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.