[ACTION - MAYFIELD HIGH SCHOOL

Hey, that big kid in the leather jacket wandering around campus looks kinda... old. Far past the age of most ordinary high schoolers, at any rate. ...Not that Snow Villiers even had anything close to a high school education to begin with, but anyway. All across campus, you're sure to bump into this guy putting up posters all over the place. Lockers, doors, walls, everywhere.

What do these posters say, you might ask?

MAYFIELD GIVING YOU LEMONS?

NORA SAYS,

"MAKE LEMONADE!"

Every once in a while after sticking up a poster on some locker, Snow might bang against it once or twice to raise a ruckus in the hall, attempting to dart off before anyone can spot the man responsible for all these... interesting posters. What do they possibly mean?

Well...

ACTION - 625 TOPPER STREET

...if you take the time to pass through Topper Street, you're sure to notice a pretty strange sight on the front lawn of 625.]

Lemonade! Fresh lemonade, only twenty-five g---cents. Twenty-five cents!

[Sure enough, Snow's doing as the posters say! Mayfield's given him and everyone else plenty of lemons for the past couple of months, if not even longer. But one thing's for certain.

Mayfield will be no match for NORA.]

[Mindy can be found in the garage today, fiddling with the tools and generally making a mess. She's trying to do something with a pink bicycle she regained a while ago. Eventually, she takes to the phones in frustration.]

Hi, this is Mindy. I need somebody to do me a favor.

Does anybody know how to take training wheels off a bicycle?

[Later, when someone finally helps her out, she can be seen pedaling around the park. She's a little wobbly, but doing fine.]

A; park, day
[As soon as Hilda had, quite against her will, submitted the census she'd received in the mail, she had taken off. There wasn't anywhere for her to really run away to, and so she was quickly drawn to the park, with its wooded area perfect for getting lost in. She could remember what happened last time Mayfield had given out censuses, and she didn't want to do that again. Even if Mayfield didn't repeat, what if it was similar but just worse? The only thing she could think of to do was train her Pokemon even more. She could only hope she'd still have them when whatever happened happened.

If you're in the park today, it looks like it's been hit by a hurricane in the right areas. Trees knocked down or torn to bits, water everywhere, cactus needles embedded in the plant life... It should be easy enough to find her by following the noise and destruction, where Hilda has all six of her Pokemon out, sparring against each other or practicing on the trees and plants around them.]

B; park, night
[In the end Hilda hadn't gone back to her home. She had spent countless nights out in the wilderness at home, so she's not scared of spending the night in some park, and laying balanced between Samurott and Liepard, looking up at the stars, is at least a little comforting, even if none of the stars are the same ones that she knows from Unova.]

What do you think, guys. How much longer will we be stuck here?

[Of course, her Pokemon have no answer.]

Phone

[So Scratch finished his census and he is just really bored. Time to pick up that phone.]

That census was a chore to fill out. Honestly, I'm hoping for something less droll than last year's battle royale murder spree. Killing is also boring and tedious. Well, there are consequences for it now. But, that doesn't change how anti-climatic it is. And if they choose to run it again, then it will only be because they are running out of creative ideas and just want to see everyone turning against each other. [A dramatic sigh, done only for dramatic purposes.] We'll see what happens. I won't make any bets either way, by way of not being a gambling man.

And, that reminds me: I wrote a note to myself after that series of events ended last year that I would send gift baskets to the ones I took out. My apologies for letting that slip my mind. The human mind is not good for flawless memory storage and retrieval, unlike my original head.

Let me see - Nall, Ilsa Higa, Charles Fei-Ong and Sanae Hanekoma. If any of you are still around, tell me what you want in your gift basket. Food, clothes, essential household items, if it fits in I'll send it over. If you don't reply I will assume that you are still in a sour mood over the events of the last year and not send you one out of respect of that mood. That or you're droned. Either or. If it's the former, I advise you that being bitter is not a very good way to live. It wasn't at all a personal affair or one done out of hatred. The first time is always the hardest they say. [tl;dr, stop being mad that I murdered it, it was my first "crazy thing" going on in Mayfield.]

One more other thing: Bernkastel, would you like a rematch? Our fight was undecided and we never had the chance to make it up. We could do something else that is less taxing on our power if you choose to. I know you enjoy games of chess, for example.

And yes, because I am sure you are dying to know, I am that Doc Scratch. The one with a cheap gold trophy in the roller rink I never visit. I saved you several moments of suspicious thoughts toward my message. No need to thank me.

[It's hard, being Doc Scratch and bored. So hard...]

Action to Bunker Street to start then to the rest of the neighborhood.

[Varon has started his training in full force now that the weather has been warming up and so has he. The ghosts didn't bring him down and never will. His spirit isn't broken in anyway. He starts off with a warm-up on the front lawn with some shadow boxing and stretches. Being the weekend, he has a lot of free time.

After a few minutes of good and solid stretches, he starts off on his run through Mayfield.]