12:00

"Well that was fun, I usually smoke menthols though." Says Ken, pulling open the push-pull glass door to the restaurant and allowing the other two boys to come inside; causally checking out their butts as they walk through. He lets go of the door, speed-walking and wriggling his way in-between the two older boys; much to James' discomfort.

"Do you really have to do that?" The brunet sighs, resting his face in the palm of his clammy hand.

"Is that even a question at this point? Seriously James, is it? Being wedged between two hunks sounds like a typical Friday night to me." Ken teases, sticking his tongue out with the last word.

Drew chuckles, looking at the much shorter boy. "You're such a slut dude."

"Guilty as charged, I've been working up this tree for almost a year now though." He says, gesturing toward Ken with an unnecessary whisper, as James has placed his bulky headphones over his ears and turned his cassette player on; using the cool riffs of Bon Jovi's album Slippery When Wet to drown out the sound of the hyper-sexed, perverted younger boy.

"Ha, you know I could set you up with one of my bros Pedro or Randy; they're pretty cool dudes, and it'll give James a bit more time to ease up a bit around you bro."

"Hmm, do I have to pick? Can't I just have both?" Ken asks, greedily.

"Ha, you can try dude, I'll introduce them to you after school on Monday if you remind me."

"Much appreciated, wait do you know how big they are? What are their butts like? They're not bigger than mine are they? Even if so, they still won't be as perky and fabulous as mine." The naturally tan-skinned boy says, running a comb through his honey brown bouffant and slipping it into his light purple/off pink skinny jeans and giving his ass a quick smack to accentuate his point. "See?"

"No idea dude." Drew laughs, getting a kick out of the overly-flamboyant youth's actions. Bringing his light brown hand to scratch his head, the very tall boy takes a look around for the arcade area; spotting the barely illuminated room with a cheeky grin. "Yo James!" Drew yells, his voice raising in an attempt to get the distracted boy's attention,; one that proves successful as the lightly-muscled youth pulls his headphones off and turns to his direction, clicking down the difficult and bulky "pause" button on his cassette player.

"Yeah?"

"What's your score on Castlevania?"

"Eh not high, more of a Contra or Metroid man myself." James sighs, staring at the room. "Metroid and Castlevania are basically the same anyway."

"Ha, no they're not noob." Drew smirks, cockily. "Tell you what, how about we play a few rounds of Street Fighter 2; my treat." He says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small Ziploc baggie of about 15 dollars worth of quarters."

"I'd love to, but shouldn't we get Danny and Rose now?"

"Nah, they're doing their own thing anyway; not a big deal. I'm more concerned about walking in and seeing Hunter's pudgy form plowing that small chick next to the arcade cabinets." Drew chuckles, popping his wrist. "I'm kicking them out if they are though; I came here to game."

"But that message we heard…what the hell was that?"

Ken, who has been in his own world of bukakki while the boys talked video games, snaps back to reality upon hearing of the tape, trembling a bit.

"I forgot about that tape…I'm gonna head back to the office."

"Okay, you sure though? You can chill with us a bit longer if you would like." Drew says with a shrug before turning to James. "Who knows, maybe a prank for the night guards? Or maybe the place is really haunted, either way it doesn't matter much; I'm not afraid of any ghosts."

"True, I guess we could stop for a bit. I don't know what's Tobie's deal anyway; it's like you give him a bit of power and he immediately takes charge of everything, ordering us all around."

"Ha, seems like he's a bit better at it now though; you should have seen him back in Jr. High; he tried that crap all the time when we worked in projects back in Woodshop. The thing is, he might have been better off had he not insisted on calling me "Dawson" all the time." Drew says with a shudder.

"Dawson?" Ken asks, trying to take his mind off the haunting sounds of the tape; the phone man's hurried voice and following screams still bothering him.

"My last name; don't call me by it.." Drew admits, stopping in front of and inserting two quarters into the large Street Fighter 2 game's Player 1 slot, handing two more to James. "Ready to get owned?"

"You're on." James says with a smirk, taking the quarters and slipping them in.

"Can I call you something else? Black Mamba maybe?" Ken asks with a flirtatious tone, placing his hands on the Polybius closet and bending back to jut his perky butt out.

"Ha, this kid!" Drew laughs, cycling through the characters and choosing Ken as James selects Chun-Li. "Going Chun, noob?

"She's my best character; though I do play Vega a bit as well." James tosses a smirk Ken's direction, "Good luck with Ken, he won't let go of you after you pick him."

"Oh ha ha." The flamboyant youth says, placing his hands on his hips and grinning cheekily. "You didn't answer my question Mamba."

"Seems like I don't need to." The taller boy teases, refocusing on the game's screen as the words "Fight" are announced.

…

"I wonder why Guile invited me to his base…he usually doesn't want Ryu-kun or myself here." Says a tall man in a red gi with shoulder-length blond hair as he arrives at a heavily fenced, very well guarded Air Force base. He knocks on a small, glass room and stares at the uniformed brunet guard inside.

"Name?" They guard asks through his thick caterpillar moustache, plucking at his forest green slacks and returning the blond martial artist's dead stare.

"Ken Masters; Major Guile invited me; said he had something important to discuss." Ken takes a long look around the base, the bland gray buildings, bulky fighter planes, and of course all of the damn green uniforms. Personally, Ken could never understand what would drive someone to stick with a career in the military; the order, the rules, having to answer to higher-ups and address them as…sir. Ken thinks the last word with a shudder; he always hated formality. Besides, living a military life would require him to cut his luscious blond locks…he was not ready to do that.

"Masters, Masters…Ah here you are; one second Mr. Masters, I'll send a truck to pick you up in just a minute." The guard picks up his green phone, dialing the numbers. "Major Guile please, yes I can hold for a second. Just a moment Mr. Masters." He covers the receivers as he says this, regaining his composure and allowing his body to grow rigid. "Major Guile, sir,"

There's that word again…

"We have a visitor here to see you; a Mr. Ken Masters; would you like me to send a truck for him or…ah, I see. Right, I'll let him know Major." The guard places the phone back on the receiver, looking back at the blond calmly.

"Major Guile will be down here to greet you personally."

Minutes seem like hours as Ken waits for his friend, a few times he considers walking on and hoping to run into Guile, but decides against it; it'll be easier to just wait, there is no guarantee that looking around will do anything but take up more time. Eventually Ken's waiting pays off as a tall figure in a forest green uniform walks in his direction, accompanied by two officers who are dwarfed in comparison to their Major.

Guile strides his way towards Ken, smirking under his towering, physics-defying blond hair.

"Still need that haircut Pretty Boy. Luckily for you I can get one of our barbers to give ya one for free!" The Major says, stopping in front of the shorter man with a cocky smirk painted on his face.

"Not in this life, or the next Guile." Ken returns the smirk with vigor before leaning in and getting a quick "bro hug" from his friend.

"Offer still stands Maggot. Though you're going to have to refer to me as "Major" in front of the cadets and officers here; image, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever…Major."

"Hey, just be glad I'm not making you refer to me as 'Sir'." Guile's smirk grows larger as he turns around, he and Ken walking past the Base's fence at a steady pace.

"You'd have to beat it out of me." Chuckles Ken, eyeing around the base's much more lively interior; the soldiers running laps, doing push-ups, even a couple of squadrons playing Football on a field in the distance.

"That could be arranged." Guile says, only half-joking.

"Nice try Big Guy." Ken laughs, examining the distant football field. "So when they're not playing football are they playing shirtless volleyball?"

"Ha, we have a few Top Gun pilots here, including yours truly, but no half-naked volleyball; pantless soccer maybe."

Was that a joke? This was the first time he had ever seen Guile joke about something that didn't involve kicking someone's ass or humiliating them…Creepy.

"So what did you call me out here for Major? I can't help but doubt you called me here to laugh about overrated movies."

"Too true, the truth is that there is word M. Bison is back."

"What? No way, that can't be possible!" Ken exclaims, legitimately shocked this time.

"Yes, Bison has returned and is planning another…"

"Ha, this kid!" A familiar voice in the sky laughs, Ken and Guile looking up in confusion. "Going Chun, noob?

"She's my best character; though I do play Vega a bit as well." Says another voice, "Good luck with Ken, he won't let go of you after you pick him."

"What in the… Augh!"

Guile's dialogue is cut short as a buxom, short Asian woman flies through the air; delivering a kick that knocks the Major out cold.

"You will pay spy of Bison!" The woman cries, turning her attention to the blond. "No…Ken, Bison got to you too?" She sighs, regaining composure. "No matter…I will do what I must."

A deep voice sounds off from the sky as large letters appear.

Round 1: Fight!

"Chun? Wait, what are you talking about? Why did you knock Guile to the floor? What the hell is going on?" Ken fires his questions off frequently before his eyes widen in realization of what is about to happen. Crap, not now…we're supposed to have a break this late at night! Why is this happening now? He focuses on his friend, hoping to reason with her. "Chun-Li, you realize something is off here right? We're not supposed to be in this position this late." Ken says, gesturing to the two green health bars above their heads, the timer in-between, and the percentage beside them reading 0%. I can't speak anymore…no one is supposed to be playing right now.

"You shall pay, spy of Bison!" She exclaims, sorrow on her face. Ken…I'm sorry, I can't help what's going on…the quarters are already in; we're going to have a long night…I promise I will try to make it up to you and Guile when this is all over. Dashing towards her friend, Chun-Li releases a barrage of punches; most of them landing and knocking Ken to the ground briefly before he kick-flips up, landing a kick against her face.

Sorry Chun…

Chun-Li retaliates by performing three Spinning Bird Kicks in a row, knocking Ken to the ground and draining his heath bar entirely.

Large red letters appear in the sky as a deep voice proclaims

"Round Two: Fight!"

Ken flips back off the ground, his long blond hair whipping his forehead as he bursts into a quick-paced Kata; bouncing into battle with a flurry of fists to quickly drain Chun-Li's bar.

Damn, looks like my player doesn't even know how to do any of my specials…this curse. Ken continues to dodge his friend's flurry of attacks, trying desperately to cling to what little control he still has over his free will to not hurt her; as he knows she is doing the same. Day after day, hour after hour, he and his friend's hang outs interrupted, alliances destroyed, his own car a wreck. Every day they prepared for what would come in the night; each time expecting the same but looking to their eight hours of rest…why was it interrupted now? Something was off.

This is hell. Chun-Li dashes towards attempting to perform a Hyakuretsu Kyaku, only to be kicked down, her bar draining completely. Ah! It is all right Ken…I don't hold anything against you.

Round Three: Fight!"

Chun flips up, charging at Ken, vigilant as ever. She jumps into the air, hitting Ken with a Ryuusei Raku and knocking a hefty chunk from the blond's bar before he retaliates with one final flurry of fists, draining her bar completely and knocking her down.

"Hu-hu-hu-hu-hu-hu!" Chun exclaims as she falls back; large red letters appearing once more as her body flops onto the ground.

K.O.

Winner: Ken!

Just as Ken fears he is to be dragged back for another fight he is released, awestruck but grateful.

"They ran out of quarters…" He looks around to his two fallen friends; both knocked out cold. "Chun…I'm so sorry this happened. This was supposed to be our time of rest." Ken lingers on those last words, every repeat only raising the same questions: Why? How? There was a disturbance in his world, he knew that with all his heart; this may have been the first time, but it would not be the last.

…

"Goddammit…how are you so good with Ken? You didn't even use any of his moves!" James says, glaring a little at Drew; awestruck.

"Should have listened; I knew you wouldn't stand a chance." Drew says this with a smirk, looking over to Ken who appears to have spent the time using the monitor of another cabinet as a mirror. "You see that Ken?"

"Huh? Oh no, I got bored pretty quickly."

"Eh, wanna go again?" The tall boy asks James, with a bit of a condescending tone in his voice.

"No, I'm good." He replies, watching as the second counter hits zero, signifying that their game has ended.

Suddenly a loud clanking can be heard coming from the kitchen, attracting the attention of all three boys. They all look to one-another, Ken to James to Drew, the latter of which takes a step forward.

"I thought you guys said there was no reason to check the kitchen anymore." Drew says, scratching his short hair and looking to his partners.

"Well I did tell April it was possible just to snack on the veggies and pepperoni in the cooler; maybe that's why they're in there." James responds, taking the lead as they all leave the arcade section and make their way into the dining area.

"Strange…weren't the bunny and duck onstage before? They fucking were so don't try to fucking scare me!" Ken exclaims a little over-dramatically as he follows the two taller, more muscular boys into the kitchen.

"Didn't we leave the lights on?" James wonders aloud, flipping the lights back on to find that the kitchen is relatively in the same state as it was before. The brunet takes a mental note, everything seems to be in order: pots moved a bit to the side, kitchen door shut, giant yellow animatronic duck standing across the room from them, silently eyeing them. "Fuck…" James says as all three boys freeze in fear.

"Now kids, remember that swearing is bad; we shouldn't say bad words when we're frustrated." Says the animatronic chicken in a soothingly sing-song female voice; the kind that one would expect a company to hire when in need of a generic, kid-friendly female character, still staring at the boys before looking to her right. "Bonnie, Freddy, you want to join me in a song about saying bad words?" The chicken sits there for moments upon moments as if waiting on a response from her friends before taking a step forward. "Oh well, guess they aren't here. Well kids, who would like some pizza? As your friend Chica always says, 'Let's Eat!" With those final words the bulky yellow chick takes a step closer to the boys; all of who snap out of their fear trance and look at one-another.

"What should we do?" Ken whispers to his friends, still slightly petrified as the hulking robot steps forward.

"Follow my lead." Drew says, taking a step to the left, followed by the other boys. A rather faint automating sound can be heard as Chica turns her head; keeping her eyes fixated on the boys. "Okay, new plan; James is going to run to the left of the room while Ken and I run right. Sound good?"

"That works."

"I suppose if we have no other option…" Ken sighs, looking down at his pink watch; 12:05 it reads. "Five minutes and we're already shitting ourselves; fun." The foppish boy rolls his eyes as he says this; awaiting Drew's count.

"Three…two…one!" Drew yells, dashing to the right as James heads the opposite direction; leaving Chica confused as where to head. She turns to face James, taking a step toward him with a loud thud.

Drew looks around the room, noticing that Ken still had not moved despite Chica's movement towards James.

Ken stares at Drew apologetically, backing up and slipping out the kitchen door and leaving his friends helpless against the robot. Cursing Ken's name, Drew slips into one of the pantries, hiding behind the purple aprons and praying the chicken will leave. The boy looks down by his feet at the light seeping in beneath the door, watching in awe as it goes black. The boy is surprised to hear loud thuds leaving the kitchen, followed by the relieved breathing of James outside the door

"Shit…that was close." James says, loud enough for Drew to hear in the pantry.

She's gone, good… Deciding it best to play it safe, the boy waits for no more than a minute or two in the dark pantry. Turning the knob slowly, Drew peers through the door crack, barely able to see anything in the dark kitchen other than a pair of white dots whizzing around the room. As he is about to open it entirely, an all too-familiar sound plays; one that he recognizes from his childhood.

Is that…Pop goes the weasel?

…

"Shit…that was close." James says with a sigh, reaching into his sleeve for his pack of cigarettes. The brunet flicks the pack down a few times, jutting one cigarette free from its packaging and down onto the floor. "Goddammit." He crouches down, reaching into his pocket for his Zippo lighter, opening it and flicking it on before his face. James extends his toned lighter-holding arm, patting the ground with his other hand as he crawls the kitchen tile, looking for his smoke. Just as he is about to give up hope, James remembers the cigarette he tossed with the puppet earlier; the one he left dangling in its mouth. Trying to hold his silence, James stands to a crouch and duck walks around the large island counter, stopping just before the large white gift box.

"Okay Jaybird, you can do this; it's just a box with a creepy puppet inside; nothing out of the ordinary. The punk places a hand on opposite sides of the box and slowly lifting the lid; left eye closed tightly. Counting to five he opens his eye, staring down into the dark box before clicking his lighter back on and lowering it inside. To James' shock the puppet is not inside; instead sits a single cigarette and a folded piece of paper. Not one to wait, James places the cigarette in his mouth and reaches down for the paper, unfolding it slowly.

I'm gonna cut your strings..

"Cut my…what?" James wonders aloud as the jaunty tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel" begins to fill the room. "What the hell? Who's playing that?" James reaches into his pocket, pulling out his emergency flashlight and clicking it on. Flashing the beam around the room, James is certain he could have made out a shadowy form just barely escaping the light with each movement but shakes it off as being his mind playing tricks. The boy clicks his light off, slipping it back into his jeans and places the cigarette into his mouth; trying to flick the lighter on to no avail as he approaches the kitchen door. "Maybe Ken and Drew went back to the office…" James sighs, finally getting a light and touching it to his cigarette; taking a long drag and breathing out.

"Hahaha"

Child's laughter? James extends his lighter a few inches further from his face in an attempt to see whatever made the noise without wasting his flashlight battery. Knowing very well that he may soon regret it, James takes a couple steps away from the door; investigating the noise like a moronic horror movie fodder character. After another minute of no noise, the boy shrugs, giving up and turning around. James heart stops as his eyes rest on the last thing they will ever see clearly. Within kissing distance sits the gaunt, plastic face of a familiar puppet; one he had taunted and cast aside, one that will teach the boy his place.

"Ah!" He cries, dropping the lighter as two very thin but incredibly strong hands grab hold of his ankle, yanking James to the floor and beginning to drag him deeper into the kitchen. "No, no, no fuck!" the brunet cries, his hands desperately clawing at the floor and trying to pull in the opposite direction; accomplishing little more than breaking his nails against the checkered tiles. The boy continues to claw and scream and wriggle his way in continuous attempts to pry free of the puppet's grasp, however every movement is in vain as its grip tightens with every struggle. Pop Goes the Weasel continues to play as James is dragged to the back corner of the kitchen, his feet following the Puppet in suit as it climbs into the box, slowly pulling more and more of the boy into the large gift box until there is nothing left of him other than the still burning cigarette just outside the confines of the package. A long, black and white striped hand reaches out of the box and extinguishes the light before a deep, hearty chuckle fills the room; the box's lid telekinetically returning to its place.