On the sleepy Seattle sidewalk outside the apartment building among the frail trees planted on the entrance's lawn, Victoria pulls out a cell phone, the flip ones I used to see as a kid, and dials someone.
"Hello?" She starts. "Hey! How are you big guy!? Aw, you're not happy to hear from me- Fine, I need a pickup from Seattle. I don't know where- at some crumby apartment complex! Just use my phone to find the location like you always do. Ok, bye." She hangs up and grabs my hand.
I swear she needs to stop this. "What are you grabbing me for?" I growled as I wretch my hand away from her.
"Trust me. If you want to get to D.C. we have to get a little close."
Just as I'm about to protest further, a red dot appears next to us. Then the red dot turns into a line, that gradually makes itself into a circle right beside us. The second the circle closes a beam of light shoots into the sky and produces a loud fwoosh sound like a jet engine taking off. But as quickly as the light pillar appears it dissipates into strings of light that scatter in the wind, along with the red circle on the ground.
"Were we supposed to be inside of that?" I ask her. Judging from Victoria's disgruntled face I think we were.
She lets go of my arm, swiftly flips out her phone, and slams the keys to what I assume is the same number. Once she gets through she says, "You missed… Don't blame this on me I'm not the one drawing the circle! Aim two feet to the right this time." By her command, a new circle opens its way under our feet and a new beam shoots up from it.
As scarlet light envelops our world it feels like we're moving with the rushing light. A combination of weightlessness and uncontrollable speed overwhelms me. Woah! It feels like I'm flying!
Wind roars and rips past my clothes making it hard to keep my eyes open. My cheeks stretch open and flap while my body tightens under the force of the high-speed light tunnel we're on. I blink and lose sight of Victoria inside the speedway. My hands can't hold out any more and release my things into the infinite red. My muscles are tightening up at the force of this speed, and it's still increasing!
The bearable pace I'd started flying at quickly snowballs into a speed that makes my head feel like it's being crushed on all sides! My clay limbs stretch and morph, aching as bones and skin triple in length. When will it stop!? My vision gets darker and the toll the force has on my body gradually gets worse until the red around me flicks off like someone hit a switch. My momentum grinds to a halt, the magical flight ending in a sudden landing and my face pointed towards the blue sky.
The light speed I was just subjected to doesn't smash me against the floor, but my back doesn't appreciate the uncomfortable landing and my teeth take a moment to recover from how much I was clenching them. My body's still shaking. It's over but I can't stop shaking!
"What..?" I huff, exhausted and out of breath.
"Up and at em' recruit!" Victoria yells over me.
"Wait... just one minute."
Wobbling to my knees, lush grass and an assortment of cerulean, rose, green, black, and white-colored flowers surround me. Each is placed along the red brick pathway I landed on while people wearing identical black suits, dress pants, and shoes with ties in a variety of colors buzz along like worker bees. Their hive, a large ivory-colored building held up by five rounded pillars, each covered in flowers the same color as the ones sitting around me, and a small American flag waving on top.
"Is this where the Curators work?" I ask, lifting myself off the ground.
"Yep! This is our… and soon to be your headquarters. Come on let's get a look inside." She smirks as she walks toward the building.
After collecting my things that crashed around me, I follow Victoria along the pathway of flowers toward the Curator's headquarters. Taking a second look though, this all feels a little… unreal. I mean, I just flew over 2,000 miles, cross country in 3 seconds, and now I'm going to be serving as a Curator for the government.
I can't be qualified. Maybe they'll have me doing a desk job instead of anything important. It won't be as intense as going out and gathering Antiques but it's something. Maybe it'll get my mind off…
"We're here!" Victoria says, breaking my train of thought.
She leads the way up the white stairs, pushing in the mahogany doors to a long line of suits crowding the way in.
"Why are these people blocking our way in?"
"Curators have to check in when we bring back an Antique so they can get marked down as captured. And you're going to be a big payday for me since we get bonuses for how many we turn in!"
"All I am is a paycheck to you then?"
"Of course not! I only consider about ninety percent of you is a paycheck!" She answers without hesitation.
"Wow. Thank goodness you value ten percent of my humanity. How thoughtful."
"Don't mention it!" She grins. "Paychecks don't bitch and moan nearly as much as you do anyway, so I can't help but see you as a person."
As we inch our way through the line, the inside of the Curator Headquarters exposes itself more and more.
Hanging right in front of the entrance, probably the first thing anybody would notice walking in is the 20-foot American flag draped along the railings of the indoor balcony that runs along the circular walls of the main entrance. Dead vines and flowers hang lifelessly along the railings of staircases that wind and contort their bodies from the floor up to the balcony, and dried petals of different colors garnish the snow-white tiles under me. It'd be easy to mistake the building for a greenhouse.
With every step, the main room gets bigger and bigger, and when you thought it couldn't get any bigger it expands tenfold. Glossy wooden doors open and close, shoes circling around and above until the sounds dizzy my ears. Curators enter rooms and seemingly come out on different floors on the complete opposite side of the building in an instant. It's like if look at one place I'll miss five other things happening behind me!
"Can't I just keep this one!?" A man with a heavy accent, slick black hair, a curled mustache, and a worried face asks as he hurriedly opens a door to my left and slams it shut behind himself. Then, his head swivels like he's looking for something before he sprints towards us in the main entrance line.
Tightly gripped in the man's hand is a can of soda and tucked in his left arm is a young Asian girl with a lilac bun, a peaceful smile, and two black and blue gloves.
"Excuse me, mi amico!" He smiles before he effortlessly leaps three feet over my head.
"What the...?" I exclaim while the man runs down a hallway to my right, only stopping momentarily to look back toward me and the direction he came from.
A blast of fire scorches the door and a force from behind it crashes its charred remains into the other end of the hall.
"No you cannot keep it, so stop running you thief!!" A woman's voice yells from the doorway.
But instead of a woman, a human-shaped figure made entirely of golden flames bursts out of the room. A wisp with a faint outline of eyes scooped out its flamed skull turns its head around just like the man did. Once they point their head toward where the man had just run, it shoots after him.
The fireball moves like a snake, sliding hunched over maybe an inch off the ground. It weaves its way between passing Curators and births a trail of fire from its steps. Hold on, the fireball is coming straight for us!
I step back, but before I can think to move out of the way, a hot gust of wind blows as it slithers around me. I look back and only catch the tail of its flame entering another mystery door that could lead to anywhere imaginable.
"What... just happened?"
"Nothing special," Victoria commented.
Victoria must be right because she and every other Curator in line stand around like nothing important had happened. Is that normal? Am I going to have to expect things like that from now on?
Above us, golden daylight streaming through a round glass ceiling in the center of the main room shifts to an orange hue as the sun starts to set. Finally, the line disperses until we're the last ones left, and at the end of it is a round reception desk and the backside of a figure shuffling underneath.
Victoria slams her hand onto the hard black desk, "Hey! We've waited an hour Ghislain and we're next! Get up here!"
"Sorry Vic, it's been really busy today." A gentle voice apologizes as his head lifts from under the desk. Standing up straight, the figure's soft, docile voice is completely out of place on the monumental body looking back at us. He was tall. Abnormally tall. He has to be 8 feet at least. His light brown bald head, which should be reflecting light from the window above, remains pitch black as if it was inviting darkness to it, and an ominous aura emanates from his face putting me even more on edge. Every muscle in his body looks like it's ready to burst out of the tight suit he's wearing.
"Who's this" Ghislain asks as he turns to me.
"Ren Lu... ugh sir." I stuttered.
"You don't need to call me sir. I'm only a year older than Vic, and you look far older than her."
"I'm only twenty-six, I'm not old."
"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you sir! You look really good for your age!" His voice and stature might not fit together, but his personality matches his earnest tone and sweet smile.
"Can we cut the small talk!" Victoria interrupts, "The reason I've brought him here is that I want him to become a Curator!"
Ghislain frowns hearing this, not the response I need from what looks like the person who'll be deciding whether I get dissected or walk free.
"I'm so sorry sir for whatever Vic told you but we don't hire just anyone to become a Curator." He reaches into his pocket and places a one-hundred-dollar bill in front of me. "Here, take this for the trouble and I'll return you to whatever street corner she stole you from." Again, his hand enters his chasm-sized pockets to retrieve two crayons. One red and one blue.
"What are the crayons for?"
"Oh these? They're,
Antique #05: Waypoint
The user may draw on any geographically accurate map using the red and blue crayons, and a beam of light will teleport anything within the red point to wherever the blue point was drawn.
"They'll get you back to where you came from."
So that's what teleported us here. Wait, "I'm not homeless and I don't live on a street corner!"
"You need to learn not to judge someone based on their appearances Ghislain. No matter how true it looks." Victoria points out.
"I'm wearing semi-clean clothes, I can't still look that bad!"
"You don't look the part, but you definitely smell like it. Soap isn't that expensive you know."
Ghislain hastily reaches over the desk and softly grasps my hand with both of his. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for jumping to conclusions! You look and smell like a very well-kempt person! But if you're not another homeless person Victoria has tricked into coming here then why are you with her?
"Another? How did you manage to do that once? Why did you do that?" I ask her.
"We're getting off-topic! What matters is this guy's is an Antique!" Victoria proudly boasts as she places her hand on my shoulder.
If they don't stop touching me, I swear…
"Oh, so Ren was your latest mission? Then I'll mark him as found in the database and you can bring him down…" Ghislain starts typing something on his computer while he speaks. His fingers look way too big for the keys, but it looks like he doesn't have trouble navigating it.
"Instead of doing all of that," She interrupts "why don't we do something interesting and make him a Curator."
"Oh! You want to make Mr.Lu a Curator to save him from losing his freedom! That's so kind… and unlike you."
"You're right which is why I'm not doing it for him! Things have been getting waaayyy too boring around here. A new recruit always spices things up! And I was thinking I could take some of the money he gets from capturing Antiques since I brought him. Kinda like a finders fee." A mischievous grin ran along her face; she could barely hide her greed-fueled excitement.
"And is this something you want too Mr.Lu?"
"I'll take it over getting looked up," I respond.
"Hm," He mumbles. "I'd hate to see such a young man like you put in an Antique locker. It's nearly time for everyone to clock out so I'll ask the Chief about this, and I can give you her answer tomorrow. How does that sound!?"
"You'd do that for me! I guess the reason you're so big is because of that big heart in there!" Victoria beamed.
"Aw, Vic you're being too nice!" Ghislain beamed right back.
"And if you really want to show off that big heart of yours, you could give me the hundred dollars you were about to give Ren."
"And you ruined it." Ghislain drops the money into Victoria's grubby hand.
"Thanks a lot." I reach out my hand to shake his.
"My pleasure," Ghislain responds as he takes his right hand and eclipses mine for a handshake.
"Alright you two. Quit making out so me and Ren can go." She turns around towards the door expecting me to follow.
"Go where?" It's getting late I don't think I can take getting dragged somewhere else.
"Home, you're spending the night at my house."
"No way that's happening. I appreciate all you've done but there's no way I'm sleeping with you."
"It's either that or you get to sleep in one of the few cells we have for holding people-sized Antiques."
A prison cell could honestly be better than wherever she lives. Potentially a soft comfy bed too. "How bad are the prison cells?"
"Yo Ghislain!" She yells, "How clean are the lockers in the basement?"
"The ones that aren't in use are supposed to be dusted off by you. Remember you offered to do it for extra pay?"
"And the fact that I don't remember ever cleaning them should tell you what condition they're in," Victoria grins.
Cells that haven't been cleaned in years in the basement of a government facility, or sleeping in the same house as Victoria? Not an easy choice.
"You have five seconds."
"I'll go with you then. But try mind-controlling me or anything weird and I'll split your head open."
"You're no fun! The mind-controlling wasn't even that bad, you didn't die! That's better than most people!"
"Promise me you won't do it again!"
"Fine. I'll just have to cancel all the fun Card Command-related things we could do together." She pouts. "Now can we go?"
"Fine" I grumble, "Thanks again Ghislain!"
"Have fun sleeping at Vic's!" His pearly white teeth and waving hand merrily dismissed.
Have fun, you can't be serious. I just hope I can get out with whatever dignity I have left. "Thanks," I politely respond as Victoria leads me to the way out.