#all the mini critters are called little brother/sister for him

[lavendersartistry]

To keep everyone on their toes for the rework of Matron in the Playhouse:

Theodore couldn't age like the other critters. This is mainly because he's stuck in a traumatic position (abuse and experimentation) and can't seem to try and make of what is the present.

If Theodore did accept his fate and accept the present by the game timeline of Player's arrival, he would be 27.

Basically denial. Added with the Prototype giving empty promises to Theodore on freedom.

And Theodore is technically the only time a soul is ever used in the AU. He needs to be able to possess a mini critter somehow.

Now, regarding after this and the redemption arc (UTC obviously):

Theodore is going to be adopted by Eve, DogDay, Bobby, and Bolt. As much as DogDay and Bolt have a grudge on what Theo has done, they realize it is just a kid dealing with trauma and recently got fooled by the one thing they saw as a hero (or a parental figure).

Everyone else is a bit on edge but later ease into his presence. The more sentient mini critters see Theo as a big brother, which brings out Theo's smugness.

Theodore 'parrots' a lot from the older critters, mainly from Eve. They bond a lot like a mother and son (Theo is guilty of calling Eve "Mum"), Theo thinking that she is the coolest person ever. He fights a lot with DogDay and doesn't think much of Bolt and Bobby.

Nicknames Theo gives to the critters:

Eve - Mum

DogDay - Doggy

Bolt - Stormy Mister

Bobby - Miss

Bubba - Teacher

Crafty - Uni

Hoppy - Hops

Kickin - Kickie

Picky - Apple

Dee - Deedee

Panda - Rarity

Silly - Els

Wally - Webby

Ginger - Kaykay

Zuri - Zuzu

Lovely - Auntie

Danny - Uncle

Clara - Rara

Betty - Twin 1

Barbie - Twin 2

Molly - Moll

Flora - Blue

Ladie - Dia

Anty - An

So the redemption arc is mainly giving Theodore the ability to feel like a human boy again.

[void-writing]

If you want to share, I'd love to hear more of your Rise TMNT and DCU crossover, please!

I am so so glad you asked : D

I've been trying so hard for so long to think of how the Rise boys misadventures would align with DCU, mostly because I was thinking about post-movie JL investigations into the Kraang Invasion. HOWEVER, I was rewatching the series with a friend semi-recently and we hit the "Battle Nexus: New York" episode and it abruptly hit me that Superman--who is in the state of New York (bc in my version of canon, Metropolis is in New York and Gotham's in New Jersey, as god intended)--would probably be high-key alarmed about the City That Never Sleeps going completely silent except for four teens and five adults, one of which being clearly the one behind it all (that one being Big Mama).

That line of thought honestly made me entertain the idea of Superman being like...the Turtles' weird uncle figure who checks in occasionally like "you good?" but I don't know all of where I'd want to take a story like that.

This honestly kind of spun around in my head for a while until I was hit with a lightning bolt of genius in the form of a very vivid daydream about Daily Planet Intern April O'Neil absolutely tearing into Lex Luthor because he had the sheer audacity to compare Superman to the Kraang in her presence, and a befuddled (and slightly flattered) Clark Kent holding her back from bodily attacking Lex like:

The fic that I'm writing is going to be a mega long one-shot of April being an absolute menace to the supervillain population of Metropolis. She's basically going to be a mini-Lois Lane but like five times more feral because this girl won't so much as flinch at the nonsense Supes deals with on the regular.

On the hero side, April kind of Tim Drakes her way into becoming Superman's unofficial-official sidekick on account of how she just forcibly inserts herself into dangerous situations and refuses to leave.

Hilariously, April doesn't put together that Clark is Superman for a while because her threshold for what constitutes as weird is so messed up that anything that Clark does that might flag as suspicious doesn't even ping for April. Lois and Jimmy have a bet in the background over how long it will take for April to figure out Clark is Superman.

Some other highlights knocking around in my head include:

April babysitting Jon for Clark and Lois so they can go on a date night. April cements herself as the coolest babysitter ever in helping Jon defend the Kent House from an incursion viscous tiny alien critters that Jon brought home from space on accident. Both are trying their hardest to not use powers in front of the other with mixed success.

On a similar note, April cultivating a big-sister relationship with Conner because you cannot tell me that he wouldn't fit right in with her collection of genetically engineered super-soldier brothers born from unethical experiments by a man convinced doing this will save his people, using DNA stolen from a powerful warrior he has homoerotic tension with (from a certain perspective regarding Lex and Clark, lol). Like seriously, Conner's backstory fits the Rise boys' so well. I can't not make April adopt him as little brother #5. Maybe for the hell of it I'll turn Conner into a turtle mutant and have him dick around with the Hamato boys, mostly in making Splinter question if he's been miscounting how many sons he has this entire time. Ah. Fic for another day.

The triumphant return of April's crane license (with bonus forklift certification)

Clark being a living jungle gym for this 4'10" menace to his confusion and everyone else's delight.

The Hamato boys making a surprise visit to the Daily Planet as April works with Lois on an article (because she missed their weekly call and the boys immediately assumed the worst) and April trying desperately to keep her dum-dum little brothers out of Lois's sight as they scamper around the office like it's a playground.

April unknowingly endearing herself to Wonder Woman when she stops by in civilian form to meet up with Clark for JL business.

April getting herself in way over her head trying to do a bit of investigative journalism alone and the Supers coming to bail her out (as a reminder to everyone--including myself--that April is not invincible).

And, of course, the reference to the Batman vs. TMNT movie that I mentioned in the last ask I did on this where the boys break into the Bat Cave and Donnie calls April to gloat that he was right about Batman's secret identity and meanwhile Clark gets a call from Bruce about the four teenage mutant menaces running around his lair and how they're connected to a specific Daily Planet intern Clark knows.

It's just really funny to me to imagine Rise!April being unleashed on Metropolis because Ninpo or no, I don't think anyone there would be prepared to handle the powerhouse that is April O'Neil. The villains of Metropolis quickly come to know and fear her because she will more often than not charge them with the nearest blunt object and somehow--despite not having a meta gene (they have checked)--she hits like a freight train and can keep up decently well with Supers (writing this out now makes me realize that it would be plausible that a conspiracy theory starts floating around Metropolis' criminal underground that April O'Neil is secretly Kryptonian in some capacity, only for it to be swiftly disproved when she grand-slams a chunk of Kryptonite into the Atlantic. Somehow this makes her more terrifying).

But yeah, April is just having the time of her life at this internship, blissfully unaware of how many minds she's breaking just being herself.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

okay wait. Prometheus ship BatB AU is SO funny actually.

I don't think we can get a good equivalent for a Gaston type character, aka someone who wants the Belle for romantic pursuit, because although we can agree Angel is good-looking I have another very funny option/idea.

So Angel is our Belle, which seems obvious until we take into consideration how good they would fit the Beast role. They're an inventor who lives with their parents and younger brother and is considered strange by the town because they put a LOT of emphasis on their work, coming out only to take walks in the woods or test new models for their "grabpack", as they call it. Their little brother however is dearly beloved by everyone in town and will get married soon! Angel's sister-in-law - Amy - plans to move in to their home.

Prototype/Elliot Ludwig was also an inventor who got cursed 10 years ago, not by a witch but by their old wizard friend, aka Harley Sawyer, who then stole his inventions and ran away. The entire castle they used to work on is also cursed, and no one affected by itcan leave its area. If Elliot doesn't find a way to break the spell he's going to be perma locked in his awful monstrosity form, but most importantly, the people inside the castle will also be perma locked. I don't want the the curse to be broken thanks to true love, because if that was the case Elliot's love for his kids would have broken it in like a week. Romantic love also doesn't count because both him and Angel identify as aroace. So, with that in mind...

Miguel, Angel's brother, decides to travel to a nearby town in order to get some things for his upcoming wedding. Unfortunately he gets lost and finds the abandoned castle, where he's imprisioned inside by Proto, Catnap and Long Legs, believing him to be working for Harley and desperately needing someone capable of living the area. Angel goes in to save him, and, after throwing hands with Elliot, Dogday, who helped Angel get in and was against locking up poor Miguel in the first place, interferes before things get out of hand. Angel offers themself to stay in Miguel's place, and Proto agrees.

Needles to say that Angel can't stand Proto at all at first. They think he's a wizard who thinks too high of himself and who would rather have the strange creatures inside the castle be imprisioned rather than ask the outside world for help. Dogday, Poppy, Huggy Wuggy, Bunzo Bunny, Kissy Missy, Bobby Bearhug, Craftycorn and Picky Piggy quickly grow attached to Angel and their little inventions, while Catnap and Mommy Long Legs watch them from afar. Catnap does NOT trust Angel and reports everything he sees to the Prototype. He and Poppy are also Elliot's apprentices asides from his adopted kiddos!

Angel is able to befriend Catnap via the mini critters and Dogday's help. Mommy Long Legs comes after, Bunzo insisting that they're all safe with the newcomer. Also, Delight, Bubba, Poppy, Dogday and Catnap are all wizards. Kickin, Hoppy, Boxy, Long Legs, Huggy and Kissy are all castle guards, and the others all have different roles. Picky is a farmer, Bobby the cooker and Crafty a jester. Bunzo's job is being a cute baby.

Elliot only starts warming up to Angel and vice-versa when he sees them gardening using one of their inventions, and Proto asks them for help. As it turns out, Elliot must be able to grow a very specific kind of poppy flower in order to break the curse, and this flower can only be grown by people who don't use magic. As everyone inside the castle is either affected by or a user of magic, they can't do anything. Angel decides to help.

Poppy is the first to caught on the Angel/Prototype QPR, then tells Catnap, who's very surprised but not exactly complaining. Dogday is in denial until he sees it for himself lmao. And, speaking of him! He has a huge crush on Catnap, but firmly believes he has no chance, having no idea the crush is mutual. The cursed toys and Angel help these two get together!

Prototype and Angel are having the time of their lives trying to make the poppy flower bloom, hoping to use its flowers for a healing elixir. When they are finally able to make it, however, it doesn't seem to work. Proto is devastated by this, and, in order to cheer him up, Angel and the toys throw a little "party" for all castle residents. Yes this is our equivalent for Tale As Old As Time/that BEAUTIFUL ballroom scene, and yes Angel does wear a ballgown for this. A green one because it's their color.

Unfortunately, Pierre, who wanted to steal Angel's inventions and is collaborating with Sawyer, helping him set the curse in motion in the first place, realizes that Angel is very close to finding out how to free the castle inhabitants, and poisons Miguel in order to make Angel leave. When they arrive at the town, Pierre accuses them of creating a mechanical beast in the abandoned castle, and goes in to attack Prototype and all the other toys.

This is the moment Angel realizes how the elixir works: The final ingredient is Angel's own tears. They use this in order to heal Miguel, and, with the help of their family + Amy, Angel marches back to the castle. The toys overpowered the humans, kicking them out. They help Angel run after Prototype/Elliot, who's trying to save Poppy, being held hostage by Harley. On their way, Pierre pops up, and the toys stop to take him down. Meanwhile, a very heartbroken Elliot is trying to deal with a monstrous version of Harley and a hurt Poppy, only to hear Angel screaming "I know how to make the elixir work!"

This gives Proto enough motivation. Using their grabpack, Angel is able to help Proto, grabbing Poppy as the two monster wizards are fighting in the roofs. All I know is that when Proto thinks he overpowered Harley and climbs back to see Angel and Poppy, Sawyer stabs his back. Angel drags him to safety, and then surprises Sawyer by biting his neck and stabbing him in the heart using his own wand, making sure to twist it. "You will never hurt my family again", they tell him, before Sawyer falls down the roof, his body burning thanks to the wand's magic.

Anyways. Angel tries giving the elixir to Proto, but he gives it to Poppy because she was badly injured. Angel then uses their knowledge of both engineering and magic to quickly put together something to make Proto live - i'm thinking about a mechanical heart! -, and it ends with the next batch of the poppy flowers being turned into the elixir everyone needs. Proto decides to stay as himself, while the kiddos all turn back into human, happy ending!

Guess who just rewatched Beauty and the Beast (1991)

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Phoenix Down: Chapter Two

Summary: Her parents must have really wanted a son if they named their only child - a girl at that - Marco. (OC Reincarnation/Rebirth story) Or

An obsessive gamer girl is reborn and now has to navigate the world of One Piece as a female version of Marco the Phoenix. Shenanigans ensue as she drags everyone around her into her delusions do to the trauma caused by the loss of her precious games. So what if she gives her so called brothers a few heart attacks when she pretends to be dead until one of them yells, if not a little dramatically, “PHOENIX DOWN” with an accompanying eye roll, before ‘reviving’ along the way. That’s just part of the fun. The poor Whitebeard Pirates are in near constant exasperation with their sister’s sure, but that doesn’t mean they love her any less. Now, if only she could convince Ace that MMOs were a real thing.

Rating: T

Hellion.

That is what the old biddies in her village called her at least. Well, everyone in the village called her that, but they were all pretty much old biddies, so fuck them.

(Well, not really ‘cause that would be gross. Marco shivered at the thought.)

Who knew that trying to engage this dreary town in a riveting game of Splatoon would lead to her immediate and irrefutable exile from the only place she knew in a world she knew was much more vast and dangerous than most people could even comprehend.

She regretted nothing .

Nothing except maybe not being able to beam the mayor in the face with a balloon filled with pink paint and glitter. Marco had been stopped by the villagers before she could chuck that particular balloon, one of the bastard having snuck up behind her and tackling her to the ground before others jumped on her as well in some sort of impromptu dog pile. It had caused the young woman to be the one to get a face full of the mixture instead of her intended target. It had been a bittersweet defeat.

Now, here the pale blonde stood, not even a full day after what the fiasco the villagers irritably had started calling the ‘Day of Reckoning’ under their breaths, loading the little dinghy her parents scrounged up for her. She was so sure that Original Marco had lived a childhood of bloody strife. Her she was though, getting the boot from her home for simply throwing one too many paint balloons.

True, it had technically not been her first offense. Also true, that it hadn’t really been the worst thing she had done either, but for the people of her home island, it had been the last straw. Marco was pretty sure it was just because the sticks they all had shoved up their asses, that they were all just allergic to fun. The kids of the village could at least appreciate her genius, some having even thrown a mini protest over their favorite playmate’s severe and unjust punishment. Well, until they were threatened with dish duty. That had gotten Marco’s followers to disperse rather quickly. The little traitors.

(She carefully did not look into Mom 2.0’s tearful eyes and decidedly ignored the fact that Papa 2.0’s own looked even more droopy than before, like a basset hound whose favorite bone was being taken away. Marco even ignored the small pain in her chest when she thought of leaving them, that she would miss them.)

The farming life hadn’t been for her anyway. Her boobs made her back ache after all and the physical labor of tilling the land just didn’t justify that pain. Honestly, why did nearly all the girls who spent more than five minutes with Luffy have to have huge tits? (And the original Marco had, they had fought a war together. Screw the fact Original Marco had been a male.) Sure, they weren't as large as say Nami or Robin’s, but they were still annoying as fuck.

She was looking for a quest to complete anyway.

Quest objective: find Whitebeard and join his crew.

This quest sucked. It sucked balls. Hard .

She had been randomly sailing around the seas of North Blue for months. Months . And the teenager couldn’t even say it hadn’t truly been random sailing as she was in no way a navigator. She had slapped herself multiple times for not studying maps, but she hadn’t been planning to set out to sea by herself either. Honestly, Marco had thought Whitebeard and his band of jolly sons, more akin to a massive raid party, would be the ones to find her. You know, at home. On the island she had been born on.

Marco once again cursed the mayor and the citizen of Uptightville. She would have preferred they all would have left themselves, like all the potential critter friends she ignored in Animal Crossing , then have had them figure out the best way to get rid of a shitty neighbor was just to exile them from the town. (She briefly found herself lamenting who her virtual town had more than likely gone completely barren by now, before the thought become to unbearable and she had to shake it off. Sort of like the one Taylor Swift song.)

It hadn’t been all bad. If Marco ignored the fact she had almost starved, dehydrated, gotten nearly eaten by various sea monsters, and other things that had caused some minor bodily harm, the young woman could think of a few things to be grateful for. She finally got to update her appearance!

On the first island she had unceremoniously crashed into (Seriously, she didn’t mean to fall asleep! The sailing had been so boring to the point she had started talking to her own reflection on the water’s surface.), she found herself chopping off most her long, blonde hair. She had cropped it into a sort of mohawk, with the sides of her head shaved and a strip of slightly longer locks remaining on top. Of course, she only did this when she was certain Mom 2.0 didn’t have some sort of radar that would let the older woman know what her daughter was doing. Marco liked her limbs where they were and she wouldn’t put it past the lady to somehow find her due to some sort of messed up need for vengeance.

She had also acquired (Maybe, sort of stole) some new clothes. Nothing against what she had been wearing, the overalls were as comfortable as hell, they just weren’t exactly the best clothes to be traveling the wide up sea in. Marco now proudly donned a light blue corset and with blue shorts that rode maybe a little too low. The young woman had decided to forgo shoes, more so because she had been chased from the store before she could grab a pair. And, hey, this outfit was probably even less practicable than overalls, but if she was going to be a pirate, a pirate in the World of One Piece at that, she was going to looks bad fucking ass while doing.  

She was 18 and partly delirious when she found him. Found the man that had been Original Marco’s Oyaji. The man that would be her Oyaji too. Or at least, she hoped he would as she pulled alongside the massive, whale shaped ship. She was a little surprised that the Moby Dick had already been made and set sail, for whatever reason she was sure Edward Newgate would have had another ship, at least up until Gol D. Roger’s execution. She was happy to see it though. The large whale always looked so happy in the series and it looked even more so in person. If a just a tiny weensy bit intimidating. That and it also brought on the age old question of why it was blue? Had the gigantic man never read the novel? Did the novel even exist here? Wait, she had never read the novel, so this was a moot point.

Marco didn’t waste anytime.

“Make me your kid-yoi!” Her load exclamation caught everyone’s attention as they stared down from the large whale shaped boat at her little dinghy. It had certainly caught Captain Whitebeard’s as she could almost feel the older man’s gaze piercing through her. He was younger, his hair not completely white and his mustache just a tad less magnificent. It was like Mario and Dr. Robotnik’s facial hair had a baby. How much time did the man spend styling it?

“Eh? What was that brat? I didn’t hear you.�� Edward Newgate was an incredible man, for that the young blonde girl was certain. His voice carried all the way down to her as if the roaring wind and crashing waves against the hulking vessel he rode upon allowed it passage. The captain before her didn’t even have to yell. Marco admitted she may have been a tad jealous at that.

Marco set her shoulders back further standing as straight and tall as she possible could. Her posture was so stiff it was starting to hurt, yet she had to make this man, the one fated to be the strongest on all the seas, this man with such an enormous legacy, take her on. “I said, make me your daughter-yoi!”

“Why should I?”

Okay, now she was sure the older man was messing with her. Still, she responded, “Because you’re like the final boss after a particularly hard dungeon that one has to level grind for like hours to beat-yoi.” At the confused silence that greeted Marco, she decided to take pity on the poor uncultured souls that would never really know the joys and sorrows of dungeon crawling and elaborated. “I think you're badass-yoi.”

Whitebeard threw his head back and laughed.

[textales]

“Cut Bank Cop”

“Oh god, we’re not stopping?!”  This can’t be happening.  I shook off and zipped up, slammed the restroom door open, grabbed my bag and ran toward the nearest exit. Trying not to whack into the other passengers, I shrieked “I have to get off here!” as the train known as the Empire Builder moved slowly east toward Chicago.  What the hell?  

I’m supposed to get off in Essex, a teeny town of less than 50 people, smack dab in the middle of the Rocky Mountains on the west side of the Continental Divide.  I made the trek from California to surprise my father on his 80th birthday. The party would be at my step-sister’s cabin, just down the hill from the train station, perched on banks of the middle fork of the Flathead, directly across the river from Glacier Park in Montana. 

My step-brother Mark and his wife drove over from Bend, Oregon. The three of us were going to be surprise guests at the party - they’d pick me up from the train and we’d show up at Jane’s place for the big reveal around noon. I couldn’t wait to see the look on my father’s face when we piled out of the car, since for weeks I’d been apologizing for how I couldn’t be there.  Truth is, I wouldn’t miss this for the world – I mean really, it’s not every day a dad turns 80, right?

Our clandestine plan was working perfectly until that moment.  Just an hour earlier, I called Mark from Whitefish to let him know the train was on schedule. “Grab a cup of coffee and hang out on the front deck….we’ll be there soon,” he said.    

As I ran through the dining car I watched the pine trees slowly moving by. “Oh shit,” I thought to myself. “Where is the next stop? Is it Shelby?  Holy fuck…this can’t be happening. I am a fucking idiot.” I pictured Mark and Andrea waiting at the train station as I’m nowhere to be found, with no way to communicate since cellphone service is nonexistent in this part of the planet.

Trains, Planes and Automobiles

I was so proud of myself for making this happen, finally.  This was Take Two - just one year prior I’d planned the same trip with a nearly identical itinerary, but then to surprise my step-mother on her 80th birthday.  On that trip my sister was the co-conspirator and the only one who knew I was coming – oh, besides my friend Tom who drove from Helena (a four hour trip each way!) to shuttle me around.  But that plan never got off the ground – literally – since the plane never left Oakland.  There was something wrong with the front landing gear, and without parts to fix it or a replacement plane to send (and after making us wait for hours while they tried to sort it out), the airline canceled the flight and refunded our money.  

Since I couldn’t find another flight to get me there in time for the surprise (short of hiring a private jet), I canceled the trip entirely.  It’s not like I was going to Los Angeles – trying to get from the Bay Area to the Glacier Park International Airport is never easy, let alone on the last minute of a Fourth of July weekend. Fast forward to a year later and here I am thinking to myself: “Not again!”

Do the gods just not want me to be here?  It’s one thing to miss a trip due to a mechanical problem completely beyond my control.  But missing the party because I decided to use the bathroom on the train (especially since I knew we were so near the stop) would be downright idiotic. I’d made my way from Oakland to Kalispell by plane, and then caught the train from Whitefish to Essex, and now I’m going to miss my dad’s birthday party because I was listening to “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” while standing there with my dick in my hand?!  

It’s not like I’ve never been on a train.  To the contrary, I take trains all the time and figured I had plenty of time to pee. But it didn’t stop at the station. What gives?

“I have to get off the train!” I screamed, passing by the Forest Ranger tour guide with a headset who just minutes ago was touting the rugged splendor of the American West to attentive tourists in the Sightseer Lounge car.  

Now we’ve stopped…whew…the tour guide guy must have called the driver dude. Seeing desperation in my eyes, one of the uniformed attendants said “Go to the last car and they will let you out.”  His reaction suggested this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

I could hear mutterings of other passengers who were understandably annoyed. “Why have they stopped?” “They stopped twice.”  Blah blah blah. I don’t care if they’re pissed – I am NOT going to miss my dad’s 80th birthday.  

I made my way through the aisles carrying the only piece of luggage I had. It was a messenger bag I borrowed from my big gay husband.  It had “Gladiator” embroidered on the side and was a souvenir from a trade show he’d worked.  It didn’t matter what I’d done or how far I’d travelled or if I missed the train or even if I ended up in jail:  if I lost that bag I might as well not come home.  As instructed I ran to the end car. It was the sleeper car, all dark and quiet with a sign on the door that that said you can’t be here unless you have a ticket. At first the woman running the sleeper car was about to shoo me away. “I’m not sure I can let you out here.”  Then her radio crackled, she mumbled something, grabbed a key and pulled a lever. “Watch yourself” she said as I stepped outside onto the gravel.  It was a maybe three feet off the ground but it wasn’t like I was jumping out of an airplane.  Whew….I was out of there and on solid ground.

Panting and out of breath, I noticed the conductor guy I spoke to in Whitefish. Now he is standing on the cement platform maybe three cars from the sleeper car where I’d just jumped out.

“Didn’t you hear? We called twice,” he said as he pushed a button on a hand-held scanner thing that I assume registered some sort of passenger count.  

“I’m sorry, I thought I had a minute” I said apologetically.  

As it turns out, while I was taking a pee and listening to Dionne Warwick on my iPod, the train had slowed to a crawl as we passed the Izaak Walton Inn, moved another few hundred yards and landed, as planned, at the official platform where it was going to stop anyway.  Had I paid attention and been at the intended exit door when they called I could have gotten off the train sensibly and without all the panic and drama.

I later learned that Essex is a “flag stop”, meaning the train stops there only if someone has pre-arranged to get on or off at that station. The conductor did have me marked to get off there which is why, thankfully, they stopped as scheduled. All of my freaking out was so unnecessary.  

I thanked the conductor guy for managing the situation and apologized for causing a commotion.

Then just like magic, out of nowhere appeared a young dark-haired girl in a red Ford van.

“Do you need a ride?”

Oh, duh, I completely forgot…I’d pre-arranged the hotel shuttle from the Izaak Walton Inn to pick me up.

Good lord…what just happened?  My head was spinning.  But I had that Gladiator bag on my shoulder so I knew all was okay.  Whew.

Meet Me in Montana

The Izaak Walton Inn is a charming, rustic Tudor-style 33-room hotel built in the late 1930s as lodging for railroad workers. Looking a lot like a gingerbread house plucked from Switzerland, it’s listed on the National Register of Historic Places and is situated in what could be some of the most remote wilderness in the continental United States.  Cell phone service is non-existent and there are no phones or TVs in the rooms (although there is a payphone in the lobby and limited Wi-Fi for hotel guests).  For years I’ve wanted to stay in the main lodge or in one of the nearby cabooses which have been converted into mini cabins – and part of the appeal being the freedom from being reachable by cellphone. There’s a cute little bar with a pool table and seating for maybe a dozen or so, and there’s a phenomenal restaurant serving surprisingly sophisticated food for such an outpost.  Not that I’d eat it, but the menu had Trout Almondine with cranberry wild rice and littleneck clams steamed in white wine with garlic.  

With just two Amtrak stops daily (the morning train heading east from Seattle to Chicago, evening going west,) you’re hundreds of miles away from any “real” city and you could almost forget about civilization, except for when the freight trains rumble by. Everything from cows to cars ride on those rails, and the freight trains run almost constantly, even in the dead of winter.    

Mark and Andrea met me ten minutes or so after I checked in….a woman named Marta (imported from one of those northern European white places where people ski) helped me get settled.  

I squished into the back of Andrea’s two-seater and seven minutes later we arrive at the cabin where my dad and stepmother greeted us with the anticipated amount of surprise. Red even cried a little. Bingo! Now that’s the reaction I was hoping for!  

Finally, after all the chaos, I’m here at my destination and I can spend time with my dad and parts of the family I’ve not seen in decades.  Of course I’m still amped up on adrenaline from thinking I’d missed the train stop, so when Mark invited me on a hike to check out the old swimming hole I happily said yes.  Besides, there will be plenty of time to relax when the sun goes down. I’m so looking forward to telling stories around the camp fire.  

It’s almost criminal how little I know about my home state. Even though I was born, raised and lived in the Treasure State until I was 22, I’d been to the Flathead area less than a handful of times.  When asked about Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks I’d reluctantly have to admit I don’t really have much experience in those places.  When I was a kid I avoided those tourist traps.  Oh sure, I knew about moose and grizzly bears and mountain lions and other potentially life-threatening critters that could eat you, but my Montana was less hunting and fishing and more neon and parties.  The only other time I drove on Highway 2 was maybe 15 years ago, so it’s not exactly familiar territory. Now I’m curious – there is still a sense of mystery about this land and so much of it I haven’t yet seen. I’m not expecting to see a grizzly bear, but it wouldn’t kill me to put my feet in the water.

The river was higher than usual because there had been an abnormally high amount of snow over the winter. Even though it was July and the sun was gleaming and it was in the 80s, the water was maybe 33 degrees.  There were groups of people floating on rafts and although it looked fun I thought they were crazy…just a minute or two in that almost freezing water would put anyone into shock. Call me a pansy if you must, but I think I’ll stay on dry land.

As we rounded the curve near the old swimming hole we noticed a yellow kayak on the rocks of the river bank.  Who would go kayaking in this water?  Are they nuts? And where did that come from?

There was no paddle to be found.  And Mark noticed there was no skirt (something I wouldn’t know to look for but he knows what he’s talking about). We yelled to see if the owner was nearby, maybe taking a pee.  “Is anyone out there?  Yo, is this your yellow kayak?”  Silence. Nothing.  

The kayak looked newish. There was no license sticker like you need with a boat, nor was there anything to suggest this thing was owned by a guide or a place that does organized rafting trips.  I figured we should just leave it there. We could come back in an hour.  But Mark was insistent that because there was no paddle and no skirt there had been a situation.

He peeled the cover off and tipped the kayak upside down to drain the water. It was full - clearly it had been completely submerged.  “What’s that?” I asked as he pulled out a bundle that looked like a rolled up raincoat.  “It’s a dry bag” said Mark as he ripped open the Velcro to look inside.

I noticed a cocoon attached to the outside of the dry bag. Clearly, this cocoon or spiders nest or whatever it was - this was proof this kayak and its contents had been here for a while. Mark opened the thing which clearly hadn’t done its duty as a “dry” bag, since the contents inside were all soaking wet.  Inside was a wallet, a set of car keys, and a cell phone. 

Mark checked…the last time the phone had been turned-on was six days ago. The wallet had a Driver’s License and credit cards.  Oh shit…now this is serious. We yelled out again, “Hey….is anyone here?”   Again, silence, except for the sounds of the gentle rapids of this river that was barely above freezing since it’s technically runoff from a glacier.  

Mark and I returned to the cabin with the dry bag and its stuff.  We’d go back later to retrieve the kayak.  Peggy and Jane were prepping for Red’s big birthday party as Mark explained what we’d found on our short hike.

“Don’t touch anything, that is evidence” Peggy stated calmly.

Jane picked up the landline to call Flathead Search and Rescue. She wondered who might be on duty this weekend (everyone knows everyone in these parts) and kept her cool while making the call.

“No, call 9-1-1. This is an emergency” screeched Peggy.

“Oh Mom. It’s not that big of a deal,” said Jane.

“It is if there’s a dead body,” uttered Peggy with all the wisdom of an 80-year-old grandmother.

As I stood there envisioning divers in scuba gear dredging the river bottom, I couldn’t help but think that if there’d been a report of a missing kayaker from six days ago it would have been all over the news by now.  Wouldn’t there have been search parties and helicopters?  I vaguely recall a report of a guy lost in the Bob Marshall Wilderness….it was on the TV news in Kalispell and in the Daily Interlake newspaper and I knew about it through Facebook. But that was months ago…this guy’s phone was hot just six days ago.

Mark paid no attention to his mother’s warning and was still digging through the wallet. Behind the driver’s license was another ID: this guy was a police officer for the small town of Cut Bank, about 75 miles east of where we were.  

A Cop?  Oh my…the plot thickens.

While Jane talked to the dispatcher at Search and Rescue, Mark and I took the Rhino (a 4 wheeler ATV) up river to get the kayak - they’ll certainly want it as evidence.  And now that I know missing guy is a cop my mind starts to run amok with all kinds of conspiracy theories and potential plots and outcomes.  This is thrilling.  And I thought almost missing my stop on the train was a rush.

We returned to the river bank where we left the kayak. Much to our surprise, now it’s gone. What the hell?  Mark yelled out, thinking kayak guy might be close. Again, nothing but the sounds of the rapids.  

Had Cut Bank Cop busted someone who really wanted him gone?  Did he or an accomplice plant this as evidence, hoping someone like us would stumble upon it and call the authorities?  After several months or years would someone be collecting the insurance money and he’d surface in Mexico or Belize?  If we were to believe the cell phone we found in the dry bag, he had literally been up the creek without a paddle for six days.

With no kayak in tow Mark and I took the Rhino back to the cabin.  I was anxious to hear what the Search and Rescue people had to say. Would they be sending a team with scuba divers and cadaver dogs?  Why don’t I hear helicopters yet?”

Meanwhile, not to be bothered by any of this commotion, Red was sitting on the front deck, leisurely whittling away at a piece of wood he was carving for one of the grandkids.  “Hey look,” he said, calmly glancing toward the river as a guy in a yellow kayak, with a paddle, made his way down the river.  Remembering dude’s name from his driver’s license and Cop ID, Mark yelled out “Hey, are you (so and so)?”

“Yes…..oh wow, is that mine? Did you find that floating in the river?” he asked, referring to the dry bag Mark had in his hands.  “We found it in the kayak and noticed there wasn’t a paddle or a skirt and were afraid of the worst.”

Cut Bank Cop, so very happy to have his wallet, keys and cell phone back, explained that he and his wife were up river when she lost control of her vessel, flipped over and managed to get herself to the shore.  Watching it all happen, almost in slow-motion, he beached his kayak and walked up to meet his wife who was clearly now done with this river ride experiment. Fuck this…she’s going back to the car. She left in a huff, headed to wherever they’d left the car, a place called Payola.  Oh, and now, well, she’s technically missing and so is her kayak. But dude wasn’t the least bit worried.  “She’s got a gun” he said.  “She’ll be fine.”  

I can’t help but think about the document I sign every year that says I won’t take money under the table for playing someone’s record – but this is different Payola and not even spelled the same way.

Anyway, he’s cool as a cucumber. Shouldn’t he be at least a little worried?  His wife is stumbling through the wilderness in a place where grizzly bears eat people.  Just earlier this year some bicyclist ranger dude ran across a bear and met his demise on a trail less than a mile from about right here. Would she make it to Payola? Jesus…this is getting crazy.  If he isn’t going to worry about her, well, I will. 

After thanking us profusely for fetching his wallet and phone, Cut Bank Cop went with Jane to get his pickup truck a few miles up the road while Mark and I went looking for the wife’s missing red kayak.  

As we were bombing down the road in the Rhino we ran across a neighbor who mentioned he found a woman walking around, all soaking wet and pissed off.  She wanted a ride to Payola.  Whew, okay, she’s not bear food and she’s not dead.    

A couple minutes later, after Mark and I observed a red kayak ditched at a neighbor’s private beach, I noticed a pickup truck approaching with # 38 on the license plate.  “That’s a 38-Special,” I thought to myself.  In Montana a 38 on your license plate means the vehicle is registered in Glacier County – the same county where Cut Bank is located.  Sure enough, the driver is Cut Bank Cop, out looking for his wife’s missing red kayak that Mark and I spotted at just that moment.  

“As luck would have it, we found your other kayak too!” Mark uttered.  He then helped load it in the bed of the “38 Special” as Cut Bank Cop kept thanking us for saving his ship.

“I can get another wife…but the kayak, can’t lose that.”  

He was so very grateful and offered us a reward for finding his missing stuff. 

“Absolutely not,” said Mark.  “We are Montanans, after all, and we look out for each other.” We said our goodbyes and returned in the Rhino to the cabin.

As I glanced at the Gladiator bag sitting on the deck, next to my dad who was still carving the wood thing for the grandkid, I took stock of the day.  No missed trains, no dead bodies, no grizzly bears gnawing on wayward kayakers.  

Okay, enough adrenaline rush for the day. Finally, it’s time for that beer and a chat with the old man around the campfire.  After all, this is what I came here for in the first place.