* A/N *

Happy Holiday!

Hey there, it's ALPHA with the thirteenth chapter of my "Kickin' It" mystery FanFic, Vandals Anonymous! I know it has been quite some time since I last updated, but I have returned to FanFiction! To get info on my next updates check out the AlphaBetaSoup official blog! Hit up alpha-and-beta-soup. tumblr. com to get the deets!

As usual, there is a longer A/N at the bottom of this chapter and I'd prefer it if people reviewed alongside favouriting and alerting. I am interested in how quickly we can make it to 250 reviews. So please review, if not for me, then in the name of Christmas, Hanukkah or any other holiday you and your family celebrate!

DISCLAIMER: I do not, under any circumstances, own the characters or places mentioned in Disney XD's "Kickin' It".

* KIMBERLY CRAWFORD *

With a frown I peered at my reflection.

The hugantic bruise on my left cheek was just as prominent as ever. Although I'd spent the past two nights icing it, the swelling still hadn't gone down at, like, all. The swollen skin stayed a dark, purplish colour and the skin around it stayed a totally nauseating shade of greenish blue before turning all yellowy. My left eye was also all puffy and blue, and as a result of my injury, I had a serious migraine that Advil just couldn't fix.

Regardless, I popped two pills in my mouth and took a giant swig of water. In the past two days I was pretty sure that I'd taken enough painkillers to end up in an emergency room. It was a miracle I wasn't even high despite all the drugs in my system. I usually got all loopy after smelling nail polish remover.

I shoved the two bottles back into my duffle bag and slung it over my shoulder. Giving my sorry excuse of a reflection one last look, I exited the bathroom and entered the main part of the dojo.

Spinning the dial on my shiny, new lock (Thank you once again, Bobby Wasabi, for buying us brand new lockers with working locks! I was getting tired of the boys shoving random things into my sports bras!), I asked, "Are they here yet?"

Milton turned away from his own locker and shook his head. "No, not yet."

For the past thirty to forty minutes, we'd been waiting for Mr. Turner and his brat of a son, Arthur, to arrive. They were taking forever and I really wanted them to show up since the sooner they showed up the sooner we could get the whole ex-lax-in-brownies apology thing over with, and the sooner we got the apology over with the sooner I could get to the hospital so I could finish reading Sophie her favourite story, one of the books in that Fancy Nancy series.

I was determined to make it to the hospital on time for my session with the little girl I read to in the paediatric ward, Sophie, and (as psychotic as this sounded) nothing was going to stand in my way.

If the Turners didn't show up within the next five minutes, I was leaving. I was not going to put my life on hold for them just because they were rich (and Mr. Turner owned the mall, and Rudy was threatening to tell my parents if I left...).

Screw that.

"God, what's taking them so long?" I whined as I swung my locker open and shoved my duffle bag inside. "I really need to go see Sophie. I promised her that I'd visit her today, and I don't intend on breaking that promise."

Milton shrugged. "Not sure, but in all honesty I think it's for the best. I mean, Jack and Jerry aren't even here yet, and Eddie is still in line at Falafel Phil's according to the text he just sent me."

"Jack said he's on his way in his last text. He's just running a little late. His mom wanted to pick up some meds for him or something." I said, pulling my phone out of my back pocket. "But I have no clue what Jerry's deal is. He hasn't been answering any of my text messages."

"Or mine," Milton said, looking down at his own phone's blank screen.

It was so unlike Jerry not to answer texts. No matter what he was doing, no matter what mood he was in, Jerry always answered text messages. It didn't even matter if his phone died right before he could reply, he'd just steal—I mean, borrow—someone else's phone to text you back.

I mean, I of all people should know since he'd once taken my phone while I was texting Grace to shoot off a text to his mom about some rash he'd discovered in a place I refuse to say out loud (I mean, ew! I was still apologizing to Grace about the picture of the rash she received. I guess Jerry messed up and sent it to her instead of his mom or something).

"You think he's alright?" I asked, starting to get a little worried about the jarring lack of any new text messages from Jerry. I quickly thumbed off another text and anxiously waited for a reply. "Jerry always replies."

Milton shrugged as he slid his phone into his pocket, "Probably. Ms. Martinez seemed pretty upset about the arrest so there's no doubt in my mind that she grounded Jerry and took away his phone and other privileges—especially keeping yesterday's theatrics in mind."

Oh...right...I'd almost forgotten about the whole "See Cops Run" stunt Jerry had pulled yesterday as a part of our plan to enter the interrogation room without the Riggs' supervision in order to get some additional info on our arrests. He'd run around the police department—for who knew how long—screaming and yelling and stuff.

Yeah, that stunt probably got Jerry in a whole ton of crud with his mom.

"You're probably right, Milton." I said, giving my phone one last look before I slid it back into my back pocket. "Ms. Martinez probably just took Jerry's phone away. That's all."

Despite this probably being the most logical explanation to Jerry's lack of texts, I couldn't help but to feel as though it wasn't the right reason. I had this weird feeling in my gut that something else entirely was going on, but I couldn't figure out the "what" part.

Milton saw the apprehension on my face and was about to say something about it when the dojo doors suddenly swung open.

Seemed like Jack and Eddie had finally arrived.

"Hey guys," I said, kind of relieved I didn't have to sit through yet another session of Tea Time with Dr. Krupnick. Why you may ask? Let's just say that when Milton gets his "inner-therapist" on, he really gets his "inner-therapist" on.

"Hey," Eddie said with a disgustingly greasy looking grin. The boy was all smiles as he crammed yet another one of Phil's greasy creations into his mouth, totally unaware of how nauseated Jack looked at the smell of his overly greasy food.

Actually, Jack just looked sick. Period.

Seemed like the flu had taken over poor Mr. Brewer "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" style.

That fever he'd been nursing for the past two days had spiked, leaving him all rosy and pink like my sweatshirt. His nose was a little red from the constant blowing and there were dark bags under his eyes as if he hadn't slept all week (which was only partially true).

In general, Jack looked totally out of it and to be quite honest I actually felt kind of bad for him. I mean, he didn't look all that great yesterday, but today he looked absolutely miserable. It was like someone had told him they'd killed his turtle and then ate it...or something a lot less gross sounding.

I totally would've given him a hug if, you know, he wasn't sick. Okay, so I knew that sounded totally vain but I couldn't afford to get sick since my Pep Squad was performing for the Senior Pep Squad this upcoming Wednesday and I needed to lead the routine. Getting sick was an ultra big no-no for me.

While Coach and Donna would be a bit understanding if I caught the flu, Alyssa would kill me and leave my body out for the vultures—no questions asked—so I kept my distance.

Besides, this morning I woke up with a slightly irritated throat (a sure sign that I was coming down with something—thanks a lot, Jack!) and wanted to put off the onset of whatever I was coming down with as long as possible (...or at least until Thursday) and getting too close to Sickie Boy definitely would not help.

I took a couple steps back from my locker as Jack approached his, nearly bumping into Milton who had also decided to put some distance between himself and Sickie Boy since he was a major mysophobe (on a scale of one to ten, Milton's fear of germs was, like, hazmat levels).

I watched Jack as he spun in his locker combo, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath when he got it wrong the first, second and third time. The fourth time I shoved Jack aside and opened his locker for him, deciding that the sight of him trying and totally failing at opening his locker was too pathetic for me to watch any further.

Being sick really disoriented Mr. Perfect.

"Thanks," Jack said, sounding seriously stuffed up and hoarse as he reached into his locker and pulled out an orange, pullover hoodie. He slipped it on over his black, totally formfitting v-neck. Dang... "How do you know my combo?"

I waved him off. Like I was going to admit that I'd watched him spin it in every time he'd opened his locker in the past three or four days like a total creeper just so that I could snoop in his locker later on. Psh...Yeah right!

"Doesn't matter," I said, my voice shifting into a more sympathetic tone. "What's more important is you—don't give me that look, Brewer—what I meant was how are you feeling?"

Jack leaned against the row of lockers next to his and shot me an amused look. "Sick...like really sick. I'm trying so hard not to throw up all over you right now."

I smiled, folding my arms across my chest. "Well, so far you're doing a pretty good job."

"Thanks," Jack sighed as he pushed up the sleeves of his pullover. "I'm just trying to get through this whole "apology" thing without puking on anyone. I mean, according to Milton's "enemy" list thing, Heather Clark still hates me."

I smirked (for undisclosed reasons regarding Heather's dislike of Jack).

"Honestly, I really just want to go home, sleep and maybe get pampered by my mom. She loves doing that." Jack continued. He turned to Milton. "Are Mr. Turner and Arthur with Rudy?"

"Nope, they're not here yet." Milton said as he plopped down on the bench next to Eddie.

"What? They're still not here yet?"

The guys and I turned around to face Rudy, who'd finally come out of his office after being holed up in there for who knew how long.

Like the guys and I, Rudy was anxiously anticipating the arrival of the Turner Family. According to Rudy, Mr. Turner had swung by the dojo while we'd been at school last Monday to assess some of the damage the stupid vandals had done.

Apparently Mr. Turner had said that shutting down the dojo was almost inevitable considering all the wreckage. It would take a lot of time and money to fix the place up, money Mr. Turner apparently wasn't quite sure was in the mall's budget.

Lucky for us, Bobby Wasabi saved the day with his mega donation. Once all the required paperwork was signed, Mr. Turner allowed Bobby Wasabi's renovators to do their thing, saying that he couldn't wait to see the dojo once it'd been fixed up.

Unfortunately for us though, these words were the ones which had thrown Rudy into an OCD-like cleaning frenzy.

Rudy had been cleaning this place since yesterday afternoon despite the fact that it wasn't even dirty yet. The dojo still looked like it belonged in some sort of interior decorator mag. He'd already tidied up the main room, shining his cheap trophies to perfection, and had been reorganizing his office for the last hour or something (if you asked me, he was crazy).

"Mr. Turner and Arthur still aren't here?" Rudy asked again, frantically looking around as if he were expecting the Turners to pop up behind the guys and I like it was some five-year-old's surprise party or something.

"Nope, not yet." Milton affirmed. "Although I don't think that this is an issue. Had they come any earlier, Jack and Eddie would've missed them, and Jerry still hasn't even arrived yet."

"Jerry's not here yet either?" Rudy groaned. "Why is he running late...this time?"

"That has yet to be determined." I said, "He hasn't answered any of my texts."

"Or mine!" Eddie and Milton chimed in.

"Well he answered one of mine," Jack said, pulling out that awkward flip phone his mom had given him for the duration of his grounding (Still sorry about that, Jack!). "He said something came up, but he'll be here as soon as he can."

"Something...came...up?" I asked. The weird feeling I had that something just wasn't quite right with Jerry intensified and my stomach flipped. "Did he say what?"

Coughing like he had TB, Jack shook his head. "No, he didn't." He wheezed.

Rudy rolled his eyes and groaned again, either completely oblivious to or ignoring the fact that one of his students was literally dying right before his very eyes. "Well, he better be here soon. Mr. Turner made it very clear that he wanted all of you here for the second apology. Not half of you!"

"Actually Rudy..." Milton began, but we all shot him a look (with varying degrees of dirtiness) and he immediately shut up.

Rudy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Look, I'm going to go give Mr. Turner a call just to make sure he's on his way and our plans haven't changed. Give me a call if they get here before I find Mr. Turner's private number."

"Sure thing, Rudy." Eddie said and the rest of us nodded in agreement as Rudy disappeared into his office.

Ironically enough, less than millisecond after the office door had clicked shut, did Jerry burst into the dojo (nearly scaring the crud out of us, but that's a whole other thing).

"Am I too late?" He panted, "Did Arthur and Mr. Turner leave?"

I felt a weird twinge in my stomach.

Jerry was panting and wheezing as if he'd just done the Tour de France route on foot or something. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead and stained his shirt.

Where the heck had he been? Of all of us, Jerry probably lived the closest to the mall, regardless of whether he was at his mom's or his dad's. Even if he had sprinted all the way here from one of his homes, there was no way he'd be this exhausted. Clearly Jerry hadn't been at either home. He'd been elsewhere.

My eyes narrowed. What exactly had "come up" and where exactly did it "come up"?

I eyed the boy suspiciously as he continued to pant like a St. Bernard in the Sahara. "Don't worry, Jerry. You didn't miss them. The Turners still haven't arrived yet."

"Oh good," Jerry breathed, fanning himself with his shirt.

"But," I paused, raising an eyebrow. "Where have you been?"

Jerry didn't respond. A flurry of emotions danced across his face, each one a little more troubling than the last, before he finally settled on guilt. Guilt clouded Jerry's dark eyes, marking his facial features. He looked extremely upset for whatever the reason.

"Around..." He finally muttered, looking down.

My stomach turned nauseatingly. I began to feel about as queasy as Jack currently did.

Was I honestly the only one here who noticed something was seriously wrong with Jerry?

"Around?" Eddie repeated dubiously. "Dude, where the heck have you been? You ignored all our texts and came in like you just ran a marathon or something."

"Yeah seriously," Jack joined in. "Where were you?"

"Something came up, okay?" Jerry snapped, sounding awfully frustrated even though we hadn't really been pressing. "Something came up so I came in kinda late. The only reason I didn't answer any of your texts—except, I think, Jack's—was because I was in a dead zone. No bars. Dios, calma. No es el fin del mundo."

"Okay, okay!" Eddie raised his hands in truce. "Whoa dude. Sorry for even asking."

Jerry mumbled something under his breath as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

I could feel Milton eying me. He knew that I had purposely spurned this whole thing on because I'd been feeling kind of worried about Jerry's whereabouts earlier on. But now my worries had some justification, right?

There was no way Jerry would've freaked like he did if something hadn't been going on behind the scenes.

I was about to try my hand at getting Jerry to spill his deal when Milton cut in. Sensing the discomfort (mainly on Jerry's part), he changed the topic, shooting me a pointed and most definitely accusing look.

"Since Arthur and Mr. Turner still have yet to arrive and all of us are now here, I think this is a good time to bring up our main purpose during this second apology visit." Milton began, "Our main purpose here is to get some answers to a couple questions from Arthur. In order to do so, I think we need to discuss how we're going to approach him. Set some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" Eddie repeated, biting into another falafel ball.

"Yes, ground rules." Milton affirmed. "I personally believe that we need to set some ground rules since we all know for a fact that tempers will rise when we're interrogating Arthur."

Jack and I exchanged a glance.

Why did I get the feeling that Milton was talking about us specifically?

"Well, that does make sense." Jack finally admitted. "I guess we do need to watch how we act when we question Arthur. If we upset him, he might shut down and refuse to answer any of our questions. Or even worse, he'll tell his daddy on us. We have to play it safe."

"Yeah, because confronting him about his association with the Black Dragons is such a brat move." I muttered sarcastically.

Our visit to the San Jose Police Department yesterday had brought up many more questions than answers.

In an effort to uncover some info on the people who'd been tormenting us for the past week, we'd discovered that Arthur Turner had been with the Black Dragons the morning the Black Dragons discovered that their dojo had been vandalised (just like ours had been a couple days earlier). This discovery put a whole new, dizzying twist on the "vandals" case.

What the heck was Arthur doing with the Black Dragons?

The thought of Arthur working with the Black Dragons was completely unnerving, to say the least. Arthur had nearly killed us the last two times he'd been here and the Black Dragons had caused us some serious harm in the past (seriously, how weren't these people in juvy yet?). So there was no telling what the Arthur and the Black Dragons would do once they were together.

"It's not exactly a brat move," Jack said with a shrug. "But Arthur might take it that way."

"Exactly," Milton said. "There's no doubt in my mind that Arthur heard about the vandalism. The second we start questioning him, he'll assume that we're accusing him of something and he'll lash out at us. And it'll only make things worse if we start screaming back. This is exactly why we need to watch ourselves."

"Okay...so we need to talk about how we're going to grill Arthur so he doesn't get suspicious right away...and how Jack and Kim are going to manage themselves so they don't tear him to pieces?" Jerry finally spoke after being silent for so long.

Jack and I both shot him a look and Milton raised an eyebrow.

"Well, can whatever we're about to discuss wait?" Jack asked as he slammed his locker shut. "I really need to blow my nose right now and I'm all out of tissues. Anyone have a packet of Kleenex on them or something?"

"Try Rudy's office." Eddie suggested. "He's been stock piling them. Don't ask why."

"But you might want to take a raincheck on that and on our current conversation too." I said, pointing at the glass doors. "Look what the cat dragged in—a rat look-a-like."

Through the glass we could see the Turners approaching—and it was about flipping time!

Arthur and his dad walked side by side into the dojo, the former carrying what appeared to be a saran-wrapped plate. I hoped that whatever was under the saran-wrap wasn't for us because my stomach could not handle another batch of botched brownies.

The Turners looked around the dojo, silently checking out the improvements which had been made as a result of the renovation. The guys and I stood proudly as we looked on. Our dojo looked flipping fantastic! Nobody could deny it!

"Well, I am certainly impressed with how this place turned out." Mr. Turner admitted, looking a little awestruck, unlike Arthur who looked less than impressed. "The dojo looks far better than it did even before the vandalism. Bobby Wasabi did well with the renovation. Where is Rudy? I want him to give me Bobby Wasabi's phone number so I can personally thank Mr. Wasabi for what he did. Is he in his office?"

"Yeah, I'll go get him," Jack offered. "I was already on my way in there anyway."

Mr. Turner smiled. "That would be great, Jack. Thank you."

A couple seconds later, Jack reappeared with a gazillion tissues in hand. He shoved them into his pocket, saving one for his runny nose. "Rudy's—"

Before Jack could even finish his sentence, Rudy bounded out of his office about as hyperactively as Henry was after downing twelve Smile Dip packets (hopefully he wasn't about to throw up pink foam like Henry did a couple minutes after).

"Mr. Turner!" He exclaimed. "What a lovely surprise! I'm glad that you and Arthur were finally able to make it! I thought we'd have to reschedule again since you were supposed to take your step-daughter up to her father's place this morning."

Mr. Turner laughed. "Oh no. I promised my Little Princess that this wouldn't take too long so she complied. She's wandering around the mall as we speak with her favoured platinum membership so we'll have some time to talk before she returns."

I raised an eyebrow. Buying someone's patience? Sure sounded like a Turner thing to do.

"That's great!" Rudy exclaimed, sounding way too overenthusiastic about what he was reacting to. It was pretty clear that someone (not going to name names because you'd actually have to pretty dumb not to get it since the said person was making it so obvious) was trying way too hard to suck up to Head-Honcho Turner. "Why don't we leave the kids and go talk in my office? I'm sure they'd like a little privacy."

The guys and I exchanged glances. We definitely needed privacy if we were going to ask Arthur about his involvement with the Black Dragons.

Mr. Turner agreed and followed Rudy into his office, waving at us as he walked off.

The moment the office door clicked shut, the six of us turned on each other. The guys and I stood in a cluster on one end of the mats while Arthur stood alone on the other. The stare down only lasted seconds before Arthur flashed us a creepy, nightmarish smile and took a step towards us. Instinctively, we took a collective step back.

"So we meet again," Arthur said.

"You don't say," I said sarcastically and the rest of the guys shot me a warning look.

Oh right. I almost forgot I was supposed to pretend I didn't hate Arthur with every single inch of my body for attempting to knock down the dojo with people inside and giving us tainted brownies which made us sick for several days. Oops, my bad. Well, I've got it now.

Arthur chose to ignore my snark and continued on with his "so-called" apology. "Well, I'm back to say I'm sorry for the laxative tainted brownies I fed you the last time I was here to apologize for trying to bulldoze the dojo. I don't know what I was thinking."Arthur gazed at us as sincerely as he possibly could, eyes wide in faux-innocence. "What I did was wrong. I understand that now after spending countless hours with my therapist while I was grounded—a second time—for what I'd done."

I raised an eyebrow. I probably shouldn't have been surprised Mr. Turner had sent his son to a therapist, but come on. Who wouldn't have been able to tell at first glance that Arthur was a narcissistic, sociopathic jerk?

"That is why I came back to apologize again." Arthur held his saran-wrapped plate out to us as he stepped forwards, another pseudo-grin lighting up his face. "Here, these are some cookies I had the Kitchen Aid bake to make up for those awful brownies. You guys can take some. They all say I'm Sorry because I am."

The guys and I were completely and utterly dumbfounded. Stupidly, we stared down at the cookies, unsure of how to react. After what happened the last time we accepted free food from Arthur, we were kind of nervous—and rightfully so!

The whole "ex-lax-in-brownies" fiasco was a total nightmare for me and the guys. I mean, the incident was number three on my "Top Ten List of Worst Experiences Ever" and number two on my "Top Ten List of Worst Experiences experienced with the Guys". On both lists, the memory which came before the "ex-lax" one was "The Trip to Remember" (note the sarcasm).

Sweet cheese, that trip was traumatic.

But the "ex-lax-in-brownies" fiasco was only slightly less horrifying.

I'd been over at the Milligan home when the effects of the brownies finally hit me, helping Grace out with our Cheer Camp scrapbook. We'd taken a crud load of pictures over the summer, but had been too lazy to organize them until that day.

Donna Tobin was actually supposed to join us (I mean, that was back when Grace didn't hate Donna with every inch of her being), but she'd been asked to baby-sit while her mom took on an extra shift at work and couldn't come over.

So it was just Grace and I—old besties.

I guess I should've been more thankful that Donna wasn't there since it made the whole "incident" less humiliating, but that wasn't saying much since the person who had witnessed everything was Grace Milligan.

Never in a million years would that girl let me live it down.

As our scrapbooking and story-retelling session went on, I became more and more symptomatic. Halfway through, I developed these awful cramps and soon after I became really gassy. Like, "Jerry-Literally-Just-Ate-Three-Cans-of-Beans-So-Run-for-Your-Flipping-Life" gassy. It was really embarrassing.

Of course, the gas attack wasn't nearly as embarrassing as what ended up happening about twenty minutes later when the ex-lax finally kicked in and sent my intestines into a frenzy.

Let's just say I picked a terrible day to wear white short-shorts.

Arthur waved his pink plate around as if he were trying to recapture our attention. "Hello...? I said you guys could take some. There are some snickerdoodles in here—everyone loves snickerdoodles—and there are some sugar cookies with frosting—everyone loves frosting."

"Wow Arthur, thanks so much." Jack finally said, giving Arthur a half-hearted smile. "But I can't. I really don't feel well right now, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep these cookies down."

"I can't take any either." Eddie squeaked, "Big brunch at Falafel Phil's. I'm stuffed."

"My girlfriend is coming back from Europe today and I have a huge "Welcome Home" lunch date planned before the jetlag really hits her, so I can't spoil my appetite! Sorry!" Milton said nervously.

"I don't trust you, so no." I said bluntly, joining in on the excuses session.

Arthur's left eye twitched as he forced a smile. "That's okay. I'll just leave them here for you guys so you can eat them later. No big deal. But Jerry, what about you? Do you want a cookie or do you have an excuse just like your friends?"

"Uh..." Jerry's eyes grew wide in alarm. He looked from the guys and me to Arthur (who was really starting to look kind of predatory) and back again, unsure of what to do.

"Have a cookie, Jerry." Arthur pressed, his eyes flashing. "Have. A. Cookie."

Jerry normally buckled under the slightest hint of peer pressure so really wasn't all that surprising that he caved in to Arthur's demands, but the rest of the guys and I groaned and rolled our eyes anyway.

"What the heck?" Jerry asked with a nervous laugh.

Arthur went from "creepy" to "creepy" with his predacious as fudge grin. He shoved the plate forward and Jerry nervously took a cookie. He stared at it for the longest of time before finally raising it to his lips—where it stayed hovering. His hand shook as beads of sweat began to pearl on his forehead. It was pretty obvious he was having flashbacks to the ex-lax-brownies.

I'd never seen Jerry so nervous about anything in my life. He literally ate just about anything, so seeing him so anxious was weird and actually kind of worried me. Jerry wasn't acting like himself today—and it wasn't just because he was eating a potentially poisoned cookie.

Finally unable to watch him quiver and shake anymore, I smacked the cookie right out of Jerry's hand. We watched as it bounced across the mat, trailing crumbs as it went, before settling on the ground with a soft—but audible—thud. The guys turned to look at me, their jaws slack in surprise.

"Kim!" Jerry exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Do not tell me that you were honestly going to eat that!" I trilled, "Please do not tell me that you were honestly going to eat that cookie! We have no idea what is in it! For all we know, Arthur laced it with more laxatives or Hashimoto Soda or something!"

"WHAT!?" Jerry shrieked.

Arthur rolled his eyes incredulously. "Oh my God. Calm down. These cookies are perfectly fine to eat. I swear on my life that I didn't add anything to them. Jeez, why don't you guys trust me?"

"Oh...I don't know...maybe because you tried to poison us the last time we accepted free food from you?" I snapped.

Arthur gazed at us in (what I assumed was phony) disbelief. "You guys, come on. I wasn't trying to poison you. All I wanted was a little revenge for getting me grounded. That's all. I didn't mean any serious harm."

"Tell that to my underwear," Jerry hissed.

"Or my bathroom," Eddie chimed in.

"Your brownies made us sick for, like, three days." Jack pointed out, an eyebrow raised. "Don't tell me you weren't trying to cause some serious harm."

Arthur's left eye twitched again. It was pretty obvious that his patience was wearing thin and he was struggling to contain himself. If Arthur flipped out, he knew that he'd have to abandon the whole "innocent boy" act which he'd been trying so hard to maintain.

Honestly, I had no idea why he was trying so hard since his dad was nowhere to be seen. That didn't stop him from being a total jerk to us before so why was he "playing" nice now? What was his purpose? What was the creep trying to achieve?

"I wasn't trying to poison you," Arthur hissed through clenched teeth. Reciting what were obviously rehearsed words, Arthur said, "I wasn't thinking straight when I laced the brownies with laxatives. I wasn't thinking about the consequences, I was thinking about getting revenge. The therapist sessions really helped me see what I did was wrong."

I heard Jack snort, but he blew his nose to cover the noise.

Milton shot us warning looks, subtly telling us to take it easy since things had derailed. Arthur was close to snapping and we hadn't even had the chance to ask him about his involvement with the Black Dragons yet. Playing pacifist, he said, "Guys, maybe really does mean what he says. Maybe he really wasn't thinking when he spiked the brownies and his therapist really did help him see the error of his ways."

I let out a short, dry laugh. "Because for some strange reason he didn't think that putting ex-lax into a batch of brownies was a bad idea. Come on, you don't need a therapist to figure that out. All you need is a properly functioning brain."

The plate clattered onto the bench.

The guys and I turned to face Arthur, our eyes wide. Judging by the looks on the guys' faces, it was safe to assume that they were all thinking exactly what I was thinking. We were all thinking about Arthur Turner. He had finally snapped.

Arthur threw a fist, which I deftly ducked under, not wanting another ginormous bruise on the other side of my face since one bruise was painful enough (seriously, I should've been high off all those painkillers). With a loud cry of frustration or disappointment or whatever, Arthur threw another fist, but Jack caught his hand before it could connect with his cheek bone.

Jack gazed at the other boy stoically, fist in hand. Despite how hoarse and barely there his voice was, his words didn't lack any conviction. "You probably shouldn't have done that."

"You know what!? Maybe the Black Dragons were right about you guys!" Arthur snarled, practically foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog or squirrel or Eddie when he caught sight of food after not eating for an hour.

We all froze.

For the first time in history, I witnessed something I never thought I'd ever see Jack do as long as I lived. The rest of the guys and I watched in shock as Jack slowly lowered Arthur's hand and (even more slowly) let go, one finger at a time. Even Arthur seemed a little surprised. He continually looked from his fist to Jack's face as if waiting for something magical to happen (I would be lying if I said I wasn't doing the same).

"What," Jack paused, closing the gap between him and Arthur before continuing, "did the Black Dragons say about us?"

Arthur gulped frantically like a fish out of the water, blinking rapidly. Eventually he recovered and gave Jack a cocky, sleazeball grin. He clenched and unclenched his fist a couple times before looking up to meet Jack's gaze. "Why?" he asked, a smirk quickly taking over his face. "Why did you let go, Jack? Scared that this wasn't a battle you could win while so sick and so weak?"

"I'm not afraid to smash you into that wall again. I did it once so doing it again will be a piece of cake. This time it'll even be a fair fight since we're the same height and I'm sick." Jack hissed.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "You wouldn't dare with my dad in the next room over."

"Wanna bet?"

"Arthur, just answer the flipping question." I cut in, stepping forwards. I folded my arms across my chest. "Man up and answer the flipping question. You wouldn't be stalling if you weren't totally scared right now."

Arthur shrugged as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Trust me. I'm not afraid of this scrawny little skate rat anymore than I'm afraid of the rest of you. Why would I be afraid of a nerd, a poser, a chub or a girl?"

It took all my restraint not to lunge at the sociopathic jerk and scratch that cocky, little smirk off his face.

"But," He sighed melodramatically. "I'll answer the question. The Black Dragons had plenty to say about you guys. I was recently asked to join them in because of my martial arts skill, and when I told them thanks since I'd been rejected from this dojo, they told me that it was actually a good thing I didn't join your shoddy little dojo. When I asked why, they told me things about the five of you that I never even would've believed if it weren't for the fact that it was true."

"Like what?" Milton asked, clearly starting to get a bit exasperated.

Arthur casually strolled away from us. "Things...a lot of little things at first. But as the stories went on, those little things got bigger...and bigger...and bigger."

"You're not answering the question." Jack said impatiently.

"Calm down, I'm getting there!" Arthur said, sounding whinier than Henry when mom told him that he couldn't buy another game for his Nintendo 3DS since he already had almost fifty and lost at least half of them. "The Black Dragons, mainly Frank Bickle, told me all these things about you guys, and said you guys deserved what was coming to you on—"

"I thought you said this wouldn't take long, Arthur!"

Oh God...not her again. She was Arthur's step-sister?

Beneath the arch at the front of the dojo stood my archrival during the Seaford Pearl Pageant, Claire Whatever-The-Heck-her-Last-Name-Was.

Hands on her narrow hips, Claire strode forward, eventually slowing to a stop right in front of her step-brother. Her seriously over-glossed lips curled into a sneer as her thin eyebrows lowered over her dark eyes. She tucked a loose strand of red-gold hair back into the bun at the top of her head as she angrily hissed something nasty at her brother.

If Arthur wasn't scared of Jack, he definitely was scared of Claire. He cowered and even whimpered as she angrily hissed into his face, standing on the tip of her (admittedly adorable) boots to equal out their height difference. Whatever Claire had said sucked the cockiness right out of Arthur since he looked pretty weak and pathetic after Claire pulled away.

When she was finished verbally beating Arthur down to a pulp, Claire shifted her attention onto the guys and me. She took a couple steps towards us, running her eyes over us like we were gum stuck to the bottom of her boot or a stain on her four hundred dollar wrap-around sweater (yeah, I know the price...I saw it on the Saks website).

"Crawford," Claire said, obviously still bitter that she (the unofficial Queen of Swathmore Academy) had lost the pageant to me (a lowly peasant at Seaford High). "Boys,"

Something in the Ice Queen changed, however, when she saw Jerry.

Suddenly the ice in her eyes melted and in its place was a fire which could've only been ignited by lust—or something like that. Her scowl morphed into a coy, little smirk as she walked towards Jerry, who quickly took a couple steps back, and—was she glowing?

Claire had really turned her charms up to the max.

"So we meet again," The blonde said seductively, looking predacious as she eyed the boy up and down. Was this a standard saying in the Turner household? Because if so, it was really flipping creepy (just saying!).

"Yeah..." Jerry squeaked, nervously looking around for a place to hide.

"You guys know each other?" Arthur asked incredulously, but Claire ignored him.

"I missed seeing you, Jerry." She went on, sticking with the whole "seductress" thing she had going. "Your eyes, your hair, your lips—everything. You know, I broke up with my boyfriend, Monty, to be with you and then you left me all alone at Swathmore. Which is fine—I always like a good chase."

Claire lunged forward and Jerry screamed at the top of his lungs, flying backward to avoid her blood red claws—oops, I meant nails. Jack, Milton, Eddie and I leaped back so Jerry wouldn't fall on top of us, but Arthur wasn't so lucky. He cursed loudly—saying words my parents would probably shoot me for using—as Jerry fell on top of him, both their bodies slamming into the mats with a loud thud.

Before the rest of us could even react, Mr. Turner and Rudy were out of the office.

"Arthur!" Mr. Turner exclaimed, shocked. "Are you alright?!"

"I will be when this tub of fat gets off me!" Arthur shrieked.

"Well Jerry, get off him!" Rudy yelled, acting as if his job was on the line (which it wasn't...I think) if Jerry didn't get up ASAP or something.

Like the good friend he was, Jack offered Jerry a hand which the other boy immediately took. By the count of three, Jerry was up on his feet, brushing himself off. Jack bent down and offered Arthur a hand but he refused, screaming that he could get up by himself. Jack let his hand linger by Arthur's collapsed body a little longer before he shrugged and straightened up, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

"Rudy, I think this is a good time for us to leave." Mr. Turner said. His face turned a rosy shade of pink as Arthur continued to yell and curse at the guys and me. He made a few weak attempts at placating his son but none of them seemed to work.

Arthur continued to scream and yell as Mr. Turner yanked him to his feet. Words tumbled out of Arthur's mouth faster than a freight train, so fast that we could barely tell one word apart from another. The few words we could pick out though were...well...words I was surprised Arthur had the guts to yell in front of his father since he was so scared of being the presence of his step-sister.

Rudy looked horrified at the entire scene. He shot the guys and me accusatory looks as he frantically apologized for whatever the heck he thought we'd done to upset Arthur. Mr. Turner said that Rudy owed him no apology, but he was the one who owed us an apology for Arthur's behaviour. Regardless, Rudy continued to apologize, even asking to see the Turners out.

Mr. Turner turned away from us, embarrassed, as he grabbed his son by the shirt and tugged him away. "No, that's not necessary. Come on, Claire! Let's get going. Your father is expecting you for dinner and we have quite the drive."

Her lips curled into a self-righteous smirk, Claire skipped along behind her step-father as he dragged her step-brother right out the door. She paused at the arch and turned around, flirtatiously waving bye at Jerry and mouthing "call me" with a coy wink.

Honestly, Jerry looked more like he was going to throw up than anything else at Claire's overly flirty actions and I couldn't blame him. I probably would've too.

Long after Arthur's shrieks had faded, the guys and I stood in silence, guiltily looking downwards as Rudy glared at us (or at least I felt guilty since the whole thing with Arthur was kind of started by me. After I made my "functioning brain" comment, everything kind of went downhill. Karma). The silence was only broken by Jack's sneezing and subsequent nose blowing.

"Well," Rudy finally broke the awkward silence as he sat down on the bench. If looks could kill, we all probably would've been dead by now. "What the heck happened?"

"What do you mean?" I asked tentatively.

"I mean what I said." Rudy looked up at us. "What the heck happened while Mr. Turner and I were in my office? I highly doubt Arthur would've been so upset if you guys hadn't done anything to him. So fess up. Why was Jerry on top of Arthur, hm? I think that would be a good place to start."

The guys and I exchanged nervous glances. There was a lot of stuff we were going to have to leave out if we were going to tell Rudy "the truth". We certainly couldn't tell him about our little one-on-one (or five-on-one) with Arthur revolving around his Black Dragon membership since that would involve revealing a ton of other stuff which would probably get us in more doo doo than it would be worth.

Eddie sighed. "Honestly Rudy, wouldn't believe us if we told you."

The rest of us nodded, but Rudy rolled his eyes as he peeled back the saran-wrap which engulfed Arthur's abandoned cookies and took one. We watched in horror as Rudy took a hugantic bite out of one of the snickerdoodles. "Try me,"

Jack and I exchanged knowing looks. We knew we had to tell Rudy where those cookies came from and just who had made them. We couldn't just stand by and watch Rudy devour the potentially poisoned cookies. That would be too cruel.

Taking a deep breath, together we said, "Uh Rudy..."

* A/N *

Once again, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

I sincerely hope you all enjoyed the thirteenth chapter of Vandals Anonymous. I actually had a lot of fun writing it and I hope the good time I had working on the FanFic showed. Writing in a Kim!POV was something I hadn't done in a while so I certainly hope I didn't disappoint :)

Several things happened in this chapter including a revelation by Arthur that the Black Dragons may have something planned against the Warriors. There is also the insinuation that Jerry is hiding something very important from the rest of the Warriors. With these two points in mind, I believe it is time for you guys to start marking your calendars for an upcoming event in VA known as "The BLACKOUT". The BLACKOUT is going to be a pretty big event with some pretty big consequences for everyone...

So you guys are probably wondering what exactly happened on the "Trip to Remember" to make it so traumatizing for the gang. No? Okay. Regardless, I did write a Kim!Monologue about the trip so I might post it to the AlphaBetaSoup Official Blog. Just maybe. In upcoming chapters there will be references to many other fictional occurrences. One is "Cruisin' for a Bruisin'", which talks about an event which occurred on a cruise the gang took. Another is "Let's Play Pretend", which is about the effects a horror movie had on everyone's favourite couple.

Once again, I'd like to say thank you to all my readers and reviewers for making this one fantastic year! I treasure each and every one of you!

Merry ChristHannuKwanYule!

ALPHA

PS: Once again, don't forget to hit up the AlphaBetaSoup official blog! See you soon at alpha-and-beta-soup. tumblr. com!

PPS: Isn't the new VA cover nice? All credit goes to the BETA portion of AlphaBetaSoup!