When I was young I liked to sneak around in the dark wearing black clothes to see how good I was at concealing myself. I got pretty good at hiding in the shadows and figuring out even where to hide in the light to not be noticed. Sometimes the most obvious spots were the best spots not to be seen.
Sitting on a step, I stared over the railing of the stairwell looking down at the door I had to go through in order to find out the information we needed, I had no idea how many people were in the room. It had been an hour since I had seen the inside of it and McCoy probably got his reinforcements approved so there was no telling the count of people in that room.
Remembering the layout of the room in detail, all the tables were covered with laptops and paperwork and the whiteboard at the front of the room with the photo's and notes on it. There wasn't much else to the room.
Focusing on the room I could feel my eyes start to twitch and a haze blur my vision as I put the image deep in the back of my mind. Knowing this is what I wanted I focused all emotion on that image. My right hand started to twitch. Closing my eyes I could see in the office space. No one was in the room at all. McCoy's office had voices echoing through the door.
Quickly I opened my eyes and headed down the stairs to the door. Soft and gentle I opened the door and peered in crouching down. Seeing no one around, I slid into the room and hugged the wall. My back pressed against it, I slid down the wall to the right corner in the darkness. Making my way down the room to the front wall I ducked under a desk to get a look at the whiteboard.
Bob and Remy were on the wall with pictures of the kids. Interestingly enough, the photos were of them in the backyard of my house. They had several photos of Matt. Of course, the majority of them were of him with different women coming and going from his apartment building. They had pictures of all the people from my different companies tagged with names, job titles, which company and lists of family. Then there were the photos of me.
They had photos of me with as many people as they could find. A good portion was not taken by them. Some were taken with celebrities and politicians. Those were easy to come by on the internet or from magazines.
It didn't stop there. The wall next to the whiteboard was filled with photos of every business that they could track me to with all kinds of documents from the companies, anything from interoffice memos to random e-mails.
Finally, I saw pictures of my parents which had next to them my adoption records. Next to that was my original birth certificate with the name of my mother. Father was left blank. I had a copy myself so it was nothing new. Even then, the blank father line made me wonder.
Popping up from under the desk I started looking at the paperwork on the desks. Next to one of the laptops was my tax records ordered in piles. You had a personal pile and a separate pile for each company standing close to twenty in all. On another desk were all the deeds to the property they could track me to. Those were too numerous to count
Flipping through all the deeds I found that they knew less than I thought. Only about 5% of the property was actually there. It was good to know because this was something I was very concerned about. None of the hidden houses were in the pile.
It was interesting, though I wasn't sure how long they had this department open, they just didn't seem to have that much information. It seemed like this had been going on for some time and with all the government at their disposal it was extremely light.
Another pile for another laptop was just random photos of people I had never seen before. There was about a hundred photos. I flipped through a bunch of them, but didn't recognize a single person. Why would they have these random people listed with me?
Toward the back of the room was a laptop with a ton of medical data. It was all the scans and everything else they took from the Hospital. Now this was very telling information for a government agency. In a pile were all the scans they did, including my CAT Scan. I picked it up and held it to the very dim light. It was no wonder they were looking for me with all the active areas of my brain.
My uncle, who's picture was on the wall, was a doctor and I grew up looking at X-Rays and Scans like this. Technology has always fascinated me. In all the years of looking at CAT Scans I had never once come across one that had so much activity. It was very strange and in a way surreal to know it was mine up in front of me.
Going through some other paperwork I started to get a kind of panicked feeling like something wasn't right. None of this felt right. Not one of the pieces made any sense to the puzzle.
I moved to the glass board with the map on it. Markings all over told the story of where I had been. Even trips out of the country were listed with dates next to them. Oddly enough, I never knew I had been so many places. When you're the one going places all the time you lose track after awhile.
Still, the uneasy feeling about this place wouldn't go away. Information can always be a weapon, but the information in this room wasn't really telling about anything. Even the medical data really didn't say anything definitively.
Why would they create an agency for me without having something more compelling to drive such a bold move? Lost was a good description of the feeling running through my body which was never a good sign for me.
With that feeling inside, I moved into that very dark corner. Sliding down the wall, I sat on my butt and just looked out over the entire room. Was I missing something? Did they have another hidden office floor? Did they have more information someplace else?
As I sat there, I started to wonder what McCoy had in his office. Maybe, there was nothing out here on all these desks because he had the important information in his office. It was searching for ideas and just grasping at straws. A better description I was looking for needles in a stack of needles, but I did expect to see more laid out for three teams of people. That was a lot of money to be spending on speculation and conjecture.
Hearing a door open toward the front, I ducked under a desk at the back. It was McCoy and the female agent talking to one another as they headed for the door to the stairwell.
"The kid has a ton of money and the ability to skip around wherever he wants to go," McCoy stopped and was angered by something she said.
"Listen to me now, this is no kid! His age may fool you, but he was born different than everyone else. You take away the degrees and accomplishments and this guy would still be smarter than anyone we know! Don't be deceived by any of the Glamour that is put out in front of you," he turned and kept walking. "John gave us enough information and facts to know he is telling the truth and on that young man's 21st birthday he will become the most profound individual on the planet and the scary part is he will also become the most powerful! We have to find him!"
"Okay, sorry, sir. I'm not privy to all the information you have, yet," she was attempting to defend herself.
They walked out the door in front of me and I rushed down the aisle to McCoy's office. Shutting the door behind me, I started looking through the papers on his desk. Most of the paperwork I had thrown on the floor earlier was still on the floor. Digging through the desk was just a bunch of the same data that was sitting out on the desks.
On the floor I started reading bits and pieces of everything until finally I got to something. It didn't make a lot of sense, but it was something.
"Security: Top Secret
Type: Memo
Subject: Regarding guest named "John"
This is for Dept. Director's eyes only.
John has given us enough information to move forward with the project. Effective immediately, a new department will be created under Deputy Director S. McCoy. He will be given all support needed into the discovery of information about "Michael" and the identities of the other 6.
Full inter-department and inter-agency cooperation has been agreed to and signed off on by the Commander and Chief.
Initial Goals:
1. Collect information on "Michael" and all known associates.
2. Identify the other 6.
3. Detain "Michael".
4. Study and observer "Michael".
Steven W. Harris
Director, NSA"
My head was spinning a bit. What in the world did that mean? The letter didn't say why they wanted me. It was pretty nerve racking to see my name all over a memory from the Director of the NSA, though.
My mind was running overtime on "Other 6". That didn't make very much sense unless they were talking about one of the boards for one of my companies. Then again, it could have been just six of my companies. It could be they found one of my seven hidden houses and were looking for the others. None of this tied back big enough for the 'Commander and Chief' to sign off on all this manpower.
Thinking about it like that gave me some chills, the President had signed off on these four directives. Three of them specifically said my name.
Who in the world was John? I knew a lot of John's, but to be the subject of an NSA memo? Highly doubt any of the John's I knew would have that kind of background or knowledge. In a way all of it was flattering, in the end.
There were a lot of issues to talk about and deal with. Folding the paper neatly into quarters I stuck it in my back pocket for later. Going through a few more papers I saw another one that grabbed my attention. Under that was another one and another one. There were fifteen pages in all that I wanted to read over.
In the background I could hear the door open at the other end of the hallway. Two men's voices were going back and forth with one another. I crammed all my pockets full of papers and put my back against the wall next to the door. If the door opened I'd be behind it.
The two men sounded stopped by the door. I snuck open the door and took a peak out. They were way at the back of the floor near the door. Sneaking out, I closed McCoy's door behind me and shot out under the desk closest to me.
They walked into the room still chatting and ended up at desks toward the middle of the pile. If my childhood paid off at all, I'd be able to stay still and listen in and gather some banter between them. Hopefully, more would slip out and I could start putting this puzzle together.
"Do you know why we're looking for this guy?" the one closest to me asked.
"Not at all," the other replied carelessly. "If we're looking for him then it has to be something pretty serious, though. They don't send us out after Serial Killers and Rapists. I figure national secrets or he's selling arms to some other country like Iran or Korea."
"Have you heard the rumors around here, though?" the first guy lowered his voice almost to a whisper even though they were the only two in the room.
"I've heard some stuff. Why? What have you heard?" he was whispering, too.
"I heard we have some guy feeding us information about this kid."
"Earth shattering, Mark. Wow!" he was unimpressed.
"Yeah, well, the guy is 21 and doesn't have a Social Security Number or Birth Certificate. The one he was using for his license was from a dead kid in the 1940's, Ray." Ray seemed more impressed as he didn't say anything for a moment.
"Well, that's not too surprising considering a lot of people use to do that back in the day so it was probably easy to look up how to do it," it was a logical conclusion.
"No, you don't get it. This guy had been pretending to be this dead kid since a day after his death. They have pictures of him using the kids name all the way back to that time. That's what I heard anyway," Mark said sternly with revelation.
"That's pretty interesting," Ray paused and the room was silent. "Not that it matters much, but I heard this kid took an IQ test for his entrance into MIT and they couldn't score it." I remembered that happening. They told me it was a flaw in the program they used and that there was no need to retake it.
"So, the program was screwed or test flawed or something?" Mark said with a puzzled tone.
"No, he scored so high that didn't have a scale to score it with," the two of them were silent for some time. Interesting. I learned something about myself.
Swinging open, I could hear the hinges creak on the stairwell door. "Hello, sir," Ray said.
"Ray, I need you to run down to the FBI office. Ask for Agent Stockman. He has some paperwork I need." He was confident with barking out orders.
"I'm on it," Hearing the door open and shut again.
"Mark, will you run down and get me some fucking coffee outside this building. Go to Starbucks or something and get some extra shots of espresso." Must have been all the long hours looking for me.
"No problem. You want something with it?"
"Nah." After he left, McCoy walked down the aisle whistling and into his office.
I needed all the information I could get. If I needed to leave I knew I could in a moment's notice, or at least I had hoped so. Peaking my head out from under the desk, I looked around and made sure the coast was clear.
Getting up I walked over to McCoy's door letting myself in and locking it behind me. McCoy looked up from his desk and saw me standing in front of him.
"I heard a very strange rumor you were looking for me," his face was a little shocked and he was trying to hold it in at the same time. Walking over to the blinds, I pulled them down and looked at the street below. A garbage can was below us in the alley. "Not a bad view."
"Yes, we, as in the government of the United States, are looking for you," he was too heavy handed with it.
My eyes twitched and my right hand shook. "Careful now, Scott, we don't want to upset the target now do we?" He leaned forward in his chair looking at me.
"So, you're the famous Michael?" there was more than a hint of sarcasm seething from him.
"I would have chosen Infamous, Scott." He started to rise from his chair, "Scott that would be a bad idea. I'm sure you have a detailed report about what happened in my apartment," I pulled the FBI badge from my pocket and threw it on his desk. "You can return that now," I said sarcastically.
"Why are you here?" finally we were getting to it and he was asking the important questions.
"I needed to know what you knew about me and what the fuck is going on. Oh and why?" crossing my arms in front of him.
"I don't see why I can't tell you, " he stood up and came out from behind his desk. "It's a little obvious though, isn't it? You have developed a very unique ability. That enough should answer your questions." He would normally have been right.
"Who's John?" he looked down at his desk.
"Ah. Yes. I guess you would know by now, wouldn't you." I just stared at him. "John is the, let's call him a family member, that ratted you out!"
Family members I didn't even know I had. It was a little strange to hear, but not all that surprising. I'd seen my mother in my own mind before. My parents died long ago. I could have lots of family floating around I knew nothing about.
"Who are 'the Other 6'?" I looked right into his eyes.
He started to laugh, "I wish I knew! This job would be done by now. I don't know who they are or what it's about. Only a very few high ranking people do." I wanted it to be a lie, but it wasn't. He was telling the truth, I could feel it.
He looked around the desk and the floor. I knew what he was thinking, "Yes, that was me earlier and then I was in here about ten minutes ago." He smiled.
"Of course you were," he seemed please by it.
"And you were right about a couple of things," I was moving toward the door.
"Yeah, like what?" he was feeling some righteous indignation.
"I was born different from everyone else," I had always known that.
I turned to leave when the door opened. Mark was back with the coffee. McCoy jumped out at me and grabbed me from the back. Mark had dropped the coffee and was trying to get hand cuffs out. Throwing my head back I felt McCoy's nose crack all over the back of my head. We stumbled backward toward the window. Closing my eyes I thought of the garbage can below in the alley. Focusing only on the garbage can and my left hand started to shake and my eyes twitched.
We never touched the glass, but we were on the other side of it falling four stories to the garbage can below. I could hear some things we landed on snap along with some bones. McCoy was behind me and sounded like he was breathing. Jumping out of the garbage can I looked up, the window on the fourth floor was entirely intact.
"Scott, I truly hope you're okay. Sorry about that." I didn't want to hurt the poor guy.
I took off down the alley. The first cab I came to I hopped into and told them to drive. We were somewhere in New York. Right then I knew I could get lost in the crowd of New York with a problem.
We drove for about ten blocks and I jumped out. Not knowing where exactly I was, but I got out and walked into a McDonald's and headed for the bathroom. Once I got in the bathroom I went into a very disgusting stall and closed my eyes. Thinking about 'The Artist's Loft' and focusing on that thought. Nothing happened. My hands weren't shaking. My eyes weren't twitching. Nothing hazed up.
This was the first time I tried it that it didn't working for me. Maybe it was the place or just too many people. Having no idea what was wrong, it was uneasy sitting in one spot for any length of time. Leaving the stall and then McDonald's, I headed for the nearest subway entrance.
Disappearing in front of a bunch of people would be bad. In New York, though, where in the hell do you go if you don't want to find a bunch of people? It's a tiny island with twelve million people on it.
Running down into the subway, I paid the toll and ran for the train. Getting on and deciding to stay on it as while collecting my thoughts. Right now they were sporadic and jumping frantically around in my mind.
Strangely lost was the feeling I was getting after not being able to move back to South Dakota in an instant. It was quite humbling for it to happen, thought made me realize I didn't know enough about it or how to even control what was happening.
Riding around on the subway I had time to analyze what it was that kept me from moving. It couldn't be that people were watching. Matt, Bob, Remy, Alley and some others had seen me do it in front of them. Being in McDonald's was the cosmic deciding factor for not moving.
The subway tunnels were kind of like riding around on a rollercoaster at night. Lights here and there with some dark spots which together made you feel like you were moving much faster than you actually were. Watching the stations go by until there were only a few people in the car I was in, was good for my anxiety.
"Michael. Michael I need you," a voice was rattling around in my head. Lights blinked in and out on the train car as the tunnels came and went.
My vision started to blur as the voice was getting louder and louder. The lights seemed to be staying out longer and longer. Stations were taking longer to get to in-between stops. My head started to vibrate and my eyes were twitching so hard that my head started to throb in pain.
"Michael, we need you," it was so loud, that soft tranquil hypnotizing voice. She felt like a soft whisper in my ear every time she spoke. It was warm and inviting.
The screeching wheels of the train were killing my head and making the pain even worse. My eyes closed and I put my hands over my ears. The train was getting louder and louder. No matter what I did I couldn't keep the pain or the noise out of my head. Over and over, the woman's voice just kept talking. Needing to follow her, but it hurt so bad, it was a pulsating throb.
Finally it got so bad I was on my knees in the car screaming out. It was ringing worse than any migraine I had ever had. She wouldn't stop talking.
The car was slowing for the next stop. Getting off and away from the screaming wheels before my head exploded, was the only need. I opened my eyes to complete darkness; my heart was beating like a rabbits with one unison beat.
In the middle of the car through the glass windows of the door, I could see a red and orange light showing through. Looking in both directions of the car I became very nervous, no one was on the train. Not one single person seemed to be in the car or the next cars. Rising, to my feet the doors opened.
Subsiding pain in my head, I could still hear the voice calling. She was outside my head my head, outside the train. The pull was magnificently strong, much stronger than any time before.
At the doors I looked out and saw the light across the platform. Black tiled walls covered the platform where light reflected off. There were no sounds anywhere except the woman's voice calling to me as if someone had hit the mute button. Nervous shock was running through my body, but the need to fulfill my curiosity was stronger.
Stepping out onto the black tile I could see the red, orange and yellow lights were coming from behind the pale white skinned red headed woman I had seen before in the NSA building. This time she was wearing a long flowing black spaghetti strap gown. Black tile was behind her, but certain tiles would change colors then glow making it look like torch flames at certain spots on the wall. It was pretty ingenious looking as a lighting concept.
"Michael, I need you," she put her arms out to me.
Walking around to the left of her I looked at the black ever changing wall. Oddly enough, she turned her head but didn't move. Desire was almost overpowering to run into her arms, but something felt wrong about this entire thing. What happened to all the people? Did I fall asleep on the train? Was this a dream?
Whatever it was, I knew it was getting tiring. Too many questions and not enough answers, too much of everything going on in my head all at once. Everything was starting to spin in my head and outside. Spinning faster and faster I looked up and fell to my knees. It was all too much. My eyes started to twitch along with both of my hands and my head.
"Michael," anger was building up inside of me.
"Enough," I yelled out and every tile in the station cracked. The woman's air blown hair stopped blowing. "Either you tell me what the hell is going on or I'm walking up those stairs and will never pay attention to your voice ever again," screamed out my voice as I pointed to the subway entrance.
"Ha, ha, ha," she bellowed out in a deep thunderous voice. "You dare talk to me like that," but this was no woman's voice echoing from her mouth.
Watching carefully, the woman morphed into a man in a black suit with no shirt on underneath. He was holding a black cane with some kind of silver emblem head on it. His hand was covering the mold blocking my view.
Standing up, he walked over to me. He was my height and about thirty pounds of muscle larger. His hair was midnight black as were his eyes. Trying to tell how old he was or what he actually looked like was almost impossible. His face seemed to change a little bit every few seconds.
"Michael, Michael, Michael," he said with an eloquent and controlling tone that didn't stutter and never seemed to shake. "Lost in your own world of nonsense and you try to figure out the insanity that has become your life," his calm laughter made me uneasy although it was charming in some strange way.
"Well, if you know so much, why don't you fill me in?" trying to play up to the thought that he wanted to be superior and have all the answers, flattery.
"Oh, what fun would there be in that, Michael," I could feel my eyes twitch and roll back in my head. A name flashed into the back of my mind. "Happening more and more often, isn't it Michael?"
Interesting that he knew something about it or pretended to, "Yes, Baal. It is."
He stopped and looked at me, "Very good. Very good indeed." He walked away from me, his cane tapping the tile every few steps as the end was tossed in the air and landed. "I cannot tell you details, Michael. Nor do you truly need me to. All the answers you wish are coming sooner than you know. Michael, there is only one constant in this world….."
"Yes, Baal. Change is the only constant," he smiled at me.
"Yes, you will know all too soon." He turned and walked toward the wall. When he reached it he turned back to me, "When you do know, Michael, there will only be one question left to answer," my face showed my puzzlement at this. "Is it really you?" As his head turned to the wall, he vanished into the black in a cloud of black smoke as that too was sucked into the tile.
In the distance I could hear a train coming. It was faint as the artificial fire light faded to black, again. Footsteps smacked down all around me, growing louder. The lights overhead flickered and then came on. All around me out of nothing people were walking past. A group of them stopped and looked at me.
A woman said, "Where did he come from?" I was more concerned with Baal. Was this another fabrication of my mind like my Mother?
He knew more about what was going on than I did. Of course, if I was going insane, all of this was being fabricated by my own mind. Pictures of me being locked in a padded room somewhere or strapped down in some type of catatonic state raced through my head.
Running up the stairs back to the streets of New York, I felt some relief to be around normal every day people. It had almost escaped my mind, what with talking to the strange man with the cane that I was initially on the train to get away from the NSA that was no doubt looking for me at that very moment.
One answer did ring true. Either way, my own head or Baal, one of them kept me from moving back to 'The Artist's Loft' for the meeting of the completely strange and abnormal.
Putting my arm up to hail a cab, I figured the best thing to do was go someplace where I could be alone to move. My day was starting to bring its own pain to my brain.
Hopping into a cab, "Take me to the Waldorf, please." The cabbie sped off.
I got out at the Waldorf Astoria hotel and went to the front desk. "Michael. Would you like your usual room?"
Shaking my head, "No. Something small and on the opposite side of the building. Please, check me in under Matt's name, if you don't mind."
The guest registration guy, I couldn't remember his name, was quick, "Not a problem. Here's your key."
"Thanks." I swiftly moved to the elevators and hopped in. "3rd floor, please." I got off on the third floor and headed to my room. Inserting the card I opened the door and I didn't lock it because they would have trouble getting in after I left.
The room was much smaller than my usual room, but it made no difference. I only had one purpose for even being in the hotel. I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. I focused on the living room of the Artist's Loft. Deep in the back of my mind I go lost inside of the image and dragged all my emotion with me. My eyes twitched with my right hand as my vision hazed and then blurred. I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was sitting in the living room on the couch of the Artist's Loft. Behind me I could see myself in the Waldorf. In the Waldorf I heard the door being broken in just as I focused on being in South Dakota and closed my eyes. The sounds in the hotel room faded quickly. Opening my eyes I was safely in the Artist's Loft. Relief swept through me as I fell back on the couch.
"Thank God!" I needed a drink.
Kicking the boots off my feet and then the socks, I sprinted for the bar. Pulling the Grey Goose out of the freezer I didn't bother with a glass. Opening the top I took a swig of the vodka and then took another.
Round and round and round, my mind spun on every subject that I had piled up waiting for answers. It was going to be a long night of explanation to Matt and Bob and probably even more analysis of everything that had happened. I took another big pull off the bottle.
Finally, I pulled a glass down from the overhead rack and made a proper dirty martini. So distracted by Baal and our conversation in the subway tunnel, I ended up making four dirty martinis. Looking at the full murky vodka glasses in front of me, I couldn't help but laugh. Picking up a glass and chugged down the vodka as fast as I could, I shook off the burning sensation by walking around looking like the funky chicken.
Bob popped his head out of the den. "Thank God, you're back!" I grabbed the Jack off the shelf and a Coke from the fridge and poured his drink for him.
"You better drink this. It's going to be a long fucking night!" my tone was intense and seemed a bit overwhelming for him as he sat at the bar taking a sip. "Did you get Remy and the kids out?"
Nodding, "Yes. They are out and safely on the way to Arizona."
Matt came out of his room upstairs, he bolted down the spiral staircase, "Dude, what the hell happened?" his British accent a little more thick than usual.
"Matt, I need you to get a hold of Jax and have him transfer all the money we all have into hidden accounts all over the world before the government does something with it," Matt was alarmed by this statement. "I mean the stuff that isn't already, anyway. I don't want any company or money left in the US. I also don't want anything in one single country." Matt nodded.
"You got it, mate. Is it that bad?" he picked up a martini and started drinking. "Expecting a guest?" he pointed at the extra martini as I picked up one of the others.
"No," I smiled. "And no, it wasn't that bad. Actually, they know less than what I thought they would, but even more weird shit is going on. As if my abnormality wasn't enough for Everyone to deal with."
I took a sip of the drink and pulled paperwork out of every pocket dumping it on the bar top. It was pretty amazing how much paperwork I was able to cram into my pockets. Matt and Bob both started picking up pages and reading through them.
"Holy shit, mate! Top Secret, now, huh?" I nodded and drank some more. Drinking will kill all pain, I kept thinking. I started to wonder if AA had a group in South Dakota close to where I was.
"Yeah, the strange thing is the group is relatively new and this guy Scott McCoy, although not brilliant, isn't a moron," I paused for a second, "If he's still alive."
Bob spit his mouthful of Jack and Coke all over the bar. It was even dripping down his nose, "Still Alive?" he looked a bit nervous. "What the fuck does that mean?" Ex-Detective would never work as a description for Bob.
Lifting the two full martini glasses off the bar top I carried them over to the couch and took a seat. Putting one glass on the table and my feet up as I lay back, the boys followed me.
"I was trying to come here in order to get away and was surprised by another agent while I was talking to McCoy in his office," I had to stop as the room exploded with questions.
"Wait, you were talking to McCoy? About what?" Matt threw out.
"Why in the hell would you let yourself get trapped in an office in a high-rise office building? Are you asking to get caught?" Bob was being the brother slash father type.
"Whoa, doggies," I said with a bit of a Texas accent. "There weren't enough answers on all the paperwork your holding. I knew I could get out of any room at any time," giving Bob a look. "Besides, talking to him did help. He knew other stuff I didn't know about." I could see McCoy standing in his office, both scared and intrigued. "When I got surprised I saw a trash can in the back alley in my head and both McCoy and I went out it from four stories up. I landed on him. And of course, this is not the movies. There was a bunch of hard shit in the trash can."
"So, you broke through the window?" Matt was gulping half the martini.
"No. I moved both of us outside the window and fell. The window was intact. That was the strange part."
Bob put his hand up, "You moved both of you?"
"Yeah, haven't done that before." That was something I overlooked in the analysis of everything that had happened to me in the day. It wasn't just myself, but somehow I was able to move other people as well. I guess it would only make sense. If I could move my clothes and a bag, which is all just made up of matter, then why wouldn't I be able to move another human?
Matt walked over to the bar, drank the rest of the martini, grabbed a rocks glass, put ice in it and poured straight vodka into it. Seemed he was done screwing around with taste.
"Look, there is so much to go over. Let's go in the den and talk. I need to do some research, or have one of you do it. I also want to get Jax on all this other movement of assets."
Bob got up and walked to the den. Matt brought the vodka and I brought the need for it.