A Different Kind of Real

They're just dreams. He told himself.
    None of this is real. Jack sat up. He was slouching again. He knew better. Bad for his back and all that shit that parents say to you over and over until you actually start to listen. He was sitting on a ledge. He guessed he was on top of a building, but he never bothered to look down and see for himself. Not two-hundred meters away from him was a vast ocean of gray and green, cast in a beautiful shadow of orange and red hues as the sun rose just over the horizon. Long strands of grass swayed in the howling winds for miles around. As far as the eye could see. It didn't make any sense. Grass couldn't possibly grow three feet tall. Not here.
    "It's time." A determined voice behind him said. Mira walked up next to him. She was his companion here. Of that much he was certain at least. She cocked the shotgun in her hands after she slid the last round into the chamber and used the gun's sling to flip it onto her back with practiced ease. Her shoulder length auburn hair hardly even getting in the way anymore. Jack stood up and faced her.
    He loved her eyes. Sea green, so deep and full you could grow mad if you stared too long, lost in their abyss. Nothing like his much more common light brown. He pawed at his own disheveled array of muddy-brown hair with one hand, rubbed over the light stubble on his handsome face, and pulled back the long sleeves of his gray-blue sweater to his forearms with the other. Multitasking. Even here he was pretty damn good at it. He looked down to inspect himself. As if he expected to suddenly turn into Prince Charming. Torn jeans, the long-sleeve sweater and an undershirt were all that greeted him. She noticed his gaze.
    "Don't worry," She said as she brushed a patch of dirt off his forearm where he had rested it while he was sitting. "We'll be fine. It's just you and me now." She gave him a weak smile. Wind blowing strands of auburn hair into her face as she looked up at him. God she was gorgeous. Winding athletic curves that could make a man clench his jaw so tight his teeth shattered. Black zip-up jacket with a matching auburn shirt underneath. Dark gray jeans and a 12-gauge automatic shotgun strapped to her back. "Let's be off Jack."
    She stepped behind him and gave him and gentle but firm push off of the ledge of the building. He was startled at first. He desperately tried to turn around and grab onto anything to keep from falling, but as he began to slowly drift over the edge he quickly realized, that he was falling at a slow and harmless rate. She laughed at him. She always laughed at him when he messed up. He would be grumpy about it if it wasn't one of the most melodic sounds he'd ever heard. She didn't have one of those girly high pitched voices, it was...deeper. Like a woman's voice, probably because she was pretty tall for one, but when she laughed it would change pitch depending on how funny she thought something was.
    She jumped lightly off the ledge after him and they glided down together off the three-story building to the concrete below. She landed gracefully and headed off to their stash by the base of the building. He followed and gazed back up from where he had just descended. It was an old building, probably an old lumber mill or some sort of factory. Clearly abandoned and out of use for there were no cars in the parking lot around them. The parking lot ended just before the great ocean of grass began. Jack looked up again. How did I even get up there?
He noticed Mira had gained quite a lead ahead of him to their stash so he took the opportunity to jump in place. Luckily she wasn't watching. His jump was completely normal. No weird gravity here. He must have looked like an idiot jumping in place just now. He dusted off his dirty jeans a little and hurried to catch up to her.
    She walked with a purpose. And still managed to make it look sexy. Or maybe he was just so in love with her that she couldn't possibly do anything and not be sexy...yeah...that was probably a better assessment.
    She opened up their hidden stash that was tucked away behind an unused dumpster and some old crates and began rummaging through its contents. "We probably only have around a half an hour left here Jack." She said with a carefree attitude.
    "And where will we be going after that time is up?" Jack asked as me moved closer to inspect what Mira was doing.
    "Who knows anymore," She replied with a sigh, she slid a heavy glove with what looked to be several tiny rows of metal sheets on the back, the metal working their way from her finger tips down the back of her hand to the base of her forearm. Was it just his imagination or were there tiny rows of vents in between each sheet of metal? Vents? Like exhaustion vents? He leaned in a bit closer to get a better look. She noticed and held her hand up for him once she finished securing the glove into place and spread out her fingers. She was smiling at him again. "Want one?" She asked. And then she started chuckling at him again. Damnit.
    "Nah, you keep that, you got my swords in there still?" He asked eagerly as she turned back towards the stash pile and picked through it looking for what he asked for. How do I remember about the swords but not how the hell we got here?
    "Yup!" She turned around holding two double-edged short swords. two and a half feet in length. "And you're harness, try not to rip this one though alright?"
     Just when I thought I was beginning to remember things. "Yeah, it won't happen again. Freak accident." He grabbed his twin swords, beautifully crafted just for his hands, with exotic markings and runes running down the blades. What were those for again? He just couldn't remember. He helped himself expertly into his sword harness and slid the swords smoothly into place forming an X on his back.
    "And your dagger belt," Mira said as she reached her arms around her back and strapped the belt into place. She was so close, pressed into Jack's chest, full, soft lips just inches away. He couldn't help but stared at them. Like always, she noticed. "What?" She asked taking a step back and pushing up her low cut auburn shirt revealing some cleavage. "These not perky enough for yah?"
    Jack went wide eyed as he sucked in his breath and coughed awkwardly and turned away. Back towards the ocean of tall grass. He tried to listen to the howling of the wind that made the long green and gray stems sway. Anything to erase that awkward moment.
    She walked up beside him enjoying the view and his company. But there was a softness in her eyes. "You really don't remember me, do you?" She looked towards him and looked stung.
    It pained him to see her look at him like that. "I'm sorry," He dared to move and take her other bare hand. "I really am trying. I can remember only bits and pieces. Fragments of everything, even of who I am, and why we're here. And I feel too ashamed to ask."
    She noticed the pain mirrored in his eyes as well. She squeezed his hand and then turned as she began to lead him towards the grass. "Come," She said once they had reached the edge of the parking lot. She let go of his hand and looked over her shoulder at him.
    "This is a dream Mira. Isn't it?" Jack asked in frustration while shaking his head. He took a step back, away from her and the ocean of grass.
    She smiled at him, stepping back towards him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. "Then it's a good dream is it not?"
    She released him without bothering to look back, turned, and sprinted off into the ocean of grass.
    He was stunned. He was pretty sure that his heart had still not started beating again. Was it so simple?
    He took a deep breath. "I should probably go after her huh." Jack lectured to himself. "This is the part where I'm supposed to chase after the girl before she gets away." His own damn legs wouldn't move. So he worked his arms as if stretching before a long run, swinging them across his chest and back out wide. Letting everything else go. Gaining confidence and courage. Nothing else mattered. He was ready.
    She was the only constant in all of this. He loved her. That much he knew. So he ran after her.

To See a New Dawn

    Martin walked sluggishly up the stairs to his apartment. It was only five floors, it's good exercise. Or at least that's what he managed to tell himself everyday after work. Some small part of him was convinced that this daily ritual was good for his health. Though it hardly seemed to show any effect on his body. Thirty-eight damn years on this Earth and he was already growing fat. Or was that just his own unreasonable self doubt? Maybe even a little pity now that he thought about it.
    The building was fairly old, not too old to look rundown and abused, due to recent refurbishing. Though he could imagine that the costs must have been pretty steep for the new owner. The walls were still mostly plaster and wood and the floors had little tile and far too much carpet. It made the transition from the hard stairs to the hallways a small comfort he supposed.
    As he reached the fifth floor of his quiet apartment complex he wondered how much of what he did mattered. Martin had been working for the same company for twelve long years. Gathering and interpreting data for groups of scientists he had never met. Whom he would probably never meet if he worked there another forty years. Was this a mid-life crisis? Is that what all this garbage running through my head is? Almost half of my life is over and spent and what do I have to show for it?
    Martin opened up the door to his apartment, 507, just as the man from 509 managed to swing his door open as he was leaving. What was his name again?
    "Hey, it's Martin right?" the man asked as he tested his own door handle behind him. He always did that, the door locked automatically but he probably knew that. The man looked smart, wore glasses, always dressed nice if not casual. His dark skin was pretty much the complete opposite of my own ghostly hue. The sun pretty much goes right through me, or turns me redder than a Christmas ornament. The man had hazel eyes though, rare for that skin complexion, almost seems to offset or compliment him depending on how long you made eye contact.  "You just getting in?" The man asked. "These days are only getting longer man I'm telling you." He started to walk over to me as I began to step inside. He noticed my movement however and changed his course towards the elevators instead. I did something socially unacceptable again didn't I?
    "Hey." I awkwardly call back to him as he begins walking down the hallway. He looks over his shoulder but I can tell that he's in no hurry for the moment. So I guess I have no choice but to attempt to redeem myself. "Hey, sorry...I just wanted to...make sure the lights were off in my apartment." I managed to squeeze a full sentence out of my system. Maybe miracles do happen.
    He chuckles at me, though he can clearly sense my discomfort. "The name's Barry. I've seen you a few times, but I can tell when a man needs his privacy." He walks over and shakes my hand. He's got quite the grip, and my hand's nothing but long fingers. "Just wanted to say hello since I caught you before I left." He lets go of my hand finally and starts to head down the hallway. "Well, I'm off to see a man about a couple of car parts, nice to meet you again." He flashes a perfect smile as he turns and makes his way for the elevator. I know for sure that this is the end of the conversation at last. So I waved goodbye to him as he walks away, realize all too late that I waved to his back and he never knew.
    Boy do I suck at conversations when I'm tired.
    The apartment is just as Martin had left it much earlier in the day. It was a small place, just a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom, nothing fancy. A pale blue carpet covered most of it, except the kitchen and bathroom of course. He walks over to the refrigerator and opens it with a forceful tug. Empty. Or damn close to it. Just a bare refrigerator with all the essentials...butter, ketchup, a few loaves of bread. Oh and what's this? He lifts up the bread, cheese. Couldn't make a decent meal without this fine piece of...maybe it was cheddar. Probably provolone. Martin closes the refrigerator with a depressed look forming on his face. As fortune would have it, he had already eaten dinner today. He would still have to go shopping in the morning before work. The day was longer than usual due to some crazy malfunction with some of the lab equipment. Something about some kid's blood he had tested he figured. Hell if he knew, he just called it in and got to sit in the lounge room for an extra hour and a half before he was allowed to clean up and leave work. Dinner at the cafeteria was quiet at least, everyone else he knew had already been long gone.
    Martin made his way into his bedroom, dragging his feet behind him as he went like they were tied to ship anchors. His bed was fortunately a full sized bed. He had a small round desk made of some type of wood in the corner with a lamp resting on it and a big comfy office chair he had managed to steal from his workplace over a year ago. The wonderful thing even rocked back if you switched the settings with the handles underneath. Other than that were his dresser and his closet which contained mostly clothes and belongings that he did not need on a daily basis.
As he made his way over to his bed and pulled back the sheets the fatigue hit him harder than he expected. He kicked off his shoes and barely managed to take off his nice pants and shirt before he was fast asleep.
    He awoke with the light of a new sun breaching the horizon. His eyes were still cloudy with dreams clinging desperate for a few more hours of attention. Something about his mother telling him not to wake up, to stay out of his room. A hint of a smile formed on his lips, to stay out of the room he was currently staying in? Well that's why they are just dreams after all he guessed.
    As his eyes began to clear he noticed something was off. He blinked a few times to fight away the sleep.
The light where the sun was coming from was too bright, he had shades on his windows, only small rays of light could fight their way through the gaps in that old thing. Then what was this?
    Martin sat up. He rubbed a long and bony hand over his eyes and looked towards the side of the room. His lamp was on. In its brightest setting, sitting in its exact spot, unmoved, but inexplicably, on. He looked over further, and his breath caught as a chill went down his spine.
    "Hello Martin." a calm, deep voice said to him.
Sitting in Martin's chair off in the other corner, was a man. At least he guessed it to be a man from the sound of its voice. The light from the far corner casting him in an eerie shadow. "Do you know...who I am?" the creature said. As he turned in the chair a small sense of relief hit Martin as he could make out arms and legs all covered in black cloth to hide his features. The man sat in a relaxed position with one leg crossed over the other, clearly content to sit here and watch me squirm.
    "No, I'm afraid I don't sir." Martin said nervously as he sat up even straighter in his bed.
    "Then you can feel free to call me Nemo." The man began popping his knuckles, not in the way those people tended to do in the movies before a fight. He did it slowly, one joint at a time in a slow and unnerving pattern. Right hand down to the little finger, then left hand down to the little finger, then the left thumb, then the right thumb, then both wrists at the same time.
    "Why are you here? This is my home. You are tresspassing." Martin managed to squeak out. Clearly not very intimidating. He swallowed hard and began to fumble with his bed sheets. The man clearly noticed.
    "I will be the one to ask the questions here. Do you understand?" The man did not wait for a response in the slightest. "You and I are going to have...a conversation of sorts here and now, during this most untimely hour." The man paused as he rolled his wrists again making them pop. "Also, if at any point during our conversation, you attempt to get out of that bed that you now so comfortably sit in, you will die. Most horribly." The man spoke slowly and clearly and was almost unnaturally calm given the news that he had just given Martin.
    The blood vanished from Martin's already pale face. He looked over at the clock sitting on his dresser. It read 3:49 AM. Perfect, everyone on this good Earth would be long asleep by now. He even doubted anyone would hear him if he should scream. Martin was pretty good at calculations. He did not like the odds of calling this man's bluff.
    He gave in. "I...I accept your terms, Nemo sir." He began scratching his arm nervously, doing small pinches, trying to see if he could wake himself up, surely this was some sort of nightmare.
    "I will ask the questions and you will answer them to the best of your abilities. However, know that I have been tasked with dealing your death. So, at the end of this conversation, you will die." His ability to so calmly inform him of such terrifying news made Martin's stomach churn. How could a man so calmly do such a thing? Do I really have no say in this matter? He has to be bluffing! This can't be real!
    "However," the man said, raising his hands from their resting position, folded in his lap, in order to make a somewhat enthusiastic gesture. "I believe in something greater than you an I. A game of chance." The man flashed a hint of a smile. He was enjoying this. Took pleasure in the fear he so easily caused in others.               I'll have to do what he says for now. Clearly he's done this before. His positioning, his clothing, his unnerving calm...only someone with lots of experience could be so calm. And that sets me one more step behind him.
    "A....game?" Martin asked. Though he immediately regretted speaking. The man's eyes narrowed sharply and his hand motions stopped suddenly.
    "Yes Martin. A game. With rules that you would do well to pay attention to, for I shall not repeat them once we have started playing." He put his hands comfortably in his lap once more and let the new information sink in. Patience was clearly one of this man's virtues, and right now he might as well have all the time in the world. "Are you ready to hear the rules?" Nemo asked.
    Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. Martin swallowed again. "Yes. I think that I'm ready to listen."
    Martin was not one of the best people to have a conversation with. He lacked many social skills so most people saw him as awkward or uncomfortable. So he adapted where he could. He was an excellent listener. He could listen to two or three conversations at once and pick out the details well enough to know what was going on. He had spent many years in the cafeteria practicing by himself. Or at least that's what he liked to tell himself now at this moment where his lack of friends and social skills seemed to be coming in handy. However Martin did not play many games. He had to admit that he spent most of his free time reading many of the books that were on the shelves in his living room or watching the news.
    "Very well. Here's how the game works. I will ask you a series of questions. You, dear Martin, will answer these questions to the very best of your abilities." The man grinned at him openly. Though Martin could still hardly make out any significant facial features. "If you lie once or answer incorrectly once, you will lose something of value to you. Of my choice." Nemo said and pointed a gloved finger at himself. "If you lie twice or get two questions incorrect, I add an additional rule that you do not yet know about, to the game. If you lie three times or get three answer incorrect, then I win the game. And you, Martin, will die." he let the news settle in for a few seconds and then surprisingly, the man chuckled. And here I thought the man incapable of any sort of emotion. "Don't worry, you wont get to experience that sort of excitement just yet." Nemo said. He settled himself back to his usual calm demeanor.
    "So how do I win this game?" Martin asks. Again regretting having done so immediately as the man goes rigid for several heartbeats. Clearly this man did not enjoy being interrupted, even when he took long breaks between thoughts.So he has buttons that he doesn't like to be pushed. Might come in handy. But best not to let him know that I'm being rational and using reason. "Sorry...sorry Nemo. It won't happen again." Martin assured him as he nervously began scratching his arm and fiddling with the bed sheets again.
    Nemo began to relax a little again. But the man seemed more agitated than before. I'd do well to make good on my word.
   Nemo stood up from his chair. The man was easily 6'3''. The way he walked was almost graceful. A toned muscular form walking without making a sound for 3 paces. He reached the window and looked toward Martin as he drew the shades open revealing the dark still night. That's when Martin was sure of it. He had to be human. The man had black hair, the kind you could only get from dying it repeatedly. There was no way to tell his age, he was clean shaven, his skin tone was impossible to tell in the light. Martin knew how to pick off useful details about a person. He did it almost every day for work. But this man must have been all too aware of that for he revealed very little about himself. Until Martin looked into his eyes. Big mistake, another chill ran down his spine, this one making him physically squirm where he sat. This could not be a man. Martin was afraid again. More afraid than he had ever been in his entire life. Those cold dead orbs that this man used to look upon him. They were so light blue they were almost clear. He could feel the ice coming from them all the way across the room. Nemo walked back into the shadows cast by the lamp and sat in his chair until he was once again comfortable.
    "The way for you to win this game. Is to play until sunrise." Nemo calmly stated and pointed one gloved hand towards the now uncovered window. "When the rays of the sun hit my face you will win." He said it so plainly. Though Martin seriously doubted that it would be that easy. All he had to do was delay the game until sunrise? That didn't sound so hard, it was already 3:58 AM. The sun should be up in just a couple of hours!
    "If you should manage to win this game," He pulled from behind the couch a three foot long sword in a beautifully designed sheath the kind of which Martin had never seen before. It was a double edge blade with a gold and jewel encrusted hilt. The hilt seemed to form the mouth of a serpent, and the snake coiled its way down the sheath in a fantastic display of craftsmanship. The man rested it delicately on the floor before him. "If you should win, then I will take my own life, and this sword will pass to you. Don't get rid of it, it is worth more than you could imagine."
    Nemo seemed oddly attached to the sword. As if he'd grown up with it, spent the years it would take to master such a weapon.
    "Are you ready to begin?" Nemo asked, grim faced once more.
    "If I refuse?" Martin asked already knowing the answer.
    "That would be...unwise." Nemo didn't even bother to blink as he spoke those words.
    "Very well, we can begin. I will make it to sunset." Martin said without the slightest hint of confidence.
    "Yes...we shall see. Let's begin. Where do you work?" He folded his arms together and rested, casually rocking back and forth in Martin's amazing office chair.
    Easy enough question I suppose. "I work at Neumata Industries down town by the small shopping mall."
    "What is it exactly, that you do for Neumata Industries?"
    "I take DNA samples, mostly blood, and analyze them. I look for: abnormalities, usage of drugs, and I work in the research laboratories. There I...often take part in...classified research." He looked at Nemo, though he could hardly see his face, he doubted that 'Classified' would be a good answer for the man. Best to be truthful and safe than have a strike against me I suppose. Oh balls! Was it only 4:03? This was going to be the longest night of his life. He tried to continue but started to stumble over his own words.
    "Careful now Martin, you wouldn't want your first strike already now would you?"
    It's a rhetorical question Martin. Just continue before he gets angry. "The classified research is genetic coding. I try to enhance cellular growth and to enhance muscular density in order to create a stronger, healthier...better human being."
    "Strike one." Nemo said passively.
    "...wait what?" Martin started to say, but as he spoke Nemo moved and in the blink of an eye he was on top of him. Martin struggled, his arms flailing about as Nemo pinned him down onto the bed with practice efficiency. The man was incredibly strong, he could feel corded muscle press him onto his stomach on the bed and pin his hands behind his back. His knees locking Martin's body in place while he used a single hand to pin back both of his.
    "I ask you a question, and you answer. I asked you if you would not want your first strike, and you failed to answer me. Therefore I am now tasked with relieving you of something of value." A long slender knife appeared in his free hand that he brought down to Martin's face. The blade was razor sharp, made for nice and clean cuts. He probably wouldn't even feel it until it had done its work.
    Martin began to buck and struggle wildly but it was no use. The man simply had him trapped.
    "I wouldn't struggle so much if I were you, I might slip and take more than I intend to." Nemo stated, and Martin settled as much as his instinctual fear would allow. There was silence for a brief moment. Just the sounds of them breathing evenly. Then a faint swish as the blade disappeared and came back into Martin's view. A single drop of blood clung to the edge of the blade. Fell. Hit the pillow next to his face. Then pain. Martin began to scream but Nemo was ready and shoved his face into the pillow to muffle it. Then when Martin was almost out of air, Nemo turned him around and held something up before his eyes. A finger. Nemo climbed off of him and gave him wraps and gauze to stem the bleeding from his left hand. His ring finger was simply gone. A perfect surgical cut through tendon and bone.
    "You evil bastard! I'll kill you for this! You hear me? You cruel sick monster, how could you do this to someone?" He held up his hand for effect, blood starting to show through the makeshift bandages.
    "You knew the rules Martin, and you earned your first strike. I must admit, normally I take an entire hand, but I recently acquired that knife and thought up a good use for it just now." He noticed Martin's anger and frustration. The man was getting desperate. Desperate men were unpredictable and stupid. "Do not forget. If you leave that bed. For any reason at all. You will die a most unfortunate death." Nemo reminded.
    Martin was losing it. His mental fortitude. His edge. He couldn't think clearly anymore. He needed to calm the fuck down. Nemo was getting to him. This was why Nemo never lost. He could tell that he was playing right into Nemo's hands. He began to take deep breaths. He needed to steady himself somehow, with the bloody rag pressed against his wounded hand.
    "Better." Nemo stated. "I wouldn't want you to have to lose something else that you like," He let the threat stand as he waggled his gloved fingers with one hand and held up Martin's missing digit in his other. The sick bastard. "Shall we begin again then?"
    "Sure. What else have I got to lose?" Martin asked, voice dripping in sarcasm and regret.
    "Very well," Nemo said with a little chuckle. "Where do you work?"
    What...I already answered this damn question. What was the man getting at? "...Neumata Industries...I work at Neumata Industries."
    "And what is it that you do for Neumata Industries Martin?" Nemo asked this as he set down Martin's finger. He took a calm and impassive pose with his finger tips resting against one another and his elbows resting on the arm rests.
    Martin answered him again, this time in great detail, hoping to drain out as much of the clock as he possibly could. He went into his back logs and every sort of possible work scenario he could think of. But he had to be careful. He couldn't talk about what other people at his work did or drag it out by telling him how he got there. Still. By the time he finished answering the man it was 4:25. His plan was working. He could do this.
    "Why did you have to stay late for work today?"
    Nemo can't be just asking these questions at random, he's got to be digging for something...can he really tell if I'm lying? It's not worth the risk, I only have two strikes left.
    Martin slid back in the bed. Resting his back better against the bed's frame and propped a pillow up for himself. Stalling was his best tactic. They both knew that much, and Nemo was beginning to look impatient. No rules against making himself more comfortable though. And I don't recall there being any rules about him taking his time to think the answers over either. Nemo sat in silence, waiting. Not even as much as the sound of him breathing. It was frightening.
    "I had to stay late for work because of a malfunction with some of the equipment I was using. I was not allowed to leave the building until they were sure that I was not the cause and did not purposefully sabotage their very expensive equipment. Something about the blood I was testing, a young boys of maybe..ten or twelve years of age, wasn't agreeing with the compounds we were supposed to use. Not a single damn one. I had never seen anything like it. I finally was about to give up I...I put the sample and this newer compound I had just finished working on into the transfuser just as the alarms went off and security came and herded us all out of the building. So I had to stay until I was cleared by them to go."
    Nemo stood up suddenly. Martin flinched. Badly. Nemo noticed of course but paid no mind as he began pacing across the room. A swift set of five steps had him to the window and another set of five had him back to the chair. So he was here for information after all. That was why Martin was not allowed to lie.
    "The next questions will be harder. The rule about lying will be removed from henceforth in favor of another," Nemo stopped his pacing directly in front of him. "You will have two chances to get the questions correct or a strike will be put against you."
    Martin was panicking again. This couldn't be fair! He could change up the rules to make the game go even more in his favor? He slammed his good hand into the bed with frustration. "You can't do this! You can't change the rules in the middle of..."
   Nemo shot forward in two rapid steps and cracked his hand across Martin's face. It was a back handed slap. The kind you would give a child that didn't know his own place. Martin was stunned silent. Nemo was breathing heavily again. Was that from his own anger?
    "This is my game! I create the rules for the game and you follow them or you die. Have you been so lost in your fear that you cannot realize all of this is only happening because I allow it to? You should have been dead hours ago when first I saw you enter your quaint little apartment."
    Yet another cold nerve chilling shudder ran down Martin's spine. He could swear that his heart had stopped and still hadn't picked up again. Nemo had been in his apartment...before he had even gotten here? Was that even possible?? "But I...but...no...that's impossible." Martin shook his head unable to believe such an idea. "Why didn't you start all of this before?"
    "Strike two, Martin." Nemo seemed to visibly relax as he said the words, while Martin seemed as if he was about to throw up. "During your little temper tantrum I asked you a question to which you did not answer. The game does not stop just because you wish it to do so. As long as the sun is not on my face, and you are not dead, the game goes on." Nemo walked back over to his chair, triumphantly Martin could only imagine.
    Martin gazed at the clock once more. 5:03. Time was still on his side at the very least. And if Martin had this game figured out as much as he thought he did, then Nemo would have to start the questions all over again since Martin had gotten his second strike. However, an additional rule would be added. And that couldn't be good news.
    "As I'm sure you are well aware, the second strike gives me the right to add an additional rule to the game. My rule is this: after I ask a question, you will have fifteen seconds to respond." A smile began to form on Nemo's shadowed lips. The noose was tightening. He enjoyed a game with the highest possible stakes. Even if the odds were very much in his own favor.
    Martin looked disgusted. He spat in Nemo's general direction, knowing it would never reach, but the insult was just the same. "Begin again you prick." Not exactly how Martin imagined he would brush up on his social skills. But there was nothing quite like a trial by fire now was there?
    "Where do you work?"
    The questions began flowing again, this time, with only fifteen seconds to respond to each question, he couldn't drag his answers out to shave off some much needed time.
    Finally he caught up to where he was before with the game. "Now, for the harder questions. The lying rule has been once again switched with the rule that gives you two chances. You have fifteen seconds for each chance."
    Good, that gave him at thirty seconds give or take to figure out the answers. Not a whole lot. But worlds better than a measly fifteen. He was still nervous. What kinda questions was he going to be asked? It could be damn near anything!
    "How did I get into this apartment?" Nemo asked while smiling.
    Shit, how the hell am I suppose to know that? I never even knew the man was here until he woke me up! I don't know...I don't know. I don't have time to think this over just think of something damnit!
    "The...the window! You got it in through one of my windows." Martin replied unsure of himself.
    "Incorrect. Last try."
    If i get this damn question wrong again. I die. That's it, the end. Use your fucking head Martin! That's the one thing you're useful for! Use logic, reasoning. Anything! Ok. You know the layout of this apartment better than anyone. How else could someone get in here? The ventilation shaft is far too small. No one but the scrawniest of kids could fit through there and this man was a good bit over six feet and by no means scrawny. So if he didn't come through the windows, the safest bet would have to be...the front door. Unless there's some hidden passage or hole that I've never seen before. But I'm not willing to bet with those odds.
   "You got in through the front door." Martin smiled back at Nemo for the first time all night. It set Nemo back in his chair.
   "Very good." Nemo popped his neck left and right. "Who sent me here?"
   Martin had been wondering about that very same question. Who would try to kill Martin? Who would want him dead? Martin didn't even know anybody! He didn't have friends.
    Something warm hit his leg. Martin looked over and saw the beginnings of sunlight arcing through his window. He could win this! Just a few more questions and he would win. He would live!
    "That's easy enough. It has to be Neumata Industries."
    "Correct again Martin. Why do they want you dead?"
    Martin didn't know. It made no sense. Martin was a nobody. Unless this was some sort of political scandal clean up it was to tie up loose ends. So Martin was a loose end somehow. It would have to have something to do with the incident yesterday. But what?
    Martin was running out of his fifteen seconds of time...he had to stall. Throw out an answer, even if he got it wrong it would still buy him some precious time to think. "Because I broke the machine at work." Martin sputtered out quickly before time was up.
    "Incorrect. One try left." Nemo began to lean forwards in his chair. The game almost finished. His prize almost won.
    The sun began spreading down Martin's leg and off the edge of the bed, it started creeping its way slowly, painfully slowly, towards Nemo. Martin would never make it in time. He had one last shot at this.
    "Because I did it. I won..." Martin smiled again, chuckled even. It was the only possible answer. All the questions about work. Why Nemo had been pacing around the room after Martin had told him why he had to stay late for work. Nemo didn't know the answer himself until then. If he really knew it at all. But Martin knew it now. The blood transfusion. It had to have worked. More than worked. Martin beamed with excitement. He stood up on the bed full of triumph with only seconds remaining.
    "Because I successfully transfused the boys blood with my serum. Because I made the first super-human!"
    The sunlight hit Nemo's face as he took a step forward. The game was over now wasn't it? Nemo picked up his sword and it glistened and sparkled in the gorgeous morning hues of the sun. "With what you now know, the world is about to change. You know the boy will be hunted. He could already be dead. Get the serum to him, I took the liberty of taking both contracts on you and him. Figured I'd come visit you first since he is just a boy after all," Nemo took a slip of paper out of a pocket that Martin couldn't hope to find. "But that doesn't guarantee that they did not take multiple contracts out on him." He handed Martin the paper. It had both his address and the address of a Vincent Carlson on it. "I know that I am a monster, and a bad man. But I am not without my good characteristics. I made up this game to make me feel alive, after a lifetime of death. And I finally found someone that could best me." He looked almost relieved that he was beaten. "Evil," he said as he drew the sword out of its sheath. "Is always bad, but sometimes it is necessary." He swung the sword gracefully back and forth, as if he were giving himself one last intimate moment with the weapon. Then he held it out in both hands with the hilt up and blade pointed in at his chest, and ran himself through.
    As he bled out he looked up and saw Martin, now sitting on the edge of the bed, feet touching the soft blue carpet. Martin watched him as he lay there dying, unblinking.
    "Your day's just starting Martin," he gasped with his final breath "That boy isn't going to save himself."