I've just been experimenting with a bunch of ideas recently. If you guys like it enough I'll continue.

Disclaimer: Pumpkin.

Clarence Buttowski sat at his desk, his perpetual frown in place, as he watched his classroom with dark emerald eyes. Every flicker of movement, each awkward shuffle, or muted cough immediately caused his attention to shift and resulted in a complete reassessment of his surroundings. The dangerously active youth was hyper alert and monitoring every sensation down to the creak of the school walls, the smacking of gum, and the slow ticking of the analog clock.

This extremely aware state of being was not new to the daredevil, in fact this was his existence and this was his existence because of his chosen career. He had been trained to notice, to monitor, to watch, ever alert and patient, waiting for the moment to strike.

Mouth, unaffectionately named after his habit of snitching, shifted for the fifth time in the past minute. Clearly his butt itched but he was too embarrassed to scratch it.

Kendall Perkins coughed into her sleeve, again. Apparently Little Miss Perfect was sick but being, of all things, Little Miss Perfect, she came to school anyway. Maybe her obsessive nature with her school work was an attempt to compensate for something.

He couldn't say, he wasn't an expert in psychology. Psychoanalysis and manipulation were his partner's specialty.

Leaning backwards into the plastic seat, Kick let his eyes drift to the calendar on the wall.

December 20th, 2013. The last Friday before winter break.

Five more days.

The youth almost let out a sigh, almost, but didn't.

He was currently in a hostile environment where his emotions could and would be used against him.

Steeling his resolve, Clarence sat back up in his desk and tensed his muscles. His passive frown stretched into an almost devilish smirk as he gripped the edges of his desk.

The first ring of the bell sounded, not even half a second long, and the daredevil was off, his reflexes quicker than the blink of an eye. He was out of the classroom before his class had even registered the bell had begun to ring.

Glancing at his empty desk in disdain, Kendall merely sneered and collected her things, only pausing to cough into her sleeve.

Kick Buttowski whipped his skateboard from the hidden pocket built into the back of his jumpsuit. Throwing Ol' Blue out before him, the youth launched himself into the air and rebounded off the lockers to his right before soaring towards his vehicle of choice.

As his yellow boot bound feet met the rough surface of his skateboard, Kick used his momentum from the earlier rebound to propel himself and old blue farther down the hallway and out the doors of the school.

A triumphant grin danced on his face as he crouched down and tilted his body to increase speed as he rocketed himself off the concrete stairs leading to the sidewalk.

There were only five days left and he was going to enjoy the hell out of them.

"Ready Gunther?!" called the low and grovel laden voice of the young daredevil, Kick Buttowski.

"Ready Kick!" His trusty sidekick proclaimed, steeling his thick hands on the makeshift lever. "3…" cried out the Norwegian boy, shaking his blonde hair out of his eyes. "2…" Kick leaned back into the garbage can. "1…" he breathed in one last calm breath.

"NOW!" In an instant, the boy tensed his entire body, cementing himself solidly inside the garbage can as his homemade trebuchet shot him into the air.

The can tumbled through the atmosphere, it's shiny metal surface catching the sun's rays and glinting brightly at the neighborhood down below. Kick's stomach did flips of it's own as the adrenaline coursed through his felt alive, he was burning with life.

Sensing something coming at him from his left, the preteen quickly scanned the air space surrounding him. Nothing. With a determined frown, Kick shifted his position in the garbage can to look down below. Brad.

The teen was positioned down on the street a little ways ahead of Kick. In his hand was a simple stone.

That rock would be this stunt's undoing.

Clarence prepared himself for emergency landing procedure. PROTOCOL: E-12/a

With perfect accuracy, the stone sailed straight into the side of the garbage can. With his vehicle of choice off-course, the daredevil quickly adjusted.

Shifting to the front of the can, Kick scanned for a safe landing spot while propelling towards the ground.

Now that would be perfect.

Having selected a more than ideal destination, Kick launched himself out of the can, expertly angling his body towards the clothesline below.

He caught the thick wire with one hand, momentum pushing him forward and up over the wire in a flip. The trick slowed him down significantly enough so that he could let go of the wire and backflip onto his feet.

With a smile Kick noted the mess he'd made of the backyard. The clean laundry that had gone flying off the clothesline was now scattered about in dirt, grass and mud. A particularly large and rather notable report card quilt was currently soaking in a similarly sized puddle of mud.

Any moment now.

"CLAAAARENCE!" came a scream from the house. Quickly stifling his growing smile, the daredevil in question turned to face a taller, blonde girl.

He forced his face to stay neutral, simply quirking an eyebrow rather than letting a huge grin bloom on his face.

"You! You! AUGHHH…!" she screamed in frustration, pulling on her perfectly straightened hair. There was no way he couldn't crack just the tiniest of smirks at that.

He was going to miss messing with her. But he wouldn't miss her, well, not her as in her but 'd miss her anger, her frustration, her straightforward, blunt- well, no, it didn't matter what about her he'd miss because he wouldn't miss her.

Absolutely not.

He couldn't afford to.

Besides, policy dictates you can't get too attatched to people. It was bad enough he was so close with his partner, but then his partner was capable of taking care of himself. His partner wasn't a weakness, a liability. Kendall is-or Kendall would be, if he actually missed her. Which he won't.

"Only a couple more days…" a low voice noted in the darkness. Kick shrugged, it didn't really matter, his suburban life was never meant to be permanent.

Kick Buttowski Suburban Daredevil wasn't built to last. His partner chuckled, a low, calm sound, so unlike his front voice.

"At least tell me you plan to enjoy the last few days we've got here."

"Oh," Kick smirked, "I intend to."