by Captain Sammitch, Blackwulf and thedoctor
While watching the UFO fly away from La Perdita's airspace, a young man thought, Well, that's something you don't see every day. Although I've seen some pretty odd stuff lately. Oh, well, even if this sort of stuff goes on regularly, this seems like a nice place to hang out for a while.
The man was tired of his life of constant travel and hoped this island could be a refuge. Besides, he thought, maybe someone here might be able to help me. If they can work UFOs around here, then somebody's gotta be able to figure out who I am. I sure can't.
He sensed people approaching and disappeared by mentally blocking them from seeing him. How am I doing all this? What am I? I have to know. And this is where I am gonna try and find out.
"Well, comrade, I am having had a good time but am having to catch up with an old fiend. Sorry, friend, that is," Blackwulf said as he started to rise. "Greem, I will be seeing you about the thing that we talked about. If you are interested in it. I will be in touch."
"We'll see, Wulf," said Grimm. "We'll see."
Blackwulf headed for the doors and noticed the Gorilla Brothers heading for Grimm's table, and interrupted their impending approach.
"Comrades, let us be off. Your bounty is in another quarry. Believe me, if that was the bounty, you would have no chance of taking it," Blackwulf said as he pushed past Chewy, the walrus-tusked bouncer.
Blackwulf headed down the street, heading for the docks near the waterfront. He knew where he was going, and he knew in a few hours it would be dawn.
It was the middle of the night, and the telepathic man was quietly walking down the main drag. He surveyed the buildings around him, trying to find a hotel or anywhere he might be able to spend the night. Heavy clouds were gathering in the night sky above his head, and every now and then he could feel a drop falling, although it had already rained once on the island.
He couldn't pick up very many impressions of people, probably because they were all asleep, he mused, but every so often he perceived a fleeting image, a thinking human mind somewhere nearby. He didn't know what to make of this newfound ability, and like all the others that had been manifesting lately, it frightened him. At least it wasn't as bad as accidentally moving things or starting fires, or finding himself levitating in midair, he reminded himself. Maybe there's someone around here who can help me figure all this out.
The telepathic man came across a building, a bar of some sort. Maybe, he thought, he could at least get directions there. He quietly made his way up to the door, noticing an instant too late that all the ruckus inside had suddenly gone deathly silent.
They know I'm here.
The door burst open suddenly, knocking the telepath to the ground. He started to scramble to his feet when several formidable-looking men appeared in the doorway. The biggest one, the one in front, bared what to Phil's horror appeared to be a pair of walrus tusks and glared at him.
Now this just might be a problem...
Several minutes later, at the bar, the walrus-toothed man demanded, "Who are you?"
"I... don't... don't know," was the best the telepathic man could manage.
"Nice try," the walrus man growled, pulling the man to his feet. "You're a meta. We felt you probing all of us, trying to read our minds."
"I wasn't..."
"Hold up a second, Chewy," one of the men with the bouncer said. "He might be emergent."
The telepath was confused. "Emergent?"
"He doesn't know he's a meta, and his powers are just starting to manifest. He might be legit."
Chewy, if that was really his name, lowered Phil to the ground. "Sorry about that."
"No harm done," Phil stammered.
"I'm Chewy," the walrus-toothed man said, "and this is Danny..." He pointed at the young man who had spoken. "...and Grimm." He gestured toward a man in biker's gear who appeared to have no facial skin covering his skull.
The telepath said, "I'm Phil... and that's all I'm really sure of."
"What do you mean?" Grimm asked.
"Well," Phil explained, "I woke up one morning in a truck stop, and I didn't have any idea who I was. I had some cash in my wallet, and the driver's license said my name was Phil Smith, but that's about all I know."
"That's pretty odd," Danny said. "Well, what brings you here?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Whatever," Chewy said. The others shrugged. "Well, it's getting pretty close to closing time, so whatever you're doing, you don't gotta go home, but... well, ya know."
"You got a place to go?" Grimm asked.
"Not right now," Phil replied.
"Well," Danny suggested, "you could probably stay in our building until you find something a bit more regular."
"You sure?"
"Yup. Come with us."
The sound of rain pounding hard against the window woke Dirk Bell. He'd only been asleep for a few minutes. It was still pitch black outside. The wind howled ferociously across the island. The storm was coming back.
His mind was struck with a reminder. His late evening walk had caused him to forget what he was doing in McArthur's shop in the first place. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the small box, a special delivery from some old acquaintances of his. Dirk had saved their asses on more than one occasion. As repayment, they often sent him care packages with things that most people didn't know existed. They were never sent directly to him. He made sure they were bounced around the globe, many times arriving at the same locations over and over again, until whoever might be tracking them either lost it or just flat gave up.
The box fell, empty, onto the floor. In his hand, Dirk held a syringe. He sat on the edge of his bed and rested his broken leg on a chair across from him. The syringe cut through the skin under the cast. The gunslinger's thumb depressed the plunger and cast the fluid encased in the syringe into his leg. "That should do the trick," he said as he removed the needle.
"Now to take care of you." In a bowl in his new workshop, Dirk lit a fire and tossed the syringe into it. He made sure that it was consumed completely before extinguishing the flame.
Rain was blowing through the hole in the wall. He placed a tarp over it to hold off the weather. He returned to his bed. His rest was peaceful and dreamless.