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.
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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.