Here we are, chilling at chapter thirteen!

Thank you for not irritating the hell out of me with update messages. :3

And, of course, thank you, readers and reviewers. :3 I'll now…um…sparkle wildly.

*sparklesparklesparkle*

RissA15: *dons the cone of shame for missing your last review*

gg180000: Yes, but how is that going to stop Adam from seeing Sandra, hmm?

Also, that's just human nature. Proof: In an elevator, look at a stranger. Don't stare, just look at them. They'll freak out. :3

Mia-Teresa-Davenport: "Wait, come back!"

AllAmericanSlurp: I didn't say that they did something exciting. You created that hype yourself.

"…At least *I* didn't your PM inbox with updating. But I will say that I'm looking forward to the next update."

Don't kiss ass.

DarkestKing: I was wondering when you'd pop back up. Currently, the army is outside the fence of the area, so we're not in danger just yet. Also, Sandy's still tied up. Have at it.

So, with that done, let's read. Tasha?

"Zara doesn't own Lab Rats or anything you recognize. If you don't recognize it, it's probably hers."

"The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up."

Mark Twain

"Men are what their mothers made them."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chase

You know what rocked about being injured?

Nothing.

However, when I turned into a cat and curled up on the couch like a total sad sack to watch the news with Tasha, she relocated me to her lap. I normally wasn't fond of people treating me like a common house cat, but I figured I could put up with it just that once.

Totally because Tasha looked like she was down about something, mind you. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was rubbing my shoulders.

Okay, maybe it had a little to do with the shoulder rubbing.

Bite me. I was jumped by a bitch. I deserved a shoulder rub.

Tasha's mood made my purring a bit uncomfortable, though. I kind of wanted to ask her what happened that ruined her usually good mood, but she didn't really look like she wanted to talk. I honestly debated pissing Douglas off enough to get him to cuss extensively at me - he could actually get pretty creative sometimes; my personal favorite was when I accidentally caught his hair on fire and he called me a "fucking rainbow-studded, dick-fiddling ass cork" as he frantically put it out - so that Tasha could chew him out and feel a bit better, but I eventually decided against it.

If I made him too mad, I didn't think I would be able to outrun him in my current condition. I wasn't looking to have the tip of my other ear torn off just yet.

Besides, if Adam's desperation to get out of the room when he saw Tasha was anything to go by, Douglas actually had next-to-nothing to do with the problem.

I couldn't dismiss the possibility that Douglas could be at least somehow involved. He was Douglas, after all. Being at the root of problems was in his job description. That, and I hadn't seen him since yesterday when I was swimming between awake and out cold, which was never a good sign.

To be honest, I was kind of waiting for some kind of explosion or something that would take out a wall or two. I'd have to see how the day played out.

I was jerked back to reality by Tasha, whose hand accidentally brushed a silver burn on my back. I jumped a bit at the stinging sensation, hissing out a quiet, "God damn it."

Scratch the shit out of her, my voice muttered irritably.

"Sorry," Tasha mumbled, giving me an apologetic look. "I wasn't paying attention."

No reprimand about cussing? Okay; it was time to step in.

I rested my paw on her arm with a sigh. "All right, Tasha: What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, frowning even more than she was earlier.

I swear that I never heard "nothing" said so depressingly before. Seriously, it was bringing me down. I perked my ears and looked up at her. "Doesn't seem like 'nothing.'"

Tasha just shrugged and went back to watching the news. It wasn't all that entertaining - just something about city elections coming up in the next two weeks - but she pretended that it was the most engrossing thing in the world. She wasn't even critiquing the reporter, something she enjoyed to no end.

If she wants to be upset, let her, my little voice chimed in. Why is it your problem?

It's my problem because I don't want her to be sad all day, I answered. That would just suck for both of us. I poked her with my paw. "Mom?"

I never learned why, but Tasha smiled slightly at that. "What?"

"You sure you're okay?"

She smiled more broadly, perking up for some reason. It was like she was a squirrel that someone just tossed a peanut to. "I'm sure."

Well, let it be known that I was so badass that I could cheer people up just by poking them with a cat paw.

Go me!

"The only people who say worse things about politicians than reporters do are other politicians."

Andy Rooney

"Rivers, ponds, lakes and streams - they all have different names, but they all contain water. Just as religions do - they all contain truths."

Muhammad Ali

Bree

Watching Douglas write frantically before snarling out a cuss word, crumpling the paper into a ball, tossing it in the general direction of Leo and starting with a new piece of paper was getting old. However, she felt a bit proud of herself for using it to hone Leo's defense. It wasn't even hard. All he had to do was swat the little balls back towards Douglas. He hit about three for every five thrown, so he wasn't doing too badly. Occasionally, Oly would throw one at him from behind, which always caught him off guard.

Bree shook her head as one of Oly's missiles hit Leo's lower back. He would need to get his intuition up and running, so to speak.

Douglas sent another ball of paper flying across the room, which Leo smacked out of the air with a grin. On the floor, Ysthry was picking up the balls and putting them all in a pile in the corner, where they were becoming a melted pile of acidic mush from her saliva. Why she was doing it was totally unknown to Bree, but if it kept her out of the way, then so be it.

"For fuck's sake," Douglas spat, chucking another ball across the Lab that Leo missed by a few inches. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

"What's your problem?" Oly asked while balling up some more paper.

Douglas glared at her. "Problem? There's no problem. Everything's just great. I'm just going to sit on the roof with a rifle and snipe Sandra's ass the next time I see her. See? Not a problem in the world."

Bree frowned. "God, don't kill her."

"God has nothing to do with this," Douglas muttered bitterly. "If He did, it would probably get worse."

Leo was glaring at Oly now, waiting for her to throw the paper. "God doesn't create bad situations to hurt you," he countered. "There's always a reason for it. Maybe you'll be stronger for it or something will happen that wouldn't happen otherwise. You never know."

"How much do you actually know about God, Leo?" Douglas challenged. "Ever read the Old Testament? He's a vengeful, horrible God. He destroyed, smote, handed down plagues of death and despair if people didn't obey Him perfectly; the list is endless. God is a wicked, unforgiving bastard! That's your God!"

Bree glanced back and forth between Leo and Douglas, bracing herself for the vicious rebuttal Leo would probably offer. She didn't know that he believed in God - honestly, she didn't and just assumed that he didn't, either, since he never mentioned it - but she knew that religious debates often turned nasty. Especially with a speech like the one Douglas just gave.

Leo, however, just shrugged and looked at Douglas with a small smile. "Then we must have different Gods."

Douglas was quiet for several seconds, his expression thoughtful. When he finally looked ready to speak again, Mr. Davenport burst into the Lab with Yahn clinging to his shoulder. "I have it!" he declared, waving a paper around.

"An inside voice?" Bree muttered.

"No," Mr. Davenport snorted. "A way to get Adam to believe us about Sandra." He waved the paper he was holding again.

Douglas scoffed and stood up, snatching the paper away. He read it for a moment before sighing. "All right, fine," he mumbled. "This might work."

"It'll work," Mr. Davenport huffed.

"If we find a reporter who'll listen," Douglas pointed out, crossing his arms.

Bree and Leo suddenly exchanged knowing looks as Mr. Davenport shot Douglas a disbelieving look. "You seriously can't think of a single reporter that would help us?"

"I don't know any reporters," Douglas responded irritably.

"Luckily, we do," Leo informed Douglas with a smirk. "And something tells me that she'll listen."

Woo! Got a plan!

Which means that, of course, this is wrapping up.

However, we still have a little ways to go, so hang tight.

So, until next time, feel free to review. Or don't. I don't care.

And, of course, enjoy.

*Bows and exits*