“I AM NOT YOUR DAMN HUNTER! I AM A HUNTER WHO BELIEVES IN THINGS SUCH AS JUSTICE AND NOT SELLING PEOPLE OUT FOR OUR OWN WELLFARE. I AM A HUNTER WHO THINKS BEFORE HE ACTS...AND ONE, IF YOU TWO ARE ANY INDICATION, WHO IS TEN TIMES BETTER THAN THE HUNTER YOU STARTED WITH!”

“Jesus man,” Temporalflux answered, “take a BREATH.”

“EAT A DICK. YOU TWO ASSHOLES SLIDE ON YOUR OWN. GO BACK TO YOUR OWN WORLD. LEAVE ME HERE. I’LL BE IN THE BEST COMPANY I’VE HAD IN MONTHS.”

I needed to lighten the mood before something happened. Hunter spun and began to walk to the door. I called out to him...

“I know someone who needs a hug!” I answered, arms open, waddling over to him. “Come here...give us a hug!”

SLAM.

Wonderful.

I was about to go after him when the show began, with the introduction of yelling and crying out of the window below us.

Darkslider, the little girl, and many others were now directly below us, bathed in the light from all of the windows of the building we were in.

Time to earn our keep.

It’s at times like this when I think of my childhood. I cannot say for sure WHY that is…but I do. Maybe it’s the ability we have as children to see the infinite. Maybe it’s times like these that we recognize that loss of innocence occurs not only once when we are young, but repeatedly throughout our lives. It’s just that the first loss is the most traumatic.

Or maybe it’s because it was one of the times I was most happy, and given the fact that I was about to take a man’s freedom and probably life away, it’s the only solace I could think of.

Or...maybe it’s the only time I can recall a girl wanting to play doctor with out the word COMMITMENT coming along with it.

A lone bird heralded the commencement of some inevitable calamity in a cry that sounded like an old Czech woman looking for her daughter at 5am, or every song that you people play on your radio stations. Jesus, haven’t you heard of Rock, Rap, or even Jazz? PUT ON SOME DECENT MUSIC THAT DOESN’T INVOLVE WOMEN WITH BIG HAIR AND HOUND DOGS.

I looked over at Temporalflux. His eyes were narrowed and he held the gun, locked at his shoulder like it was second nature. He closed his eyes and without turning to addressed me asked a question that I thought was going to herald some last minute philosophical debate for the case of darkslider and the otherworldly political differences.

I was dead wrong.

“Do we have any alcohol?”

Huh?!

“What?!”

“DO...WE...HAVE ANY...”

“I got the question, Lee Harvey. The ‘what’ was in question to the ‘why do you need alcohol’?”

Tf looked over at me, seriousness and murder in his eyes.

“I am a southern boy, S. We learn to shoot before most Northern kids learn to use the potty correctly. However, with this comes a certain…requirement.”

“Seeing your sister naked?”

“No! Ugh! Alcohol. I need to be accurate. I only have three shots in this rifle. If I miss even once, I think darkslider might catch on…and we won’t get home.”

“Well, there’s some wine that Blinqueur left as a gift. Will that do?”

“Hmm...do we have any rubbing alcohol?”

“Dude, what the hell is the matter with y---“

“Find some. Mix the bottle with the wine. Then, come back and give it to me.”

“We don’t have time…the whole thing is going down as we speak…I’m never going to…”

“Shut up and listen. There’s a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet. Get it. Mix and bring it to me. NOW! “

He then cocked the gun back in place and looked through the scope…down at his target.

Discussion closed. Step and fetch it.

Bastard.

I set down the satellite dish-on-a stick and ran out of the room, down the hallway and into the only working bathroom in the whole damn place.

Now, don’t get me wrong. “Working” is a severely loose term. Roaches would leave this place in disgust. Things adorned the wall. Things that, at least at one time, began their lives in the human body. At least it covered the Anne Geddes and inspirational pictures on the wall. Who needs those in a MEN’S bathroom I wondered?

Do you really need inspiration to use the toilet?

Or do naked children on lily pads really instate a sense of calm that allows one to move their bowels?

No matter. I turned and looked for the medicine cabinet. It was there, amidst three hundred stickers claiming that “HugKok Roks your mother like no other!”.

What the hell does that mean?

Now, the difficult task. How the hell was I going to open it? I looked around the room - nothing seemed to give me aide in my task. And I KNEW for a FACT that I was not going to use any part of my own body to open that. Kari Whurer has less disease than that mirror.

Only one option remained. I took my shoe and kicked it open with one swift motion. Darkslider would have been proud.

The cabinet opened with a sickly sticking sound that made me think of the sound dentures must make in the mouth of the elderly on hot days.

Ugh.

Inside this hideous carrying case was a mess of things, including Ly-Sol, Visine, some Listerine, and the holy grail --- Rubbbing Alcohol.

I grabbed all four items and ran back to the room.

“TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH” Tf yelled, unmoving.

“Do you know what was in that septic tank of disease?”

“Your mother?”

I should have shoved his country ass out of the window, but we had work to do. I grabbed the rubbing alcohol and the wine and poured them into the vase that adorned our ‘dining room’ table. I mixed them together and handed them off to the impatient Tf.

“Finally.” he said, and without another word took a huge swig of the vase.

“Hooo...that’s the stuff.” He gasped, taking aim.

darkslider was in the middle of a circle of people. Recall317 stood out among the rest and spoke to darkslider almost apologetically.

“You know why I am here and what Puree and I have to do, yeah?”

“Yep.”

“No hard feelings?”

darkslider shrugged.

Cool as a damn cucumber

Just like Burt Reynolds or some shit.

Little Dispositif was no where to be seen. Darkslider knew what he was doing.

And so did the French. Blinqueur, standing aside Recall looked back at Spacetime, bandaged and safely in the back.

He nodded, causing Blinq to do the same in our direction.

That was our cue.

Tf sighed and squeezed the trigger. Like a pro.

However, his aim was that of a blind special Olympiads’. The shot went wide and ricocheted off the side of a building. We faintly heard the aforementioned bird give another cry and fall to the ground in a thud. Lucky for us, that was the only sound thanks to the silencer.

Below us, no one noticed. Not even Blinq who was now nodding like a loon.

“whoops…” Tf whispered.” Dude, this alcohol is too weak. I can still see and do simple mathematics. Do you have anything else?”

“Yeah..”

Taking no chances, I dumped everything into the pot. I even threw in the binaca I had and mixed it together. The fumes emanating made the room spin.

I ran back to Tf, who, without even looking drank half of the concoction.

He closed his eyes and uttered something under his breath.

“ThAt’S beTTer…”

This time, his eyes were no longer through the scope. He seemed to be aiming with sheer will. He fired.

Below, Blinq now seemed to be attached to a damn dashboard. His head was now lolling like a mental patient’s at a speed that would have given most whiplash. Darkslider had made short work of the front of the assault in a time that was staggering. He had just knocked Recall out cold and was approaching Puree when the dart whizzed by his head, missing him by mere inches.

The dart’s destination now changed, did not deter it’s hunger for flesh, in the same manner that most of you hunger for fat women in spandex. It found new mark in someone who was not expecting it at all. Someone we’d met before and who’s courageousness, while talked about, seemed more mythical than a unicorn’s existence, as he controlled the battle FROM THE REAR.

The dart struck the Leader of the French World straight in the face. He let out a startled ‘Zut Alors!” and fell over, holding his face.

Darkslider had now backhanded Puree, who in turn went down just in time to meet a knee. Puree fell with a thud. Darkslider didn’t even bother to look down to see where he landed.

He closed in on Blinq, still nodding.

I looked over at Temporalflux. He was looking through the gun scope at the battle below. Preparing like only those who hold another’s life in their hands. Sweating like a pig, smelling like Olde English and talking to himself. Add that to his aim, and I could now see why the South never won the war.

That being said, it seemed that Tf was in his own world, trying desperately not to screw this up. And to most it seemed like he just needed silence to complete his mission. Although to me, it seemed that he needed some words of encouragement.

“You sure you can do this? You don’t look so good. AND DEAR GOD ARE YOU BLIND?! You’ve missed TWICE ALREADY, EAGLE EYES!”

He did not respond. Instead, he downed the rest of the drink and looked outside. Waiting. Aiming now by sheer feeling and looking old.

It looked like each bullet had taken ten years from his life. He even had some senility it seemed….mumbling to himself all the while. That is…until I heard what he was saying.

Underneath the breathing, and yelling below I could hear his mumblings. He was saying “Get them home. Get them home. I promised. I won’t let wade happen again.” Over and over.

Normally, I’d be calling the little men in the white coats to come and take my friend away…but the sheer pressure of it all came to me.

TemporalFlux carried the burden of our adventure. Where we’d never really come out and blamed him, he’d taken it just the same. And he’d paid the price.

While Hunter and I could share in the loss of a home we’d never see, Tf had that AND the weight of being responsible for it’s creation.

It was he who invented Sliding. It was he who talked us into going. It was he who made the decision (deep down) to Slide in the emergency. And it was he who was now bared sole custody of a chance to get home.

You know, I always thought that Quinn (the boy genius who invented Sliding on the television show) had simply become apathetic over time because the actor who played him no longer gave a damn. His character went from courageous kid to apathetic adult who cared little for the death of a Father/Mentor, the rape of his long time close friend and love, and the loss of a home.

Bad acting? Sure. But maybe…just maybe…it was the best damn job I have ever seen when it came to anguish.

Think about it. Well, MOST OF YOU CAN’T, and since the show did not exist here, I will do it for you.

You lose your innocence. Your mentor dies protecting you. Your father was hit by a car. All things that you love are taken. You, a genius of a unparalleled magnitude, can invent sliding but CANNOT find the equation to get yourself home.

Everyone and everything you cared for is wasted. Even your ‘gift’ that held you away from the pain for so long. Why? Who knows? Fate? Life’s chances? God?

Whatever it is, a secret seed of personal decay is planted, and you create the rational from the irrational. The lumbering disappointment and failure feeds it and the darkness that the love for the lost Ones nurtures it. ‘Ultimately’, the little seed now come plant tells you, ‘you are useless’.

You’re a failure. You’re worthless.

The blame that those words cradled crippled you in a way that twisted your back more than a pretzel. And still they continued.

You don’t mean anything, and it’s best if you just die. So...

You die inside.

It was then that I knew that if Tf did not get us home soon, there would be one morning where Hunter and I would wake up and find him hanging from the rafters.

I shuddered. I wouldn’t let that happen. I COULDN’T.

Tf was a lot of things. Annoying. Egotistical. Narcassitic at times. Distant. A lover of Streisand. But about all others he was something more.

A friend of such magnitude that calling him brother would be an understatement.

I used this much in the same way that Tf used his shame and self loathing. I turned it to the bastard outside fighting the French.

WE deserved to live. WE had done nothing wrong but be curious. WE had helped worlds.

WE.

I took this and made every single word that Blinq had said and made them true.

Gospel, if you will.

I turned and looked outside.

Amazing. All of that revelation, and less than 30 seconds had passed.

Not even the wind shifted so fast. Something down there, though almost was.

Darkslider was quick, but not it seemed that he’d met somewhat of a match in the bobbing loon that was our co-conspirator. Blinqueur was almost, but not quite, keeping pace with darkslider’s flurry of attacks. It seemed that he almost knew where darkslider was going to go.

All he needed to do was block and parry. And send an occasional kick in just to keep things even.

Darkslider, even through this seemed preoccupied, but not overwhelmed. His focus was all on the flamboyantly dressed pile that was the Leader of the French that was behind Blinq. Said pile was now getting up...but his mouth was so agape that a semi could have driven into it.

Spacetime was very much aware and awake, even if all of the muscles in his face were not. He cursed at darkslider, yelling at him in some unintelligible language that not even our newfound translators could guess at.

Darkslider seemed to understand though, for he looked straight into the eyes of the Leader.

Temporalflux took this moment to seize his opportunity. And the expression on his face told me that he was thinking and feeling the same thing I was.

WE stood on the edge of destiny and looked in it’s eyes together, perched atop that shoddy hotel. WE passed OUR judgment on one who blocked US.

WE never trusted darkslider. WE hated darkslider for all that he was...and at the base level, WE wanted to play God. Control OUR own fate as well as that of those that were in OUR way. And WE wanted to get US home.

Nothing else existed. Only WE. And him. The Blocker. The Reason we were still stuck.

Darkslider became a rotten enigma. Something that even in the best light resembled a dirty diaper on an elderly woman in the summer.

Tf’s aim was true this time. The bullet struck darkslider square in the back of the head. Darkslider turned and gave our building a quizzical look and took one step forward. Then, it seemed, decided that walking was too hard and stopped. He lumbered for what seemed like an eternity. Fate’s embodiment perched on the edge of chaos. It’s strength superhuman and otherworldly...but not strong enough to counter man’s own decisions against him.

Darkslider fell into a puddle face first in a very ungraceful flop and a sound that was eerily like gavel hitting the podium by a judge who had just given final judgment.

Darkslider moved no more...but the others around him sure did. They moved in like jackals.

Darkslider’s unconscious form was immediately pummeled by Blinqueur, a recovered Puree, and Space, mouth still agape. The beatings made prison riots look like tea time with little girls. Pile drivers, figure four leg locks, and even a chair was thrown on him like some horrible mockery of WWF wrestling a la the French was happening below.

Hunter would have laughed.

Hunter...WE were reminded was not here. Nowhere, it seemed. He had slipped into chaos with darkslider’s consciousness and Tf’s happiness.

“THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN! YEEEEE---HAAAAWWWWW!!!!” Temporalflux yelled...and promptly turned, dropped his gun and puked.

Below, the beatings continued for close to three minutes.

Sounds that still make me cringe came from the other part of WE and from below.

And then the cries of the little girl, who I can still hear in the dead of night, began.

She appeared from the darkness around the little party below and ran toward darkslider.

“DADDY! NOOOoooooo!!!!” She moved in between the attackers, stopping the beatings with her own little body. The distance between her and I made her appear all the more miniature and doll like. Her little white frame sharply contrasted with the red blood and the utter darkness that lay in pools below her fallen pseudo-father.

It was then that I noticed a certain method to the madness. It seemed that the French were aiming their attacks at dark’s right hand for some reason. Dispositif threw her little body on top of her kidnapper in a protective stance that made me hate darkslider even more. He stole her. Killed her family and NOW drove her to protect him!

Ass.

I willed myself to be down there, in Puree’s body as he shoved her aside and stomped repeatedly on darkslider’s hand. Stepping on it until it snapped like a bundle of raw spaghetti.

Dark made no noise though, even when they smashed his left leg with what looked like a crowbar.

I know what you’re thinking.

S, you’re a cruel SOB to be watching someone who really may not have done anything get a beat down that would have made most rappers gag.

To that I say, in the simplest and most sensitive method possible: EAT MY ASS. He deserved it, and even deserved the smashing to the back he began to get when Puree drove his heel into dark’s lower back.

Paralysis was emmintent, or so I thought.

It was then that the humming started. Faintly, but picking up momentum. It sounded like a heater starting up in a cheesy hotel room. I looked over at Tf, who was now kneeling with his head down.

“What the hell is that noise?!” I yelled. Tf started to say something, but it was drowned out. The humming soon engulfed all sound and drowned all out.

It began to drive me nuts. I held my ears and looked outside in the hopes of seeing what the hell was going on.

The sound, whatever it was, was now coming from everywhere...and it seemed to have a more dramatic effect on Spacetime’s men than it did us. They were frozen and their faces looked as if they’d just heard that the Facts of Life was going to have a reunion via the PORN industry.

All stood motionless, that is except for two people.

Looks like I figured out where the sound was coming from.

Puree’s hands suddenly shot to his head, because it seemed to be pulsating. And the little girl, well...she was pointing at him...eyeing him like a lioness before the prey.

Oh...and she was now three feet off the ground.

Her eyes seemed to glow a blue color and her mouth was open, in an ‘o’. It was then that the humming became a weird angelic choir of voices meshed together.

Puree fell to his knees, his mouth open too, but in an anguished cry.

The girl moved, er floated, towards him. Bearing down. She was very nearly on top of him when I heard my name being whispered beneath the chorus that will still rising. I turned in it’s direction to see Tf yelling at the top of his lungs...pointing at my hands and the dish on a stick before me.

Oh yeah. I had a job to do.

But what was it again?

I was having a hard time thinking as it was, what with the damn choir in my head. But that’s not all that got me.

Even with the Holy Mormon Choir booming around me, I could now hear Puree’s screams. Whatever the hell was going on,it must’ve hurt like hell.

But this wasn’t happening, I told myself.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, I said. This isn’t just simple protection of her father. This is the product of some brainwashing and some seriously powerful acid flashbacks on my part. She’s not floating, she’s not some mini Carrie, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing. People don’t float. People don’t have blue auras. Five year olds do not have the power to warble windows. Unless it's by sheer irritation.

As I argued with myself, Puree’s screams reached a fever pitch. Every single window in our building, along with every other piece of glass in the block our little Roach Hotel occupied shattered.

And then...like that Puree’s head exploded.

A gush of things shot up in a fountain as his now headless body fell forward and onto the ground in a thud.

The little girl mimicked her kidnapper/father. As soon as Puree died, she turned her attention to Blinq. Her little voice now joining the chorus, arm now pointed at Blinq.

He, however, began to do the same thing. Pointing at her.

A new, more gothic sounding chorus joined the party. It was hideous sounding. It’s voices were warped and twisted, and they warbled in and out of hearing range. And it was always fainter than the little one's.

This was not happening...it couldn’t be. NO ONE has that kind of power. There’s no such thing as psychics, except for that Jamacian lady with her own hotline. And even SHE couldn’t do this. And Blinq surely could not have been able to mimic it.

This little girl couldn’t be doing this. She could not commit murder with her mind. This was not---

Temporalflux smacked me in the back of the head. I jumped from my voyeuristic viewing of this battle of the minds and looked at him.

He pointed to me and at the dish. And pointed. And pointed

I pointed at my own balled fist and pointed to my head, then to his jaw. Friend or NOT, no one sucker punches me.

He, in turn, pointed to the dish again, then outside at Puree’s corpse, then to the little girl. He remained pointing at her. With his free hand, he made some kind of salute.

What the?

Too much alcohol.

I looked questioningly at him, until he pointed at the folder. Home came back into my mind’s focus. Uri Gellar nonsense aside.

Home awoke again. Dreams of seeing my family awoke. WE awoke again.

Fine. I’ll use this thing. I’ll do my part to serve WE, even if it meant I needed to wear saran wrap underwear in order to ‘keep the FBI from stealing my sperm’.

I picked up the tool, looked at it and shrugged. What the hell?

I pointed to dish at Dispositif, expecting nothing.

What I got was something more.

She screamed, the chorus began to join her. The ground shook. And then, she fell with a smack. Square on top of darkslider. A nice, neat, little pile delivered to the French as promised.

Then...slowly, Blinq lowered his hand...the gothic warbling ceased.

And blessed silence came back.

WE did our job. WE were going home. WE had done it.

And now I needed to do as Tf had done a few minutes before. I promptly turned and felt the disgust in myself well up. The betrayal of an ideal that Hunter had made vocal. The screams of the little girl. Puree’s death.

It all overwhelmed me. I turned my head away from TemporalFlux and puked my innocence and morals all over the floor.
------- ------- --------

An hour later Tf and I were cleaned up and standing before a very pleased Blinqueur. He beemed at us as if we were school children who had answered a difficult question correctly.

Yet, for all his happiness, Tf and I felt odd, even empty. We’d looked for Hunter for well over an hour, and he had disappeared.

As had darkslider and the little mind killer.

I asked Blinq about this, but he did that damn "tut tut" motion and told me not to ask in official government matters.

I pressed on the matter, but he said nothing, instead he nabbed the timer from Tf and took out what looked like a palm pilot.

In an instant he downloaded the coordinates to our home. We watched as he raised his hands.

“And now...”

Blinqueur opened the vortex. It’s color a vivid blue. As blue as Dispositif’s eyes no more than an hour ago. “We thank you, our comrades in arms. Even with your shoddy sniping skills, we succeeded. We now see bright things for this girl and the worlds in question. LONG LIVE FRANCE!”

We looked in. Our home was now three feet and one slide away.

WE were going home.

The WE that had taken destiny by the balls, that is.

Thoughts of home danced in our heads. The family. The friends. The comfort.

We came out of it with the sound of a crunch. Far away, it seemed. Almost like a softer version of the sound dark’s hand made no more than an hour ago, but more artificial. That’s what brought me out of my nostalgic stupor. I looked around for it’s source.

It was then that I noticed that no one had the timer any longer.

It was on the floor now, beneath Blink’s foot in more pieces than most of you have teeth.

“You will not be needing that, any longer.” Blinqeur said.

“What?! I mean---you just--all those worlds---new friends-” Temporalflux asked.

“Gone. Your days of that are done, I am happy to say. Now...” Blinq waved his hand. As he did, two mimes with uzi’s approached us.

“...you will be leaving.”

I looked at Tf.

“Dude, we can’t leave Hunter...and what the hell is going on---”

Tf looked at the mimes, at Blinq, then at me. All emotion dropped from his face.

“He’s gone. He was not our Hunter anyway. Let him find his own way home.”

And with that, he leapt into the vortex.

I looked around at the French Entourage one last time.

Sissies.

I could take all three of them on if I had to. And I meant to.

But I did not have time. Blinq shoved me into the vortex and the mimes sent a little warning shots into the whole after me.

When you slide, you do not see a blue tunnel. Or a tunnel of any kind. You DO, however, see the worlds that you are passing by, much like you see the scenery in a speeding car.

I watched this worlds go by and felt myself slam into something, knocking me out cold.
-----------------------------------------------------------

I came to in what seemed to be days later.

I was in a white room. A home, maybe? A home in OUR home world.

Temporalflux’s image loomed over me immediately.

“Ohmygod...S....I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” I asked, looking around at the room. Where the hell was I?

“I...I...don’t know what happened...but I knew that they wanted us to leave. I wrote down the coordinates to that world before Sgt. Crepe came. I knew he’d have us leave immediately...even leave Hunter...I didn’t think he’d smash the timer, but who cares...I have the schematics at my house...but something he said didn’t ring true to me...something I should have seen but did not. I’ve been waiting for you to wake for the past three weeks going from my house to here...”

“Wait...YOUR HOUSE? So...we’re home then?” I groggily asked.

“Yes...but...”

“Shut up. Just let me enjoy that. Let me feel what it’s like to have the sense of being home.” I felt whole again. I was…home! I closed my eyes and imagined the wind beneath my arms as I sat on one of my home world’s hilltops.

Outside I heard what sounded like cheering followed by fireworks. Must be a celebration. Maybe in our honor? Such joy was something I had not felt in MONTHS.

But something about the room kept nagging me. Where the hell was I? Why was Tf looking like someone had died? What the hell was that noise outside that sounded a little less like fireworks with each passing burst?

My eyes fell onto a poster behind Tf. My eyes still out of focus, I used all my strength to make it clear. As I looked on absently, something suddenly came to me.

“Tf?”

“...yea---yeah?” he asked. Getting up hastily so that I need not move.

“Do we both still have the translators on?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I want you to read something to me.” I began to lean and reach for a pen and paper. But before I could move, Tf had them out and handed them to me.

I scribbled the words as I remembered them onto the pad and handed them to him. Damn...I must have hit my head. Just doing that made me exhausted.

Now, what I wrote was,”Etes Unis Chiens and Dispositif.”

What Tf said when he repeated it were the words I had written en francais, but what I heard through my new translating ears was:”United States Dogs...”

And the name for the little girl. Sounded odd to me that she’d be named something that sounded like a French bank transaction.

Dispositif. Why the hell did Blinq write the name down? And not say it? Supersition?

What Tf then said changed US forever. It was then that the warm feeling in my stomach went cold.

What does the little girl’s name in English mean?

“Device.”

I shook my head. And turned my attention back to the poster. With this revelation, came a new clarity of the senses. Snoopy...in a wheelchair.

So, I was in a hospital. Damn…how bad had the slide been?! I reached up and touched my head.

Bandaged and damp. As I felt the gauze, I asked:

“We helped the wrong side, didn’t we Tf?”

“Yes...”

“And outside...that’s not celebrating or fireworks, is it?”

“No, S...it’s not.”

“What is going on outside Tf?”

“We’re fighting a losing battle with some Invaders.”

“Do they speak French?”

“Oui.”

WE have just awoken. WE have just seen what the plan was ALL ALONG.

Moving from place to place? Yeah. Needing a new home? One without opposition and free from human civilization?

Where the hell have I heard that before?

“We need to get out of here, Tf.Need to find Hunter...and maybe even darkslider. It's the only hope...” I said as I attempted to rise.

“S...we do, I agree, but...you see...”

WE finally see the truth. The French tricked us. Got us to take darkslider's kid away from him because she was like Carrie on Crack, and so they could follow us. Stake out our world. Make sure we were behind them technologically. Then, strike.

I pulled myself up without thinking. Thoughts of destroying the French swam through my mind as I tried to swing my legs off the bed and onto the floor.

WE wanted vengence, I saw that in Tf’s eyes. WE WANT JUSTICE.

I wanted to jump up, grab Tf by the shoulders and get going. The world needed to be saved.

Something was odd though...my legs...weren’t listening.

WE have just realized that something was wrong with me.

Maybe it’s just the drugs. They pump a lot into you when you have a concussion. I told my legs to move their asses off the damn bed. WE HAVE A WAR TO WIN. But, somewhere, somehow, my legs’ lines of communication to my brain had been left with Hunter in chaos. Along with darkslider. Any Tf's dignity.

I screamed at them in my head. GET UP. But, like the front lines of my home world, they did not hold up...

My legs...

They did not respond.

“Tf?” I asked, the panic raising in my damn throat.

“Yeah?”

“I think they’ve given me too many drugs. The walls are a meltin...and my legs...heh heh...”

Funny how you laugh at the worst times in your life. Almost as if you hope that the laughter could erase the awesome horror of the time.

“my legs...they aren’t working...Tf? Tf? Why...is that...happenin...I mean...it’s just the drugs, right...Tf?”

Temporalflux said nothing. He didn’t have to.

The Snoopy poster. The bullets that slid with me. The bandage around my lower abdomen.

They all told me the same thing.

The world's noise faded again. Only thing that I was aware of was Tf's sobbing and Snoopy. Waving and welcoming me to the world of parapalegia.

0000000000
continued on Friday.

-darkslider