What is One Drop of Water to a Rain?

Like ants at a picnic.

Max watched the people moving about, go about their daily routines, oblivious to the truth that their ignorant minds refused to see. He felt like screaming at them, to tell them to open up the passage and see the world for what it truly was. 

What's happening to me? 

His mind on fire, changing hue like a thousand stars going red dwarf. He really didn't know why the hell he wanted to shout at them. He had been through hell, or was it that hell had been through him; he didn't know what version it was.

Like a needle injecting a rational thought into his brain, a tear streaked from his eye just as a rain drop touched his arm. He brought his arm up to see the water droplet as it streaked down his skin, gravity calling.

"Stop it," he muttered looking at the sky. "I get it. I fucking get it okay."

Of Trains and Whistles

The shunting of the train was like a soothing lullaby; Mags found her eyes growing heavy. The music of the city lulling her to sleep like a mother would a child. After the past few days she needed this time off to hone her body. 

I'm so tired, she thought. I could sleep forever.

The sandman's magic enveloping her like a New York City blackout. She closed her eyes and for the first time in aeons she dreamed of home.

Chime.

Her eyes snapped open and she picked up the cellphone. Noticing Angst's number on it.

"Hello there," she said.

"Maggie," said Angst on the other end. "I was wondering if we could hook up for a coffee?"

Maggie paused. Angst didn't really like coffee; she said it gave her nightmares. It was a warning of some kind.

"I'm fine," Angst said.

And this confirmed her suspicions.

"No," Angst said.

She pocketed the phone and grabbed her katana.

Craptacular

Angst blinked. She stared up at the sky and couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Craptacular," Frank muttered. He grabbed the two-way and spoke. "Ah guys, I think we got bigger problems than we thought."

"Tell me," Mags voice crackled over the radio.

Angst brought up the uzi and began to fire. Frank fired off a couple of rounds, holding onto the radio. "If I tell you that Angst is firing an uzi does that tell you something?"

"We're brushing up here and then we'll be there A.S.A.P," Mags stated. "Hold on!"

Vortexing

Max really hated vortexing; it gave him the feeling of being born again. But right now it was a necessary evil. He fired several rounds behind him and leapt from the roof of the building, turning back with both guns blazing. Several slugs zipped along through the air, three of them missing their marks but the other four hitting home.

He knew that it wasn't enough to kill the abomination, just slow it down some.

He saw the glimmer of the vortex and smiled.

He fell through and it felt like the universe was ripping at his soul, tearing chucks out of it and then pasting it back in random patches. This was the main reason why he hated using it. 

He emerged somewhere, sometime, and he knew right away that he was in serious trouble. The shift was 40 feet above a home and he plummeted. Feeling like Wyle E Coyote, he balled up and hit the roof, crashing through and landed on something soft.

"What in the name of Jesus Christ," the startled man on the lazy-boy chair shouted. He had dropped his tv tray onto the floor.

"Sorry," Max said. He stood up, dusting himself off. He glanced at his chronometer and smiled. He fished into his pockets and found several hundred dollar bills there and laid them on the table. "This should cover the damages."

Faux News

Man Falls Through Roof
by K. Chadd
Staff Writer

Gerry Attrick had just sat down and was enjoying the local news when someone unexpected dropped in on him.

At 6:40pm, Attrick was sitting down watching the television when a man fell through his ceiling and landed on the couch. 

"I heard this popping sound and then wham this fellow came crashing through the roof," said Attrick. 

Attrick describes the man as late 20's or early 30's, dressed in tattered jeans and a bright red t-shirt with yellow target symbol on it. 

The man got up, shook his head and glanced at Attrick and said he was sorry, then he bolted out the back door.

"It was like it was from some kind of movie," said Attrick. "The man stood up and dusted himself off and asked where he was and then apologized for the disruption."

Attrick said the fellow gave him a ton of money before he left.

A police spokesman said that they are looking into the matter and all flights from the airport reported nothing unusual or no missing passengers.

Rave On

"Well, isn't this cozy," Max said, dusting some dirt off his shirt. They were in a huge underground chamber filled with outdated army vehicles. As if someone was preparing for the big one and to their disappointment it never came. 

"All we need is a DJ and this could be the perfect place for a rave," Suki interjected. She held a pistol with both hands; she had seen some cop shows and it always showed them carrying a gun this way.

"Maybe," Max said. He glanced around and he could imagine a rave going on here. He could see Maggie cutting up the dance floor, her long red hair flowing like a sentient being dancing with the music. "Yeah."

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT IT IS NOT YOUR PROBLEM

Cube

Max sipped from a water bottle while waiting in a lounge room. He wiped sweat off his brow with the towel draped over his shoulder. He was tired and very sore and he didn't think he could press on. 

So this what it feels like to be past your prime. 

"Man, that was intense," Goner said as he strolled over. His t-shirt was soaked through and he was starting to reek from sweat. "Best yet, I'd say."

"Well, like wine one improves with age," Maggie said. She was sitting on the edge of a sofa teasing her hair. 

"Or turns into vinegar," Frank added after taking a long pull from a beer.

"You always have to see the negative in everything, don't you Frank," Goner said to him, shaking his head. "That's one thing that I didn't miss." 

"You know, I never thought I'd be back here today with you guys," Frank said. He was sitting on a director's chair, with a bucket of beer on ice beside him. "I think I'm getting too old for this kind of shit. But when an opportunity like this comes up, nostalgia kicks in."

"You'll never get old in my books," Angst said as she emerged from the bathroom. She was having trouble doing up the zipper on the back of her mini-dress. She turned her back to Max, who reached over and zipped her up. 

"Didn't you wear that in Vegas?" Aqua chided Angst. "Looks like the same one."

Aqua received only the finger from Angst.

"Getting bitchy in our old age, eh?" Aqua shot back at her. Then fled the scene like a burglar from the cops. 

The door to the room opened up and Morganfokker strolled in. "I think you guys better get back out there. It's going to get wild if you don't."

Max nodded and he turned to the rest and said, "Let's rock." 

Goner ripped off his t-shirt and grabbed his drumsticks off the stand. "What's the encore going to be?"

 

Flightmare

Danny Leung was having a very rough day. Not only had he missed his first flight, due to a mix up at the ticket counter, he had just received word that the contact he was supposed to meet with was found hanging from a hook in a meat locker in an L.A supermarket. Some people would have called it karma; he just thought it was shitty luck.

It looked like he had made the trip to America for nothing. He balled up his fist a little but maintained his cool. He was on an airline, after all. His superior had told him to take a day or two to sight-see before coming home.

"Smoke?" the man beside him offered. "Looks like you could use one."

Danny looked at what he presumed was an American, spiky hair, a pure black t-shirt that had a top view picture of a turntable on it. He reluctantly reached for a smoke from the package of sticks.

The stranger offered his lit cigarette as a lighter. Danny lit the cigarette and felt the nicotine do its work.

"I thought these were banned?" Danny asked after taking a puff. 

The stranger chuckled. "That they are, my friend. But don't tell the flight attendant that."

The fellow had an air of confidence about him, something sure and cocky but in a friendly sort of way. Danny took another puff. He noticed the fellow looking at his watch.

"You got someone waiting for you at the airport?" he asked the stranger.

"Not exactly," the man said. "Just that in two minutes from now the shit is going to hit the fan."

"How so?" Danny asked, wondering if this fellow was pulling his leg or not.

"See that stewardess there?" The fellow pointed at the blonde down the aisle and said matter-of-factly,  "She's about to pull out a uzi from the cart and head to the cockpit. Where she's planning on taking control of the plane. And we're here to make sure that she doesn't."

Seconds

tick

Max glanced up at the second hand on the clock. Trying to will the time to go back instead of inching forward. Time was of the essence here.

tock

Maggie's hand staunched the blood flow from Frank's wound. He had been hit good and now seconds counted. 

tick

Max had counted four of them. All positioned in various places to keep sniping at them. His brain was working in high gear and he was trying to figure out a good survival plan.

tock

"Any sign of Trump yet?" Maggie asked. "If he doesn't get here Frank is good as dead."

tick

"I see that little bastard's tail," Max said; he was using the reflection of a shattered mirror to see where everyone was. He was hoping that those snipers left the cat alone, because after all, a cat was just a cat.

tock

Frank's eyes opened and he coughed. Spitting up some blood. Maggie leaned forward with a damp cloth.

"You guys should have left me," Frank said. "I'm as good as dead."

tick

Maggie slapped Frank across the cheek, and then added, "Once you're feeling much better I am going to kick the shit out of you. You know we never leave a friend behind."

Faux City Police Reports

Police reports
By Chronicle Staff

Police reports for Monday included the following:

* A business owner on Highwater Street went to his store to find it vandalized. The suspects did not take any money or items, but the four mannequins in the front window had bullet holes riddling their bodies.

* A woman was seen assaulting four men. She left the scene before police arrived. All four men are expected to recover in the hospital.

* A man living in an apartment on North Grand Avenue was shot. 

* A man left a restaurant on Daniels Street without paying for his meal.

* A man stole beer from a corner store. He was caught and cited for theft.

* A business owner told police a woman kicked over a display. 

* Two siblings got into an argument. The older child kicked the younger child in the face.

* Three juveniles were throwing rocks from the top of a building on Main Street. Rocks hit two cars. One of the juveniles was cited. 

* A man told police the NSA had planted devices in his head and car to frame him for a crime. He told police that a talking cat threatened him. The man was taken to the hospital for observation.

* There were 97 calls for service.

Awkward as an Eclipse

He had been shot at, thrown from a window of a skyscraper, hit by a train, tumbled down a mountain while battling a cyborg, drugged up and near death, but all of these minor incidents didn't prepare him for the biggest threat of all. 

"Here Max, hold her while I get her bottle," Trish said as she handed him the baby.

Max looked at the child with appalled horror and surprise, holding it at arms' length. For some reason it was a foreign sight, like a solar eclipse to feudal Japan society.

"She won't bite," Trish comforted Max. Before Max could protest and hand the baby back to Trish, she got up and headed to get the baby bag out of the stroller, which was just outside.

Mags was coming back with a couple of coffees in her hands and she let out a slight chuckle to see THE Max Cube at a loss.

Secret Society Part Last

Miranda pirouetted in the spacious, unfurnished living room, pale walls and carpet. Her hair gathered at the base of her neck, a pretty, white summer-dress like gossamer. Open-concept, steps leading up to the kitchen and the corridor leading to the bedrooms. The north wall was glass, overlooking the lush green crowd of conifers that sloped down and away into the ravine. A  New Modern villa, reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright without being derivative. 

"It's gorgeous," Miranda says. Something about it felt fresh. 

"You're gorgeous," Genevieve replied from the landing near the front door where she was inputting the new security codes through a small, imbedded panel. Gen was in black jeans and a navy tank-top. 

Miranda smiled shyly, playfully. "You're a sweetheart, Gen. I'm not the girl for you, though."