[attr="class","samjermain"]

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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[attr="class","samjermain"]

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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[attr="class","samjermain"]

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead—way more uncomfortable in her height than she was now—bent slightly, so she could nudge him back. A hint of color snuck into her cheeks. In her recent foray into grunge, she’d made more than one trip to Hot Topic. It made her feel like she was a kid stuck on training wheels. But where else could she et stuff like that without her dad flipping? “There are worse things, you know? They have some cool t-shirts.” The talk of piercings meanwhile made her wrinkle her nose. “And I’d prefer to not need a cavity search to do an MRI.” Madeline had watched enough episodes of Untold Stories of the ER to give that stuff a pass.

Though she did have holes in her ear lobes. But that’d been back when mom tried dressing her up like some Victorian extra from Downton Abbey. The redhead couldn’t remember the last time she used them Maybe she could get some skulls or something. Really turn that perfect little girl aestethic on its head.

“It means she doesn’t think for herself—” Maddie replied irritably. “What she wants doesn’t matter. It’s just what the a-hole wants. He decides everything. I bet she’d jump off a damned bridge if he asked.” She figured it was the same reason she bowed to his every whim. The ever-present stare of Kole McKenna’s Malamar. A blue-eyed stare and the world went fuzzy. Suddenly, everything the guy suggested sounded like the most wonderful idea ever.

Though she’d never seen the bastard tentacle wipe her mom, Maddie figured it happened. Honestly, after over 20 years of that stuff, her brain probably looked like Swiss cheese. At the talk of birthdays, Madd snorted. “I pretend not to remember mine. And, whenever I get him something, it’s something he’s allergic to. Like peanut butter or hippy posters.” The man always scowled but, in front of people, he couldn’t actually do anything.

The teenager listened to his order, her nose wrinkled in an almost rabbit-like way. “What an old man order.” She muttered under her breath—payback for the earlier ribbing. Nobody could actually like dark chocolate, right? The stuff tasted like dirt. Then, of course, came the nuts. “You like almonds? I feel like I’m eating teeth.” And then, of course, people tried making milk out of them.

“Pretty sure little’s the wrong word, M.” The ginger smirked, forcing herself to straighten for a moment. Though not at her true height, she was still a few inches above the alabaster-haired boy.

For a second after the snatch and grab, Madd waited for the Pokecoin to drop. Her body trembled as she imagined a gruff voice shouting ’Stop!’ at them. Instead, the awkward conversation stretched out as the security guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, darling. I haven’t seen anything as cute as you all night.” It took everything in Madeline not to upchuck. Gross, dude. You’re old enough to be my dad.

“I’ll keep looking; thank you.” She feigned tears as she forced herself to slowly walk toward the vendor—trying her best not to burst out giggling. After grabbing her crepe, she picked a table out of sight of the battle tent. “So, what’d we get? Anything interesting?”

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[attr="class","samjermain"]

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[attr="class","samjermain"]It started as snickers. A noise almost confused with hiccups. But the dam quickly failed. The badger burst out laughing. “Goon! Goon! Goon!” He pointed emphatically at his crotch—even though there were zero Pokeballs to be seen. Big red eyes shifted to his trainer. The redhead’s straight face—and attempt at an explanation--seemed to make things worse. By the time his chortling stopped, the badger struggled to catch his breath.

Madeline did her best to keep a straight face. The only sign of failure came in the way of a single, muffled snort. “Yakuza isn’t talking about actual Pokeballs. He—” Another peal of hyena-like laughter emerged. Orange eyes narrowed irritably as a brow jerked upward: Seriously, man? A boot shifted over to press down on his foot. “And, it’s not funny that she doesn’t know. Not everyone’s minds are in the gutter." Finally, the noise came to an end.

Madd leaned over to whisper a clarification in Andrea’s ear. The low volume is an attempt at leaving Jalapeno untainted. “He’s talking about testicles.“ Badass or not, saying that word aloud still brought a tinge of pink to Madd’s cheeks. cheeks were tinged with pink. “Somebody told him that ages ago, and it just kind of stuck.” At least, that’s what she figured happened. He hadn’t always been nervous around water. “Guy’s gullible with a capital G.”

Irritated by the insult, Yakuza stayed on the shores of the pond while the girls shopped. He went so far as to drag over one of the picnic tables for him to sit at. Though, by the time the pair got back, any and all vitriol would be gone.

Madd picked through the store in search of the perfect supplies. For some reason, they stocked bows and hunting spray. She tossed a few cans of the latter in her cargo pants pockets. She also grabbed a net and the ingredients for smores—though she wasn’t sure the graham crackers were good. She also grabbed a sleeping bag and a picnic blanket. To finish things up, the redhead added a few tins of bait to her reusable shopping bag.

“Let's.” Madd rang up the stuff and hit total. But instead of putting money in the till, she just slammed the drawer shut. “It should be getting dark soon.”

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[attr="class","samjermain"]This kid was really the life of the party, huh? As she stared into those placid eyes, a warm greeting shriveled in her throat. For a brief moment, she wondered if that whole cyborg project had finally taken off. This would be a good way to perform a Turing test. But, something about the way he picked at her sleeves, calmed her a bit. It reminded her of her mousy cousin. Every hoody or sweater she owned was topped off by little stray threads. Only the doctor’s lab coats seemed invincible against the power of nervous tics.

s the floor falls out beneath her, Madd screams. It’s probably the most ladylike noise she’s made in years. She lands on her backside—the lack of padding sending a jolt up her spine. Yakuza’s landing is similarly clumsy—he lays there stunned for a moment before clambering back up.

As the redhead forces herself to her feet, she turns to find Lykaois. “Are you all right?” The gruff manner of speaking is replaced by something more flowert as if the fall had jolted her debutante mannerisms back into place. Any thought toward the young man quickly fades, however. Instead, amber eyes fixate on the message scrawled in front of them. “Well, isn’t that comforting?” One by one, the hairs on the back of her neck rose up. She was pretty sure they were being watched.

When the portal flickers in front of them, Madeline is quick to walk toward it. Rubbing at the back of his head, a grumbling Yakuza follows. She might love horror movies, but she didn't like feeling like she was in one. She didn't exactly fit the survivor trope.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]