Late one evening, Vince stomped down the hallway to his room with a heaping plate of cookies and a huge glass of milk.

"Vince, did you at least take out the garbage?" His mother called.

"Yeah yeah yeah! Cripes, can't a guy catch a break around here?!" He cried out without turning, walking into his room and slamming the door shut behind him with his foot. His was a pretty tricked out bedroom on the second floor of a lavish home at the back of a cul de' sac in the richer neighborhood of Jasper Nevada.

He had to get up early in order to beat the crowds at the Speed Mile race shop in the next town over. He had his eye on some wicked additions for his car, tucked safely down in the three stall garage of his parents home, but he wanted a snack.

Flopping on his bed among all the car mags and dirty shirts, he only noticed the posters plastered all over his walls were ruffling slightly once he had a cookie crammed into his mouth.

He sat back up, turning to see his window was fully open and desert region or not, the nights could get cool in Nevada. Plus he had leather jackets and stereo parts in here not to mention his bitchin' laptop and flat screen.

Second story or not he knew that window had been closed not more than five minutes ago.

"What the fuff?" He mumbled, working through his cookie. Getting up he stomped over to the window, batting at the black curtains as they blew in the breeze.

Before he slammed it down, he heard someone whisper his name. A woman's voice. Outside? Definitely. He quickly finished chewing and swallowed, staring at the open black square of his window pointing out into the backyard.

Vince was rather above thinking this was odd and a slow grin spread over his face. After all, he was Vince. Babes should seek him out in the middle of the night, right?

He brushed the cookie crumbs off his black pajama bottoms. Should he whip his t-shirt off?

Instead, he knelt down and leaned out the window, wondering what pretty honey would be gazing longingly up at him and whether or not he could climb down from here.

"Who is it?" He called, pitching his voice low.

A blue steel hand the size of his chest reached down almost gently and took him by the neck, pulling him out of the window as easily as a tissue from the box.

Vince squeaked just once as suddenly he was hanging free in the cold night air of his backyard, suspended in the air and being lifted up higher yet.

He was so startled he couldn't make a sound, reaching up to grip the cold steel fingers wrapped around his neck. Something large and impossibly tall loomed next to his window and it was turning Vince to face it.

"A Sponge Bob t-shirt. I might have known." Arcee growled, her blue eyes gleaming in the dim evening air.

"Omigawd!" Vince squealed, his voice suddenly much higher.

"Who are you?!" He cried, mortified by how his feet were higher than his bedroom window, staring at the metal monster which had plucked him from his bedroom.

Arcee leaned in close, her eyes two burning pools of blue fire.

"Trouble." she snarled.

ooo

It was never really explained how Vince ended up like he did. Or how someone had managed to sneak his car out of his garage without him knowing.

Or any other such details of that infamous night.

And he would throw a fit if anyone asked, too.

Yet still he stayed tight lipped to the end of his days about it as if something beyond the norm had put a fear in him over the whole debacle.

It was better for him somehow to endure the humiliation, but no one ever knew how he end up suspended by his underwear from a stop sign that had been rammed through the windshield of his car, tied up with a Sponge Bob t-shirt, and sent through the Suds-n-Go car wash with the whole world able to see his bare ass. Or how it had been whipped beet-red with his own antenna.

No, no one ever found out.

...and no one ever bought Jack Darby a car wash again.