It was five months after the switch-body-thing happened.
Robbie was standing out in the cold, nearby a bench. It was nighttime, you could faintly see the stars. But the snowflakes were like shooting stars. And the snow on the ground, which acted as a blanket covering the grass.
Robbie shivered in the cold, why was he out here? To get some fresh air? Plan something mischievous?
Meanwhile, Sportacus leaned against a tree, thinking about when Robbie almost died. Sportacus sighed and looked up into the distance. There he was, Robbie, all alone.
Sportacus made his way toward the villain, his footsteps could be heard, crunch
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