Hello, everyone! It's me, the Gamerwhogames! And I am happy to announce my first Season-2-related work of fanfiction: "Shake a Leg, Radar!". If you're in the majority of the fandom, you too took an instant liking to the bubbly, excitable and adorable personality of Jesse's intern, Radar. By episode two, I was a bit upset I hadn't upped my game and wrote about him sooner. In fact, I need to get back to writing about these guys in general, because if I don't, who knows where I'll be mentally? With all these rules and regulations of writing, my demon of perfectionism is really rearing its head, you could say. But it's time to fight! It's time to write! It's the right thing to do. (See what I did there? No? Um… okay, then.)

HIT IT, CRISPER!

Crisper: (jolts awake and hits it)

Radar quietly closed Jesse's door and bit his tongue all the way downstairs and out the door. Once he was outside, sure he was out of the earshot of his mentor and idol, he let out his bottled-up fury on himself. "Why am I such an idiot?!" He shouted skyward as he curtly marched down the cobble patio and out to the street. He strode through a flurry of rainbow-colored parrots and through the red-gates of the lively city of Beacontown. The frightened birds made a ruckus as they rushed to the clouds where the midday sun hung. It was a little past noon, which left the frazzled intern plenty of time to take care of the Founding-Day duties, but he felt like he was in a time-crunch for his life.

It had all gone wrong earlier that morning. He'd woken up right on time, bright and ready for the busy day he'd anticipated all night. Jesse? Not so. He was slow to rise, and even slower to open his heavy lids, actually sitting up in bed, eyes shut like a lifeless doll. Radar had been worried, but decided not to let it bother him into rushing his boss out of bed. "I'll be up in a few minutes," Jesse had said. And, like they always did, "a few minutes" turned into an "hour behind schedule" before Jesse delivered the shattering news. "I think I have a head-cold. I can't even get out of bed." His nasally voice confirmed said shattering news. The night before, Radar didn't make sure he was in bed by 7:00 for nothing: The eve of Founding Day was supposed to be the busiest day of the year, full of preparations, building and cooking. Preparations, building and cooking that were meant to be supervised by Jesse, Hero in Residence, not Jesse With a Head Cold. And now all was lost. Almost….

"And I just had to suggest taking care of everything on my own. Just had to! Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?" He rambled to himself, oblivious to the uneasy stares the other civilians gave him. He stopped near the centerpiece of the city: an oversized rendition of the Order Amulet, complete with glowing beacons that added flair to the whole city. He sighed, already worn out by the fretful morning, and pulled out the reddish-brown to-do book. "Alright, let's see what we've got today," he thumbed a few pages until it was current with the date and skimmed over the neat list with his black eyes. But when he read, someone tapped his shoulder and he spun around with a holler, startling Nell who tapped him. "Oh! It's just you." He blushed slightly as he readjusted his black specs.

"Sorry, brah. I, like, didn't mean to scare you, yah know? It was just a tap." She apologized with a lulled head and an easy grin.

"I am very well aware of that." He muttered to himself, annoyed with himself for being so easily scared. "Did you need anything?" He closed his book and put it under his arm and gave her a polite, attentive grin.

"Yeah. Like, where's Jesse? I wanted him to do me a colossal favor."

"Jesse is at home sick today." He said tersely, causing the blonde-haired surfer-girl to flinch.

"Wait, Jesse's… sick?" Her pale-faced words caused a reaction in the crowd, and almost the entire town began to encircle Radar, tempting him to hide behind his book. All around him he only saw worried eyes probing him for information and worried mouths beginning to speak out.

"Is he sick?" One asked.

"Someone must have poisoned him or something! I'm sure of it!" Another accused. Radar put on a brave face to mask his queasy insides and stepped on top of the monument so that he was a head higher than the crowd.

"Everyone, calm down, please!" His strong, brave voice was embarrassingly small and squeaky, and he had mixed feelings about everyone hearing it. But at least they quieted down for him to speak.

"GPS! What do you know about Jesse?" One man called.

"Um, a-actually, my name's Radar. And, um, Jesse is lying down at his house because he's sick—not feeling well, and he's lying down." He rushed through his sentence, taking a moment afterwards to note that repeated lying down twice and internally scold himself for using 'sick' and 'not feeling well' in the same sentence as if they were different.

"Could you speak up, please?" A random woman asked.

Radar quickly spotted her in the crowd and wished she wasn't there. He quickly tried to lick around his dry, sticky mouth before he spoke again, louder this time. "Jesse's not feeling well, and he's at home lying down." A gasp went up from the crowd that shook Radar and left him feeling lightheaded. What had he done wrong?

"You mean Jesse's going to die?"

"Die?! Of course, he's not going to—"

"So, our hero Jesse's dying and you're just now telling us?!" Another accused, jabbing a finger at Radar as he walked closer to where he stood.

"But Jesse's not dying!" Radar shouted as quickly as he possibly could. "Guys, he just has a cold, okay? He'll be fine in a little bit, I promise!" He added when he'd regained their attention and sanity. He sighed when they seemed to calm down.

"Well, who's going to help us with Founding Day, then? There's so much to get done."

"I'll be helping you guys today." He admitted and tried to look and sound more confident than he felt, and the butterflies in his stomach rested when they didn't seem angry with him. He'd felt almost guilty telling them he'd be helping them out, knowing how much they wanted Jesse himself to be there, not his intern. He sighed with relief when the crowd, knowing their hero would live to see sunrise, began to disperse, except for the one man who pointed at him. He marched up to him with an intimidating glare.

"I hope you're good on promises, buddy." He warned. With that, he turned around and marched off, leaving behind a confused and frightened Radar and a weirded-out Nell.

"I don't think he gets the concept of colds." She said.

"I hope Jesse gets better soon." Radar said worriedly. "Speaking of which, I'm sorry he isn't here to do that big favor for you. But, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

"Oh, sure, brah. Actually, I was just about to ask you to do it for him."

"Oh! Okay. What do you need help with?"

"Come on. It's back at my place."

Radar followed her back to her house, a small, cozy residence of blue cotton and oak-planks, a combination that intrigued Radar. On the sand next to her residence was a platform of polished andesite and the same colored cotton. "So, like, I thought it'd be a good time to settle down for life, you know? Take a break from all the adventures and stuff, so I thought, why not land here?"

Radar nodded and she continued.

"But, I'm," she quieted her voice some and Radar leaned in slightly, "I'm kinda worried that I won't, like, fit in here." She glanced around with a sad envy at the many buildings and monuments around her. "So many rad builds, awesome people… I really wanna make, like, a good first impression, you know? Which I thought might be helped if my front lawn had a statue by the one and only Jesse. But, since he's not here, I was hoping you'd be willing to do it. Like, I know, you're not Jesse. But, since you're his intern, like, I figured that makes you pretty close."

"Well, um, that's certainly reassuring." Radar muttered with a nervous smile, unsure of what to say.

"Great! This is gonna be so cool!" She yelled with a strong fist-pump. "Scoop up that clay over there and let's get to business!"

Suddenly, Radar felt like a prisoner on death row as he promptly made his way to the pile of colored clay. Nell wanted a statue from Jesse himself to help her fit in, have friends and a life here, and all of it was suddenly dangling on his fists, not an inherently safe place in his opinion. Years upon years of organization, boundaries and straight lines had hindered most of his artistic skills, if they were ever there in the first place. Building on the fly just wasn't one of his skills. He finished salvaging the clay and reluctantly walked to the platform, sure he was just about to crush a certain surfer's dreams of acceptance.

C'mon, Radar, think… WWJD? His eyes alternated between the clay blocks in his hands and the blank platform. Blank paper was scary enough. The more he hesitated, the more sensitive he became to Nell's anticipated stare.

"Well, any second, dude. Whenever you're ready." She encouraged, though it felt like a kindhearted death-threat to Radar. Ideas were beginning to fly into his head like little birds, but he slung them down with stones of doubt as soon as he saw them. They were too lame, too generic, too extreme or too whatever-he-thought to be a statue for Nell. Speaking of which, when he happened to glance back at him, she was waiting patiently with a big smile. "Got any ideas?"

"Um… about that, I…." He hesitated to tell her the truth. He glanced at the platform, the clay in his hands, and then her. How could he fail this request, his first one of the day? He couldn't, and he swore he wouldn't. "I think I've got an idea." And what he built with his two hands was the greatest statue in Beacontown that ever stood.

If it didn't look like the Witherstorm grew a foot and stepped on it.

As Radar stood back and looked over his work with not-so-proud owner Nell, he felt sweat prickling the back of his neck, along with disappointment. "I mean, like… at least you tried." She said. She felt worried when Radar sighed through his nose. "It's alright, dude! That's not what I meant. It's a great flamingo."

"It's supposed to be a pig." He said quietly. His "statue" of Reuben seemed way better in his head than it did in reality. "I'm sorry. I'll try to remind Jesse to come and help you out." He forced a smile when he looked at her, and she smiled back.

"It's cool, man. Well, I guess I shouldn't keep you here any longer, since you've got so much stuff left to do." She said, making him flinch.

"Oh! You're right. I should probably get going." He started to rush off.

"Hey, wait up!" She called after him, making him stop. "Don't stress out, brah. Just chillax, and everything should go fine, alright?"

"Alright." He nodded, even though he didn't agree with her. He could tell from experience that chillaxing and not-stressing out did nothing to change the mind of Fate as far as his plans were concerned. The only relaxing he'd be doing was in bed at night when everything (and everything) was taken care of. She patted his back before pulling him into a certainly unexpected hug that ripped him out of his thoughts. He stammered a bit, standing awkwardly straight as she squeezed his torso and patted his back. He quickly returned her hug, trying not to seem rude. They came apart a few seconds later. "Well, I'll see you later, hopefully."

"Totally! Break a leg, Radar!" She called after him as he rushed off.

"Um, thanks!" He shouted behind himself, even though he didn't agree with her on that one, either. Something about 'break a leg' always unsettled him. As far as legs went, he preferred to shake them.

Hey, guys! I hope you enjoyed chapter one of "Shake a Leg, Radar (SaLR)", and I want to thank you for reading!

But I also want to give you a heads-up: I won't be doing a play-by-play of episode 1's canon. I'm going to be adding to canonical events, and then tacking on totally new events that weren't even in the episode. I want to keep this interesting for you guys! There's going to be a Slime Accident! Wo00oo0o0. I think Stirpicus did a great job writing Radar, and I'm so glad to have someone in the game I can relate with on more levels than one. (here's a hint: It rhymes with messing trout, Xd) Well, goodnight, Continents! Close it, Crisper!

Crisper: (closes it)