The Urban War That Changed A City

Don't be fooled. I'm not as smart and artsy as it seemed in my writing. I'm just your average 19 year old secretary's apprentice (and I love Angie, but who needs an internship to be a SECRETARY!) I work for our fair Project town called Project, in the ways of Policing and defense. With Athealla running around, it is used more than the government(and that doesn't repeat.)
But this chapter isn't about them, is it? It's about Ricky and Kim, two rocking awesome journalists who... you'll have to read for yourself!

Ricky Valiour, who's not so noble, sat on the bus uncomfortably. These leather seats never did one's hind end any good. Kim Taylor, his girlfriend of 3 years, sat anxiously next to him. The Review over in Las Vegas, the city of Blinding lights one might fancy U2 meant, was failing compared to its rival, the Las Vegas Sunrise. Even with the Taylor-Valiour Duet on the Recent Gambling scandal, no one even knew about the Review anymore, and Dennis Maloney was going bankrupt unintentionally.
They had been called to Dennis, and Kim was 100 and a half percent sure they were fired. Ricky was one to look to the brightside of things, despite being seen at a few goth poet meetings. Then Again, he used those to bring the sun in the dark windows and Kim had to once drive the sorely beaten Ricky home.
"Kim, don't worry already." Ricky ignored his insult to grammar. "We're modestly the best they have."
"Correction." The 18 year old girl told him. "We're the only ones."
Ricky sighed and tried to entertain himself by looking at a bus schedule. When that usnurprisingly failed, Ricky tapped his unappeased girlfriend on the shoulder.
"Even if the review fails, we can shimmy on over to the Sunrise and live on as jour- oh, shoot, here's our stop!" he interrupted himself and rang the bell, causing the bus driver to instantaneously slam the brakes and the inconveininced passengers to tumble like dominoes.
"Sorry, People!" Ricky called good-naturedly. It wasn't his first time he nearly jarred everyone off the bus.

Dennis was in the worst position a President could ever be, even counting Clintons. Sure, he wasn't the United States President. That was reserved for Dennis Maloney Sr, a loved man who restored presidential trust where Clinton Falied (And please, Jon Stewart, Leave me alone!)
He was forgotten. Completely. He held a bunch of charts that fell down so far it took three pages to describe. I mean ,
D
O
W
N.
He was afraid he was gonna have to fire everyone. But he could not find it in his heart to fire Ricky and Kim. Even to the bitter end he'd do his best to keep them. In fact, he was calling them over to give them the job of "Master Journalist!' as He dramatically heralded it. Besides, they'd quit soon enough. At this thought, he threw his downcast charts on the floor in anger.
The Secretary paged him. She was a new employee by the odd name of Lyon Pride. (And, doubting that was her real name, but she did show a birth certificate.) Besides that she had been born in Nice, France and that she was 33, he had no clue about her.
"Richard Valiour and Kimberly Taylor just came in." She said. "Want them in? Is it a mess in there?"
<i>You wouldn't know the half of it, Lyon <i> he thought.
"Oh, it's okay. Send them in." he lied.
It wasn't Ricky. Rather, it was a rather large American with a hateful Skull-and-Crossbones tattoo and a fist so big it only took one swipe to K.O. Dennis.
"Good job, Harold. I'll page Athealla so that she knows." Lyon said. "Tell Kole he can come in."

Ricky climbed up the stairs, Kim lagging along as if it were a tribute to her. Lyon Met them at the door marked "Dennis Maloney, Knock or Else!"
"Hey, Laya." he smiled. Hardly knew her (As you can tell) but is wasn't a Valiour trade to be unkind.
"Lyon." she laughed unnaturally. "He'll see you now."
The fake Dennis had set up some donuts and water. He motioned for them to come in and make themselves comfortable.
Ricky settled in a leather chair. Kim was more reluctant, setting her "Go, UCLV!' Jacket on the chair and eventually setting in.
"Jeez, Kimmi, I thought that chair was magnetically repelled from you!' Ricky laughed, a pout from Kim silencing him.
"Donuts?' Fake Dennis asked.
"Okay." Ricky gratefully took the largest one, an array of sprinkles flooding it. "Never take a gift in vain."
This may not have been Kim's motto. She refused with a "No thanks. On a diet"
"Where was I when this happened?' Ricky asked. 'Besides, not like you need it!"
"Okay!" Kim betrayed her unneccesary diet for a chocolate eclair.
Ricky cut to the chase. "We're fired, aren't we?"
The fake Dennis nodded his head ruefully. "Hate to do it, and I am so sorry, but we're shutting down. Business is business, and business must grow, despite crummies in tummies, you know. The Lorax."
Kim's Chocolate eclair fell out in pieces on the brand new old navy shirt. Fake Dennis cringed in horror.
"Oh, crud oh crud, someone get a trash can!" Ricky shouted, pulling the plastic wastebasket in front of Kim, who vomited excessively. Her stomach was easliy betrayed by nerves.
Fake Dennis may have been a wicked man, but he was engaged, and heartwarmed that Ricky cared more about his girlfriend's well-being than about his job and lack of it.
"Was that a yes?" he asked "The firing question?"
Fake Dennis nodded. "I am so sorry. I can, however, offer you a few Benjamins for all your trouble." he said, handing Ricky a stack of bills.
'Kim, let's just go quickly." Ricky said, leading her out of the door, wastebasket and all.
Kole (Fake Dennis' alias) shook his head. "I almost hated to do it. Almost."
Lyon laughed. 'Where'd you get Dr. Seuss?"
"Guilty Pleasure."