Breezy
Eee.
- 454
- Posts
- 20
- Years
- Is there a Treeland? If so, there.
- Seen Mar 13, 2013
What's with this "Haha, let's not answer Breezy's question so she won't cancel this fic!" thing going on? I needed your input. But are you happy? I updated. UPDATED.
Punks.
It's only because Best Week Ever takes forever to download onto my Ipod and because I have nothing else to do, not because I feel bad for not updating. And definitely not because you lot won't answer my questi- and now I just squished a gnat on my computer screen. Great.
So enjoy. Or something along those lines. I sowee it's so short. And crappy. It's just setting up for the next chapter. Yay.
Hello Lietenant Peterson. I am Dr. Dan, and yes, I do know my name sounds like a type of cough medicine or a superhero trigged by a radioactive nuclear plant gone haywire. But it's okay. For you see, I'm wearing a lab coat. A white one. A doctor one.
Tony figured this was what "Dr. Dan" was trying to say. Although he was sure he wasn't, the doctor's moving mouth fitted perfectly with the words Tony provided for him.
My white coat is better than that gray blazer you have on now. That's the difference between you and me. It represents who we are. While that little gray coat and the gold badge pinned on it may rank you high in the police hierarchy, this white coat ranks me higher than you. For you see while you skipped along happily along in the Police Academy, I went through vigorous years of Medical School. So you can trust me. I am no Mankey. I'm the top banana.
Tony nodded when it seemed appropriate to do so.
So listen to my soothing voice, a voice that matches the calm white of my coat. You're in good hands. We fixed you up like new. I told you I was the top banana. No one Mankeys with the Mankey.
Again, he nodded.
Detective?
"Uh? Repeat that again please." Tony snapped out of his half dream-like, half dazed state. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair, his thumb grazing the rough white bandage wrapped around his head.
"How did this happen?
How did what happen? he thought. Why you're a doctor and I'm not?
"Uh. Police investigation. I was trying to climb a ladder to get on the roof."
"And?"
"Well. I'm here in a hospital sitting on this stupid cold bench if you want to finish this lovely fairy tale."
"Now now, behave."
"Just because I'm here doesn't mean you have to treat me like a little kid getting his shots."
"I was going to give you a lollipop if you didn't cry."
"And I didn't. So hand it over."
Dr. Dan rolled his eyes as he handed Tony a clipboard. "Your "partner"-" he put quotations around the word, "-out there filled out all the forms for you. All you need to do is sign and inital in the appropriate spots."
Tony snorted. "That "partner" as you quoted is my partner in the force. I'm not sure what the heck you're intending by quoting it, but I am married. He's all yours though if you want." He handed Dr. Dan the clipboard and hopped off the steralized bench. He placed a hand on the silver doorknob and then turned back toward the doctor was busy scribbling on the clipboard. "And by the way," he added, "white is not your color."
Smirking, Tony entered the hallway which smelled like plastic and sea water combined and found Jacob sitting in a wheel chair, staring up at the ceiling.
"Waiting for them to roll you to the mental institution?" he asked as he walked toward the bored-looking officer, waiting for a couple of chattering young girls to pass by. "I would offer but . . ." He pointed to the wound on his head.
"As that affects your ablility to walk," said Jacob dully, hopping up out of the wheelchair, the wheelchair colliding with the clean white walls. "How are you? Didn't lose too many brain cells from that pistol whip? I'd donate some of my own but . . ." he pointed to his left hand with his right, his left hand giving him the middle finger.
"Hilarious aren't you?"
"Yeah. I try very hard for the very few brain cells that I own."
The two swiftly walked down the hallway, past the worried-looking nurses that rushed from room to room to care for their patients, past the screaming expected mothers and their panicky husbands, past all of the annoyances of a hospital itself into the night air. Although the skies were clear, showing off the dazzling stars and the bright moon, the pavement was still wet, making the entire area smell like rain.
"Latios, what a night," Jacob muttered to himself as they reached the SUV and sat in the driver's seat, Tony jumping into the passenger's. He stuck the key in the igntion but didn't turn it on. "So. That guy that made a fool of you Tony . . . Do you think he was the one that shot Brendan?"
Tony hesistated to answer because of Jacob's last statement. "Well," he finally said in a weary voice, "it is possible that it was him. However, it could be someone that could be working with the shooter that doesn't want us to figure out this case. I also find is suspicious that Homer's car was gone when you went to check."
"Getaway car?"
"The problem is that we would of heard him leave if he were off in a hurry. Even if it was raining heavily, you would of still heard the squeal of his tires and the roar of his transmission. His tire tracks would of also set in deep even in the mud. We should go back and check to see later. We also better figure out what Homer was going to do later that night."
"And you have no clues who smacked you upside the head either?"
"I told you there was shadow. I couldn't see his face."
Jacob turned the key in the igntion, causing the car to purr and rumble. "Well," he said as he turned his head and pulled out of the parking lot before driving forward. "We have some work to do don't we? You better watch your ass too. That guy may come back for you to finish the job."
"I know."
Jacob turned into the street, the Rustboro Hospital fading into the distance. The two sat in silence except for the ocassional rush of another car going in the opposite direction.
"Yep. A lot of work to do."
The next day, Brendan and Wally stood in front of a beachside home in Slateport City, one bewildered and the other annoyed.
"You mean, there really is an Antonio Petals?"
"For the fifth time, yes! I looked her up in the phonebook and got her address that way. Why do you sound so surprised?"
"I just figured that it would be . . . never mind."
It was a cloudy afternoon, though the sun's grace managed to peep through, basking certain parts of Rustboro in shadow. It was a crisp day because of the nighttime rain with a slight chill in the air. Puffy clouds dotted the blue sky and the salty sea drifted upon the breeze.
Brendan, hesistant, finally pushed his finger into the doorbell, the doorbell chiming a short but perky melody. Steps thundered from within the house, something crashed toward the floor, and obscured words were yelled before a woman probably in her middle thirties opened the door, hands on her hips, a scowl upon her face. A white towel was barely tucked into her faded blue jeans and her light brown ponytail was messy and out of place.
"May I help you?" she asked with forced politeness.
Wally was taken aback by the woman's bitterness and stepped back on the wooden porch, almost stepping on a Growlithe's chew toy. "Uh. We're selling girl scout cookies?" he answered reluctantly and unsurely.
Brendan slapped Wally on the head. "I'd hate to bother you ma'am since you seem to be a sort of crisis . . ." He looked past the mother to see a three year-old boy try to wrestle a toy out of his eight year-old brother's hand, "but . . . are you Antonio Petals?"
"That's my penname at least. Men authors in discussing controversial topics are usually taken more seriously than women authors. At least that's what I believe," the woman replied as she wiped her hands off on the towel. "My name is Annabella Petals."
"Mommy, is the green-haired one really selling cookies?" asked the eight year-old.
Wally blushed a bit. "No."
"Oh." The eight year-old said simply. "I want cookies mommy. I WANT COOKIE-"
"Pipe down!" Annabella screamed, ceasing the boy's whining fit before it even started. She rubbed her forehead with a hand before smiling at the two scared boys. "I'm sorry about that. Lately I've had to take care of the kids since my husband is busy with this new case he found and it's been . . . frustrating me a bit." She opened the door wider. "Come in. I think I know why you're here."
Brendan and Wally looked at each other before they stepped inside the airy house, all the windows thrust open to let in the cool gust. Annabella led them to the living room and made them sit down on the couch where she set a plate of warm brownies down oozing with chocolate. She then took a seat to the side of them in a red loveseat, rubbing her temples again.
"Mrs. Petals," Brendan began as Wally reached for a brownie, already smearing chocolate around his lips, "you are a writer for the Catechize right?"
"It's one of the many magazines I write for," she answered, grabbing a pair of scissors out of her hyper three year-olds hands without glancing back. "Perhaps not one of the most well recognized or the most . . . trusted magazines out there, but it makes a quick buck and gets my point across. You two are here to question my latest article on what happened to you correct?"
Wally swallowed the huge bite of brownie he took and wiped his mouth with his shirt. "We just found your insight on what happened to Brendan interesting."
"How I believe that it wasn't spur of the moment but instead planned from day one?" said Annabella lazily, sitting back in the chair, lacing her fingers together. "Let's think about it." She paused, staring at the boys. "If it were just "I want to kill him for winning the league," your shooter wouldn't of had enough time to plan where to stand and how not to get caught. But because he took the time to position himself in front of your window at the exact time the moon was cast a shadow so you couldn't see his face and that he left no trails or tracks makes it seem like he was planning this for awhile."
"So it would of had to been someone that never wanted me to come so far. Someone who was jealous . . . but why wouldn't he want to shoot me earlier before I won the League?"
"Well, your exact position would of been hard to pinpoint during your travels. And he knew that your celebration party would of lasted way into the night, and when everyone left, he had you right in your clutches. If he did it some other time, people could of spotted him."
"I guess if I think about who seemed to be jealous of me should narrow things down," Brendan muttered more to himself than to the others.
"There's . . . there's something I don't understand though," Wally admitted, holding the brownie in his hand until it melted and left his hand sticky.
"What do you not understand?" asked Annabella, putting a finger on her chin, crossing her legs.
"How did you know that there were no tracks on the ground and the position of the killer before the news stations did?
Max and May peered through the upstairs window of their house, staring at the police cars lined up outside the Birch residence. Mightyenas and Growlithe's held on leashes by the police sniffed the grounds outside while scientists were in a heated discussion, heads pressed together, solemn looks on their face. Sirens flashed red and blue as police marked off an area that had deep tire tracks pressed in the mud.
"They found new tracks? Now?" asked May to her little brother, pressing her head against the cold glass.
"Last night, someone perpatrated Brendan's house. Apparently they had to get away fast. At least that's what it seems like."
"Hmm. I wonder who it was." May jumped off of her bed, Max following suit, and the two walked down the hallway and down the stairs toward the outside. From there, May enlarged a Pokéball and the two continued to walk down farther Littleroot and deep into the forest into a clearing.
"Alright, let's do it," she said, throwing the Pokéball skyward. "Come on out Tai!"
In a blaze of white light and a flurry of red and blue feathers, a bird, his wings spread out, soared out and circled before flapping his wings to stop himself and land on a nearby tree branch. Meanwhile, May and Max walked apart a few yards before turning around to face each other.
"So let's go over this," Max said. "I'm Brendan and your the killer. Right now you shoot me. And right now, the killer is getting away on his flying type. So . . . do it."
"Tai, you know what to do," said May, glancing up at her Swellow.
Tai cried out his name before swooping down and gracefully picking up May on his back, circling the clearing again. May looked behind her as Max walked over to where May was standing, observing the area.
"Anything?" she asked as Tai swooped back down and landed a few feet away from the young boy.
"Besides kicked up dirt, nothing," answered Max, eyebrows furrowed together. "Wait." May walked over toward May and picked up her foot.
"Let go you little nerd!" May squealed, trying to squirm her foot out of her little brother's grasp.
"Stop!" shouted Max, trying to observe the bottom of May's shoe. "You've got rocks stuck in the grooves of your shoes!"
"Oh my God, horror!"
"Shut up. The Birch's front yard in the roses. They have decorated rocks that are on the ground of their flowers. If we could somehow get a hold of everyone's shoes, we could check to see if that specific rock is in the grooves of their shoes. You think everyone would mind sending in the shoe they wore two nights ago?"
May looked at Max dully. "While it's a good plan, no one is going to send in their shoes. We have to narrow it down and then look at their shoes. Or something." She hopped off Tai and returned him into his Pokéball. "There has to be something we're overlooking."
"You were the only one nearby and awake at the time. You didn't see anyone when you left Brendan's house?"
"No. I told you everything I know."
Max sighed, cleaned his glasses on his green shirt and placed them back on. He flicked the bangs out of his eyes. "Hopefully Brendan and Wally can figure something out from this Antonio Petals fellow. We aren't doing too good on our part."
May took out the blue marble Wally gave her when he touched the Pokédoll in the old building. "Remember those dolls? And that one guy that kidnapped Wally? Doesn't that have to do with something."
"Well something was up but that doesn't mean it necessarily reflect to Brendan's case," replied Max, grabbing a hold of May's marble, examining it closely before handing it back to his sister.
"And the accustions against Red?"
"League champion against league champion. Of course that's going to be tabloids."
"But . . ." May trailed off, licking her dry lips.
"It means nothing May."
May wasn't so sure as she walked out of the forest, Max staying behind to examime the clearing again. She glanced up at the sky before directing her attention to the chaos up ahead. The sirens were still flashing, the Mightyenas were still sniffing and the scientists were still solemn.
"May!" hissed a voice to her right.
May turned her head and frowned at the one who hissed her voice. She had enough worries already. She didn't need to worry about him.
Nevertheless, May walked over toward the person, a forced smile abroad.
She wasn't sure what happened next.
LaTeR dAyZ!
Punks.
It's only because Best Week Ever takes forever to download onto my Ipod and because I have nothing else to do, not because I feel bad for not updating. And definitely not because you lot won't answer my questi- and now I just squished a gnat on my computer screen. Great.
So enjoy. Or something along those lines. I sowee it's so short. And crappy. It's just setting up for the next chapter. Yay.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter XVIII:
Hello Lietenant Peterson. I am Dr. Dan, and yes, I do know my name sounds like a type of cough medicine or a superhero trigged by a radioactive nuclear plant gone haywire. But it's okay. For you see, I'm wearing a lab coat. A white one. A doctor one.
Tony figured this was what "Dr. Dan" was trying to say. Although he was sure he wasn't, the doctor's moving mouth fitted perfectly with the words Tony provided for him.
My white coat is better than that gray blazer you have on now. That's the difference between you and me. It represents who we are. While that little gray coat and the gold badge pinned on it may rank you high in the police hierarchy, this white coat ranks me higher than you. For you see while you skipped along happily along in the Police Academy, I went through vigorous years of Medical School. So you can trust me. I am no Mankey. I'm the top banana.
Tony nodded when it seemed appropriate to do so.
So listen to my soothing voice, a voice that matches the calm white of my coat. You're in good hands. We fixed you up like new. I told you I was the top banana. No one Mankeys with the Mankey.
Again, he nodded.
Detective?
"Uh? Repeat that again please." Tony snapped out of his half dream-like, half dazed state. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair, his thumb grazing the rough white bandage wrapped around his head.
"How did this happen?
How did what happen? he thought. Why you're a doctor and I'm not?
"Uh. Police investigation. I was trying to climb a ladder to get on the roof."
"And?"
"Well. I'm here in a hospital sitting on this stupid cold bench if you want to finish this lovely fairy tale."
"Now now, behave."
"Just because I'm here doesn't mean you have to treat me like a little kid getting his shots."
"I was going to give you a lollipop if you didn't cry."
"And I didn't. So hand it over."
Dr. Dan rolled his eyes as he handed Tony a clipboard. "Your "partner"-" he put quotations around the word, "-out there filled out all the forms for you. All you need to do is sign and inital in the appropriate spots."
Tony snorted. "That "partner" as you quoted is my partner in the force. I'm not sure what the heck you're intending by quoting it, but I am married. He's all yours though if you want." He handed Dr. Dan the clipboard and hopped off the steralized bench. He placed a hand on the silver doorknob and then turned back toward the doctor was busy scribbling on the clipboard. "And by the way," he added, "white is not your color."
Smirking, Tony entered the hallway which smelled like plastic and sea water combined and found Jacob sitting in a wheel chair, staring up at the ceiling.
"Waiting for them to roll you to the mental institution?" he asked as he walked toward the bored-looking officer, waiting for a couple of chattering young girls to pass by. "I would offer but . . ." He pointed to the wound on his head.
"As that affects your ablility to walk," said Jacob dully, hopping up out of the wheelchair, the wheelchair colliding with the clean white walls. "How are you? Didn't lose too many brain cells from that pistol whip? I'd donate some of my own but . . ." he pointed to his left hand with his right, his left hand giving him the middle finger.
"Hilarious aren't you?"
"Yeah. I try very hard for the very few brain cells that I own."
The two swiftly walked down the hallway, past the worried-looking nurses that rushed from room to room to care for their patients, past the screaming expected mothers and their panicky husbands, past all of the annoyances of a hospital itself into the night air. Although the skies were clear, showing off the dazzling stars and the bright moon, the pavement was still wet, making the entire area smell like rain.
"Latios, what a night," Jacob muttered to himself as they reached the SUV and sat in the driver's seat, Tony jumping into the passenger's. He stuck the key in the igntion but didn't turn it on. "So. That guy that made a fool of you Tony . . . Do you think he was the one that shot Brendan?"
Tony hesistated to answer because of Jacob's last statement. "Well," he finally said in a weary voice, "it is possible that it was him. However, it could be someone that could be working with the shooter that doesn't want us to figure out this case. I also find is suspicious that Homer's car was gone when you went to check."
"Getaway car?"
"The problem is that we would of heard him leave if he were off in a hurry. Even if it was raining heavily, you would of still heard the squeal of his tires and the roar of his transmission. His tire tracks would of also set in deep even in the mud. We should go back and check to see later. We also better figure out what Homer was going to do later that night."
"And you have no clues who smacked you upside the head either?"
"I told you there was shadow. I couldn't see his face."
Jacob turned the key in the igntion, causing the car to purr and rumble. "Well," he said as he turned his head and pulled out of the parking lot before driving forward. "We have some work to do don't we? You better watch your ass too. That guy may come back for you to finish the job."
"I know."
Jacob turned into the street, the Rustboro Hospital fading into the distance. The two sat in silence except for the ocassional rush of another car going in the opposite direction.
"Yep. A lot of work to do."
* * *
The next day, Brendan and Wally stood in front of a beachside home in Slateport City, one bewildered and the other annoyed.
"You mean, there really is an Antonio Petals?"
"For the fifth time, yes! I looked her up in the phonebook and got her address that way. Why do you sound so surprised?"
"I just figured that it would be . . . never mind."
It was a cloudy afternoon, though the sun's grace managed to peep through, basking certain parts of Rustboro in shadow. It was a crisp day because of the nighttime rain with a slight chill in the air. Puffy clouds dotted the blue sky and the salty sea drifted upon the breeze.
Brendan, hesistant, finally pushed his finger into the doorbell, the doorbell chiming a short but perky melody. Steps thundered from within the house, something crashed toward the floor, and obscured words were yelled before a woman probably in her middle thirties opened the door, hands on her hips, a scowl upon her face. A white towel was barely tucked into her faded blue jeans and her light brown ponytail was messy and out of place.
"May I help you?" she asked with forced politeness.
Wally was taken aback by the woman's bitterness and stepped back on the wooden porch, almost stepping on a Growlithe's chew toy. "Uh. We're selling girl scout cookies?" he answered reluctantly and unsurely.
Brendan slapped Wally on the head. "I'd hate to bother you ma'am since you seem to be a sort of crisis . . ." He looked past the mother to see a three year-old boy try to wrestle a toy out of his eight year-old brother's hand, "but . . . are you Antonio Petals?"
"That's my penname at least. Men authors in discussing controversial topics are usually taken more seriously than women authors. At least that's what I believe," the woman replied as she wiped her hands off on the towel. "My name is Annabella Petals."
"Mommy, is the green-haired one really selling cookies?" asked the eight year-old.
Wally blushed a bit. "No."
"Oh." The eight year-old said simply. "I want cookies mommy. I WANT COOKIE-"
"Pipe down!" Annabella screamed, ceasing the boy's whining fit before it even started. She rubbed her forehead with a hand before smiling at the two scared boys. "I'm sorry about that. Lately I've had to take care of the kids since my husband is busy with this new case he found and it's been . . . frustrating me a bit." She opened the door wider. "Come in. I think I know why you're here."
Brendan and Wally looked at each other before they stepped inside the airy house, all the windows thrust open to let in the cool gust. Annabella led them to the living room and made them sit down on the couch where she set a plate of warm brownies down oozing with chocolate. She then took a seat to the side of them in a red loveseat, rubbing her temples again.
"Mrs. Petals," Brendan began as Wally reached for a brownie, already smearing chocolate around his lips, "you are a writer for the Catechize right?"
"It's one of the many magazines I write for," she answered, grabbing a pair of scissors out of her hyper three year-olds hands without glancing back. "Perhaps not one of the most well recognized or the most . . . trusted magazines out there, but it makes a quick buck and gets my point across. You two are here to question my latest article on what happened to you correct?"
Wally swallowed the huge bite of brownie he took and wiped his mouth with his shirt. "We just found your insight on what happened to Brendan interesting."
"How I believe that it wasn't spur of the moment but instead planned from day one?" said Annabella lazily, sitting back in the chair, lacing her fingers together. "Let's think about it." She paused, staring at the boys. "If it were just "I want to kill him for winning the league," your shooter wouldn't of had enough time to plan where to stand and how not to get caught. But because he took the time to position himself in front of your window at the exact time the moon was cast a shadow so you couldn't see his face and that he left no trails or tracks makes it seem like he was planning this for awhile."
"So it would of had to been someone that never wanted me to come so far. Someone who was jealous . . . but why wouldn't he want to shoot me earlier before I won the League?"
"Well, your exact position would of been hard to pinpoint during your travels. And he knew that your celebration party would of lasted way into the night, and when everyone left, he had you right in your clutches. If he did it some other time, people could of spotted him."
"I guess if I think about who seemed to be jealous of me should narrow things down," Brendan muttered more to himself than to the others.
"There's . . . there's something I don't understand though," Wally admitted, holding the brownie in his hand until it melted and left his hand sticky.
"What do you not understand?" asked Annabella, putting a finger on her chin, crossing her legs.
"How did you know that there were no tracks on the ground and the position of the killer before the news stations did?
* * *
Max and May peered through the upstairs window of their house, staring at the police cars lined up outside the Birch residence. Mightyenas and Growlithe's held on leashes by the police sniffed the grounds outside while scientists were in a heated discussion, heads pressed together, solemn looks on their face. Sirens flashed red and blue as police marked off an area that had deep tire tracks pressed in the mud.
"They found new tracks? Now?" asked May to her little brother, pressing her head against the cold glass.
"Last night, someone perpatrated Brendan's house. Apparently they had to get away fast. At least that's what it seems like."
"Hmm. I wonder who it was." May jumped off of her bed, Max following suit, and the two walked down the hallway and down the stairs toward the outside. From there, May enlarged a Pokéball and the two continued to walk down farther Littleroot and deep into the forest into a clearing.
"Alright, let's do it," she said, throwing the Pokéball skyward. "Come on out Tai!"
In a blaze of white light and a flurry of red and blue feathers, a bird, his wings spread out, soared out and circled before flapping his wings to stop himself and land on a nearby tree branch. Meanwhile, May and Max walked apart a few yards before turning around to face each other.
"So let's go over this," Max said. "I'm Brendan and your the killer. Right now you shoot me. And right now, the killer is getting away on his flying type. So . . . do it."
"Tai, you know what to do," said May, glancing up at her Swellow.
Tai cried out his name before swooping down and gracefully picking up May on his back, circling the clearing again. May looked behind her as Max walked over to where May was standing, observing the area.
"Anything?" she asked as Tai swooped back down and landed a few feet away from the young boy.
"Besides kicked up dirt, nothing," answered Max, eyebrows furrowed together. "Wait." May walked over toward May and picked up her foot.
"Let go you little nerd!" May squealed, trying to squirm her foot out of her little brother's grasp.
"Stop!" shouted Max, trying to observe the bottom of May's shoe. "You've got rocks stuck in the grooves of your shoes!"
"Oh my God, horror!"
"Shut up. The Birch's front yard in the roses. They have decorated rocks that are on the ground of their flowers. If we could somehow get a hold of everyone's shoes, we could check to see if that specific rock is in the grooves of their shoes. You think everyone would mind sending in the shoe they wore two nights ago?"
May looked at Max dully. "While it's a good plan, no one is going to send in their shoes. We have to narrow it down and then look at their shoes. Or something." She hopped off Tai and returned him into his Pokéball. "There has to be something we're overlooking."
"You were the only one nearby and awake at the time. You didn't see anyone when you left Brendan's house?"
"No. I told you everything I know."
Max sighed, cleaned his glasses on his green shirt and placed them back on. He flicked the bangs out of his eyes. "Hopefully Brendan and Wally can figure something out from this Antonio Petals fellow. We aren't doing too good on our part."
May took out the blue marble Wally gave her when he touched the Pokédoll in the old building. "Remember those dolls? And that one guy that kidnapped Wally? Doesn't that have to do with something."
"Well something was up but that doesn't mean it necessarily reflect to Brendan's case," replied Max, grabbing a hold of May's marble, examining it closely before handing it back to his sister.
"And the accustions against Red?"
"League champion against league champion. Of course that's going to be tabloids."
"But . . ." May trailed off, licking her dry lips.
"It means nothing May."
May wasn't so sure as she walked out of the forest, Max staying behind to examime the clearing again. She glanced up at the sky before directing her attention to the chaos up ahead. The sirens were still flashing, the Mightyenas were still sniffing and the scientists were still solemn.
"May!" hissed a voice to her right.
May turned her head and frowned at the one who hissed her voice. She had enough worries already. She didn't need to worry about him.
Nevertheless, May walked over toward the person, a forced smile abroad.
She wasn't sure what happened next.
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Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for sticking with me through my long hiatus lol.LaTeR dAyZ!
