Fic - Balancing the Void
Jan. 12th, 2009 12:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddogWarning - Fic content. Avoid if it isn't your bag. I MEAN IT.
This is a fic idea gone crazy. I know where it's going. It's just getting there. It's also probably going to be the longest thing I've written, although tiny for the rest of you guys.
Balancing the Void
Part One: Outside Forces
Rating: PG, at the moment
Fandom: IP&S NV/IP&S AMU crossover.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Notes: Steff challenged me to write a light fic to explain something. It didn't stay so light.
I had a pounding headache. Not the best way to start a mission.
My eyes couldn't seem to focus. Wincing from the light, I could make out someone sitting beside wherever I was laying. It was a woman, hard to tell her age by looking at her backside. The auburn hair that I could barely make out made my stomach sink.
“Nance?” I asked. I was sure it was her, meaning that my attempt to reach Rhy'Din failed horribly. I guess I should be happy I was breathing, but you can't really be happy in laying in the recovery room with Hank waiting in the shadows. My body ached. Must had been a backlash of some sort, be it randomly discharged energy or something else.
The figure moved suddenly. The fuzziness and dull pain made the display impossible to block the attack. She stopped right above my neck. A threat. Not an empty one, either; the cool smell of sharp metal flooded my senses. I knew what that was without even looking. Wasn't particularly happy about it, either.
“Who are you and what did you do to Rick?” the woman demanded. The voice was clearly not Nance's; it was too young, with bitter edge not quite like anything I had heard before.
It was a fight to even force myself to breath; I knew that the knife was probably only a hair away from breaking skin. I held myself as tense and still as I could.
“Get me my glasses and I'll explain,” I said in what I hope sounded like a firm tone.
The woman was quiet for a moment. Without warning, I felt her withdraw the knife; a huge relief, at least for me. I never really cared for knives, not so much in what they were but what they could do. I guess I was fortunate they weren't pulled on me more often.
With the knife gone, there was enough space to let me sit up. Slowly; still stiff from whatever had knocked the wind out of me. 'Was this what the others felt?' I wondered as I rubbed some feeling back into my right arm. Nance never really talked about that and I never pushed her to do otherwise, but Mike mentioned that the shock was more of a daze than a physical pain and the main struggle was from being overwhelmed by the strange world.
Still, I wasn't sure where I was or even what state I was in. Mike's switch was completely mental; his body stayed behind and his mind crossed over to the other universe. With Nance and the others, it was physical; they completely vanished. Maybe it had something to do with Rhy'Din, where there was no other version to swap with. My theory was that no two forms of the same person could exist in a one universe at one time, so a switch would have to maintain that energy balance. On the other hand, there had to be some resistance, which would explain why Mike only traveled in mind and not body.
As to why I traveled in body and not just mind, I wasn't sure. Probably something to do with the level of power I used. Mike and Nance never intended to leave, but I ripped a hole in time and space on purpose. My goal was Rhy'Din, so this balance nonsense wouldn't have mattered. But, I didn't think I was there. I shouldn't have switched places with another Rick, unless that was a freak in naming.
“Hey!” the stern woman snapped. In my train of thought, I had half-forgotten about her.
“Yeah?” I called back in the general direction of her. As soon as I had, I felt something get pushed into my left hand. My glasses. I slipped them on, readying myself for what I'd see.
The room was small and definitely not any place on the estate. The furniture was sparse; nothing but the bed I was sitting on and a chair that the woman was using. The one window in the room was heavily draped and the light bulb over head was on one its last legs As for the woman, she was younger than I expected. College age, at most, but the distant look in her eyes hinted at something much older. Between that and the wicked knife she carried, it was unsettling.
“So, where's this explanation? And where's Rick?” she asked. It was hard to figure out what emotion was behind the question. When it came to reading people, I was okay but not perfect. This woman carried a lot of anger, but I wasn't sure if she was mad at the world or just at me.
Not wanting to tempt fate further, I rummaged through my jumpsuit. Standard issue and I had originally worn it to give my teammates something to identify me by. The woman hadn't commented about it yet and I wasn't in the mood to explain it. Not until I was sure she wasn't going to kill me.
I pulled out my wallet from a chest pocket, quickly pulling out a small battered piece of paper. “Richard Smith, born in Toronto,” I said as I held out the birth certificate. She greedily took it and I dug deeper into my wallet. “If that's not enough, I also have my driver's license, my old teaching license, a couple of fan club cards...”
“Did you still have your government ID?” she asked. Her voice lost a certain edge as she examined the certificate.
I shook my head. “That's what the licenses are. I also have an Ontario health card, but I left my passport at home.” Mostly because I didn't expect to need a passport. Dimensional barriers don't have border guards.
“No. Your personal ID card.” Her mood seemed to switch to one more sarcastic. “The one with your name, home address, file number, details about your government position. You paperwork.”
“Government position...?” I asked. I was suddenly reminded of Mike's comments about landing in the other universe and forced to cope with what this other version of himself had become. What on Earth was I here?
“Yeah. Rick never tossed it, for whatever reason.” She rolled her eyes and didn't speak anymore on it.
I frowned and folded my arms. “I've never worked for the government. Ever. The most that's happened is that I've stolen their equipment and then they came after me, but that was years ago.”
“A likely story,” she snarled back. “It's so easy to fake all of this other paperwork.”
The woman was tough to appeal to, yet she really was my only guide in this world right now. I pieced together everything that I could remember. There's some form of government ID card here, which triggered some snark. The Rick here was a government worker of some kind, but wasn't any longer. Whatever ever he did had to have offended her somehow. And then, the glasses.
“I look like him, don't I?” I lifted my head and looked her right in the eye.
She snorted. “What makes you say that?”
“You took my glasses and didn't realize that I needed them until I asked for them back.” I shook my head again. “I do. I can barely see without them. I'm going to assume, though, that the Rick here doesn't need them. Otherwise there's no reason for you to remove a pair of glasses from a stranger!”
The woman gave me a long stare back.
“What are you trying to say?” she said after a painful moment of silence.
“What I'm saying it that I am Rick. I'm just not your Rick.” I paused. “Where the heck am I?!”
--
It took some prying, but I finally got the woman to talk and explain the nightmare that I had landed in.
Her name was Shayna. The name rung familiar; Shayna was the name of a woman we had helped in a small logging town a couple of years ago. She was what I could only describe as a nice woman who had drawn a bad lot in life. There was a bit of a connection between us, an odd bit of chemistry that I couldn't explain, frustrating Nance. All Mike could offer was that in the other universe that he landed in, the version of myself there had fallen in love with that world's Shayna. So, all I could assume was that I had landed right on top of another world's Shayna, who just happened to hate my very existence.
Here she was a rebel, fighting against unspeakable odds after losing everything; home, family, friends, schooling. From the sounds of it, she should have been in a university on the west coast and was now stuck in some bizarre war torn version of Toronto. She explained that it was 1993, so she naturally figured my birth certificate was a fake; I didn't look the age I should have been. I tried to explain that where I came from, it was 2008. I should have guessed the next question.
She looked away from me as she quietly asked it: “Did we win?”
I swallowed, hard. “This war that you described, the one with the 'supermen'? It never happened at home.” I didn't have the heart to explain that there were super powered beings at home, some of which were friend and others were foe, and that the foes had almost gotten the upper hand on several occasions. Of course, it was nothing to the scale of what she explained.
“But you wear a uniform and carry military gear.” Shayna pointed to my belt, loaded with tools, a battery pack and a holster for a tranquilizer gun that had disappeared at one point, probably in the same manner as the glasses.
“I guess you could say I'm a solider,” I said with a frown. It was the truth, to a point. “But I fight to prevent war and help average people in need. I'm the type of person who lurks in the shadows and keeps things running behind the scenes.”
Shayna bit back a smile, winning at first but slowly lost control and dissolved into a bout of laugher. “It's like something out of a bad movie! The rebels are actually this armed force, with spies everywhere and people like you playing God.”
Okay, so maybe that explanation was a little over the top. “Alright, so maybe we're not rebels in the sense that we're like the ones from Star Wars...”
“Hey,” she interrupted. “Don't you dare insult Star Wars.”
I smirked. Oh, this was just too perfect of a setup. “I am from the future, even if you don't believe me. Lucas eventually finished his film series and I could easily spoil the whole thing for you.” Not that she'd believe my claims of midi-chlorians, but it was worth a shot.
“But what if I want to be spoiled?”
“Then... I'll refuse to explain anything that happens later on.”
Shayna rolled her eyes, although I thought I caught a glimpse of a smile, if only brief. “Fine, so you work with a bunch of really over the top rebels who act like they stepped out of a storybook. Except, you're not fighting some major threat.”
“Actually, there's only a handful of us now. There used to be more. Yeah, the threats we fight against are smaller than a whole race looking to wipe out humanity and the odds are better, but we're had close calls too.” I frowned. “But nothing like this.”
The woman nodded. “And on that note, you're going to leave us for the mystical underground, never to be seen again.”
I fumbled with the small computer on my wrist. Unlike my gun, Shayna had left it on for some reason. I guess it didn't look like a weapon, but if she was that much of a science fiction geek, I was a bit surprised that she didn't think it was a tracking device. It looked the part, because it was.
If it was working.
The gray screen didn't flash on as I played with the controls. Something must have been damaged inside, although what it was I wasn't sure of. This really wasn't my specialty. I just crunch numbers, not rebuild electronics.
“I'm... I'm not going anywhere any time soon,” I told Shayna with a frown. It was a task to hold myself together; there was a growing fear deep inside of me. Every time someone gets trapped in another universe, it's unpleasant for both sides. After Nance, I had sincerely hoped that was the end of it.
“You're going to have to wear something other than a uniform, then,” Shayna grumbled. “The people here don't take kindly to uniformed officers.”
---
Despite my protests, the clothes fit surprising well. I guess that either the disk dog contests, daily training or a combination of the two had helped with my weight; the clothes I was wearing now belonged a 20-something-year old version of myself. A simple black t-shirt and faded jeans, a bit tight in places but livable and very much not selected for appearances, not that I particularly cared anyway. Thankfully she saw it fit that I keep my own underwear and shoes.
That wasn't the most shocking thing, though. It was that she knew that they would fit me, which meant that at some point she was sizing me for clothing, probably while I was asleep. But, that almost meant that she had sized up the Rick here as well.
And yet, she pulled a knife on me.
I shook the thought out of my head. The complexities of having a relationship broken up across universes was something that I didn't want to touch, especially with a dedicated girlfriend back home. If Shayna didn't kill me, Nance would certainly finish the job. And for all I knew, Shayna might have been sizing me up to judge how big of a threat I was. Instead, I just played along.
“Not too bad of a fit,” I commented, brushing some fluff off of the blue jeans.
Shayna tossed me an sharp look. “Get used to it. We don't get to wash them that often. You try going to a laundry mat when there's wanted posters of you plastered all over the place and that's after you dig up enough money to use the damn machines in the first place.”
I chuckled a little at her harsh comment, but her expression didn't soften. Instead, she neatly and quickly folded my jumpsuit and the layers I was wearing underneath, like a prefect hostess. I fought to stop myself from raising an eyebrow at the scene.
Still, she noticed. Damn, she was good.
“Don't take it the wrong way,” she said, placing my uniform into a worn cardboard box. “It's nothing more than logistics. If you wore a uniform like that around the safe house, you'd be dead in seconds.”
I shrugged, mostly to test how much shoulder room I had in my shirt. “That protective?”
“That trained. If you can see a uniform long enough to make out the details, you've either captured, being tortured or about to die. Hit them before they hit you. You should know that.” Shayna stacked my clothes onto of my uniform, clearly to hide it. “And nice clothes like these? Also a trigger. Most people here don't dress that well. You should have packed better.”
That didn't explain if everyone was so “trained”, then why she didn't attack in the same manner. I did look a bit like her Rick, but she gave enough pause to notice reasons not to stick that knife into me. She didn't seem the type to not care and let an government officer live when he posed a threat. Although, I wasn't much of a threat; her actions were more in self defense. The same level of self defense might have also protected part of her emotional well-being, allowing her to pass through training somewhat sane when compared to her fellow rebels.
At least, that was my theory. My skills here were always weak and I knew that didn't take into account how damn angry she was.
“It's not like I knew I was coming here,” I finally explained to her. It was the truth. I should have been in Rhy'Din, happily reuniting with my missing family and leading them back home.
She huffed to herself at my excuse and stuffed the box under the bed. “Rule number one: due to you clothing and that calculator thing on the night stand, no one but you or myself are allowed in here. Rule number two: stop talking so causally about being from another world. It's going to get the two of us killed.”
I nodded. I had said too much, but she believed it. Questioned it, but still believed my outlandish story about being from another world. Combined with her defense of Star Wars, I was starting to think that under that aggressive surface was a fellow geek. That didn't take skill; I could pick out the traits even when I was emotionally disjointed.
“So, now that I have my new uniform, do I get to leave this holding cell? Maybe use the bathroom just for a second?” I asked. Not that I needed to use the washroom just this second, but until I could repair the tracking device that was going to become a specific problem.
Shayna shook her head, brushing back her red hair. “No, I need to take you to see Carl first.”
---
I wasn't sure what I should have expecting.
Entering Devon's study was about equal to entering a principal's office; the fine wood trim, the polished brass finishes, complete with the smells of fine leather and paper that always managed to have a slightly less acidic smell than a library. Usually, we were being hauled in accusations that weren't far removed from what a principal would handle, except with the major planning and finances that an adult would have access to. In short, it involved a large scale and credit cards.
Carl's study couldn't have been more different.
The room was located up on the second floor, which was an improvement on the tiny cell Shayna had kept me locked up in down in the basement. The room was still dark; the curtains were made of heavy, dark fabric, draped over the windows, blocking in any view in or out. The only light was from a dim overhead light bulb and the desk lamp. The desk was that in name only, looking more like a kitchen table covered in scribbled notes and yellowed newspapers. The papers lined the floors too, sitting in boxes piled up across the room.
At the end of the table sat a thin, older man. Couldn't have been younger than forty, but there was a certain spry spring to his step as got up to welcome me and Shayna. It was a sharp contrast to her jagged personality. I guess not everyone ended up like how Shayna claimed.
Shayna seemed to give him enough respect, though. I followed her lead, shaking his hand and exchanging pleasantries. His grip was firm, but that wasn't too surprising. What was was his tone; relaxed and polite, even in the consent state of planning and battle that Shayna mentioned.
“Please, take a seat,” Carl said in that firm but gentle tone that seemed so out of place. I grabbed a chair from the corner, a simple kitchen one that mismatched with the table. While I settled down, Carl excused himself to have a word with Shayna outside.
As Carl closed the door, their voices faded to a quiet din. I knew they had to be talking about something important and without a doubt, something that involved me. I strained to make it out, but the house appeared to be older, with thick walls that filtered sounds from other rooms. No luck.
Glancing around the room, the far wall caught my eye; all of the other walls were covered with normal notes and the like, just text. This one appeared to be a collection of fading photos. Curious, I got up and wandered over. I doubt that Carl would really mind. If they were up, he wasn't ashamed of them.
Although, he probably should have been.
The spot on the wall, over by Carl's chair, was lined with clippings of women clad in slinky gowns and string bikinis, baring the legal limit for exposed skin. Not too hard on the eyes, but I was expecting maps and photos of targets, not a endless train of boobies. Each photo had a caption describing the woman in the photo, attempting to give them seductive personality. They all opened with the same two words: “Sunshine Girl”, followed by the model's name and the rest of the blurb.
“Oh, god no...” I mumbled under my breath, rummaging for any article that had the newspaper's name intact. One on the desk, by Carl's chair, had the title “Toronto Star” still intact across the top. If that wasn't evidence enough, the article itself was about a series of raids at bars on Yonge Street. To top it off, it was complete with a picture of the Zanzibar, just to kick me in the gut while I was down.
The truth became clear; I was in some twisted parody of my former home.
The door opened. I nearly jumped out of my skin, grabbing hold of the table. All Carl did was offer a smile at my reaction.
“Found the collection, huh?” he asked.
Still shaking, I nodded. It was all I could do; try as I might, I couldn't force out any vocal response.
Carl shook his head with a laugh. “Don't worry about it. I have those up for a reason. Share the wealth and all that, even if not everyone understands. Shayna doesn't get it herself, if you want an example.” He walked up beside me in a wholly nonthreatening manner. “I rather like the one in the black evening dress myself.”
I swallowed, hard, finding my voice. “Yeah, but they're a lot more over the top than I remembered them.”
“Came with the war, I'm afraid,” Carl said with a frown. “Went from, well, something a bit nicer, to this. Just the supermen pandering to the carnal needs of humanity to win them over. Preventing us from noticing what was really going on. The latest issues have been featuring military outfits, if you can believe that.”
There was nothing really to be said about it, so I said the stupidest thing I could think of. “I knew things were bad, but I never thought it had gotten this damn awful.”
“Yeah, well... news doesn't really make it outside of the country, I guess. We figured as much. The other cells have their own hands full. I take it you used to be from around here?”
Grasping at straws, still confused by what was going on, I fumbled a response. “Used to be, years ago.” And by years ago, that's years ago in my world, but I wasn't ready to explain that. “Ended up leaving on business, roamed around a bit and eventually settled in Westchester County. Have some friends there, so it all works out.”
Carl nodded. I mentally crossed my fingers that the explanation made some sense in this world.
“What brings you back up here?” the man asked. Apparently, my explanation made some sort sense to him, but it was hard to tell. The more I hung around these people, the more I couldn't help but be confused by them.
“Some of my friends went missing,” I said, looking for more of Carl's approval. He was probably trying to figure out if I was lying or not. I wasn't. Not particularly. More bending the truth. “I tried to follow them, chased down some bad leads, and ended up here.”
“And happened to run smack into Shayna. Sorry about that.” Carl chuckled, genuinely amused at the thought. He must have seen the expression on my face when he mentioned her name. “Still, I think I'll keep her around you until you're able to leave again. Don't take it as hit against you, but she's the most skilled combatant I have on hand. Probably the smartest too. Just consider her some on-hand help, since if anyone has any leads about your friends, it's her.”
Great. Sugarcoat it as much as he tried, it was clear that Shayna was now my warden. I couldn't blame him too much. Shayna was the only one here who I leaked the truth to and the only one who seemed to believe it in some strange way.
The truth that Carl never hinted at, unless this was just one big mind game.
I rubbed the side of my head. “I don't want to cut and run, but I really need to lay down. I'm wiped.”
“Long day. Shayna's waiting outside and she'll take you back downstairs. If you need anything, feel free to ask anyone. As far as we're concerned, you're one of us during your stay. But...” Carl looked over his shoulder to face me as I started to head for the door. “You are one of us in the fullest sense. In return, we'll probably have to ask you to help out around here. Nothing major or high risk.”
I nodded, although all I wanted to do was curl up in that rundown bed for days. Helping out probably meant cleaning the toilets or something, light work. Nothing to worry myself over, at least that's something I felt comfortable hoping on. Not like everything else, like how I was going to get home.
As the door closed behind me, another thought crossed my mind. Carl had never asked for my name.
Shayna was covering for me. Had to have been. Given him an explanation while she was outside, enough that he felt that he didn't have to question details. But... why?
---
“You got lucky.”
I lifted my head from the pillow. I was only now starting to wake up and slowly accept that I was very far away from home.
The latter was the harder to deal with. I couldn't have been away more than a day and the only thing on my mind was to go back home before something terrible happened, either here or at home.
“What do you mean, lucky?” I quirked an eyebrow at her. Now that she was officially assigned to look after me, I didn't feel the need to bury all of the emotions in fear of her wrath.
Shayna brushed her hair back. “Lucky to be alive. Carl could have wasted you right there.”
“By sending you in, of course. I judged from the comments.” It made sense when I thought of it. If Shayna was as good in battle as Carl claimed, having her waiting outside was for his own protection. He didn't mention it until I was ready to leave. “That still doesn't explain why he didn't.”
“I'm at a loss myself,” Shayna said with a shrug, leaning back in her chair. “Didn't tell him about the uniform, or the gun.”
“It's not a gun to kill people with,” I interrupted. “It's a tranquilizer gun. I try to avoid using the real thing.”
She didn't particularly care and continued rambling on. “Whatever. I did tell him that you showed up lost and confused. I'm shocked that he didn't think you were a spy. I think he trusts the glasses too much.”
“Glasses?”
“Supermen don't have to wear glasses, idiot. Of course, you could just be a human spy who actually needs them, providing a convenient front.”
I groaned into my pillow. I really didn't enjoy heading into these tangents. My head still ached from earlier. “I don't know what you're thinking, but I've honestly been telling you the truth,” I pleaded, half mumbling into the bed. “I showed you everything, you said it made sense! All I want is to go home to my family.” My head hurt too much to deal with this mess.
She cocked her head. “Family? You never said anything about a family before. Your team, yeah, but playing the family card now? It's a bit weak.”
I sighed. “My team is my family. I can explain why if you would just please give me some space to think.”
Shayna remained silent for an awkward, long moment. Maybe she took it as a snap back at her, but I didn't see her reach over for her dagger to end it all.
“Well, go on,” she finally spoke up.
“There's four of us, now. The ones that are left. The others are missing, like I said,” I explained. “Mike is our leader, a tall farm boy from the midwest States. Wields a sword.”
Shayna smirked, only slightly, as if she was trying to hide the reaction. “You're kidding me.”
I shook my head. “No, I'm not. He has a sword, but he's the nicest guy you'll ever meet.” I left out the bit about him shape shifting into a wolf to rig contests with me. Might as well not give her something else to question. “I'm, well, I guess you can say I'm second in command. I don't really do much leading, because we know each other enough that we trust each other's judgment. I only really lead if we're split up and under pressure and someone needs to take control.”
“If Mike's the leader, then why didn't he come over in the first place?” Shayna asked. So much for no questions.
“That's because I decided to come over myself. I know a bit about physics, so I wanted to see if I could apply them.”
“So, you're the group's scientist?” That one seemed like a much more honest question. I guess she wanted to get a read on me.
“Yes and no,” I explained. “I can use what I know from time to time in the field, but it's not like I'm crunching numbers and theories all day long. It just comes in handy if things come up.”
“Huh.” Shayna nodded. “Who are the other two?”
“Well, there's Nance. She's... a lot of everything. A bit of a computer expert, but really only at breaking computers instead of building them. And then there's Arnie, who keeps mostly to himself. Good at stealth, but he can be a bit of a bastard sometimes with it.”
“And this somehow manages to be your family?” Shayna didn't really seem too impressed. More distant, if anything. I guess on the surface it seemed like odd. Having lived in it, I could tell you it was odd myself, but I couldn't help but be unsettled by her reaction, or lack thereof.
“Yeah. I have my blood family too,” I added. “And I miss them as well, but I'm used to living away them. The others? This is the first time I've been away from them in ages.”
“Uh.” Still unimpressed. There was something very strange about this woman. Something that I struggled to grasp, not surprisingly. “Well, I'm sure that Carl only planned on having you do housework around here to pay your keep, but if you're as good as you claim you are, you should have no problems keeping pace with me. And surely a little raid won't bother you.”
I buried my face deeper into the pillow. This damn woman kept wanting to challenge me for whatever reason. Let alone that she didn't have any reason to trust me in the first place.
What had I gotten myself into?
This is a fic idea gone crazy. I know where it's going. It's just getting there. It's also probably going to be the longest thing I've written, although tiny for the rest of you guys.
Balancing the Void
Part One: Outside Forces
Rating: PG, at the moment
Fandom: IP&S NV/IP&S AMU crossover.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Notes: Steff challenged me to write a light fic to explain something. It didn't stay so light.
I had a pounding headache. Not the best way to start a mission.
My eyes couldn't seem to focus. Wincing from the light, I could make out someone sitting beside wherever I was laying. It was a woman, hard to tell her age by looking at her backside. The auburn hair that I could barely make out made my stomach sink.
“Nance?” I asked. I was sure it was her, meaning that my attempt to reach Rhy'Din failed horribly. I guess I should be happy I was breathing, but you can't really be happy in laying in the recovery room with Hank waiting in the shadows. My body ached. Must had been a backlash of some sort, be it randomly discharged energy or something else.
The figure moved suddenly. The fuzziness and dull pain made the display impossible to block the attack. She stopped right above my neck. A threat. Not an empty one, either; the cool smell of sharp metal flooded my senses. I knew what that was without even looking. Wasn't particularly happy about it, either.
“Who are you and what did you do to Rick?” the woman demanded. The voice was clearly not Nance's; it was too young, with bitter edge not quite like anything I had heard before.
It was a fight to even force myself to breath; I knew that the knife was probably only a hair away from breaking skin. I held myself as tense and still as I could.
“Get me my glasses and I'll explain,” I said in what I hope sounded like a firm tone.
The woman was quiet for a moment. Without warning, I felt her withdraw the knife; a huge relief, at least for me. I never really cared for knives, not so much in what they were but what they could do. I guess I was fortunate they weren't pulled on me more often.
With the knife gone, there was enough space to let me sit up. Slowly; still stiff from whatever had knocked the wind out of me. 'Was this what the others felt?' I wondered as I rubbed some feeling back into my right arm. Nance never really talked about that and I never pushed her to do otherwise, but Mike mentioned that the shock was more of a daze than a physical pain and the main struggle was from being overwhelmed by the strange world.
Still, I wasn't sure where I was or even what state I was in. Mike's switch was completely mental; his body stayed behind and his mind crossed over to the other universe. With Nance and the others, it was physical; they completely vanished. Maybe it had something to do with Rhy'Din, where there was no other version to swap with. My theory was that no two forms of the same person could exist in a one universe at one time, so a switch would have to maintain that energy balance. On the other hand, there had to be some resistance, which would explain why Mike only traveled in mind and not body.
As to why I traveled in body and not just mind, I wasn't sure. Probably something to do with the level of power I used. Mike and Nance never intended to leave, but I ripped a hole in time and space on purpose. My goal was Rhy'Din, so this balance nonsense wouldn't have mattered. But, I didn't think I was there. I shouldn't have switched places with another Rick, unless that was a freak in naming.
“Hey!” the stern woman snapped. In my train of thought, I had half-forgotten about her.
“Yeah?” I called back in the general direction of her. As soon as I had, I felt something get pushed into my left hand. My glasses. I slipped them on, readying myself for what I'd see.
The room was small and definitely not any place on the estate. The furniture was sparse; nothing but the bed I was sitting on and a chair that the woman was using. The one window in the room was heavily draped and the light bulb over head was on one its last legs As for the woman, she was younger than I expected. College age, at most, but the distant look in her eyes hinted at something much older. Between that and the wicked knife she carried, it was unsettling.
“So, where's this explanation? And where's Rick?” she asked. It was hard to figure out what emotion was behind the question. When it came to reading people, I was okay but not perfect. This woman carried a lot of anger, but I wasn't sure if she was mad at the world or just at me.
Not wanting to tempt fate further, I rummaged through my jumpsuit. Standard issue and I had originally worn it to give my teammates something to identify me by. The woman hadn't commented about it yet and I wasn't in the mood to explain it. Not until I was sure she wasn't going to kill me.
I pulled out my wallet from a chest pocket, quickly pulling out a small battered piece of paper. “Richard Smith, born in Toronto,” I said as I held out the birth certificate. She greedily took it and I dug deeper into my wallet. “If that's not enough, I also have my driver's license, my old teaching license, a couple of fan club cards...”
“Did you still have your government ID?” she asked. Her voice lost a certain edge as she examined the certificate.
I shook my head. “That's what the licenses are. I also have an Ontario health card, but I left my passport at home.” Mostly because I didn't expect to need a passport. Dimensional barriers don't have border guards.
“No. Your personal ID card.” Her mood seemed to switch to one more sarcastic. “The one with your name, home address, file number, details about your government position. You paperwork.”
“Government position...?” I asked. I was suddenly reminded of Mike's comments about landing in the other universe and forced to cope with what this other version of himself had become. What on Earth was I here?
“Yeah. Rick never tossed it, for whatever reason.” She rolled her eyes and didn't speak anymore on it.
I frowned and folded my arms. “I've never worked for the government. Ever. The most that's happened is that I've stolen their equipment and then they came after me, but that was years ago.”
“A likely story,” she snarled back. “It's so easy to fake all of this other paperwork.”
The woman was tough to appeal to, yet she really was my only guide in this world right now. I pieced together everything that I could remember. There's some form of government ID card here, which triggered some snark. The Rick here was a government worker of some kind, but wasn't any longer. Whatever ever he did had to have offended her somehow. And then, the glasses.
“I look like him, don't I?” I lifted my head and looked her right in the eye.
She snorted. “What makes you say that?”
“You took my glasses and didn't realize that I needed them until I asked for them back.” I shook my head again. “I do. I can barely see without them. I'm going to assume, though, that the Rick here doesn't need them. Otherwise there's no reason for you to remove a pair of glasses from a stranger!”
The woman gave me a long stare back.
“What are you trying to say?” she said after a painful moment of silence.
“What I'm saying it that I am Rick. I'm just not your Rick.” I paused. “Where the heck am I?!”
--
It took some prying, but I finally got the woman to talk and explain the nightmare that I had landed in.
Her name was Shayna. The name rung familiar; Shayna was the name of a woman we had helped in a small logging town a couple of years ago. She was what I could only describe as a nice woman who had drawn a bad lot in life. There was a bit of a connection between us, an odd bit of chemistry that I couldn't explain, frustrating Nance. All Mike could offer was that in the other universe that he landed in, the version of myself there had fallen in love with that world's Shayna. So, all I could assume was that I had landed right on top of another world's Shayna, who just happened to hate my very existence.
Here she was a rebel, fighting against unspeakable odds after losing everything; home, family, friends, schooling. From the sounds of it, she should have been in a university on the west coast and was now stuck in some bizarre war torn version of Toronto. She explained that it was 1993, so she naturally figured my birth certificate was a fake; I didn't look the age I should have been. I tried to explain that where I came from, it was 2008. I should have guessed the next question.
She looked away from me as she quietly asked it: “Did we win?”
I swallowed, hard. “This war that you described, the one with the 'supermen'? It never happened at home.” I didn't have the heart to explain that there were super powered beings at home, some of which were friend and others were foe, and that the foes had almost gotten the upper hand on several occasions. Of course, it was nothing to the scale of what she explained.
“But you wear a uniform and carry military gear.” Shayna pointed to my belt, loaded with tools, a battery pack and a holster for a tranquilizer gun that had disappeared at one point, probably in the same manner as the glasses.
“I guess you could say I'm a solider,” I said with a frown. It was the truth, to a point. “But I fight to prevent war and help average people in need. I'm the type of person who lurks in the shadows and keeps things running behind the scenes.”
Shayna bit back a smile, winning at first but slowly lost control and dissolved into a bout of laugher. “It's like something out of a bad movie! The rebels are actually this armed force, with spies everywhere and people like you playing God.”
Okay, so maybe that explanation was a little over the top. “Alright, so maybe we're not rebels in the sense that we're like the ones from Star Wars...”
“Hey,” she interrupted. “Don't you dare insult Star Wars.”
I smirked. Oh, this was just too perfect of a setup. “I am from the future, even if you don't believe me. Lucas eventually finished his film series and I could easily spoil the whole thing for you.” Not that she'd believe my claims of midi-chlorians, but it was worth a shot.
“But what if I want to be spoiled?”
“Then... I'll refuse to explain anything that happens later on.”
Shayna rolled her eyes, although I thought I caught a glimpse of a smile, if only brief. “Fine, so you work with a bunch of really over the top rebels who act like they stepped out of a storybook. Except, you're not fighting some major threat.”
“Actually, there's only a handful of us now. There used to be more. Yeah, the threats we fight against are smaller than a whole race looking to wipe out humanity and the odds are better, but we're had close calls too.” I frowned. “But nothing like this.”
The woman nodded. “And on that note, you're going to leave us for the mystical underground, never to be seen again.”
I fumbled with the small computer on my wrist. Unlike my gun, Shayna had left it on for some reason. I guess it didn't look like a weapon, but if she was that much of a science fiction geek, I was a bit surprised that she didn't think it was a tracking device. It looked the part, because it was.
If it was working.
The gray screen didn't flash on as I played with the controls. Something must have been damaged inside, although what it was I wasn't sure of. This really wasn't my specialty. I just crunch numbers, not rebuild electronics.
“I'm... I'm not going anywhere any time soon,” I told Shayna with a frown. It was a task to hold myself together; there was a growing fear deep inside of me. Every time someone gets trapped in another universe, it's unpleasant for both sides. After Nance, I had sincerely hoped that was the end of it.
“You're going to have to wear something other than a uniform, then,” Shayna grumbled. “The people here don't take kindly to uniformed officers.”
---
Despite my protests, the clothes fit surprising well. I guess that either the disk dog contests, daily training or a combination of the two had helped with my weight; the clothes I was wearing now belonged a 20-something-year old version of myself. A simple black t-shirt and faded jeans, a bit tight in places but livable and very much not selected for appearances, not that I particularly cared anyway. Thankfully she saw it fit that I keep my own underwear and shoes.
That wasn't the most shocking thing, though. It was that she knew that they would fit me, which meant that at some point she was sizing me for clothing, probably while I was asleep. But, that almost meant that she had sized up the Rick here as well.
And yet, she pulled a knife on me.
I shook the thought out of my head. The complexities of having a relationship broken up across universes was something that I didn't want to touch, especially with a dedicated girlfriend back home. If Shayna didn't kill me, Nance would certainly finish the job. And for all I knew, Shayna might have been sizing me up to judge how big of a threat I was. Instead, I just played along.
“Not too bad of a fit,” I commented, brushing some fluff off of the blue jeans.
Shayna tossed me an sharp look. “Get used to it. We don't get to wash them that often. You try going to a laundry mat when there's wanted posters of you plastered all over the place and that's after you dig up enough money to use the damn machines in the first place.”
I chuckled a little at her harsh comment, but her expression didn't soften. Instead, she neatly and quickly folded my jumpsuit and the layers I was wearing underneath, like a prefect hostess. I fought to stop myself from raising an eyebrow at the scene.
Still, she noticed. Damn, she was good.
“Don't take it the wrong way,” she said, placing my uniform into a worn cardboard box. “It's nothing more than logistics. If you wore a uniform like that around the safe house, you'd be dead in seconds.”
I shrugged, mostly to test how much shoulder room I had in my shirt. “That protective?”
“That trained. If you can see a uniform long enough to make out the details, you've either captured, being tortured or about to die. Hit them before they hit you. You should know that.” Shayna stacked my clothes onto of my uniform, clearly to hide it. “And nice clothes like these? Also a trigger. Most people here don't dress that well. You should have packed better.”
That didn't explain if everyone was so “trained”, then why she didn't attack in the same manner. I did look a bit like her Rick, but she gave enough pause to notice reasons not to stick that knife into me. She didn't seem the type to not care and let an government officer live when he posed a threat. Although, I wasn't much of a threat; her actions were more in self defense. The same level of self defense might have also protected part of her emotional well-being, allowing her to pass through training somewhat sane when compared to her fellow rebels.
At least, that was my theory. My skills here were always weak and I knew that didn't take into account how damn angry she was.
“It's not like I knew I was coming here,” I finally explained to her. It was the truth. I should have been in Rhy'Din, happily reuniting with my missing family and leading them back home.
She huffed to herself at my excuse and stuffed the box under the bed. “Rule number one: due to you clothing and that calculator thing on the night stand, no one but you or myself are allowed in here. Rule number two: stop talking so causally about being from another world. It's going to get the two of us killed.”
I nodded. I had said too much, but she believed it. Questioned it, but still believed my outlandish story about being from another world. Combined with her defense of Star Wars, I was starting to think that under that aggressive surface was a fellow geek. That didn't take skill; I could pick out the traits even when I was emotionally disjointed.
“So, now that I have my new uniform, do I get to leave this holding cell? Maybe use the bathroom just for a second?” I asked. Not that I needed to use the washroom just this second, but until I could repair the tracking device that was going to become a specific problem.
Shayna shook her head, brushing back her red hair. “No, I need to take you to see Carl first.”
---
I wasn't sure what I should have expecting.
Entering Devon's study was about equal to entering a principal's office; the fine wood trim, the polished brass finishes, complete with the smells of fine leather and paper that always managed to have a slightly less acidic smell than a library. Usually, we were being hauled in accusations that weren't far removed from what a principal would handle, except with the major planning and finances that an adult would have access to. In short, it involved a large scale and credit cards.
Carl's study couldn't have been more different.
The room was located up on the second floor, which was an improvement on the tiny cell Shayna had kept me locked up in down in the basement. The room was still dark; the curtains were made of heavy, dark fabric, draped over the windows, blocking in any view in or out. The only light was from a dim overhead light bulb and the desk lamp. The desk was that in name only, looking more like a kitchen table covered in scribbled notes and yellowed newspapers. The papers lined the floors too, sitting in boxes piled up across the room.
At the end of the table sat a thin, older man. Couldn't have been younger than forty, but there was a certain spry spring to his step as got up to welcome me and Shayna. It was a sharp contrast to her jagged personality. I guess not everyone ended up like how Shayna claimed.
Shayna seemed to give him enough respect, though. I followed her lead, shaking his hand and exchanging pleasantries. His grip was firm, but that wasn't too surprising. What was was his tone; relaxed and polite, even in the consent state of planning and battle that Shayna mentioned.
“Please, take a seat,” Carl said in that firm but gentle tone that seemed so out of place. I grabbed a chair from the corner, a simple kitchen one that mismatched with the table. While I settled down, Carl excused himself to have a word with Shayna outside.
As Carl closed the door, their voices faded to a quiet din. I knew they had to be talking about something important and without a doubt, something that involved me. I strained to make it out, but the house appeared to be older, with thick walls that filtered sounds from other rooms. No luck.
Glancing around the room, the far wall caught my eye; all of the other walls were covered with normal notes and the like, just text. This one appeared to be a collection of fading photos. Curious, I got up and wandered over. I doubt that Carl would really mind. If they were up, he wasn't ashamed of them.
Although, he probably should have been.
The spot on the wall, over by Carl's chair, was lined with clippings of women clad in slinky gowns and string bikinis, baring the legal limit for exposed skin. Not too hard on the eyes, but I was expecting maps and photos of targets, not a endless train of boobies. Each photo had a caption describing the woman in the photo, attempting to give them seductive personality. They all opened with the same two words: “Sunshine Girl”, followed by the model's name and the rest of the blurb.
“Oh, god no...” I mumbled under my breath, rummaging for any article that had the newspaper's name intact. One on the desk, by Carl's chair, had the title “Toronto Star” still intact across the top. If that wasn't evidence enough, the article itself was about a series of raids at bars on Yonge Street. To top it off, it was complete with a picture of the Zanzibar, just to kick me in the gut while I was down.
The truth became clear; I was in some twisted parody of my former home.
The door opened. I nearly jumped out of my skin, grabbing hold of the table. All Carl did was offer a smile at my reaction.
“Found the collection, huh?” he asked.
Still shaking, I nodded. It was all I could do; try as I might, I couldn't force out any vocal response.
Carl shook his head with a laugh. “Don't worry about it. I have those up for a reason. Share the wealth and all that, even if not everyone understands. Shayna doesn't get it herself, if you want an example.” He walked up beside me in a wholly nonthreatening manner. “I rather like the one in the black evening dress myself.”
I swallowed, hard, finding my voice. “Yeah, but they're a lot more over the top than I remembered them.”
“Came with the war, I'm afraid,” Carl said with a frown. “Went from, well, something a bit nicer, to this. Just the supermen pandering to the carnal needs of humanity to win them over. Preventing us from noticing what was really going on. The latest issues have been featuring military outfits, if you can believe that.”
There was nothing really to be said about it, so I said the stupidest thing I could think of. “I knew things were bad, but I never thought it had gotten this damn awful.”
“Yeah, well... news doesn't really make it outside of the country, I guess. We figured as much. The other cells have their own hands full. I take it you used to be from around here?”
Grasping at straws, still confused by what was going on, I fumbled a response. “Used to be, years ago.” And by years ago, that's years ago in my world, but I wasn't ready to explain that. “Ended up leaving on business, roamed around a bit and eventually settled in Westchester County. Have some friends there, so it all works out.”
Carl nodded. I mentally crossed my fingers that the explanation made some sense in this world.
“What brings you back up here?” the man asked. Apparently, my explanation made some sort sense to him, but it was hard to tell. The more I hung around these people, the more I couldn't help but be confused by them.
“Some of my friends went missing,” I said, looking for more of Carl's approval. He was probably trying to figure out if I was lying or not. I wasn't. Not particularly. More bending the truth. “I tried to follow them, chased down some bad leads, and ended up here.”
“And happened to run smack into Shayna. Sorry about that.” Carl chuckled, genuinely amused at the thought. He must have seen the expression on my face when he mentioned her name. “Still, I think I'll keep her around you until you're able to leave again. Don't take it as hit against you, but she's the most skilled combatant I have on hand. Probably the smartest too. Just consider her some on-hand help, since if anyone has any leads about your friends, it's her.”
Great. Sugarcoat it as much as he tried, it was clear that Shayna was now my warden. I couldn't blame him too much. Shayna was the only one here who I leaked the truth to and the only one who seemed to believe it in some strange way.
The truth that Carl never hinted at, unless this was just one big mind game.
I rubbed the side of my head. “I don't want to cut and run, but I really need to lay down. I'm wiped.”
“Long day. Shayna's waiting outside and she'll take you back downstairs. If you need anything, feel free to ask anyone. As far as we're concerned, you're one of us during your stay. But...” Carl looked over his shoulder to face me as I started to head for the door. “You are one of us in the fullest sense. In return, we'll probably have to ask you to help out around here. Nothing major or high risk.”
I nodded, although all I wanted to do was curl up in that rundown bed for days. Helping out probably meant cleaning the toilets or something, light work. Nothing to worry myself over, at least that's something I felt comfortable hoping on. Not like everything else, like how I was going to get home.
As the door closed behind me, another thought crossed my mind. Carl had never asked for my name.
Shayna was covering for me. Had to have been. Given him an explanation while she was outside, enough that he felt that he didn't have to question details. But... why?
---
“You got lucky.”
I lifted my head from the pillow. I was only now starting to wake up and slowly accept that I was very far away from home.
The latter was the harder to deal with. I couldn't have been away more than a day and the only thing on my mind was to go back home before something terrible happened, either here or at home.
“What do you mean, lucky?” I quirked an eyebrow at her. Now that she was officially assigned to look after me, I didn't feel the need to bury all of the emotions in fear of her wrath.
Shayna brushed her hair back. “Lucky to be alive. Carl could have wasted you right there.”
“By sending you in, of course. I judged from the comments.” It made sense when I thought of it. If Shayna was as good in battle as Carl claimed, having her waiting outside was for his own protection. He didn't mention it until I was ready to leave. “That still doesn't explain why he didn't.”
“I'm at a loss myself,” Shayna said with a shrug, leaning back in her chair. “Didn't tell him about the uniform, or the gun.”
“It's not a gun to kill people with,” I interrupted. “It's a tranquilizer gun. I try to avoid using the real thing.”
She didn't particularly care and continued rambling on. “Whatever. I did tell him that you showed up lost and confused. I'm shocked that he didn't think you were a spy. I think he trusts the glasses too much.”
“Glasses?”
“Supermen don't have to wear glasses, idiot. Of course, you could just be a human spy who actually needs them, providing a convenient front.”
I groaned into my pillow. I really didn't enjoy heading into these tangents. My head still ached from earlier. “I don't know what you're thinking, but I've honestly been telling you the truth,” I pleaded, half mumbling into the bed. “I showed you everything, you said it made sense! All I want is to go home to my family.” My head hurt too much to deal with this mess.
She cocked her head. “Family? You never said anything about a family before. Your team, yeah, but playing the family card now? It's a bit weak.”
I sighed. “My team is my family. I can explain why if you would just please give me some space to think.”
Shayna remained silent for an awkward, long moment. Maybe she took it as a snap back at her, but I didn't see her reach over for her dagger to end it all.
“Well, go on,” she finally spoke up.
“There's four of us, now. The ones that are left. The others are missing, like I said,” I explained. “Mike is our leader, a tall farm boy from the midwest States. Wields a sword.”
Shayna smirked, only slightly, as if she was trying to hide the reaction. “You're kidding me.”
I shook my head. “No, I'm not. He has a sword, but he's the nicest guy you'll ever meet.” I left out the bit about him shape shifting into a wolf to rig contests with me. Might as well not give her something else to question. “I'm, well, I guess you can say I'm second in command. I don't really do much leading, because we know each other enough that we trust each other's judgment. I only really lead if we're split up and under pressure and someone needs to take control.”
“If Mike's the leader, then why didn't he come over in the first place?” Shayna asked. So much for no questions.
“That's because I decided to come over myself. I know a bit about physics, so I wanted to see if I could apply them.”
“So, you're the group's scientist?” That one seemed like a much more honest question. I guess she wanted to get a read on me.
“Yes and no,” I explained. “I can use what I know from time to time in the field, but it's not like I'm crunching numbers and theories all day long. It just comes in handy if things come up.”
“Huh.” Shayna nodded. “Who are the other two?”
“Well, there's Nance. She's... a lot of everything. A bit of a computer expert, but really only at breaking computers instead of building them. And then there's Arnie, who keeps mostly to himself. Good at stealth, but he can be a bit of a bastard sometimes with it.”
“And this somehow manages to be your family?” Shayna didn't really seem too impressed. More distant, if anything. I guess on the surface it seemed like odd. Having lived in it, I could tell you it was odd myself, but I couldn't help but be unsettled by her reaction, or lack thereof.
“Yeah. I have my blood family too,” I added. “And I miss them as well, but I'm used to living away them. The others? This is the first time I've been away from them in ages.”
“Uh.” Still unimpressed. There was something very strange about this woman. Something that I struggled to grasp, not surprisingly. “Well, I'm sure that Carl only planned on having you do housework around here to pay your keep, but if you're as good as you claim you are, you should have no problems keeping pace with me. And surely a little raid won't bother you.”
I buried my face deeper into the pillow. This damn woman kept wanting to challenge me for whatever reason. Let alone that she didn't have any reason to trust me in the first place.
What had I gotten myself into?
