Ok, so, everyone ready to rescue the guys?

Mike: What if I don't want to be rescued?

Peter: Please!

Micky: Of course I am!

Davy: Me too, mates.

(We open on a back road somewhere in the hills over Los Angeles. A nondescript truck bumps down the street. We get a brief glimpse of Alex driving and Zelda next to him before cutting away and into the truck.)

(Peter and Micky sit in the dark back-end of the truck amid crates and boxes. They're both bound hand and foot and gagged. Peter shakes his gag off first.)

Peter: Damn it! I can't believe they were able to hex Michael again!

*Micky says something through his gag and keeps on doing it, despite the mumbling.*

Peter: I hope Herman was able to get to the girls. (Frowns) And what is Belavarg going to do with the ancestors?

*Micky says a lot of something into his gag again.*

Peter: I wish there was a way we could get through to them. (He tries to wiggle his fingers) These ropes are so tight! I wonder if they're Goo Ropes?

*Micky mumbles something again, pauses, then makes a horrible, whiny noise while glaring at Peter.*

Peter: (He wiggles his fingers, trying to get Micky's gag off) I'm doing what I can, Mick.

*Micky tries to help the best he can, but he's still mumbling.*

Peter: You are the only person I know who can be gagged and still talk a mile a minute.

Micky: *As the gag finally comes off* Thanks, Pete, I really appreciate that.

Peter: Anytime, Mick. (Frowns) Mick, (he's struggling to reach his pocket) could you maybe reach in and get my or your communicator? We have to call the girls somehow and tell them where we are!

Micky: *Tries for his own pocket first* I... can't reach... mine. It figures it would be when I don't have my watch communicator, too. *sighs* Here, let me try for yours... *reaches over for Peter's pocket* Tell me if I'm close.

Peter: It's a little closer to my... (he jumps and gasps) ooh, too close...

Micky: *Yelps* Peter! *frowns* Don't move this time! Hold still, before we end up closer to home plate than we should be!

Peter: (Blushes so red, it's clear in the darkness) Sorry!

*Micky mutters as he goes fishing for the communicator again.*

Peter: (Smiles suddenly) By Jove, I think you've got it!

Micky: Now, I just gotta get it out. *The truck hits a bump. He cries out.*

Peter: Ouch! (He frowns) Micky, are you all right?

Micky: *Grits his teeth* I'm gonna have a little talk with the little shit who's driving about avoiding frickin' bumps!

Peter: It may not be entirely his fault. You know what some of the roads around here are like.

*Micky manages to pull the communicator free, but it falls from his fingers and lands between them.*

Micky: Dammit...

Peter: Here, maybe I can help... (They both try to get the communicator in their hands at once...but there's another bump that sends boys and communicator flying. It hits the side of a crate and lands just out of their reach.)

Micky: *Cries out in frustration and agony* I'm gonna get that thing if I have to punch the buttons with my nose!

Peter: You can do whatever works...as long as we GET to it! (He starts trying to scrunch over like a worm)

*Micky grunts, then tips over and tries to roll to it.*

Peter: I think I have it... (He tries to reach it with his feet, but just kicks it a little further from him...and closer to Micky) Darn!

Micky: I got it... *Reaches for it with his mouth, but the truck hits another bump and knocks his head into the nearest crate. He groans* Ohhhh...

Peter: I heard that one. Micky, are you ok?

Micky: Owww...no, that made me forget about my throbbing hand...

Peter: (He tries to kick at the communicator again) I hope this helps...

*Peter does kick the communicator. It bounces off of Micky's forehead. He yelps.*

Peter: Sorry! I can't see where I'm aiming.

Micky: *Groans* And I have no idea where it landed.

Peter: I wish it were a bit brighter in here! (He concentrates...but nothing happens) Darn it! Either they have something in here that nullifies our powers, or they're wonky from being tied up for so long.

Micky: Head trauma, in my case.

Peter: (He struggles with his hands, trying to untie them) Maybe we can at least get untied. We can't make too much noise. If we attract attention, they might stop and come back here.

Micky: Sure, just ignore the fact that I may be dying due to a head wound. I'd complain that I can't see, if it wasn't for the fact that I already couldn't see.

Peter: Micky, do you feel any blood? Is any brain matter sticking out?

Micky: What does brain matter feel like, anyway?

Peter: Soft and squishy, I guess. Especially if yours has been mushed.

Micky: Hmm. Nope, warm and sticky. Ugh, great, I am bleeding.

Peter: Maybe I could get over there and wipe your head with my sleeve somehow, or we could find towels in these crates...

Micky: If you come over here, then you dig out my communicator. I don't really think I should make any sudden movements right now.

Peter: All right. (He starts over...but the truck goes over another bump, and Peter almost lands ON Micky!) Um, this is a little cozier than I wanted...

Micky: *Yelps* Pete, you're frickin' heavy!

Peter: Sorry! (He pulls away, trying to pull at Micky's pants) Mick, where's your pocket?

Micky: Where a pocket usually is... *laughs* Stop tickling me!

Peter: Sorry! (He reaches further down) Is it here?

Micky: Pete, that ain't the communicator.

Peter: (Blushes again) Oh. (He moves across his leg) How about here?

Micky: *Laughs again* Quit tickling me!

Peter: Stop being so ticklish! (He tugs down his leg) How about here?

Micky: Uh oh...

Peter: What?

Micky: That's the right pocket, but I'm willing to bet it feels empty.

Peter: Yes, it does.

Micky: I must've lost mine. *groans* This just keeps getting better and better.

Peter: Then we'll have to find the other one. (There's another bump) Darn it!

*The bump causes one of the crates to begin to tip over.*

Peter: Watch out! (He rolls away)

Micky: Kinda hard to do when you can't see anything! And watch out for wha... *there's a thump and a groan* That. Yeah...

Peter: Oh dear. Micky, are you ok?

Micky: *Wearily* I've had better days.

Peter: Micky, do you feel anything like the communicator anywhere?

Micky: I see two of them about a foot away from my head. Oh, shit, I'm seeing double.

Peter: (He struggles with his arms) Micky...I've got to get out of this...

Micky: You do that, Pete. I'm just gonna close my eyes.

Peter: Micky, no! Do you think you could reach the communicator? (He struggles harder)

Micky: *Whines* Peeeeete! *whines again* I can't reach!

Peter: For the love of... (He tries to lean over...but another bump sends them head-first into each other)

Micky: *Groans* Owwww...hard head, Pete.

Peter: Sorry! (He looks down...and grins) I think the communicator is right under us!

Micky: You get it.

Peter: (He leans over and grabs at it, but it slips out of his hands and back onto the floor) Oh man...

Micky: Please don't tell me you just dropped it.

Peter: Ok, I won't tell you. I don't think it went far, though.

Micky: *Groans, but starts feeling around for it; sounding worn out* How's getting untied coming?

Peter: It's getting there... (He pulls harder) Arrgh! I nearly pulled the skin off my wrist! (He manages to twist his fingers along the ropes) Hmm. I think I have the knots...

Micky: *Sighs* Good, because now I'm seeing in triplicate and I still can't find that damn communicator.

Peter: It has to be here somewhere... (He finally manages to pull the knots apart) Micky, I think I have it! How about you?

Micky: *Wearily* No.

Peter: (As he unties his ankles) I'll see if I can get this done, then I'll get you, ok? We'll look for the communicator together.

Micky: Okay. Can I close my eyes now?

Peter: If you want. (He gets his feet untied, then goes over to Micky) Are you here? Good grief, it's so dark in here...

Micky: Pete?

Peter: (He leans over, trying to feel for Micky) Mick, is that you? I feel something fuzzy...

Micky: *Wearily* M'head.

Peter: Ok. (He kneels down and starts untying Micky's hands) How do you feel now?

Micky: Tired. Can't find communicator.

Peter: We'll find it together. (He finishes with Micky's hands) Ok, man, done there. (Starts on Micky's ankles)

Micky: *Hands immediately go to his head* Maaaaan...

Peter: Micky, as soon as we get out of this, I'll conjure up an aspirin for you.

Micky: Bandage, too. Oooohh...

Peter: (He hands him a handkerchief) Will this help a little?

Micky: Thank you. *presses it to his head and gasps a little* Communicator around?

Peter: (Pulls the last of the rope off of Micky's ankles) There. (He starts looking around) Hmm, I know it was close...

Micky: *Lays on his side; grunts* Layin' on something... *brings his hand up and tries to see it* Pete, I'm still seeing multiple. What's this I was laying on?

Peter: (He grabs it) The communicator! (Opens it) Thank god, it still works.

Micky: *Unenthused* Yippee.

Peter: I'll make the call. (He pushes the buttons) Girls? Ladies, are you there? Val? Lauren? Anyone?

*We switch over to see all four ladies sitting in Ursula on the side of a major highway. Lauren pulls out her communicator.*

Lauren: Hello?

Emma: Who is it, Lauren?

Peter: (Over the communicator) Girls? Lauren?

Lauren: Peter!? Oh, thank goodness!

Lauren: Where are you? Are you guys okay?

Peter: I'm not sure where we are. We're in a very dark truck on a very bumpy road. I'm ok, but Micky's head is bleeding.

Lauren: What!?

Micky: *Softly in the background* Not so loud, babe...

Peter: I don't think it's as bad as he's whining about. Just a cut on the side.

Micky: Then why are they three of you?

Peter: I think you're having more problems with the concussion than with the blood. (To Lauren) Our powers aren't working. We can't escape.

Lauren: Oh dear. You said you don't know where you are, either.

Peter: I know we're where they don't fix the roads a lot. Not a major highway.

Micky: *Whiny and faint* Babe, I need you to kiss a boo boo.

Lauren: *Mutters* Good grief. *louder* We're gonna find you somehow. I wish SOMEONE had taught me how to track the communicators.

Micky: *Faintly* Can't track. Doesn't work.

Peter: And we lost the hand-held trackers when the Crystal Cave was blown to bits.

*Micky moans, being reminded about the Cave exploding.*

Peter: (He swerves as they turn a curve) Hey! We just turned a curve... (swerves again) And another one! I think we may be going uphill.

Micky: *Faintly* Pete, tell 'em to not take the curves so fast. M'head already feels like a pinata.

Peter: I don't think they'd listen, Mick. (To Lauren) I think we're going into the hills above LA.

Lauren: *To the ladies* The hills above LA?

Emma: That doesn't narrow it down.

Micky: *Faintly* What if we ask 'em nice?

Peter: No, Micky. We're trying not to attract attention. (To Lauren) I haven't heard any other cars in ages. It must be a fairly secluded area.

Lauren: Secluded area...

Micky: *Whiny* But Peeeeeeeeete...

Peter: NO, Micky! (To Lauren) There's lots of trees and secluded plots of land in the hills above LA. (Listens) I don't hear any cars. Barely hear any animals.

Micky: *Quietly* Meanie. *a little louder* I'm going to sleep!

Lauren: Peter, keep him awake! We're gonna find you. Just hang in there and give us any more info that you can.

Peter: All right... (Suddenly, the truck comes to a stop. Peter and Micky are thrown to their knees!)

Micky: OW!

Lauren: What was that?

Peter: (He fumbles the communicator, but finally presses it to his ear) We stopped and went flying. (The door's opening) Oh shoot...

Alex: *Snatches the communicator from Peter* Oh, what's this I found? Finders keepers, you know.

Lauren: Peter! Micky!

Alex: *Into the communicator* Bye, babe. *closes the communicator*

Peter: No!

(Cut to the others. Emma frowns.)

Emma: Lauren, what's going on?

Lauren: It sounded like Alex just took Peter's communicator away.

Valerie: Oh no! Peter!

Emma: Did they say where they were? I heard hills in there...

Lauren: Hills outside LA, windy road, very little to no animals or traffic...

Emma: (Sighs) Well, we'd better get started then. This could take a while.

Valerie: I know Peter's not hurt, just scared and upset.

Lauren: *Sighs* And I know that Mick is hurting even if just from the concussion because I have a lovely throbbing in my head.

Daphne: We'll find them.

Ursula: I'm sure we will. Shall we make tracks, Lauren?

Lauren: Letís, Urse.

(We fade out as Lauren turns Ursula off the highway and onto a bumpier, quieter road that seems to go off into the distant hills...)