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.