Okay, so, maybe I should've expected something to happen.
Anything, really.
Anything.
Like, of course, it wouldn't go completely unnoticed by everyone that I was playing games with the time space continuum.
Why on Earth would I not expect to be approached by two bulky white guys in black tuxes and impenetrable shades?
I guess it was ridiculous for me to not expect that.
Especially fresh out of the shower.
Episode Two
"Mr. Waters?"
Except, really, it wasn't a question. It was more of a bark. Like they knew that they were talking to a boy named Mr. Eli Waters in his bathroom while Mr. Eli Waters was abashedly draping an embarrassingly pink Emma Water's Barbie towel around puny hips that belonged to a Mr. Eli Waters.
Who, also, by the way, is me.
Elijah Waters, 17. White as chalk and your basic gangly boned, slopped haired garage band guitarist, product of Midwestern suburbia, and apparently in a crapload of trouble.
Mr. Big Imposing White Guy #1 flashed a badge in my face, and it reflected off the bright white lights of the bathroom, breaking through the steam of my super hot shower. Mr. Big Imposing White Guy #2 said, "You're coming with us. Bring the device with you."
Sitting in the back of a white van now, I guess I should've figured that lying about having what they referred to as The Jikan wasn't the best idea.
Todd, the strong jawed, blonde counterpart to Rod, the straight nosed redhead, ran the business down to me as soon as I started threatening to break my remote. Although they had it in some special box, I'd managed to convince them that I coded it with a self-destruct option that was activated by my voice.
Whatever my EBay find is, evidently, is quite important.
Important enough to drag me from my shower, coerce me into following orders of pausing and unpausing my family at the breakfast table, and getting me out of school.
"We are members of PRSTC. Preservation and Regulation of--"
I interrupt, droning, "The Space Time Continuum, yeah, yeah."
Todd frowns.
I grin. "Look, you and I both know that I have the power in this situation."
Despite the fact that I was borderline ambushed and most definitely kidnapped...
Todd turns forward again, leaving me to ponder how I will exit this speedily moving moving van without injuring myself. I'd also look quite crazy, since the Imposing White Men only gave me enough time to throw my underwear and robe on.
"Todd," I condescendingly say. "How about we strike a deal?"
Three seconds pass in relative silence, Todd and Rod both keeping their heads straight, looking at the road. I can't tell if they didn't hear me, if they're just ignoring me, or if they're really concentrated drivers.
But, the minute Rod takes his eye off the road, an explosion deafens his response.
Don't worry about me.
I got out just fine.
Somehow.
My vision is blacked out around the edges, though, and I'm propped up in some sort of chair. I manage to keep my panic at bay when I go to stand up and I'm jerked back down. Both my hands and my feet are strapped to the metallic seat.
"Elijah Waters," a voice I don't recognize says from a location I can't see.
A bright blue light flicks on above my head, but it doesn't illuminate any of the room. Just me. Just me in the clothes that I didn't put on this morning.
I mean, no offense to super heroes and ninjas, but I don't get the spandex fix.
Wearing it now, I do have to say it is quite itchy.
About fifteen minutes later, I hear a quiet noise that shakes me out of my nap. There wasn't much else to do in the dark tied to a chair.
Steps of heels are paired with little squares of light illuminating the tiles on the floor, one by one. As the woman gets closer, I see more and more of her figure. The lights all brighten the room bit by bit. She wears the same get-up as I do: a black and navy blue spandex jumpsuit that covers every inch of her except her face, hands, and feet. Her dark hair is slicked up into a tight ponytail, without a strand out of place, and, when she finally gets close enough, I see that her red lipstick complements her eyes very nicely.
She stands at about five foot six and is twenty something.
When she stops walking, the entire room is lit up, and I see that we are in some sort of high tech, spy-like garage. Rod and Todd's van is in charred shambles in the corner, and they are tied up by their hands, ankles, and midsection to two chairs set back to back. Tape covers their mouth. They seem to be unconscious.
Their chairs are wooden, nowhere near as fancy as mine.
"Thank you for providing us with The Jikan," the woman says. I open my mouth to respond to her, because, really, I didn't provide her or anyone else with any type of Jikan, but she raises a hand that shushes me. "I am Myra. Those two men are impostors. The PRSTC does not exist."
I blink.
Myra smiles at my ignorance. "Elijah, what you have is a piece of equipment that originally belonged to me and my team, Mirage. It was developed by an ex-member, Julian Sharpe--"
"What does any of this have to do with me?"
She looks down at her feet, then up at me. With a lick of her lips that does nothing to the bright red color, she pulls a thin white, plastic stick from her sleeve. She presses a button and with a ding, an image appears, little digital photons glittering in the light.
In the image, is me.
"You, Eli," Myra says, "are Julian Sharpe."
I interrupt, droning, "The Space Time Continuum, yeah, yeah."
Todd frowns.
I grin. "Look, you and I both know that I have the power in this situation."
Despite the fact that I was borderline ambushed and most definitely kidnapped...
Todd turns forward again, leaving me to ponder how I will exit this speedily moving moving van without injuring myself. I'd also look quite crazy, since the Imposing White Men only gave me enough time to throw my underwear and robe on.
"Todd," I condescendingly say. "How about we strike a deal?"
Three seconds pass in relative silence, Todd and Rod both keeping their heads straight, looking at the road. I can't tell if they didn't hear me, if they're just ignoring me, or if they're really concentrated drivers.
But, the minute Rod takes his eye off the road, an explosion deafens his response.
Don't worry about me.
I got out just fine.
Somehow.
My vision is blacked out around the edges, though, and I'm propped up in some sort of chair. I manage to keep my panic at bay when I go to stand up and I'm jerked back down. Both my hands and my feet are strapped to the metallic seat.
"Elijah Waters," a voice I don't recognize says from a location I can't see.
A bright blue light flicks on above my head, but it doesn't illuminate any of the room. Just me. Just me in the clothes that I didn't put on this morning.
I mean, no offense to super heroes and ninjas, but I don't get the spandex fix.
Wearing it now, I do have to say it is quite itchy.
About fifteen minutes later, I hear a quiet noise that shakes me out of my nap. There wasn't much else to do in the dark tied to a chair.
Steps of heels are paired with little squares of light illuminating the tiles on the floor, one by one. As the woman gets closer, I see more and more of her figure. The lights all brighten the room bit by bit. She wears the same get-up as I do: a black and navy blue spandex jumpsuit that covers every inch of her except her face, hands, and feet. Her dark hair is slicked up into a tight ponytail, without a strand out of place, and, when she finally gets close enough, I see that her red lipstick complements her eyes very nicely.
She stands at about five foot six and is twenty something.
When she stops walking, the entire room is lit up, and I see that we are in some sort of high tech, spy-like garage. Rod and Todd's van is in charred shambles in the corner, and they are tied up by their hands, ankles, and midsection to two chairs set back to back. Tape covers their mouth. They seem to be unconscious.
Their chairs are wooden, nowhere near as fancy as mine.
"Thank you for providing us with The Jikan," the woman says. I open my mouth to respond to her, because, really, I didn't provide her or anyone else with any type of Jikan, but she raises a hand that shushes me. "I am Myra. Those two men are impostors. The PRSTC does not exist."
I blink.
Myra smiles at my ignorance. "Elijah, what you have is a piece of equipment that originally belonged to me and my team, Mirage. It was developed by an ex-member, Julian Sharpe--"
"What does any of this have to do with me?"
She looks down at her feet, then up at me. With a lick of her lips that does nothing to the bright red color, she pulls a thin white, plastic stick from her sleeve. She presses a button and with a ding, an image appears, little digital photons glittering in the light.
In the image, is me.
"You, Eli," Myra says, "are Julian Sharpe."
trippy
ReplyDelete