by Chewy Walrus and TheTimeTrust
"Thanks for comin' out to the 'port with me, mate," Grissom Montag said, adjusting his sunglasses and tossing his cigarette butt to the ground, stamping it out with his boot.
"No problem," Chance said, tilting his Ray-Bans down to get a good look at the airplane as it eased its way to a stop and began to remove passengers.
The two teammates couldn't have looked more like the Odd Couple if they tried. Grissom, the short, deceptively muscular Brit, wore flip-flops, Bermuda shorts, and an unbuttoned Hawaiian T-shirt with disheveled hair, while Kristofer Schanz, the tall, well-toned Swede, wore a nice pair of ironed, pleated slacks, a dark green shirt with an open collar, and a sports coat over the top. Together, they stood outside the airport, watching Charley's plane land.
"You needed someone to help you carry bags and gear and the like and, to be completely honest, I'm kind of looking forward to meeting our new maintenance man," said Chance. "What did you say his name was again?"
"Charley," Grissom said, a slight smirk on his face. "Works for me out in California."
"Right," Chance said. "At Sandcrawler Security."
"Yup."
"Is he any good?" Chance asked.
"I'd say so," Grissom said, scratching the back of his head. "Best one I got on my maintenance staff. It was the first natural thought I had when I learned you guys didn't have a maintenance supervisor."
"We are agreed that he remains on your payroll, correct?" Chance said, looking down at Grissom. "I don't think Kit would take too well with adding another man to the staff that he never hired to begin with."
Grissom held up a three-fingered hand as the airplane door opened and passengers began to descend the stairs of the plane. "It's been taken care of, mate," the limey said with a grin. "Charley works for me, always has, always will. You and Kit ain't got one bloody thing to worry about."
Chance watched the passengers as they got off the plane and made their way to their families and friends standing around. Finally, he caught sight of a large balding man with a tool box under one arm. "That's him, I presume..."
Before Grissom could say or do anything, Chance was off across the pavement, meeting the man halfway between the plane and the spot where Montag still stood. Griss hung his head and rubbed his temples and slowly made his way over to Chance.
"You must be Charley," Chance said to the man, who looked up at him in surprise. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kristofer Schanz, and, on behalf of MBL Consulting, I would like to bid you a fond welcome to Puerta Mibela. Do you... have any other bags you'll need to be getting, or are you so anxious to get to work that you've just brought your toolbox?"
The man paused a bit, looking up at Chance. Then, without warning, he just started laughing, hysterically.
Chance arched an eyebrow. "Is something the matter?" he asked in all seriousness.
"Chance!" Grissom said, coming up behind his teammate. "Chance, allow me to introduce to you Burl Trunchner. He's a member of the Sandcrawler Security Atlanta branch..."
Grissom pointed his middle finger at an attractive young Hispanic woman approaching from the plane with a suitcase tucked under her arm. "That..." he said, with a smile on his face, "...is Charlene Montoya, chief of maintenance at Sandcrawler Security."
"But... but I thought..." Chance said, pointing at the doubled-over Burl. "Why is he here?"
"He was acting as Charley's escort," Grissom said. "With the storm delaying her flight, she had to stay somewhere, so Burl put her up with him in Atlanta for a few days."
"I-I..." Chance stammered as Charley walked up and gave Grissom a hug. "Damn it! You'd think being the world's luckiest man would be able to spare me from this kind of embarrassment!"
"Well, look at it this way," Charley said, extending her hand to Chance, "you could've introduced yourself to someone who didn't know me from Adam. That would've been embarrassing!"
The group laughed as Chance took Charley's hand. "I'm Charlene Montoya, but you can call me Charley."
"Kristofer Schanz," Chance said with a smile, "but you can call me Chance."
"All right, Chance," Charley said with a wink. "Why don't you tell me about this consulting business of yours?"
And, with that, the four made their way to Chance's car, which sat around the front of the airport.
Within the airport:
"And is this your first flight with TradeWind Caribbean Airlines, sir?"
"Ah, yes, I believe it is," the man said, smiling.
"Enjoy your flight."
"I will, thanks," he said, moving on with his luggage.
"Next." The woman at the counter stopped and found herself speechless at the next man, who was now in front of her.
"It's quite all right," the trench-coated man said to her in an English accent. "I have a skin condition," he said, indicating the bandages he wore over every place his clothes weren't covering his skin.
"I'm sorry for staring, sir," the woman said, her hands at the keyboard. "Do you need to buy a ticket?"
"Of course, of course," the man said. "First class." She nodded, typing in the information. "Quite a huge storm, eh wot?"
"Oh yes," the woman said, attempting a smile. "We haven't seen one like that in years. They had to reroute the airplanes for several hours until it was safe to come back in." She then noticed the large metallic band he wore around his wrist. "Uh, sir? I'm afraid we can't allow that on the plane."
"Oh, it's not a problem," the bandaged man said. "I have all the papers right here." He passed her a number of papers, each stamped with the seal of the La Perditan government.
"These appear to be in order," she said, smiling. "Have a nice flight, sir."
"I'm sure I will," said the man known as Griffin.
The boy dreamed. He dreamed of nothingness. He was surrounded by nothing and heard nothing. He was nothing. And he had never known anything but nothingness. Not as far as he could remember, anyway.
Still, sometimes, while he slept his eternal sleep, tiny slivers of memories seemed to creep into his thoughts of nothingness, memories that he was once something: a young boy, one with great powers, and wonderful friends who were his only family, and a kindly old doctor with a funny accent. And he had a name: Axel.
But these were only dreams. It was the nothingness that was the reality.
The boy dreamed, and dreamed, and dreamed, and dreamed...