Chapter
CLXXXVII: Never to be Mimicked ~Multehx
Multehx raised an eyebrow as he watched C.R. deep in meditation. As he waited, a grin slowly spread over his face and he began to chuckle.
“What? What’s so funny??” the agent asked.
C.R. opened his eyes and grinned. “Well, for starters, Markior’s back–“
“Ah, smokey, bout time. Can’t let a little thing like ‘death’ stop ya.”
“Eh, quite, secondly, he and Havering had quite a re-introduction–“
Multehx smirked. “Knownin
smokey’s temper and Havering’s, that woulda been worth a few shots.”
The Rip Watcher nodded and continued. “Pretty much. And thirdly, this one makes me pretty happy, but Miss Ria was reading over the book I gave to Sir Schizo-dude, she read your name, and totally passed over it! Didn’t even give a second thought to it! Just a name to her!”
Multehx beamed, nodding happily. “That’s good then, right?”
“Yes, very much so! It means my
memory wipe hit some of ‘em so deep
that your name doesn’t even register as being familiar! And that extra letter you
added to go in accordance to Twilighter naming number
and whatnot, there’s not a chance some will recognize it.”
Multehx nodded, standing. “Well, I guess I better return to being human again. They should be here in a while.”
C.R. nodded in agreement and a black glow surrounded the agent. When it faded, he stood as Ian once again, then took a seat on the ground.
“Well, that’s taken care of...anything I should be careful of?”
C.R. frowned in
thought. “Well, not right off....just maintain the persona, hmm....oh, yes, Markior shall pose a problem, as he was unaffected by the
wipe, so I would say, stand close to Havering when they arrive.”
“How come Havering?”
“Well, he doesn’t hide much of his immense power, so if you stand near him, hiding yours, his would easily blind any to your own. I’m afraid I can’t hide your abilities any further, as their minds must be immune to my masking you by now.”
Ian nodded and rubbed his chin instinctively as he did when thinking.
“I just hope everything works out when they arrive– I’m just nervous about it I guess. Dunno why...”
--------
At a First Earth airport, one of the security men outside on a break did a double take at the trio approaching.
Kids these days...durn music is warping ‘em, he thought as two walked past him, the largest close behind, pushing something covered with a sheet on a cart.
The one with the
wild, spikey, yellow hair, looked around, adjusted
his glasses, pulled his scarf up under them, then
headed for the ticket vendors. Behind him, the fellow wearing a stove-pipe hat,
sunglasses, navy blue suit, white shirt, and thick black shoes (that seemed
almost as if they were something else painted...how they appeared blotchy in
areas, exposing some darker green shade) followed closely.
As the two approached the front desk, the woman looked at them, blinked in confusion, and hesitantly asked, “...Yes, how might I help you?”
The blond-haired
man cleared his throat before speaking, “Um, yes, we would wish to purchase
three one-way tickets to
“...Hmm...all of the flights there today seem to be booked, but we do
have three seats in first class on the
The blond man nodded. “Yes, we shall take them, thanks.”
The woman nodded
and keyed in a few things into her computer. “Ok, and whom
shall these tickets be made out to?”
The two in front of the cart looked nervously at one another.
The woman glanced over to them questioningly. “Your names, gentlemen?”
Tension seemed thick in the air, steadily mounting; or at least Nsvem thought until Vaurix spoke up.
“Lincoln, Mister Lincoln.”
The woman stared at him for a minute before looking to Nsvem. “And you, sir?”
Nsvem thought for a moment then looked up.
“Presley, Mister Presley.”
A few more clicks on the keyboard and the woman looked to the towering Malfector, dressed in an ankle length trench-coat, dark sunglasses, and tan fedora.
“Bogart,” he
said in a low tone, “Mister Bogart.”
The woman keyed in this name, paused for a moment, then paused for a moment. She read the screen a few times before reading the information aloud for confirmation.
“Ok...three first class seats made out to Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Presley, and Mr. Bogart...is that correct?”
Nsvem nodded. “Right.”
“How will you gentlemen be paying for your tickets?”
Nsvem placed a credit card on the desk. “We’ll be charging it, thanks.”
The woman nodded
and took the card, doing the necessary procedures as the men waited.
Finally, after a time, she handed the card back, “Mr. Presley” thanked her, and they went on their way. But, when they neared the hallway leading to security checks, they took a detour into the men’s room. The door swung closed behind them, and almost instantly, a blinding flash of light shone through the cracks around it and faded just as quickly.
-------
Appearing on the
runway, behind one of the wheels of their appointed plane, cart in tow, it was
quite simple. “Mr. Bogart" took care of smuggling the cart into the cargo
hold without too much raucous from the guards. Their unconscious bodies also
boarded the flight, in several large suitcases. After this, another
teleportation found all three in the bathroom on the plane. Opening the door
and walking down the aisle to their seats, several passengers wondered either
a) why three men had been in the bathroom at once? or
b) how the larger fellow managed to get in in the
first place?
Taking their
seats, the three gents settled in for a relaxing ride to their next
destination, and heaven knows what else. Next stop,