Max Vasquez, 3/17/09 2:07 PM

The loud crash shot me to my feet. A familiar presence stirs within me I can feel the lust for blood surge through me warming my veins. I push Xecotcovach back for the moment and rush to my front door, a second loud crash sounds before I reach it followed by the splinter of wood.

I press my cheek against the wood and scan through the fish eyed peephole. The distorted outside world looks mostly calm except for the four black clad men I can barely catch sight of out of the far corner standing in front of my neighbor’s door. It’s Johnny’s door looks like he wasn’t being completely paranoid. I watch as two of them step back holding a battering ram and the third moves forward rifle drawn.

I take a step back and breath planning my next move, they will come for us next.. we must act, my skull rumbles in a voice not my own, in a language most have forgotten. I can’t speak it but I understand it well enough. I hesitate a moment weighing my options, another crash this one coming from inside the other apartment makes my choice for me.

I walk down the small hallway and stand infront of the wall between my apartment and Johnny’s I brace myself placing one hand on the wall. The shift is always a little rough. Xecotcovach rumbles with anticipation and I allow the spirt to flood my senses and overtake my body.

My teeth grit together and my stomach feels like its turning inside out. The transformation is quick, and painless but still unnerving to me. Bones snap and reform, my skin thickens and spourts feathers, my nose and mouth forminto a razor sharp beak, my muscles swell and grow talons and claws forming on the ends of my hands, my clothes seem to shift into my skin and I grow several feet taller. In the final stages long wings sprout from my upper back and spread as far as the narrow hall will allow. Soon I’m no longer Max Vasquez. I’m not even human, somewhere between man and crow; I am Xecotcovach avatar and sprit, harbinger of the end times. Well one of them anyways.

My fist raises from the wall and slams down against it splintering it Xecotcovach is in control now, and I watch my other clawed hand slam the wall punching a hole in it. My claws grab at the opening and tear the sheetrock and mortar apart as if it were paper and my taloned legs step through the new opening which crumbles around me as my bulk push past it.

Johnny looks up at my from his knees a look of terror filling his woozy face, I can see the three darts in his chest, probably a tranqulizer. His head lulls and he falls backwards to his floor. The two black clad men still standing stagger backwards shocked and surprised. Xecotcovach opens my beak and lets forth a mighty shriek both bird and monster like at the same time. One of the black clad agents drops his rifle and flees, the other stands shaken for a moment. A sense of grim satisfaction followed by hunger fills my sense. Xecotcovach prepares to feed.

My mass bolts forward like a streak of lightning carefully avoiding the prone form of Johnny at my feet a taloned hand reaches and clutches the stunned solider who tries in vein to raise his rifle. My other arm slaps it aside and it slides across the living room floor as I lift the man from the ground. His eyes widen with terror and he opens his mouth the shriek unable to find his voice. He’s too slow anyways as my free claw grabs at the man’s stomach and eviscerates him while my head snaps forward plucking his eyes from his skull. The act would have sickened me if I was Max, but as Xecotcovach I feel my strength bolster as the squishy orbs flood my beak.

I feel a slight plink against my feathers and turn to see the last solider who didn’t flee standing in the doorway his gun is leveled in my direction and two darts lay on the ground the needles broken as they failed to penetrate my skin. I drop my first victim in a heap of gore and guts and turn towards the last assailant. The sound of approaching police catches my attention. My time is short.

The man flips a switch on his rifle and backs away as he pulls the trigger again. The silent thump of needles is replaced by the tale tell sound of automatic gunfire. The bullets plink harmlessly off my armored feathers and I lunge forward grabbing the man by his throat through the door and tearing it out. Letting him slump lifelessly to the ground on the porch. I can hear the fleeing solider make his way down the steps, Xecotcovach wants to follow, but I can hear the crowd gathering outside as well as several police cars screeching to a stop in the lot. It’s time to get out of here.

Xecotcovach seems to agree because he steps back from the door and looks towards my downed friend. If it was just us we would shift again into a single crow and fly away, but Johnny presents a problem. I stomp over to the inert man and easily hoist him up in one hand. We need a diversion, something to distract the fast growing crowd and approaching police.

Xecotcovach calls upon another of our powers and in a puff of black smoke several crows; hundreds in number spawn around us sweep out of the apartment. They are instructed to swarm the people and keep them busy while we escape. I can hear the confused shrieks and stray gunshots from the cops. It should work pretty well, a few people may see me still, but not nearly as many.

After a few moments when the chaos is at it’s peak we run and leap through the door my wings spreading to their full span, Johnny held securely over my shoulder as we fly off, I chuckle a bit at the chaos as people bat at the crows that swoop and peck at everyone. The wings at my back beat heavily pulling us high in the sky and up into the clouds.

Johnny Wagner, 3/17/09 1:52 PM

Grabbing my phone from my pocket I start to dial as I slam the door behind me and drop my skateboard on the hard wood with a crash. I hold the phone to my ear and listen to the familiar tune of Alltel wireless’ ring back tone, It’s the lone ranger theme.

“Come on, pick up,” I grumble into the phone as I hasten my way into my bedroom. I hold my cell between my shoulder and ear as I reach up into my closet for a large blue duffel bag. I grasp one of the black nylon straps and pull the empty container down onto my head as the tune reaches it’s crescendo and restarts. She’s not going to pick up.

I tumble the sack onto the floor and drag it towards my dresser where I throw open the top flap and begin to throw clothes in it from the top drawer. The lone ranger tone gets about halfway through its encore performance when it suddenly stops with a click, soon the speaker if filled with the words of a young woman’s voice, with just the hint of a southern accent on her words.

“Hey this is Stephanie, leave me a message and I’ll call you back,” I almost mouth the words along with the familiar voice on the other end having heard this recording a million times before. The phone clicks again and the automated Alltel voice instructs me to push 3 to leave a message and I do so before the statement is even finished.

I place the phone back between my ear and shoulder and await the beep as I start to frantically grab more clothes. I slam shut the first drawer and pull open the second in what is almost the same movement as the phone beeps in my ear. I start stuffing new articles in the blue sack as the tone finishes.

“Stephanie. I wish you’d have picked up because it’s bad,” I huff and puff a bit between words my heart racing as I stuff more objects in the bag, “we found a bug at the shop and I think… no I know there is one here too, It’s probably not safe for me to be calling you like this but I don’t know who else to call. I’m leaving town.”

I grab the phone with one hand as it starts to slip and kneel down having stuffed enough clothes in to last me a while and start to zipper shut the bulging bag, a feat easier said than done with one hand.

“I don’t know where exactly I’m going, but I’ll try and call you as soon as I can,” I curse under my breath and pause to finish shutting the bag. “If you don’t hear from me call my parents. Don’t believe anything you might see on the news someone’s after me and I’m certain it’s the government. They’ll probably say I’m a terrorist or some shit like that DON’T BELIVE IT!”

Suddenly a loud crack of what sounds like thunder hits near my front door. I stand letting go of the duffel and the phone slides from my ear and clacks lightly against the floor.

“Shit!” I jump back as and other loud crash resounds this time followed by the splintering of wood I step out of my room and stare down the hall towards the door and watch as the already cracked wood flies into pieces as spilling into the room as a large black metal ram slams through it a third time. A man steps through the hole in the door, dressed in all black from head to toe, his face completely covered and a pair of goggles over his eyes. He looks like someone out of socom or some shit. Panic Floods my mind as I take a step back away from the black-clad man; my head seeking an exit even though I know the only way out of my shitty apartment is the front door.

He levels a large rifle in my direction and time seems to slow as I hear two thumps. A part of me can almost feel the darts before they hit me and I’m almost convince I could have stopped them if my reaction time had been quicker, but instead all I feel is a stinging pain followed by a quick numbness as the darts embed themselves in my chest. I look down at the darts and watch as the clear liquid in the vials drain into my bloodstream.

“Fuckin’ hell!” is all I can say as I throw one of my hands outwards towards the dark man who shot me, the air ripples and as a wave of force radiates from my hand there is a crack of hair as the force suddenly hits the dark figure in front of me lifts him from the ground and slams him hard against the wall.

I stagger forward for a moment unable to fully comprehend what just happened, I look towards the agent as his head lulls to the side the lenses of his goggles cracked and his mask suddenly looking slick with and wet around his nose and mouth.

The room starts to spin a little and I grab fruitlessly at the darts in my chest, which seem to dodge and weave away from my hands. I barely notice the other two shadowy figures stepping through my broken door, each one firing another dart, which sticks me in the chest beside the first two. I don’t feel the sting this time, just more of that blinding numbness.

I hear something ringing behind me, and I turn to face the wall, the two agents shout something I can’t quite make out as another crash splinters my the hall way wall that separates my apartment from Max’s. My legs wobble as the tranqs start to numb the feeling in my feet and knees. I wonder if what I’m seeing is even real as a large monstrous claw punches through the wall and proceeds to tear a large hunk of sheet rock away revealing a hulking blur of blackness. Its features are vaguely bird like through my fading vision and I begin to wonder if some sort of demon has come to drag me away to hell. A monstrous cry emanates from it’s beak and a large clawed and bird like foot steps through the rubble is the last thing I see before my eyes grow too heavy to hold open and my body slumps to the ground my world fading to black.

Max Vasquez, 3/17/09 12:47 PM

Following Christian outside I pause to prop the back door open with a large rock I’ve used just for that purpose before. I turn to watch Johnny as he paces back towards the counter his phone pressed to his ear. Crazy gringo’s so paranoid; I bet this whole thing is nothing.

I turn towards Christian who has already opened up the power box and started shifting things around. I walk over to stand behind him and peer over his shoulder, I have to stand high almost on my toes to see what’s going on.

It’s just a bunch of wires and switches. I know nothing about this sort of thing, so I roll back on my heals and relax looking off to the side for a moment then back towards Christian.

“Hey man, I know nothing about this sort of thing, do you?” I ask genuinely curious as to whether or not he knows anything about this stuff.

He doesn’t even look back, too absorbed in what he’s doing, “Yeah, I know a few things about wiring, it’s no where near my specialty, but I’ve dealt with stuff like this so far everything seems…” He trails off and leans in closer to the box like he’s found something, I lean into once again on my toes to try and get a better look at everything. He seems to be looking at a small object screwed in under the wires, it’s black and about the size of a button and has a tiny red light on it that is glowing steady.

He stands up suddenly and steps back almost knocking me to the ground in the process, he seems suddenly very serious looking back and forth at both ends of the alley.

“What is it dude? What was that thing?” I lean back in closer to the power box to look at the small object. Christian’s hand seizes my shoulder and he pulls me away.

“It’s a bug, a powerful one,” his tone is hushed and he keeps checking both ends of the alley as if he is expecting someone to show up.

“A bug? You mean like spies an shit?” I raise my eyebrow to emphasize my skepticism.

“Yes, a listening device, someone wants to know what’s going on in that shop, and probably your place too if the same guy was at your apartments.

Suddenly the back door is slammed open and Johnny bust through he looks around for a moment but upon spotting us begins storming out way letting the door swing shut behind him.

“I FUCKING knew it! That guy was full of shit Entergy hasn’t had ANYONE in this area. Did you guys find anything?” He walks over to us and looks back towards the open power box.


“Christain say’s it’s a bug.” I offer with a shrug.

Johnny looks towards the box then back towards us, then back at the box. The color drains from his face and he slowly backs away from the box as if it were a snake ready to strike. “A bug? They are after me… I got to get out of town. Out of the fucking country!” He starts to turn and walk towards the back door of the store.

“Wait who is after you? Why?” Christian calls out and Johnny stops and slowly turns to face us, he looks at me for a moment then Christian.

“I don’t know who exactly, I think it’s the government, I was followed yesterday, and that sniffing guy was at our apartment,” he pauses and looks at me again as if asking if he should carry on, I really have no idea what he means so I shrug.

“He was at my place too,” Christian seems to say to himself more than anyone else and then turns back to Johnny, “but why is anyone, let alone the government, after you?”

Johnny sighs and his shoulders drop slightly defeated, “It’s going to sound crazy, but they are after me because I can move things with my mind. Telekinesis.” He then turns and walks towards the door, “But, I don’t care if you believe me or not, because now I need to get out of here!”

“I’ve seen him do it,” I offer and Christian looks down at me and I shrug again.

Christian starts to say something else to Johnny when the back door opens and a kid with greasy hair and acne sticks his head out from the shop, and looks towards Johnny.

“Uh hey man I wanted to buy these…” He holds up a few comics and a pack of cards, which Johnny promptly snatches from the kid’s hands and looks through them.

“No.” Johnny shoves the items back into the boys hands and pushes past him into the store, Christian and I both follow.

The kid looks at the products in his hands confused and then looks up at Johnny, “No? b-but I wan to buy these.”

Johnny walks over towards the front of the store and flips the sign from opened to close as he speaks, “No, you really don’t everything you have there is mainstream shit and utter garbage. I refuse to sell you that crap until you learn to like something better than what you’re told to like by the media.”

He turns and walks back towards the stunned patron and yanks the books and cards from the kids hands and sets them on the counter. I do my best not to laugh. Johnny disappears around the counter and stoops down and I can hear him scooping his prescriptions into his back pack.

The kid picks the stuff up again, “Look dude are you thick? I want to pay for these and buy them, I don’t give a fuck if you like em or not.”

Johnny’s head slowly reemerges from behind the counter, his eyes flooded with anger.

“Listen punk, all the stuff you want to pay for is shit and I refuse to sell it to you. In fact I’m refusing to sell you anything because your taste is so bad that if you left here an showed someone all the bullshit your wanting to buy no one else would come here because they would think this place fucking sucks, so no you can’t buy this stuff, we are closed. Leave.” He ducks back under the counter and goes back to whatever it is he was doing down there.

The kid is completely shocked and shoves all the books over the counter edge so they fall to the ground and then storms towards the door shouting, “Fuck you!” as the bell jingles announcing his exit.

Johnny’s hand raises above the counter his middle finger proudly extended. The other two patrons in the shop aside from Christian and I slowly make their way to the exit as well.

After a few moments and some more rummageing Johnny stands up with his back pack over one shoulder and laptop over the other.

“I’m leaving town, and I think you guys may want to as well.”

Johnny Wagner, 3/17/09 12:37 PM

Sticking my head through the back door I spot the Entergy worker, sporting his white jump suit and hat. He’s young, couldn’t be over thirty, and he’s quick too, he already has the energy box behind the shop opens and several of the wires pulled forward as he leans in and starts doing something with a screw driver.

I step out into the alley and let the heavy back door slam shut behind me. “Hey!” I shout and the Entergy guy jumps a little then calmly turns his head in my direction. “What are you doing back here? We aren’t having any trouble.

He strands up strait and dusts off his uniform and then stoops down and picks up a clipboard off the top of a large toolbox, and looks it over.

“I don’t know man, that’s what the work order says, are you a Mr. Ska-vanski?” He draws out the last name a little stumbling over the awkward pronunciation of my boss’ last name.

“No, that’s the shop owner,” I reply walking towards the guy and attempting to peek over at the clipboard.

The Entergy Man, Chris Hawkins according to his name badge, pulls it away slightly defensive and eyes me up and down. Well it says here a Jason Skavanski called and said he was having trouble with the lights browning out every now and then, They sent me to check it out. I found a loose wire and I’m almost done fixing it.”

I narrow my eyes and look him up and down. I don’t remember any brown outs, and I work here more than Skavanski does. Something is wrong here. I watch him intently for a moment.

My head is suddenly filled with the agitated voice of the energy man, I hate fieldwork, I wish this kid would just go away so I can get back to base. Damn it a chill he’s doing som…. A loud high-pitched squeal suddenly fills my skull and snaps me back to reality.

I think I was just reading his mind, my eyes widen at the thought just as I notice the worker’s eyes narrow.

“Look kid your boss called me and I guess he forgot to tell you, so can I get back to work here?”

I just kinda nod at the guy and turn back towards the back door. I walk slowly to the door as I pull out my shop keys to open it. I read his mind. I put the key in the lock and turn it and pull open the door. I turn back towards the worker whos back in the box turning that screwdriver again.

Maybe I can do it again… I close my eyes and try to reach with my mind. At least it seems like reaching. Sort of like I do when im trying to pick up a spoon or lamp, but more subtle. I focus on what I can only describe as a spot of color, I think it’s red. Somehow I know this is his mind. I touch the color with my mind, and try to push into it, but it seems to solidify and push back it keeps me from entering. Damn.

I step into the shop and Max starts to say something to me, but I ignore him and pull out my cell phone. I punch in Skavanski’s number and it rings several times.

“This better be an emergency Wagner, I’m at the beach!” The thought of my boss l laying half naked in the sand is enough to make my skin crawl.

“Grah, yeah there is an Entergy guy here.” I wait for his repsonce but all I hear is grumbling.

“So, what? You didn’t break anything did you?” he finally says agitated.

“Fuck no, he says you called him about brown outs or something! I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“Man you should see the ass on that one that just walked past me… Look man I may have I don’t know, who cares! Now don’t call me again!” The phone goes dead with a click and I mumble several choice swear words; I hate that man.

Max and Christian walk towards me distracting me momentarily, I’m not in the mood to talk with them till I figure this out. I look up and see the entergy man climb back into his van and start it up, seems like he is finished. The logo on the side of the van gives me an idea

I push past the approaching pair and shout over my shoulders, “Hey if either of you know about electric stuff go see if you can tell what he did I need to look up the number for Entergy.”

“It’s 713 555 4746 for the local office,” I stop a Christian’s response and pull out my phone to dial.

“You memorized the Entergy number?” I raise an eyebrow towards Christian as the phone rings.

He shrugs and turns towards the back door, “I’m good with numbers, and electronics, come on Max let’s check this out.”

I turn away from the pair as they exit and head to the counter, the phone finally answers.

“Hi this is Cathy you have reached Entergy how may I help you?” the woman on the other end sounds dreadfully bored.

“Yeah hey Cathy, can you tell me if you had a truck at 15342 S, Mulligan on a work order?” I tap my foot with impatience as she sighs.

“Just a moment,” I can hear her typing things into her computer and I wave my hands in a circular motion willing her to hurry up. A small display starts to rumble inexplicably so I force myself to calm.

“No sir, we haven’t had any trucks in that are all morning.”

My lips curl into a smirk. “Entergy my ass,” I say to myself as I close my cell phone.

Byron O'Dell, 3/17/09 12:33 PM

The pudgy bastard takes another sip of his coffee as I shift uncomfortably in my seat across from him. I’m becoming increasingly impatient with this man, my eyes darting between him and the briefcase he sat beside his chair. I want to reach across the table and throttle the man, wipe that smug grin off his face; it wouldn’t be hard I’m double his size and my hands are more than big enough to ring his fat throat. My muscles tighten and twitch with rage, something he seems to notice and his smile fades for a moment.

“So, you’re a football player for the University correct?” he ask eyeing me up and down his grin slowly returning.

I respond thrumming my fingers against the table impatiently, “Yeah…”

“First string right? Linebacker I believe is what I read. Some pretty impressive tackles, didn’t you knock someone out cold once?” he raises an eyebrow and my blood starts to boil.

“What the hell is this all about!?” I slam a fist against the small table and it shakes violently, “Get to the point Peters or whatever your name is or I’m out.”

He acts taken a back for a moment then nods slowly, “You sports types, always in a rush. Even the golfers, which is odd since they seem so calm on the course,” he seems lost in thought for a moment then turns to me, “Have you ever tried golf Mr. O’ Dell?”

I growl and push myself up from the tiny chair, “Fuck this.” I turn to walk back towards Erik’s table when the pudgy little bastard clears his throat and I hear him sit the briefcase on the small table.

“Now I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss this Mr. O’Dell, You might at least want to have a look at these pictures… or I could just run the story.” His voice is no longer chipper and bright but suddenly serious and slightly threatening.

Exasperated I rub my eyes. I’m never going back to Mexico. I turn slowly back to the table and slide back into the seat letting out a long drawn out sigh. “Fine, but can we just get to the point here.”

“Fair enough,” he clicks open the two locks on the case and flips open the lid. “I was hoping you could explain these to me before they go to print…”

He tosses a stack of photos at me. I shuffle through them. They are of my wreck, my truck plowed into a tree, though this isn’t what I remember the truck looking like... Oh well, thank god it’s not Mexico.

“What is this a Joke? Everyone knows I was in a wreck, I don’t remember much after hitting the tree,” I start to slide the photos back towards him and stops me halfway.

“Please Mr. O’Dell you haven’t even looked at all of them, the first one is nothing, the true story unfolds as you go through them,” he smiles that shitty smile that makes my skin crawl.

I grumble and take the photos back and start flipping through them. The first one is my truck the front end smashed into the tree, the second is pretty much the same, but a little closer and a slightly different angle. The third one is where things get a little strange. A large dent appears to form on the roof as if something punched it up from the inside. The forth captures the front door flying through the air as a large booted food sticks out from where it used rest. The next picture shows a pair of large hands, my hands, prying the opening wider, it almost looks like I’m crushing tin foil the frame crumples so easily. The next show I mangle the truck even further the stearing column gets chucked through the fractured wind shield as I stumble free of the wreck. My muscles are swollen and large, almost too large I look to be a foot taller than I really am, and my clothes are stretched across my body almost torn… I look like some comic book character. The last few pictures are of me collapsed where the police found me, there are a few shots of the car all mangled, and in the shots of me collapsed I look like I’d returned to my normal size.

I remember none of this. It can’t be real, probably some kind of computer manipulation or something, but at least it’s not Mexico.

I smirk and look up at the man.

“Any comments?” He holds up a tape recorder that I promptly slap to the side.

“No, like I said is this a joke? I was driving home and fell asleep at the wheel, it’s all been in the real paper already, it was a miracle I wasn’t hurt more but what else do you want?” I sigh sliding the picture back to him.

“Oh you can keep those I have many copies,” he straitens his tie and places the tape recorder in his briefcase and closes it. “You weren’t hurt at all from what I read, well saw actually I mean I was there. Was it steroids? Some new kind of drugs? Is that how you were able to tear your own truck apart?”

“I didn’t tear my truck apart, the cops say the door must have flown off in the impact and I rolled out.. I never wear a seatbelt, and they say that this is one of the few times that it probably actually saved my life. If you were there why didn’t you help me?”

“Who do you think called the cops? And from looking at the pictures, I’d say it’s obvious you weren’t thrown from the car, you kicked the door off and tore it apart with your own bare hands. Pretty impressive. So, I ask again, was it Steroids?” He leans in closer waiting my response.

I slam my fist against the table again making it quake so hard I think it might collapse for a second. “Look I don’t care what you did with the computer to make those pictures. I don’t remember any of it, so I’m inclined to believe these are all fake. I don’t take steroids. You got nothing, print whatever you want if anything it will make me even more popular. So, we done here?”

He grins and stands up slowly, “I guess we are, I tell you this though, these aren’t doctored in any way, and a story like this and accusations of steroid use can be very damaging to a rising young athlete such as yourself. Since you aren’t willing to cooperate I’m going to run whatever I damn well please.”

“Yeah whatever, its all bullshit anyways, I can’t wait to sign autographs on all my friends copies.” I stand slowly and smile, as an after thought I grab his half-finished coffee and spit in the cup. “That’s for waiting my free time during spring break prick.” I shove the cup into his hand then turn and walk away.

“I will find out what really happened that night Mr. O’Dell! The world will know the truth!” He calls to me as I approach Erik’s table. I flip him off over my shoulder which prompts a laugh from my waiting friend. He raises his hand up and I smack it eagerly.

“Lets get out of here,” I say to Erik ready to put this shit behind me.

“So,” he lowers his voice, “was it Mexico?”

“Naw it was just some bullshit about my wreck!” I clap him on the shoulder, “Come on, call the guys, lets get out of here, lets go to the fucking beach!”

Erik’s eyes light up excitedly and he hops out of his seat with blinding speed, “yeeeaaaaahhhhhhh!! Now you’re talking!” He throws an arm over my shoulder and leads me towards the door as he pulls out his phone and begins dialing.

Christian Sinclair, 3/17/09 12:21 PM

Wagner’s expression upon my arrival with Max causes me to grin a bit despite myself. He probably never thought I’d be back here, at least not this quickly. It was part planning and part luck that Max showed up when he did, I knew he would go to the comic shop eventually, but I wasn’t exactly sure when. So, I sat at the coffee shop not too far away hoping he would continue to the be the friendly person he is and stop to talk with me as he rolled past. I, of course, was correct and he did stop and talk with me. We actually had a pretty lengthy conversation about school; it turns out Max was in one of the Algebra classes I TA for.

From that point, it was fairly easy to include myself in his plans to visit the shop. He simply stated where he was heading, and he asked me if I wanted to come along. I feigned checking my watch like I had someplace to be at some point, and told him I did have some time till I needed to be anywhere so, why not? Now that we’re here I need to contain my thoughts just incase Wagner tries to peek.

“Change you’re mind about that Watchmen trade?,” Wagner flings his first of what is sure to be many snide comments in my direction. He rolls his eyes and then turning and nods at Max, “Hey Max how’s it going?” I smirk and hold my tongue for the moment.

“Good dude! I found Christian bored at the coffee shop so I brought him along!,” Max claps me on the back unexpectedly and I stumble a bit.

“Yeah.." I throw in, "and no I don’t want the Watchmen.” I sport my most charismatic smile, it seems to anger Wagner and his eyes narrow a bit as he looks in my direction. I feel that familiar chill run down my spine and widen my eyes. Wagner? It's the only thought that slips through before I clear my mind.

The clerk seems confused for a moment then suddenly looks up and past us to the door. I turn as well to notice an Entergy van pulling into the lot in front of the store. They must be busy today; they were at my dorm earlier this morning…

I turn back around and notice Max checking out the van as well. He eventually shrugs and turns and we both walk towards the counter and the store’s distracted employee who continues to watch the van and it’s drive with a hawk like vigilance.

“Having electrical problems?” I ask turning back to the windowed door to watch as the driver steps out of the van, looks at a PDA he is holding then up at the shop before he walks around to the side of the van and slides open the rear door to retrieve his equipment.

Wagner takes a moment to respond clearly distracted, “Huh? No, not at all, I was wondering why he was here…” he trails off as he continues to observe the Entergy man.

Maybe he is reading his mind; perhaps Wagner makes a habit of invading the thoughts of other. I turn to Max to shrug, but I find that he too is once again watching the Entergy guy, his normally care free visage seems more focused and contemplative, almost as if he is trying to really read the actions of the energy man.

“Ya know what dude?,” Max says after a few minutes, and Wagner turns to look at him, “yeah man, this guy was at our apartment complex earlier! He woke me up he was doin’ something behind our building!” I turn and look at the energy man, I wish I’d paid a bit more attention to the guy who was at my place, but I didn’t think too much of it at the time. I’ll review the video feeds when I get home later. We all three turn back to the Entergy man who picks up a large toolkit out of the van and sits it on the ground. He closes the sliding van door and proceeds to walk around the side of the building.

Max and I look to one another and Wagner turns in his computer chair stroking his chine obviously lost in thought. He stands up suddenly.

“I’m going to find out what he’s doing… Hey Max check out the video I just book marked while I do and let me know what you think.” He then stands and walks towards the stores back door. He pokes his head out and looks around for a second then steps through.

“Okkaaaayyyy,” Max exaggerates turning to look at me, “Sorry Johnny’s a bit paranoid at times, lets see what this video is.” Max hops over the counter and plops into the seat once occupied by Wagner, and motions for me to move around so I can get a better look at the screen.

I come around just as he opens up Firefox and clicks the latest bookmark added. After a few seconds a Youtube page starts to load. Large red letters appear saying the video has been removed due to TOS violation.

“Damn, must have just been taken down…” Max frowns and turns in the chair towards me a little.

I sink into myself for a moment, my mind reaching across the net and finding the block on the youtube video, it’s been fairly well scrubbed, but nothing is permanently removed, I simply reset the server back to what it was at the time Wagner viewed the video, which was apparently right before we arrived according to his computer, someone took it down quick. It should work again.

“Why don’t you try refreshing real quick maybe it was just a glitch…” I suggest helpfully, and Max shrugs turning back to the computer and hitting the refresh button.

The video loads as if it were never removed, and max grins and shouts in triumph. ‘real telekinesis’ is the title… interesting I think and pay close attention as Max hits play.

Byron O'Dell, 3/17/09 12:18 PM

Sighing I look at my watch. 12:18 PM. I can’t believe this shit. I throw down the kickstand on my bike, and stand up as I cut the engine and pull the keys from the starter. Stepping over the seat, I start walking along the rows of shops and cafes in the long strip center.

I parked at the opposite end of where I needed to be so that Erik could get in before me and take a look around, see if he could figure out who this Jason Peter’s guy is.

That was four minutes ago. He still hasn’t called. I make my way past a small Tex Mex place; the smell of fajitas makes my stomach rumble. I haven’t eaten yet today, maybe I’ll stop in there after this mess is sorted out.

I pull my phone from my pocket to make sure I haven’t missed any calls. Nope. I bet he forgot, the guy’s taken too many blows to the head he never gets anything right!

I punch in his speed dial number and hold the phone up to my ear, it rings twice before he picks up. “Hey bro! I thought you were right behind me?”

Yup he forgot, “Yo, you were supposed to scope the place out and give me a call!”

There is a momentary pause, “Oh Right, right, right, right, I forgot man, you know me, I’m still not awake really…”

I wait to see if he is goingto say anything more and when he doesn’t I grit my teeth as I speak, “Well… Can you figure out who he is?!”

“Who, who is?”

I pull the phone away from my mouth and resist the urge to smash it in frustration and I breath in deep letting my nerves calm. “The Reporter… can you tell who is the reporter?”

“Ohhh, I don’t know dude there are a lot of people in here. Man you should see the rack on this blonde chick behind the counter though..”

My ears perk up and I stop in place a small smile forming on my lips, “Oh yeah? She pretty hot then?” I allow the momentary distraction, there’s always time for chicks, especially hot ones.

“Yeah dude, kinda a but-her-face though. Hold on she’s trying to take my order.” He pulls the phone away and I hear him shouting something about aTall Mocha something or other and a few pick up lines that are none too clever or tactful. Got to hand it to him though, he tries. He finally puts the phone back to his ear, “Don’t bother man she’s stuck up.”

Laughing I respond, “Right I’m sure it has nothing to do with you talking about her on the phone with me while standing right in front of her dumb ass, but anyways we’ll deal with her in a bit, what about the reporter, see anyone funny looking?”

“Naw bro, like I said just a bunch of people, I’ll grab us a table. This guy will find you I guess.”

I start walking again and notice a Black Chrysler 300 parked in the lot ahead of me, nice car. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it if I didn’t notice the man sitting in the drivers seat watching my every move. That’s got to be him; I smile confidently and pick up the pace. Got ya!

“Sure bro I think I see him anyways ill see you in a sec.”

I look over at the man as I pass his car and remember his face, older, short white hair military style haircut, thick black sunglasses and a black suit. Looks more like James Bond or something than a reporter, but at least now I wont be surprised when he comes to interview me. I think about walking up to the car, but decide it’s better just to let him think I still don’t know who he is.

Entering the Star Bucks I look around for Erik. I spot him at a table in the back and push through the heavy crowd to him. I pull a seat from the other side of the table and turn it around to sit in it backwards.

He nods at me then motions towards the girl at the serving counter. I turn to look and eye the blonde up and down; damn she does have an ugly face… nice tits though. I grin and turn back towards him for a second then look out the window to see if the man has gotten out of his car yet, but he hasn’t. I shrug and think about getting up to get a coffee. Erik starts talking about how the waitress reminds him of some girl he met at the party last night but I’m only half listening, I just want this guy to get in here and get this over with.

I look back to the car again, but it’s gone now. What the hell? I was sure that was him… Is this some kind off set up?

My thoughts are interrupted when a sausage like finger taps on my shoulder. I turn around to see a stubby little fat man standing behind me, his hair is receding worse than George Costanza’s and his round nose is red along with his cheeks. He sports a small mustache and is dressed in a well-worn tan suit.

“Excuse me Mr. O’Dell, I’m Jason Peters from the sun, would you care to join me for a few minutes?” He taps the small black briefcase he is holding and his lips spread into the vilest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. Damn it, this sucks.

Johnny Wagner, 3/17/09 11:57 AM

I don’t know why I came in to work today. It’s not safe here. It’s not safe anywhere anymore. I should have followed my instinct and left town, Max thought he had convinced me not to, but it was really Stephanie.

I’m not sure what exactly she told me anymore, but at the time it seemed to make sense. Now, I’m not sure again. Reaching in my pocket I produce my phone and begin punching out a message to Stephanie. The bell on the door jingles and I flip the phone shut before finishing. I watch the teenager that just entered carefully. His hair is long and greasy and his gut hangs out of his spider-man t-shirt that is just a little too small for him. He doesn’t look government but those bastards are clever. He pays me no mind for now, but I keep my eyes on him as he starts walking through the racks. That makes 4 customers in the store so far. Three of which, including the one who just entered are regulars, and the forth I’ve seen a time or two as well. I eye each of them up and down. How long have these guys been watching me, could any of these seemingly innocent comic book geeks be here to spy on me?

Probably not, but someone did follow me last night, and that sniffles guy… Turning back to my computer I start streaming another video of “Real Telekinesis.” A man moves a metal ball across a table, you can only see one of his hands, and obviously it’s some sort of magnet. I close the video and click on the next link. This one catches my attention right away. A young man sits at a glass table with nothing but a pencil on it. He is wearing no shirt.

“I’m not wearing a shirt so no one can say I had strings up my sleeves,” he seems a little worried, “The table is made of glass, so no magnets. I’m not even going to move my hands I’ll just hold them above my head.” He swallows hard and looks around again obviously nervous. “Don’t get me wrong this scares the shit out of me, I’m not posting this because I think it’s cool or I want to impress people, it’s because I need help, and lately there have been people after me. My name is Jason, and I live just outside of Seattle Washington. If anyone else knows anything about this, e-mail me at the address in the description.”

I watch as the boy lifts his arms above his head. At first nothing happen, but soon the pencil starts to shake. After a moment it slowly rises and flies up and hovers in mid air for a second. I watch the boy’s eyes for a moment, they follow the pencils movements perfectly, and when they look left the pencil flies left, when he looks up the pencil flies up. Jason breaths out and the pencil suddenly drops to the table and clatters agains the glass.

“That’s it,” he says looking back over his shoulder. “If you can help me, e-mail me.” He reaches forward and stops the webcam; the screen goes black. Interesting. Glancing at the time stamp on the video it was just uploaded last night around 2 AM. I bookmark the video and spin away from the computer screen for a second. I’ll have to show that to Max and see what he thinks. He said something about being chased as well. How many people like me are there? Maybe I should start watching the news or something, who knows what else is out there.

The bell jingles as the front door opens and I look up torn away from my thoughts.

It’s Max, but he isn’t alone… my jaw drops a little surprised to see that same preppy guy from the day before walking in right behind him.

Col. Abraham Smith, Central Division Leader, EV Tech 17/3/09 1150 HRS

The previous day’s recon went well and I have filled all my reports and forwarded them to the primary offices in New York. I placed the orders for the taps to be put in place in 084 and 087’s PoR, as well as the comic store. The tech crew should be in route to perform the job now. Mary and Ezekiel have acquitted themselves quite well in their missions to acquire the cell signals of the targets. For that reason I now find myself at a Starbucks, ironically right down from the comic store. I can see our comms van at the comic store, covering as an Entergy maintenance van.

Comms intercepted a call to a Byron O’Dell, designated 079, yesterday from a Jason Peters, a self proclaimed seeker of truth that works for the tabloid Sun. The brief conversation made out that this Peters had some Intel about 079’s past, presumable the incident in Mexico that 079 was involved in during the summer of ‘08. It was decided to tail 079 and put a tap onto Peters to watch them in case something unexpected happened that we might need to step in for. I arrived a little ahead of time to check on 084 and scout the area. At 1200 Peters arrives in an old Lincoln and enters the premises, 079 is late. I make a call to HQ to see how the tags are going and everything is proceeding as planned. The taps have been placed at 087 and 084’s PoR earlier today.

At 1218, 079 skids into the parking lot on his bike, stops at the end of the strip, and throws the kick stand down. I watch him look around, a displeased look on his face and pull his cell from a pocket and dial. I reach over to flip the switch on the decoder.

It rings twice before it picks up. “Hey bro! I thought you were right behind me?” I hear 089 almost yell into the receiver. I check the signal for the placed call. It was made to an Erik Mathews, a known accomplice of 079. From the earlier surveillance he was in charge of scouting the area for the reporter. Apparently he did not complete his charged mission. I shake my head,..civilians.

“Yo, you were supposed to scope the place out and give me a call!” 079 again growls into the phone.

There is a momentary pause, “Oh Right, right, right, right, I forgot man, you know me, I’m still not awake really…”, I listen as Mathews makes a groggy , almost incoherent reply, and turn the volume up.

There is another long pause in the conversation, and 079 barks back, “Well… Can you figure out who he is?!”

“Who, who is?” the Mathews kid asks confused and I decided he will not be a problem in our operations.

The conversation continues for a few more moments, eventually digressing into typical immature drabble and I drone it out and make sure the recorder is playing, just in case it needs to be reviewed at a later time. Finally I hear the cell click disconnecting and look up to see him walking toward the Starbucks. He talks a cursory glance my direction then hesitates and continues to stare at me. I just stare back and push my dark Ray-Ban sunglasses back up. Hmm, this happens too much for coincidence, maybe I need to be less conspicuous.

I have read the files on O’Dell, and know that he is a confirmed ESS, so I know he is not reading my thoughts. The company had suspected him as an EV for some time since we had evidence of his heritage and we know that the genes are genetically passed down generation to generation. It was finally confirmed when our detail that was shadowing him was involved in a collision with the target and the agent had the forethought to take the video in the car. After the issue with the police was resolved and we examined the tape, we saw that he literally tore his way out of the car to escape the wreckage.

After a few more moments, he smiles and turns to enter the coffee shop. My cell rings and I flip it open. It is Arkett.

“Hey, Abe we just got word from the tech geeks that the bugs are up and chirpin', figured you’d like to know.”

I can hear the voice of 084 in the background, “..Ok, are you sure because they’re here now,…yeah the Entergy guy is around back right now.” A pause, he must be on the phone. I need to get back to listen to this in full I can’t make out the voice of the other person.

“Well, ok if you say so. Are you gona be back soon from where ever you are? I kinda had plans tomorrow and I don’t usually work on Wednesdays.” Another pause, “Oh,..ok well I guess so, but only this time,…yeah bye.” I hear the phone drop on the hook and hear Wagner curse.

“Thanks, I am headed back to the office now, I have done what I wanted to here. Tell Henry to instruct Mary to have a team pick up Mr. Peters tonight at his place, we need to have a talk with him about his nosing around.”

“Sure thing, can do, and the nose joke wasn’t fuckin' funny.” Tim makes a sniffing sound, grunts and abruptly hangs up. I chuckle to myself for a moment, and close the phone. I start the ignition and pull out of the parking spot I had occupied. Time for me to get back.

Byron O'Dell, 3/17/09 11:39 AM

Ugh! I’m going to be late! When I went over this with Eric the night before I told him to be ready by 11:00 AM, but here it is almost noon and he still isn’t awake.

I pound loudly on his door; the frame vibrates and groans a bit in response. “Come on man! Get up! We gotta go!”

I groan and pull my phone from my pocket and call his number yet again. It rings several times as I mutter about his mother under my breath. I should have known better than to let him drink so much last night! It clicks over his voicemail and I hang up only to hit redial.

“Come on you bitch, pick up the fucking phone!!”

A few rings pass and finally a groggy voice answers, “Hello?”

“Finally!” I exclaim, “Eric get your sorry ass out of bed and let’s roll this guy told me not to fuck around we gotta be there now!” I bang on his door to add emphasis to my statement so he knows I’m here. I cringe a little at the cracking noise and the small fracture that formed under my fist. I guess I don’t know how strong I am sometimes… Oh well I don’t give a fuck he needs to hurry up!

“Huh? Byron? Oh hey, hold on man, someone’s at my door,” I smack my forehead in disbelief, he’s so fucking dense!

“Dude, it’s me at your door! Remember we are going to the Starbucks?”

There is a drawn out pause as the cogs in my best friends head slowly start to crank, “Oooohhhhh right, the Mexico guy.”

I cringe instinctively at the word Mexico. “Yeah dude that’s the one… lets keep it down on this Mexico shit though until we know for sure what’s going on.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right man, let me grab some clothes real quick and we’ll go,” he pauses and I can hear him sniff himself. “Think I have time to shower?”

I grit my teeth as I speak, “Hell no you don’t have time to shower, get your ass out here now!”

“Jeez alright… I’ll be there in a sec.” The phone clicks as he hangs up and I stand tapping my foot. After a few minutes I hear a crash coming from inside the door followed by a string of swear words. Shortly there after, the front door opens and my friends stands in the door rubbing the back of his close trimmed head. He’s wearing and old Tau Sigma Kappa shirt that’s almost two small for the hulking man, it’s obviously old and covered in old stains. It barely fits him. I raise an eyebrow and look at him.

“What? Everything else is dirty!” he stairs back at me incredulously, “It’s wash day dude.”

“It’s always wash day with you, now come on get in your truck and lets go! I’m gunna be late!” I walk down the steps leading up to his small apartment building and hop on my bike that is sitting on the sidewalk. “Remember you are supposed to go in first and scope out the place, I’ll call you and you let me know which guy you think he is and if you can make anything of it.”

Eric scratches the back of his head and nods slowly, “Yeah I got it man, lets roll.”

He heads for his pick up parked in the lot in front of us and I start up my bike. It’s 12:07. I’m late.

Johnny Wagner, 3/16/09 10:23 PM

I slam the door to my apartment locking both deadbolts and the door as quickly as I can. My eye shoots to the peephole and darts back and forth looking as far as the small portal will allow.

I put my back to the door and slide down to the floor of my entry way, letting my skateboard drop with me and it rolls across the hard wood section of the floor, but stops when it reaches the edge of the carpet. I allow myself to breath for the first time in what was probably almost two blocks finally feeling slightly safer in my own home. I spent most of the ride home looking behind me, and when I thought I saw another black car during the last leg of the journey; I picked up my board and flat out ran.

My lungs burn and my heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of my chest as the adrenaline from the experience continues to course through my veins. After a few minutes, my heart slows and my breathing normalizes. I relax and almost close my eyes for a moment.

My phone dings. I don’t know how to respond at first, my eyes open and I stare blankly at the wall across from me. I soon shake myself out of it and reach in my pocket and grab my cell and flip it open. It’s a text from Stephanie, “R u alive? LOL.”

I’d forgotten I didn’t text her when I left, that’s uncommon for me. I hit reply and start to punch in my response when a loud knock on the door at my back sends me flying to me feet, holding the phone up ready to strike as if it were a dagger.

I lower my arm slowly realizing just how ridiculous the idea of wielding a cell phone as weapon would be and stare a the door for a second. Who the hell would be here? This can’t be good. I quickly finish my text to Stephanie and hit send closing the phone and dropping it into my pocket.

I walk slowly to the door and peek through the peephole. It’s Max, I forgot about him, he seems to be looking back and forth and reaches up and knocks once again.

I quickly turn all the knobs and locks and pull the door halfway open, Max opens his mouth to speak, but only manages and startled yelp as I grab him by his shoulders and pull him quickly inside then shut the door and lock all the locks behind him.

“Hey dude, there was a…”

“I was followed,” I state cutting him off as I peer through the peephole. “I don’t know how safe I am any more.”

I turn around and push past Max walking into the living room and then down the hall and into my room, Max tries to talk again, but I ignore him, and he follows me into my room. I pull the open my top dresser drawer and begin digging through it.

“Followed? Strange, but listen, there was…” He starts again and I cut him of with an exclamation as I find what I’m looking for. I stuff the wad of cash I keep incase of emergencies into my pocket and turn towards my closet.

“Yeah I was followed by a black car of some kind… I don’t know what kind but it looked of government. They are after me.” I walk to the closet and pull a box off the upper shelf to the ground.

“Government? What?... Listen dude that guy from the shop, the sniffles guy he was…”

I shout again and pull a small pocket knife out of the box, I knew it was in here somewhere, I might need it incase im stuck on the road or something. I grab the compass and small survival guide as well then stick then push the box aside, the label “Cub Scout Stuff” now shows clearly. I stand an turn to walk past Max to my nightstand in search of my next items.

“Hey! Would you stop for a second!,” Max grabs me by my shoulders and holds me steady forcing my look him in the eye as he speaks,” I’ve been trying to tell you dude! That sniffles guy from the shop was snooping around outside our apartments!”

It takes me a moment to register what he says. Sniffles? Why the hell would he be here? Unless….

“Sniffles was here? What did he do?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Well he… sniffed! My door, then yours, then he left,” Max shrugs obviously confused.

He lets go of my shoulders and I place a hand to my chin rubbing my 3 day beard growth between thumb and forefinger. He must be an oprative.

“Look Max, I’m sorry, but I may have endangered your life. I think someone is after me because of what I can do. You know me, so they may want to question you or something.

“What you can do? Suck at Halo?,” he chuckles like it’s a joke for a second, but my serious look puts a quick end to it.

“No, this is far more impressive. and I don't suck at Halo! Follow me.” I brush past the stout Mexican and head into the kitchen, Max shrugs an follows. I open the cabinet door and pull a clean glass from the shelf. I brush past Max again, and stand in front of the table. I brush all the papers and magazines littered atop it onto the floor with two large sweeps of my arms. At the very edge of the table I place the glass. I walk around to the other end of the table and stand next to Max.

“You ready?” I ask, a small smirk forming on my lips.

“For what?” He asks a bit perplexed.

“Just watch,” I lean over the table and concentrate on the glass, I hold my hand and arm on the table palm open extended towards the empty container. At first nothing happens, and I hear Max start to say something, but I shush him before he can. After a few seconds the glass clanks a little against the table as it wobbles, I can feel it now, the glass. I reach with all my conscience and beckon it forward.

Suddenly the glass shoots forward and flies into my open palm. I wrap my fingers around it and hold it up and turn towards Max.

He stands there for a second his jaw slack as his eyes dart back and forth between the table, the glass, and myself. His mouth slowly closes and forms that big goofy smile he is so fond of.

“¡Mierda! That was amazing!!” He almost jumps in place and pulls the glass from my hand running to the other end of the table and placing it down. “Do it again!!”

Stephanie Chisam, 3/16/09 10:18 PM

I pull several lengths of my dark brown hair across the front of my face and proceed to chew on the strands as I reread the article.

‘Man Dead, Woman Injured in Shooting,’ not an unusual scene for Southside Chicago, and not one that would usually make me feel so anxious. Had I not dreamt of the crime two weeks ago I probably wouldn't have even read the article the first time let alone the three times I already have. Every last detail mentioned in the story I already knew about, the time, the location, the look of the alley, make and model of the car the two victim’s were found in.

I remember watching the crime as it was committed. I watched as a young couple sat alone in an alley, what they were waiting on I didn't and still don't know. I could tell they were nervous, apprehensive about whatever it was they were doing. A second car pulled into the alley behind the first. This car reeked of evil and misdeeds I knew what was to come. Two men steped out of the car and walked up to the young couple’s vehicle on either side. They knocked on the window and the man in the driver side rolled his down. My own dread mixed with that of the victims as the the two men began talking and eventually shouting at one another. The woman was scared. She wished she had never gotten involved with her much younger lover. Both men outside the car pulled guns; three shots were fired. Two hit the young man, his life was ended soon after, the woman was hit once in the chest, her life started to fade as the two men ran back to their car and peeled out of the alley. I watched horrified as the woman lay in the car bleeding to death. She passed out, but as soon as she did a miracle happened. The bullet lodged in the woman’s chest poped out of her body, the wound closed and shut on its own. I woke up in a cold sweat like I always do after this sort of thing.

The report mention’s nothing of the woman’s strange recovery, just that she was injured and passed out when police arrived. They haven’t caught the shooters yet.

I spit the hair out of my mouth and sigh deciding to chew on the tip of my thumb now. Another one of my dreams came true.

I shudder a bit standing up from my computer chair and walking over to my couch easing myself into it pulling my legs up against my chest in the seat. I straiten my glasses to get a better view as I stare off into nothing trying desperately to think about anything but my most recent dreams. Those horrible red eyes…

I shake my head again, not allowing myself to think on them. I haven’t even told Johnny about them yet and I tell him about all my dreams. These ones are… different, I do things in them; things I would never do. But, some how, deep down, I know I will.

Maybe I should tell him, but then again he would just worry, and he worries enough about his own problems with out me adding my own. He’s been doing some weird things as of late. At first I thought it was all in his head, but I believe him now, I know somehow he is telling the truth.

Where the hell is he anyways? I grab my phone and flip it open. 10:32 and still no word. He almost always sends me a text when he leaves the shop. He’s a bit compulsive about that sort of thing. I send him a message asking him if he’s alive, I tag an “LOL” on the end so he thinks everything’s ok.

I lay back on the couch and grab the remote turning on the TV, I flip through the channels eventually stopping on adult swim. I don’t even watch really, my mind is stuck on those red eyes that have been invading my dreams so much as of late. Those deep red eyes…

I sit up suddenly, startled when my phone chimes. It’s Johnny. His text reads, “alive, not good, being followed, phone might not be safe… Shit someone’s at my door. Will call later.”

Followed? Oh Johnny, what have you gotten yourself into? Or is it all in your head again?

I sigh and start to type out a response, but stop at the last second. I’ll just wait for him to call.

Timothy Arkett, aka "Sniffles," aka “Bloodhound,” 3/16/09 10:07 PM

“Fuck, I hate schools.”

The black lines race around the outline of the metal doorframe of the stairwell in the lower level of the parking garage at University of Houston, and the void tears into reality, I step out in the warm night.

After I left the comic store, I returned to the town and spoke with Abe. Gave him my report and we had a tail put on them pretty quick, don’t get to many opportunities to find three new targets at once. So the hounds followed “popcorn” back to that shit hole apartments and the preppy kid, to the grad students dorm. But the happy Mexican …we had a good bead on him and lost him. They followed him ‘round the back side of a Valero and then nuthin, just a bunch of damn birds peckin’ around on the ground, man Abe was pissed. So Beckie figures he might be a jumper or ‘porter, somethin’. Whatever, I’ll smell him again, and I did, ha can’t believe we got that lucky.

I pull out a small black notepad and flip through the pages and find the description our hounds got on the kids bike, a Red Yamaha FJR 1300 AE. Fuckin’ rich brats, god I hate ‘em. Well at least it shouldn’t be too hard to find. I shake my head in disgust, stuff the pad back into my coat pocket and slink around to the walls, my head turnin’ this way and that watchin’ for anyone comin’ by, very aware of the peering eyes of the security cameras.

It doesn’t take me long before I find a cycle that matches the description we have. The bike sits close to the back stair well, next to an exit ramp on the bottom level, right under a light and camera. Gota say this for the kid, at least he’s smart about where he parks, doesn’t make it easier for me though. I stare for a moment, thinkin’ about whether I really care if I get seen on the security cameras or not,…fuck it, I’ll just have Henry tell one of the tech nerds to scrub the files for that camera for the day, it’ll be fine.

I stick along the concrete walls, my footsteps soft and careful and approach the bike, only a few more feet away, and I get a whiff of the smell. Rubber and burnt plastic, yup it’s the same as before back at the store, god it fuckin’ stinks. I step up to the bike and lean in close and take a few sniffs. Ok it’s confirmed, it’s his bike so now gota figure out where in this brainy box house he sleeps at night. I stand up and hold my head up high and take a deep sniff, tryin’ to catch his scent in the air. It takes me a few moments but I catch the scent and turn to follow it into the stairwell. I step against the wall directly under the camera and make my trace, callin’ the inky void. It appears quickly with a rippin’ sound formin’ to fit into the space of the exit and I leap through it, the portal collapsin’ behind me.

The air is cold and crisp, no breeze stirs; no sound is made; dead silence, only the sound of my heart beat. I am alone. The smooth concrete walls of the parkin’ garage still surround me and the dim soft yellow lights that lit the garage, now seem harsh, glarin’. A smoky mist clings to ground and swirls and plays about my feet, driftin’ up the walls, defyin’ gravity. Colors seem muted shadowy, and dull, everything looks like a gray haze is draped over it. Only a stark and brightly pulsing red mist that trails away from me in a windin’ path up the stairs breaks the monotone and dreary scene. The once straight lines of the frames and bearin’ for the walls appeared warped and twisted. The very fabric of solid space seems to writhe and move with its own subtle life. The far side of the garage and the dorms beyond, once clearly visible are now just a blurry outline, lost in the inky darkness that encompasses everything but the few hundred yards nearest to me. This is my world, my home.

As I take a few steps forward, my direction followin’ the red misty trail, everything shifts and moves, sliding along like oil along water, slippin’ off the canvas. The concrete walls of the garage blur past and disappear into that shadowy haze and are replaced suddenly by an empty stairwell. The stair case itself moves twisting and spiraling’ upward at impossible angles. The red trail that I know as the targets gene pheromones dances and climbs upwards. I continue to follow it onto the stairs. I can see and feel what are people on the other side of my reality, but they only appear as shadowy wisps, like ghosts that silently float by. I barley even register them. Again the reality of the world shifts and blurs, and I find myself at the top of the staircase, a sign, the letters distorted and melting, says Admin Floor. I follow the trail into the hall. After only a few more seconds I find myself standin’ before what looks like a mail room. I can see some kind of idiot attendant sittin’ behind a desk at the end of the hall, but seems very preoccupied with his cell, his voice like a distant echo, hollow and slow. The void opens, and I step back into everybody else’s world.

I stroll past the rows and rows of PO boxes, stopping occasionally to take a sniff and eventually find my way to the one I want. Room 506, Christian Sinclair, the faded label reads. I lean in and take a good sniff to make sure this is the right one. Burned plastic, rubber, and a metallic tang that gets stuck in the back of my throat, yup this is it. I whip out the black note book and pen and scribble down the info and tuck it away. As I turn to go, another scent catches my attention, one of lemons and clean sheets, crisp and airy. The scent is faint and old, but I know I can still track it. I slouch over to the corner, careful of the cameras, summon the void and make my exit. Back in my world, it’s much easier to find the scents, as I enter through the void I can see a very faint hazy yellow trail at the end of the row of the mailboxes. I confidently stride toward it, the hall speeds past me, in just a second I am standing in front of the yellow mist. The mailbox reads Rachel Hardeway, room 307. I take the notepad back out and jot down the name and room number. Fuckin’ unbelievable, we found another one. My job done, I make my way down back down to the garage, knowing that my ride will be here soon.

It only takes me a few seconds to arrive back at the exit ramps by where the targets bike was sittin’, the void disappears in is usual whip crack. I stand at the corner goin’ over the days work. Not to bad of a day, hell I’d even say a good one, but I won’t, just my fuck’in luck it’d start Armageddon. I stand around for a few more moments and fidget with the zipper on my coat. Fuck, come on Abe, god I hate waitin’. Ha, there he is. A black Chrysler 300 rolls into the garage and comes to a stop on the curb next to me. The windows are heavily tinted so I can’t see the driver but I know who it is. I step up to the door, hear the click as it’s unlocked and reach down to open it, a blast of cold air hits me from inside. I plop down into the luxury leather seats, and slam the door closed.

“K, let’s go.” I say, turnin’ the vents to make the air wash over me.

Abe flips his cell closed looks at it shakin’ his head, and looks at me with an annoyed glance “Do not slam the door.” He pulls out of the garage into the street, and turns north, speeding down the night filled streets.

Christian Sinclair, 3/16/09 10:00 PM

“The current time is 22:00 CDT,” The female voice chimes in as always. When MJ agreed to marry me she told me I’d have to divorce to clock first. I have yet to make good on that.

My fiance is probably just now boarding her flight to New York, and I sure don’t envy her. I can never sleep on planes, and it’s dangerous for me to connect to cell networks while flying. I hate being cut off from the web. I feel so isolated anymore when it happens. It’s just so… quiet.

I lean back in my well cushioned computer chair and allow myself to stretch and yawn. Long day today, I’ll sleep soon, once I finish up this line of code. I’ll give AMZ1337-man, a hacker I used to work with back when I was a teenager, a preview of the current build and see what he thinks in the morning. If this thing works I’ll be able to accomplish so much more at once, it will almost be like having a second…

Something odd on camera 13 breaks my train of thought. The camera is part of my dorm’s security grid. I’d been monitoring the dorm’s security feeds like I always do when I’m working on questionable software and hacking databases, just incase someone traces something back to me. Some may think of it as paranoia, but I say it’s being careful. 13 is located within the parking garage. it’s the camera I always park my bike under.

With a thought the video feed of camera 13 fills my monitor. I watch carefully as a young man dressed in a black overcoat leans over my bike. I can’t tell what he is doing and I get ready to call security with the Bluetooth headset over my left ear. I will the camera to zoom in on the scene, and it does, the man starts to look strangely familiar. He stands up strait and turns around showing me his face.

That nose! It’s the man from the comic shop, the one I held the door for. The one who… smelled me? He holds his head up high now and looks about. I notice his nostrils flair and contract as he smells the air. I can almost hear the loud sniffs echo in the car park despite the lack of audio. He looks almost like a dog trying to find a trail, or better yet a lab rat sniffing out the cheese at the end of the maze.

After 27 seconds he walks out of view of camera 13. I shrink the screen and scan the other camera feeds to see where he ends up next. He’s standing in a blind spot. Lousy campus security networks! They need more cameras; I begin wishing this were my warehouse, I’ve made sure there are no blind spots in my network.

Suddenly the kid reappears, but not where he should. I have no idea how, but he is now on camera 47, the mailroom. I make the stream full screen to be sure and it’s him alright, big nose and all, he is examining the PO boxes for each dorm. How the hell did he get there with out passing by any of the other cameras, not to mention past the RA, who by checking the lobby cam is sitting talking into a cell phone as if nothing is going on.

The black clad strange leans in close to the boxes and slowly moves along them, running his nose over each one. He stops when he reaches my box. He holds his nose against it for about 10 seconds before stand up right and producing a pad of paper and a pen from his inside coat pocket. He writes something down and then tucks the pen and pad back inside. He then causally walks off camera again.


I watch camera 45 now to see if the door to the mailroom ever opens, but it never does. After another 15 seconds of searching I find him again, this time on Camera 16 back in the parking garage. Who is this guy? I pull 16 into full screen mode and wait for his next move. He simply stand there and waits. After 32 seconds a dark sedan pulls into view and stops in front of the man. He reaches down, opens the passenger door and gets inside. The car speeds off I watch it work its way out of the parking lot.

"The current time is 22:30 CDT," the atomic clock chimes as the car races out of the lot and thus out of my visual range.

I lean back in my chair. Someone is on to me; this is not good. I pull up the camera feeds on my screen. No time for sleep just yet, I need to figure this out. I start rewinding the feeds in hopes of finding something useful.

Johnny Wagner, 3/16/09 9:57 PM

I hit the lights and flip the hanging sign on the door to closed. The bell on the door jingles as I step through it into the cool night air; I push it shut faster than it would like to close, impatient to lock it up and get home already. I turn the keys and give the door a good tug to make sure it’s nice and secure. The flash of a tiny red light near the counter lets me know the alarm is now active as well.

I drop my skateboard from under my arm to the ground and place one foot on it to hold it steady. What a long and strange day it’s been, between sniffles, preppy, and hot chick, I half expected Obama to come strolling in the store next. I thought I’d never get rid of the high schooler who spent all day looking at the same rare magic card. I was about ready to give him the damn card.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to send Stephanie a text when I notice there a car in the lot. It’s a lone black sedan I’m not going to pretend to know or even care what kind it is, but the fact that it’s now 10:02 PM according to my phone and all the other shops in this block have been closed for almost an hour now it just strikes me as odd.

I decide to wait on the text and flip my phone shut. I plug a pair of white ear buds in and hit play on my iPod. The plunky keyboards of a Matt and Kim song fills my ears, the upbeat tempo and light hearted mood is almost enough to cancel out the bad feeling I’m getting from this car. Almost…

Keeping an eye on the black car, I shift my weight on my board and kick my other foot behind me pushing me to a roll. I kick a few more times and get myself rolling down the sidewalk at a good pace before I place my other foot on the back of the board and balance myself as I move along.

I roll past the parked car and take a glance towards it, a man is sitting in the drivers seat; it’s dark so I can’t make out the details of his face or what he is wearing, but I can see his head follow me as I pass.

I look away. He was only watching me because I was watching him, probably some crack head waiting for his dealer or vice versa… But shit, he sure does look government… What if they know about me? What if they are after me? I knew they would be after me, I fucking knew it! Shit!

I shake my head suddenly wishing I had my pills with me and start to push faster on my board, I resist the urge to look over my shoulder and reach in my pocket to spin the wheel on my iPod cranking the volume. I hum along to the upbeat chords and notes. I pop off the curb and begin rolling down a side street, taking a short cut to my apartment.

The song changes and in the few moments of silence between tracks I heard the grind of tires against gravel behind me.

I cautiously glance over my shoulder; sure enough the same black car from the store is several feet behind me, it’s head lights are off. Shit!

I hit pause on my iPod, but maintain my course for now. What the hell is going on today? It’s like I wake up and all my imaginary thoughts and irrational fears are suddenly very real and rational. I run through the options in my head. I can try and out run them, me on my skateboard, them in their much faster sedan. I can hide, but people like this always find people like me when they hide! Maybe I should just stop and see what they do. ...Shit!!

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face and my eyes search the street around me, its mostly empty, that’s why I come this way. I can hear the car behind me still, it sounds like it’s moving a little closer, I risk another glance and it’s not. I start skating faster, and I look back to watch the car and it matches my speed, not getting any closer or further away from me. The same happens when I slow down and speed up again.

A streetlight is ahead of me at the corner of a small intersection. I’ll stop there and look right at him; that way if things go bad I have four ways to run.

I pull up to the corner and stop suddenly kicking my board into my hand. I turn and face my pursuer and wait. For a moment the black car stops as well, I can see the dark figure within looking in my direction. Suddenly it pops on it’s headlights, I squint at the sudden flash of light.

It’s tires spin a second as it suddenly starts to accelerate. The tires squeal and the sedan gains speed as it moves towards me on the narrow road, I feel a gust of wind as the car races by me and continues strait down the path ahead. At the next intersection it makes quick and sudden right. I hear the car longer than I can see it, but soon the sound of it’s engine and tires fade as well.

What the fuck was that all about? I push my board back to the ground and hop on, I ride as quickly as I can the rest of the way home in silence, my eyes and ears open for any further pursuers.

Col. Abraham Smith, Central Division Leader, EV Tech 16/3/09 21:41 HRS

After receiving the last batch of FR from the recent operatives, I have decided to accelerate our progress in these ops. With the discovery of four more EV within the boundaries of this office's prescient in such close proximity to HQ, immediate action is required. Having identified the new targets, I have dispatched Arkett out to locate their places of residents. As of right this minute he should be making his approach to the target 084, the Wagner kid, known k-tech, possible telepath as well. After, he is to hump it to the location scouted out for 087, the Sinclair kid, a speculated E-Int, and confirm his exact PoR.

Timothy Arkett is a good operative, loyal, and determined. Also gloomy, pessimistic, and arrogant, something I had hoped his training would have breed out of him. He has however, become invaluable to our operations now, with his special gifts. I cannot say that I am disappointed with accepting him and taking him from that orphanage we found him at. He had been left there by his drug addicted prostitute mother, no father, and had always been a problem for the nuns there. That is how we found many of the first ones. Medical records, strange news reports of incredible or unbelievable events, orphanages, and halfway house, even prisons. Any place people end up when they are either not wanted or have nowhere else to go, sad really.

When I was recruited by Mrs. Haag to lead the central team of a new company called Evolution Technologies, I thought I was to be head of their FT’s and security. From what I was made to understand they were a gene research company with private investors and government funds. Just into my retirement from the Marine Corp of twenty years of service, I was eager to get back into a position where I could use my skills that I bled for. What did I know of genes sequence coding or stem cell research? They offered a lucrative salary and plenty of time out of a dull office. I couldn’t pass it up. I quickly became aware that what I was to do was much more than I could have imagined. I had heard rumors and seen some classified documents, but when I was told and then shown. I admit it intrigued me. I was recruited, I guess, for what can be called my morally gray insight, and lack or certain moral inhibiters, and absence of typical scruples. Either way the merger worked well and I advanced quickly, taking over the center division from Mrs. Haag, allowing her to better use her time in New York with the other executives.

While Arkett is on mission, I direct my attention to shadow our primary target in the op, Jonathan Wagner. I have read the files and reports, in and out of therapy and a long list of prescription drugs for headaches and other undiagnosed symptoms. A strange incident at a high school in Huntsville first put us on to him, where we began to gather data and put details on to him to watch him. It came as quit a surprise when Tim reported back that he had located two other possible EV’s and all somehow connected. I pull into the parking lot and park the Chrysler in the back and straighten my tie, check the 44mm at my shoulder and turn on the radio. I skim through the varies channels, static hissing, a voice screeching out indiscernible babble, garbage tones with no melody or tone. Finally I find what I am searching for, and the graceful, beautiful sounds of Tchaikovsky fills the interior of the sedan. I settle back for the familiar waiting game of a stakeout.

I do not have long to wait. Only fifteen minutes pass before the target 084 exits the known premises and fidgets with the door, presumably locking it, and drops a skateboard to the ground. I watch as 084 checks his phone for a moment, then glances my way. It would seem our research was not inaccurate. He is aware of something; he is suspicious. While he has his phone out I reach up and hit the sequence code for the signal decoder to capture the number on his cell phone, three seconds pass and the light flashes from red to green. Good, we should be able track his calls and any activity as well as the phones activation signal. Remembering that he could be a TLP, I focus my mind for the now familiar chill, just in case. He begins to roll across the asphalt still watching my car. As he approaches, I watch him intently, observing his movements, his mannerisms, like a predator memorizing his prey. He glares into the car, obviously trying to see inside and I just watch back, staring him down. He looks way and continues to roll down a side street. I put the sedan into drive and slowly accelerate to follow behind him. I know he will see me and know he is being followed but that’s not the point. I want to see how he will react, will he fight or flight.

I leave the headlights off, no point in shinning the way for him. We slowly crawl along the empty side street for a few minutes. He speeds up some, I follow suitably. Finally come to a corner intersection and suddenly he pops the skateboard up into his hands and turns to face me. I can almost smell the panic and paranoia coming off him. For a moment I contemplate just taking him right now, but that’s not protocol, so I wait to see what he does. I wait a moment, the car idling, come on kid do something, show me you got some fight in you, show me that you are worth keeping alive, that you have worth. Nothing, what a disappointment. I throw the headlights on spinout the wheels and accelerate past him, narrowly missing him and continue to the next intersection and take a tight right turn.

I check the time, it is 22:24, I need to head to the dorms and rondivue with Tim. I slow the car, no point in causing suspicion by driving to fast, and head toward campus.

My company cell rings. Picking it up I notice the number is long distance, 212-315-9016; I quickly flip the phone open and bring it up.

“Smith here.” A soft, well-spoken voice with a slight mid eastern accent answers on the other line.

I listen for a moment then reply, “Yes sir, Mr. Holstein, we have made the contacts, and are following the new targets as instructed.”

“Yes sir, we have placed the orders with the comms and EAE section to have a F-tech place the bugs, we are just waiting to confirm the PoR.” I turn into the campus.

“Yes, sir I was just in contact with 084 and am headed to evac Agent 9 now from his surveillance of 087.” The sedan glides through the streets, as I look for signs guiding me to the correct dorm.

“Yes sir, I am aware that one of the Wright’s have been identified as a K-tech. I thought they were off limits.” I slow as I approach the parking garage.

“But sir we had orders to stand down from any action against their family, I understood that there was an agreement reached.” I have a bad feeling about this. It is never good when civilian leadership starts changing its mind in military situations.

“Yes sir, I understand, I disagree with this course of action though, has this been discussed with Mrs. Haag.” The soft voice rises a little.

“Of course sir, we will carry your orders out, I am sure Agent 9 will be pleased.” I drive into the garage and spot Tim ahead, and roll up to him.

“Thank you sir, and have a good night.” I unlock the doors and Tim drops into the car, I flip the cell closed and shake my head. This is going to be a mess.

Timothy Arkett, aka "Sniffles," aka “Bloodhound,” 3/16/09 9:32 PM

A black line zips through the air from the top of the doorframe in the mailroom racing to the tiled floor. When it touches it streams up along the frames interior tracing an outline. The inky outline complete, it tears open encompassing the space between the frames, leaving a dark void hangin’ in the air. I step out into the mail room, the portal behind me collapsing once again with a whip crack I look around, pullin’ the 9mm from my inside holster and check to make sure the safety is off, and tuck it back into its place. I step out into the night air and take a deep sniff.

Riverside Park Apartments, so this is where the target lives, what a shithole little dump. The paint peels off the cheap frame wood exterior, glass windows foggy with age and grime. The parkin’ lot and greens overgrown with weeds and trash carelessly tossed on the ground. A few jalopies sit rusting in front of the dimly lit front walkways. I take stock of my surroundings; everythin’ seems quite, no one ‘round. I slip and slide like a shadow past the office and up the stairs, silent and stealthy. At the top I take another deep sniff and pause givin’ thought to the smells. There it is, popcorn, extra salty, I got you now fucker. I hate popcorn.

Wait, no, there’s somethin’ else, something unexpected. I’ve smelled it before in the comic shop. This can’t be a coincidence. It’s that goofy Mexican with that strange exotic earthy smell. HA, this gets better and better, they both live in the same shithole. Guess birds of a feather do flock together, ha.

I drop low to the wood planked balcony and move forward. Apartment 8 is at the end of the balcony, that’s where popcorn lives, and as I pass by number 7, I catch the earthy smell again and stop in my tracks, I cant believe this he also lives next door, shit I’m lovin’ this. I take a few deep sniffs; he’s at home.

I step up to the door and take a few more sniffs. I can see a soft blue glow emitting from behind the dusty dark red curtains, and hear a faint noise like a TV set, lots of bangs and shouts, some kind of action movie. I stiffen, standing up straight. The smell is almost over whelming now, he must be on the other side of the door, and he knows I’m outside, how? I take another deep sniff. He must have heard me or maybe smelt me, what is this guy? A small sinister grin spreads across my face and I glance at the door, and take a soft step to lean against the side of the door out of the view of the eyehole. I wait for a few moments then lean forward and squint my eyes and peer into the lookin' hole, just inches from it. Its smudged and dark but I think I can see a shadow move away just as I look in. My small grin breaks into a big toothy smile and I chuckle to myself as I can hear a scuff of footfalls moving back from the door. BOO, HAHA. Ok enough fun back to the job at hand.

I take a few long confident strides to the cracked and pale door marked with the number 8 and take a long sniff. Stepping up to the door I lean against, it my nose just almost against the door handle, sniff, sniff. Damn, he’s not here. Hasn’t been here for hours either. Well shit, and I was so lookin’ forward to this. I step back from the door and scrutinize the area above the door for a moment and findin’ what I want I reach into my coat pocket. I pull out a pea sized black metallic object, a multi spectral digital camera with a sat link to the ops station back at the town. I reach up above the door header and place it there, the lens aimed at the space in front of the door. I stand for a moment appraising my work, nod and decide it’ll work, good nuff, and stroll back to the stairs. I slow as I walk past (shit what was his name again…oh Max) Max’s door and take a causal look toward it, see you later.

I slump down the stairs and head back to the mail room, its still empty, good. I again stand before the entry way, make the trace, and the blackness appears behind my tracing finger, the void opens, a portal, and I step into it, and CRACK, POP! Gone.

Max Vasquez, 3/16/09 9:31 PM

I reach forward grabbing some popcorn and shoving it into my mouth, Edward Norton say's something something about being angry and his skin starts to turn a sickly shade of green. Now things are about to get good!

I bolt upright suddenly in my seat. Most people wouldn’t have heard it, but I did. Even with the Incredible Hulk, roaring and making buildings collapse on my TV screen I still heard the sniffing.

I peel myself off the couch, the place I’d been parked since I got back from the shop, I hit pause on the DVD player and set the remote on my make-shift coffee table, which is simply two milk crates pushed together with a flattened out cardboard box taped to the top. I make my way slowly to the door. The sniffing becomes louder.

I press my ear to the door and I can hear him standing on the other side. His boots clomp as he shifts around and every now and then he takes in several large sniffs. I slide my head up so I can just barely see through the peephole. It’s him all right, the weird dude from the shop today. What the hell is he doing outside my apartment? He stiffens noticeably as soon as I start watching, taking in another large sniff.

A small sinister grin forms on his lips and he looks directly towards the peephole. I instinctively duck down, staying out of sight of the small portal… My heart races for a moment as I think he has spotted me. Wait a second, he can’t see through on his end!

I slide my head back up feeling a little dumb and peer through the little glass window. I can’t see him. I know he is still around, but I can’t see him, I peer around as much as the little opening will allow and almost give up when suddenly his head pops into view his eye now inches away from the outside of the hole, as though he is trying to look through from his end. I stumble backwards at the surprise and almost fall, but manage to catch myself at the last second.

I feel a familiar itch in the back of my mind; Xecotcovach stirs. It wants to come forth, tear down the door and pummel the intruder on the other side, but I deny the spirit access. I have no idea what’s going on and allowing the spirit control would not help in this situation. Xecotcovach rumbles in the back of my skull, danger lurks it will soon present itself to us, it warns before settling back to rest.

I move slowly back to the portal and peer though, He is gone again, but I hear him, I can tell he is still nearby, but it sounds like he is closer to Johnny’s door now. I begin to wonder if he is one of those loco gringos who goes postal at school because he is picked on too much. Maybe Johnny’s comments today pushed him over the edge of something.

After a few moments he comes walking past my door again, he turns and looks towards it as he passes, and then walks down the stairs and out of view. I listen carefully as his steps lead him around the building… It pays to be the avatar of a warrior spirit god thing; my senses are more acute than most peoples. I eventually hear a popping sound and nothing more.

I step back from the door and stroke my chin for a second. This can’t be good, Cotzbalarn has told me that much. I consider calling Johnny’s cell to tell him about sniffles, but I decide against it. I walk back to the couch and plop down, not quite sure what my next move should be.

Timothy Arkett, aka "Sniffles," aka “Bloodhound,” 3/16/09 8:46 PM

“Fuck, I’m bored,” since I left that geek shop full of muties and reported my findings, I been stuck here waiting for my next job for hours now.

“So what'cha doin’?” I ask, comin' into the comm. station. I slump over to the station that Beckie is sittin’ at and plop down next to her swivelin the chair ‘round to face the glowing screen she is hunched over. Beckie shoots me an annoyed glance with those big green eyes like emeralds, sharp and dangerous.
.
Beckie shifts in her seat, brings a tanned, elegant hand gracefully up and runs it through her long wavy red hair and gives a long sigh and turns to me. Her ruby lips are turned downward atop her angular face, her thin brows narrow dangerously as she catches me glimpsing at her cleavage. Her fault really, she shouldn’t wear spaghetti strap shirts if she doesn’t want anyone to look! She’s practically falling out of her top. Now there’s a pleasant thought. Her scent, which is that of burning embers intensifies with her anger.

“What do you want?” she says in a flat matter of fact tone.

“Nuthin’, just decided you needed a little company and I thought I was perfect for the job.” I pipe out quickly with a smirk.

“Well I don’t so go away I’m busy.” And she turns away from me, back to the screen.

“Fine then, I get the hint,” I snap up causing the chair to roll across the floor and stop near the door, grumbling under my breath, god I hate her. “Bitch,” I mumble.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” Beckie whirls back around and stands up quickly, the very air begins to shimmer from the heat radiating around her.

“What, I think you heard me, for some one so hot you sure are so cold,” I take a few more calculated steps closer to the heavy and reinforced security door.

“You really are a little shit, and just as dumb, lucky Abe didn’t leave you on the street we found you on…Rat!” She begins to stalk after me like a great cat after its prey; smoke beginning to rise up in ringlets around her head like a crown.

Just then the security door swings open and a dark-skinned man steps in, looks at the scene and grimaces. “Stop this child’s play, NOW!” the tall, lean, bald man shouts in a deep foreign voice. We fall back away from each other and hurriedly look away, Beckie returning to her keyboard.

Henry Querenbolla, Abe’s right hand, steps into the comm. room. Henry is what he calls himself; I doubt that’s his real name.

According to rumor he was from Columbia and grew up during the influence of the Medellin Cartels and later in the ‘80’s and 90’s was involved with the AUC, a paramilitary terrorist faction of the so-called Columbian government. Supposedly the boys upstairs found him in a cell in El Salvador, awaitin’ execution for war crimes involved with the civil war there and decided they didn’t like the idea of such a valuable tool bein' wasted, so they broke him out. I don’t really know any of this for a fact, but I aint about to ask him either.

What I do know is that he is a scary fucker and one of those silent types that can go haywire at any minute, so when he tells me to stop, I do, and so does Beckie it seems.

“Rebecca, you need to get that sample from the kid in Tulsa done and confirm the evolution gene path and get it to Abe so we can send it to New York,” Henry states in a slow controlled voice, as his eyes sweep between us makin’ sure we understand he is in control.

“I’m workin' on it now, or trying to.” She gives me another green-eyed stare.

I just flip her off and sniff the air, the scent of ash and sulfur fills my nostrils. Ugh horrible smell. I hate sulfur.

“I’m just waiting for the isotopic cultures to mature for the sample cells and I’ll be done," Beckie finishes.

Henry gives her a curt nod and then turns back to me, a withering stare that stabs down at me, creepy. “You have another assignment, see to it and report back, get going,’’ he tosses me a manila folder, and gives us one last cursory glance then turns and leaves.

I give a puff as the breath I was holdin’ is let go and fall back into the chair I was in before. Beckie just shakes her head and ignoring me drops back into her seat and begins to type rapidly.

So, what’s next? I flip open the folders scanning through the data and photos quickly. Addresses, names, birthplaces, family, photos, medical records, school records, criminal records, anything with your social on it is here, and even better. I grin widely as I recall the events of earlier today and recall their smells, Johnny Wagner. Following up on this afternoon already, they must want to tag these guys quick, probably seeing as there were 3 of ‘em together in one spot. Even if they don’t know about each other and it is just some crazy coincidence, it won’t take ‘em long to figure it out.. Oh this is a wonderful way to end a bad day. As a bonus I see that the last assignment is that preppy kid also at the dork center, ah its good to be me…not really, I hate my life.

I stomp off through the concrete corridors passing a few of the non com’s, geeky computer guys that do all the techie stuff, bunch of star trek nerds. They stay clear of my path; I give ‘em an evil grin and chuckle to myself. I pass the gene labs where docs are workin’ and into the main surveillance room, computers and blue crystal screens, monitors and databanks fill the workspace, the normies barely notice me as I step into the center of the room.

Takin’ a deep breath I lift a finger pointed out and up and stretch my mind out to …. “Do not do that here, go somewhere else to do that!” a husky female voice shouts followed by the click clop of her high heels. Mary Brown, one the EV field agents assigned to this office and Beckie’s partner, stomps into the room, a scowl on her face. Almost six feet tall, dirty blond hair cropped short, with a compact lean body and sharp facial features, wearin’ a too tight dress suit, she looks like she never left the marines. She stops in front of me. “You know Abe gets pissed when ever you do that with all this sensitive equipment around, go into break room.” She glares at me with an icy blue stare, just as sharp as Beckie’s. Damn, they are a good match, creepy.

“Fine, whatever,” I give her a non-committal shrug and plod off to the break room. I hate her. Ok, lets try this again. I take another deep breath lifting my finger up and stretch my mind out to that place beyond, my place. In my mind’s eye I can see the grey misty veil that separates the here from the there, that place of ether of the nowhere. In one swift and fluid movement I take a step toward the door and with my finger trace the outline of the frame. The very air around the frame seems to split and tear, a black line races along the area where my finger trails around me forming a portal, there is the sound of air and suction like a vacuum as the two worlds open to each other and fight for the same space. The center point of the door suddenly rips open and like a pinwheel spins into the nothing displaced by the competing worlds. I let go of my breath and step through. Immediately the portal collapses with a pop and snap like a whip, as the very air rushes back into the vacuum, reclaiming its part of this world.