinking for a moment, he rubbed his aching forehead, "Benson, the gumball guy."

"Oh, right, right. Continue."

"Well," he began again, turning around and resting his arms on the hood, "Benson was obviously leading them, and they all seemed to work together well."

"What about this Mordecai and Rigby?"

"Mordecai can be a handful," he answered as calmly as he was able, "We didn't see the other one at all."

"Okay, that's all I needed to know. I'll get the rest from my son."

"Whatever you say."

Sensing his frustration through the phone, the man sighed, "Don't get down on yourself, Chet. People lose from time to time, and don't worry, you'll be taken care of."

"Of course, sir."

"Alright, have a good one. We'll talk tomorrow."

"See ya, then," he said while standing and closing his phone.

His damaged pride would heal, but the confusion as to what plan he had for this little park would haunt him for the next couple weeks.

'Whatever,' he thought, walking around to the driver's door, 'He knows what's best.'

[][][]

Headache in effect, Mordecai stood with his hands on the edge of the picnic table, shaking his in hopes of returning to normal.

"Long day," Farrah asked, the remains of her second ice cream cone covering her face while she began on her third.

Without looking up, he nodded, "Yeah, it's ok, though, I enjoy running around a field while a group of steroid users hurl volley balls nearing supersonic speeds at me."

"Then what are you complaining about?"

Mumbling, he rubbed his forehead and sighed, "The only thing keeping me from chasing you down is the knowledge that mom is gonna be pissed when you get home."

Freezing, she dropped her cone and grabbed her backpack, "Caroline! We gotta go!"

"One second," she shouted back, "She really did that?"

Muscle Man nodded, "Yeah, I'm amazed he's still this close to normal. I'm surprised he hadn't said anything to you about it."

"Well, maybe he's still fighting through it," she lied, knowing the real reason he hadn't.

Shaking his head, he sighed, "I always knew there was something wrong with Rigby. It was only a matter of time."

"Caroline," Mordecai shouted as they started walking away from the party area, "You're gonna miss the bus!"

Grabbing her backpack, she slung it over her shoulders, "Thanks for telling me, it's good to know."

Muscle Man nodded as she started to walk away, "No prob."

"Were you talking to Muscle Man?" Mordecai asked as they started down the path to the house.

"Uh, yeah," she laughed, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug, "Just didn't picture him being you're type."

"Mordecai!"

They stopped in turned in the direction of the voice, seeing a woman near their age running towards them.

"Hey, I thought you were great up on the stage."

Reusing the same smile he had for the past hour, he nodded, "Thanks, it's no big deal, though."

"Well, I thought it was," she said, holding out a small piece of paper, "Maybe we can do something some time."

"Thanks, uh-"

"Mitzy!"

"Mitzy," he said, adding the paper to the his pocket, "Yeah, I'll talk to you soon."

Giving a giggle, she turned and walked away, "I'll be waiting!"

Mordecai watched for a moment, determining the probability of actually calling her.

Imitating her giggle, Caroline resumed walking, "At least I have a type, Super Stud."

"Haw, haw," he said as the reached the edge of the clearing used as a parking lot for the house.

Farrah was tugging on the door handle, the hope that getting home before curfew would lessen the punishment that was waiting.

"It's locked, dork! Hang on," Mordecai said as he fished the keys from his pocket.

"Mordecai," Benson called as he ran down the path.

Glancing back, he handed the keys to he, "Let her in and start it up, I'll be there in a second."

Giving a salute she nodded, "Aye, aye, captain."

"Yeah, what's up?"

Benson looked over his shoulder to where Thomas was taking care of the few remaining guests at the drink table, "Starting tomorrow, you're gonna work with Thomas. I'm going to have a meeting with him sometime this week and see if he wants Rigby's job full time."

"Oh, okay," Mordecai said half heartedly, "Sounds great."

"Try not to think about today, it was bound to happen eventually."

"It's fine," he said, "Some things can't be helped."

Benson sighed, "You've come a long way the past couple weeks, it's good to know who you can count on."

"I gotta go," Mordecai said, worried that a return to this discussion would end up making him feel worse.

Nodding, Benson began to walk away, "Sure, we can handle things here."

Halfway down the same trail, he heard the distant but still loud rumble of the Black Tear as it rolled out of the park entrance, and lastly the familiar chirp as the tires began to catch traction on the pavement.

He looked over the dwindling number of the crowd and figured they can begin taking down the torches they used to light the area. But first, there were other matters he had to take care of.

Scouting the area for the large form of Skips, he made his way to the stage he was already disassembling.

"So," he said quietly as he pulled himself onto the platform.

Skips nodded as he continued coiling the cables for the lights, "I did it."

"He won't notice?"

Skips shrugged, "He's always under the hood of that thing, there's a good chance he will. But I hid it as well as I could."

"Alright," Benson said while he began grabbed another cable to beginning coiling, "Then we'll have to wait and see."

[][][]

Leaning against the garage door, Martin finished his drink and dropped the can into a box at his feet. Folding his arms, he looked into the engine bay of his Skyline and the small device tucked under the intake.

Hearing the car approaching, he slammed the hood and looked up into the morning sun.

As it rumbled across the parking lot, he sighed, knowing already his day wasn't going to be easy. Parking beside his car, the engine sputtered, plagued by a horrible misfire and a loud hissing.

"Head gasket, and it jumped timing," he said as he lifted she stepped out of the car.

"Is that bad," her boyfriend asked, eyes locked onto his cell phone.

Keeping his tone as level as possible, he nodded, "It's not good."

Sighing, Callie shook her head, "How long will it take?"

Looking over the oil covered engine, he shrugged, "A couple hours to tear it down and check everything. More if the valves are bent, and maybe days if the head's warped."

"Just what were you doing, Darren," she asked angrily.

His answer came in the form of a shrug, eyes refusing to leave the screen.

Martin glared at him, staring daggers through the hood of the car.

"Here," Callie said, taking his trembling arm and leading him away, "Let me show you what I was saying about the taillights."

As he was pulled away, he allowed himself to change his view to her. Blonde hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, hiding her flushed cheeks as best as it could.

"You see, the right one is higher than," she began before quieting her voice, "I seriously have no idea what he does with her."

He looked over the battered rear end of the Hyundai, shaking his head as he did so, "We've talked about this."

She sighed, "I know, but he's really not a bad guy."

"He's a terrible guy."

"I know," she said with another sigh, covering her face and taking a deep breath.

"If you want him gone, I can help," Martin said, looking over the car to where Darren was yawning.

Laughing, she gave him a push, "I know you can. But I'll take care of it."

"I hope so," he said absentmindedly.

"Oh, you do, do you?"

Blinking, he looked away, "Well, I'm getting tired of fixing your car."

Giving a small smile he looked back and found her grinning up at him.

"Hey, chop chop! Get to work," Darren shouted as he pointed to the front of the car, "The engine's up here!"

"I'm gonna kill him," Martin mumbled as his arm swung behind him.

Pulling his arm back, she shook her head, "I'll get rid of him."

"So," she said as they walked back, "I'll let you do your thing. I'm gonna call a cab so I can run some errands."

"Drop me off, first," he said, focus back on the phone.

"Here, you can take my car," Martin said, fishing the keys from his pocket.

Darren held his hand out, expecting to be the one driving.

"Don't let him drive," Martin said, dropping them into Callie's.

Walking to the driver door, she smiled, "Don't worry, I won't."

He barely heard the car as it left the lot. Once out of view, though, the piercing revving of the engine echoed back to him as she increased the throttle.

"She's still got it," he said with a sigh.

[][][]

"Don't worry, they aren't home," Eileen said as she pushed open the door.

Nodding, Mordecai followed her inside, standing near the doorway like a nervous guest, unsure if he should proceed further.

Removing the key from her ring, she set it in a clear spot on the kitchen table where it wouldn't be overlooked.

"Okay," she said, "Just need to grab those boxes."

Mordecai looked to the stack she'd made near the door and nodded, "Okay."

Crouching down, he lifted the entire stack.

"Can you handle all of them?"

He nodded, "Yeah, Benson has us do inventory all the time. Guess I got used to it."

"Oh, ok. I'll get my backpack and lock the door."

Taking a last glance into the apartment as she pulled the door closed, he stepped into the hallway.

"Should be everything," she said with a sigh, "It actually feels good to be out of there."

"I can imagine."

"Thanks again," she said as they started walking toward the elevator, "I really appreciate this."

"It's no problem, Benson gave me the day off, anyway. Not like I was doing anything."

The elevator dinged as the doors opened to show an empty cabin, bringing about a quiet sigh of relief from Mordecai while they stepped in.

Eileen pushed the button for the ground floor, "So, you know Caroline?"

He nodded and shifted the weight of the boxes, "Yeah, known her since we were all kids."

"Oh, cool."

The doors opened and again, he let out a sigh.

Having lucked out by finding a parking space up front, it was only a short walk to the truck. Setting the boxes on the sidewalk, he flipped down the tailgate.

"Are you looking forward to having an old friend move to town?"

He froze for a moment, box half loaded into the back and one more hanging over the edge of the tailgate. Thinking for a moment, he gave a slow nod.

"Yeah, it's great. Truth be told, Rigby was crazy about her growing up."

"Oh, really?" she asked, understanding what he meant, "Was."

"Yeah," he said as he shoved the last one inside, "Was."

Sorry for the abrupt ending and again for the long absence. Still gonna take awhile to fall back into things, but I think I'm going to update Cell next.

As always, thanks for your patience and for reading.