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Captain Pete Wentz never chose Starfleet. No; the organization, with all its seductive promises of intergalactic adventure and its plethora of bureaucratic rigmaroles, most definitely chose him. And yes, it sounds like bullshit, but he'll swear on it until his dying day (which, as the good doctor Hurley so delights in reminding him, is probably not far off at the rate he's going.) He was always a problem child, traveling back and forth between the two households of his broken family and wreaking as much havoc as possible in both. Fortunately, the perpetual groundings he received managed to keep him away from trouble outside of his parents' h

I look across the room and catch you staring at me And see the love we almost left behind So lead me by the hand and let's make up Let's make up for lost time “I’m back,” he sings, his footsteps irregular as he skips back into the room. “And I’ve had the perfect idea!” “I shudder to think,” I say sarcastically. “Just keep your eyes closed, okay?” “I keep them closed all the time, Brendon.” “Precisely.” With that, he gently takes hold of my face and starts to paint cool, wet face paint onto my eyelids. Once he’s done both eyelids, he starts to paint something b

Pete’s POV I awoke to sun streaming in through the window. Holy shit. It’s sunny again. Yawning so widely I thought my face would break, I sat up and glanced to my side. There was Patrick, curled up in a tiny ball under the sheets like a little kid. My yawn was replaced by a smile as I watched his peaceful slumber. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. Four o’clock. My mom would probably be back by four thirty. I had to get out of the house before then. Hating myself for what I had to do, I reached over and shook Patrick gently. He groaned gently and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow with a dorky little snor

Young Reporter Builds Rivalry With Detective The following morning found Patrick Stump walking through the front door of a downtown police station, whistling faintly to himself. There was no doubt about it; things were going well. His story had gotten through the editors easily, running in the very first edition of today’s paper. A short piece of about five hundred words, the story was also up on the internet and had been picked up by several other websites and wire services. And now he had an interview with this Trohman guy, the supervisor of that nutty Wentz. Yes, things were definitely looking up. “Can I help you?” He tur

It invaded my body like cold air...only the feeling was much more pleasant and complicated than any natural phenomenon. It was the most powerful thing I had ever heard. At this volume, it shuddered through my chest and made my ribcage vibrate like a leaf in a storm. It flew into my ears like butterflies and pounded through my skull like stampeding horses. It touched my brain in ways I had never felt before, made me feel alive in ways I had never thought possible.