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Rehabilitation By: Light Clark Synopsis: Ashton is a selfish failure of a man until a mysteriously bracelet decides to force him to make more of his life. Warning: This story is 'technically' set in the Whateley universe. It uses no characters or places from that universe; just borrows a few terms and general thematics. It is certainly not canon. Chapter 01 Everything was absolutely perfect. I had my feet kicked up on the empty seat beside me as I reclined in my own chair. In my earbuds, smooth jazz played, mellow and somnolent. That was probably why I was at best half awake, dozing away the wee hours of the night in languid tranquility. Even the intermittent dreams that came to me were wonderful, warm, and full of pleasant things. Suddenly, that perfect cozy little dream shattered as something kick the chair beneath me hard. Gasping in surprise, I jerked awake, nearly flailing myself right out of my chair. Luckily, I managed to catch myself before I took the painful spill onto the floor, but that was the extent of my luck. "What the fuck?!" I growled, yanking the buds from my ears as I twisted around in my chair to see who had kicked me. When I saw who it was, I winced at my stupidity. Standing there with an angry look on his face was my boss, one Mr. Duncan Ganver. He was in pretty good shape for an old guy. His potbelly didn't dent out his security guard uniform quite as far as mine did, and while his hair was mostly gray, it was a good deal thicker than my muddy brown widow's peak. We were even the same mediocre five-nine. It made me dread what I'd look like in twenty years when I was fifty one like him. "That's what I should be asking you!" Duncan barked back. "You're supposed to be watching the God damn cameras, Ash, not taking a God damn nap!" "And I was," I tried ineffectually to lie. "I literally just closed my eyes for a second." Duncan rolled his eyes at that. "Well I'm sick of you just closing your eyes for a second or just having a couple beers before work or just getting a little high in the security room. I don't care if your brother did fix my knee. If I catch you do any of that shit again or any new shit you come up with, you're fired. D'ya understand me?" That ultimatum prompted my second wince of the conversation. I couldn't afford to lose this job too. It was the best job that I'd had in years - good pay and almost no actual work. "Yes, sir. I read you loud and clear." "Good. Now get your ass out of here and go do rounds. I don't want to have to look at you," Duncan ordered. "Yes, sir," I mumbled, quickly scooting out of my chair. Sliding my way past my still glowering boss, I hurried out of the security room. What awaited me outside was the floor of the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. The lights were turned low thanks to the late hour, but it was still a rather grand looking place. The first few nights that I'd worked there, I'd been sort of awed by it as I'd roamed the floors. I wasn't really a history buff or anything, but without any visitors to crowd the exhibits, it had felt like getting my own personal tour of the world. Of course, two months later, it might as well have just been decked out in cheap carpet, fluorescent lights, and cardboard cubicles, because it was just another workplace to me. "Damn it," I grumbled in annoyance. "Why can't that old fart just lighten up? It's not like it's the end of the world if I take a quick nap or get a little high. Dude needs to get that stick out off his butt and learn to have a little fun." The museum's only answer was the echo of my own words coming back to me. I liked to think of that as the place agreeing with me. It was saying the exact same things that I was, after all. Whether the museum agreed with me or not, didn't really change anything. I still had to go on rounds, and with Duncan in the security room, he would be able to see on the cameras if I tried to slack off. With a weary sigh, I started on my trek through the huge building. Doing rounds was my least favorite part of the security gig. The reason why was quite obvious before I'd even gotten all that far at all - namely that I was not in great shape. Less than halfway through the task, my back was aching and I was puffing a bit for breath. One might think I'd be more used to doing this, but avoiding this particular assignment was one of the things that I actually worked hard to do. Whatever it took, notes from my doctor brother, random complaints, even occasionally just doing my job well, if it got me on camera duty, I did it. For the most part it had worked, though, Brett had said that he was getting pretty tired of me constantly bugging him for excuses. "Hey, Ash," my radio crackled to life with Duncan's voice. "We've got a camera out at the loading dock in acquisitions. Go check on it." Hearing the order elicited a sigh from me as I grabbed my radio from my belt. I didn't want to trek halfway across the building to check on some camera, and I sure as hell didn't want to walk in on a criminal on the off chance that there actually was one for once. "Are you sure? It's probably just a computer glitch. We could just have the tech guys look at it tomorrow." "Jesus, Ash. Man up, and go check on the damn camera," Duncan growled over the radio. I sighed yet again, before responding, "Yes, sir." Returning my radio to my belt, I turned and started toward acquisitions. It was a part of the museum that I rarely had any reason to visit. The section was mostly for storing and researching random junk that was donated to the museum. The artifacts back there usually wasn't very valuable and the labcoat guys that worked with them didn't like idiots like me poking around and possibly damaging irreplaceable relics and expensive lab equipment. After a quick trek across the floor, my security key card got me into the staff area of the museum. From there, it was a series of hallways and small rooms to get to the acquisition area in the back of the building. Another swipe of my key card unlocked the door to the loading dock as well, allowing me to step inside. The sight that awaited me caused me to freeze in place. The area was even more of a mess than usual, with random crap strewn about the floor in addition to the various loading equipment and crates that usually filled the loading area. In the midst of the mess was a woman in a black trench coat. At least, I assumed it was a woman from the long golden hair that flowed down her back. She was in the midst of digging through a crate that had been left on one of the workbenches - or at least she had been. The sound of the door opening had her twisting her head around toward me, revealing the glossy, black, full- faced mask that looked like it was carved from stone. "Freeze, rent-a-cop," the woman commanded, raising a hand to point it at me. Having no idea what powers she might have, if she had any at all, I immediately raised my own hands non-threateningly. No way was I risking my life for some old junk. "Yes, ma'am." "Compliant. Good," the woman noted when I promptly obeyed. "Now, walk over to me, slowly." With plenty of trepidation in every step, I started toward the woman. She didn't move a muscle as I walked; just stared at me impassively. Her arm didn't even quiver from the effort of holding it extended. "Now, kneel over there, facing the wall," the woman instructed, using her free hand to point to the wall a few feet to the side. Once again, I did exactly as asked, kneeling down against the wall. No more orders came from the woman. All I could hear was the soft sound of rustling as she went back to the task of digging through the junk in the box. For several long moments, I just knelt there against the wall, arms and knees both protesting the awkward position, until finally my radio squawked. "Ash? You better not be slacking off in there. Report on the damn camera already." "Tell him that you're still investigating the camera but that there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it," the woman instructed. Not wanting to do anything that might get me killed, I slowly reached down to grab the radio from my belt. "I-I'm s-still looking into it, Duncan, but it seems fine. No sign of any tampering." "Fine, just leave it then and get back to your rounds," Duncan directed. "And don't dawdle." "Y-Yes, sir," I replied, hoping that I'd done well enough to appease the woman. From behind me, the woman sighed right before she snactched the radio from my hand. A moment later, I heard the crunch of metal being crushed. "Since I'm short on time, I'm going to have you help me. Open that box on the left and start looking for a copper bracelet with an emerald set in it. If we find it before I need to go, you live. If not, you die. Understand?" Always motivated when my life is on the line, I nodded energetically. "Yes, ma'am." "Good, then get to work," the woman directed before turning right back to her own crate. Rising from my knees, I reached out toward the crate that I'd been told to open, hands shaking with fear. I knew that I had to hurry. Duncan wasn't going to give me a lot of time to show up on the cameras before he radioed me again. When I failed to answer, he'd know what was up and sound the alarm. After that, it was just a matter of time before law enforcement would arrive, and I'd either be stuck as a hostage or dead. Grabbing a nearby crowbar, I pried the crate open, revealing a mess of old junk that ranged from a silver tea set to a crudely painted wooden stick. That part barely registered with me, though, as all I noticed was a distinct lack of a copper bracelet. As such, I dug into the hodgepodge collection, yanking things out and tossing them aside as I searched for the item. The first crate's contents vanished quickly, but there was no sign of a bracelet, so I just grabbed the next box. Tearing into it, I dug through it's equally random mess of junk, going so fast that I frequently jabbed or cut my fingers on various objects. It didn't matter, though. I could spare a little blood, just as long as I found what the woman wanted. The problem was that speed didn't seem to make the bracelet appear. The second box emptied without a sign of it, forcing me to move on to the third. I ripped through its contents as well, shoveling them out over my shoulder like I was digging a ditch not handling potentially priceless artifacts. The contents inside dwindled, fueling my desperation, as I knew my remaining time was ticking away. Adding to my desperation was the increasing sounds of frustration from the woman behind me. She no longer merely tossed unneeded objects aside, but smashed them to vent her fury. Every crunch and crack caused me to cringe, as images of my bones making those exact same sounds played through my mind. Finishing another crate, I shoved it out of the way so that I could get to the next. I pried open the lid, and my eyes lit up. Resting there on the top of the pile was a cylinder of shiny copper with a large emerald set in the face. It had to be what that the woman was looking for. "I think I -" I began to say, just before a loud crash interrupted me. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 02 Jumping in surprise, I turned toward the crashing sound, half expecting to die where I stood. Across the room the regular door that led outside was smashed inward, rent almost clean off its hinges. Standing beside it was not death, but a muscular, black-haired man in blue and white spandex with a half-mask covering most of his face. Just as my mind realized that this was some hero come to rescue me, a bolt of pure black shot across the room from somewhere beside me. The hero barely managed to get his arms up before the bolt could slam into his face. Instead, it struck the man's forearms before ricocheting back across the room - right toward me. Frozen in a mix of fear and disbelief, all I could do was stand there and watch as the bolt careened toward me. It was quite fast, and yet oddly slow, as if time itself had changed to make me watch my doom for even longer than was necessary. Either way, it was inevitable. As luck would have it, the bolt's aim wasn't quite perfect. Instead of knocking my head off my shoulders, it slammed into one of those shoulders. A loud crack preceded the blossoming of the most excruciating pain that I had ever felt in my life. It was like my shoulder had been smashed into a puddle. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, surrounded by broken bits of artifacts and boxes. Intense pain still wracked my body, but not quite at the level where it drove all thought from my mind. That didn't stop me from curling up with my hand clutching my shoulder as I moaned in pain, wishing someone would save me. Over my pained whimpers, I could hear the crashes and blasts of the two supers fighting each other. A bolt of black energy slammed into a nearby crate, tearing it apart. Splinters from the blast pelted me, slicing shallow bloody lines into my skin. I hardly even felt those, though. Compared to my shoulder, they were nothing. Suddenly, the loudest crash yet echoed through the room, followed by the sound of a metal door smashing into concrete. Lifting my head a little, I could see that the metal door of the loading dock had been blasted out onto the pavement behind the building. The gap where it had stood served as the perfect escape route for the woman in black as she lifted up into the air and took off into the night. "Get back here!" I heard the hero yell before he took off in pursuit. "Wait!" I tried to shout after him, but only managed a pained croak. Even that faded away as I made the mistake of trying to reach out with my injured arm. Blinding pain took thought away from me again, leaving me with nothing but a timeless moment of agony. When it faded, I heard the sounds of new voices, faint but not too far off. I couldn't make out what they were saying, though. It was like a whisper that was just a bit too quiet to hear. A moment later, they faded into a black nothingness along with everything else in the world. *********************************************** *********************************************** Darkness was suddenly a blinding white, forcing me to squint my eyes which had apparently opened on their own. Fighting through the ocular pain, my world started to come into focus, gaining blurry shapes that quickly grew distinct. Those shapes turned out to be the interior of a hospital room. Having a brother who was a doctor, I knew the look quite well, from the neutral cream walls, to the slightly cheap and sparse furnishings. "Morning, bro," a familiar male voice greeted my awakening, forcing me to lift my head up enough to look over at one of the chairs along the wall. In it sat my brother, Brett. Upon first seeing Brett and me together, people were always shocked to learn we were related at all, much less brothers. It was easy to see why, though. Unlike me, he was quite handsome, with a toned athletic build, marvelous brown hair that showed no signs of thinning like mine had, and he usually sported a friendly smile as well. He was the quintessential male doctor. A female fantasy made flesh. Of course, there was a reason for such a difference between us. After all, Brett was a mutant while I was not. In addition to stunning good looks, it had also given him a healer's touch - quite literally. That power had made him an amazing reconstructive surgeon. Better results than a normal doctor could hope for, plus nearly no downtime. Naturally, that meant he got to add considerable wealth to his list of winning attributes - not that I was jealous or anything. "Well now I know I'm not in heaven," I joked, voice raspy. "There's no way a lucky bastard like you would ever die." Laughing, Brett rose from his seat to walk over to me. "You're a pretty lucky bastard, too, Ash. The EMTs didn't think you'd make it to the hospital alive, much less survive surgery." "Well, I'm guessing you had something to do with that second part," I replied, tilting my head to look at my injured right shoulder. I couldn't see what kind of shape it was in, between the blankets and my hospital gown, but I could feel that it was bound in bandages. It wasn't just my shoulder that was bound either. My upper arm had been bound against my chest, preventing me from moving it around. I was able to flex my fingers at least, which was good, but it felt weird - numb and sluggish. "I did what I could, but it was lucky you got to keep the arm at all. Your shoulder was a mess," Brett informed me, as he saw where I was looking. "It should be usable for day to day stuff, but it'll never be the same." As my brother talked, I kept on flexing my fingers, seeing if they got any better with movement. They seemed to loosen up a little bit, but that was about it. "I see ..." "On the bright side, with a chronic shoulder injury, you'll be able to get workman's comp," Brett tried to brighten things up. "If you're lucky, you'll never have to work again." "Well then I shoulda gotten myself almost killed years ago," I remarked, chuckling softly. Brett grinned. "Or you could've just not blown through all your college money getting high and gotten a decent job." "Fuck that. Not worth it," I scoffed derisively. "Well then this should be another upside for you," Brett noted as he pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. "Prescription painkillers just in case." "This just keeps getting better and better," I responded, a smile creasing my face. "Now, why don't you really make my day and tell me when I'm getting outta here?" Brett shrugged. "I've got some tests to do to check your arm's mobility first, but assuming those go well, tonight or tomorrow." "If it's ready to move around, why is it bound in place?" I inquired, glancing back at my arm again. "Mostly just to keep you from wrenching it when you came to," Brett answered. "You're gonna need to take it easy on it for a little while as well. It would be best if you keep it in a sling until I say otherwise." I nodded. "Sure thing, doc. I still got ol' lefty to keep me entertained." Brett rolled his eyes at my remark. "Yeah ... anyway ... if you want, I can cut you out of those bandages real quick and we can do those tests." I shrugged ... well half-shrugged as my right arm wouldn't move much. "Sure, let's do it." "Be right back," Brett told me before heading out of the room. He returned a few moments later with some medical scissors. Once he was back, Brett was all business, taking his job seriously even when it was something as simple as checking my supposedly healed shoulder. He used the bed remote to sit me up before sliding my hospital gown off my shoulders. "Try not to enjoy the show too much," I joked lamely. Brett just ignored me as he continued his work. Carefully, he slid the scissors into position, causing a chill to run down my spine as the cold metal touched me. After that, it was just a few snips before he pulled the bandages away and I got my first look at my shoulder. The first thing that I noticed was that Brett's work was as amazing as ever. The only readily visible oddities on my shoulder were the pinkness of my skin, and the slight puckering in a few areas that indicated minor scarring. Once the new skin's tone evened out, it would be hard to tell that I'd ever even had a shoulder injury. "Be careful with it," Brett instructed, once the bandages were off. With a slight nod, I took my first movement with my arm, lifting it a little - carefully, of course. The moment I did, though, I could tell that the inside wasn't as pristine as the outside would lead me to believe. The joint was very stiff, painfully so, and didn't move around smoothly, occasionally catching on something in there. It also suffered from the same sluggishness and diminished sensation that I'd felt when flexing my fingers earlier, clearly a sign of some nerve issue. Still, it was way better than not having an arm at all. As I toyed with my arm, I lifted it higher, enough so that the blanket that covered the lower half of it fell away, revealing something unexpected. There on my wrist was a slim band of copper with a sparkling emerald set in it. Having nearly died over the thing, I recognized it instantly. "What the hell?!" I gasped at the sight of the bracelet the masked woman had been after. "Why am I wearing this?" "What?" Brett questioned. "You mean the bracelet? Isn't it yours?" I gave him an incredulous look. "Do I look like the kind of guy that would own something like this?" "No, but you were wearing it when they brought you in," Brett explained. "We couldn't take it off you either. The latch is broken or something." Hearing that, I raised my hand up in front of my face to inspect the bracelet. The back side of it had a little hook latch that didn't look like it could possibly be that difficult to open. Sure enough, just getting my thumb under it popped it open easily. Immediately, a hidden hinge behind the emerald did it's work, and the bracelet fell into my lap. "How'd you do that?" Brett questioned, clearly surprised. "Are you kidding? It was easy. It just popped open with a little tug," I answered, furrowing my brow in confusion. Eyes wide, Brett just stared at the bracelet. "I swear, we had like four people try to get that off you. If it had been in the way, we would've had to resort to cutting it." "Well it's a good thing you didn't because it belongs to the museum. That masked villain lady was looking for it too, so it must be really valuable," I noted, looking down at the bracelet. It didn't really look like much. Actually, it was rather plain. The jewel was quite large, though, so I supposed that was what the woman was after. It was either that or it was some really valuable artifact, but if that was the case, it didn't make sense for it to be just stuffed in some random crate. "Anyway, let's get these tests finished up already." "Right ... the tests ... sure ..." Brett mumbled dazedly. A quick shake of his head brought back his focus, though, allowing him to get back to checking out my shoulder. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 03 "Well, looks pretty good, considering the shape it was in last night," Brett declared when he finally finished examining my shoulder. "You'll definitely need some physical therapy to loosen it up, though. I'll give you some exercises to do." That news got a groan from me. "Ugh ... I hate exercise." "Yeah, well, you'll hate it a lot more not being able to reach anything above your head, so you're doing it if I have to drag you into my office every day and get one of my nurses to walk you through it," Brett retorted. I perked up a little. "Really? Is Beth still working for you?" Immediately, Brett was glowering at me. "She is, but I'll stick you with Liz. You know, the husky sadist that loves to hear her patients squeal." I shuddered at the thought. "Fine, fine, I'll do the damn exercises." "That's what I thought," Brett remarked before changing the subject. "Anyway, I'm going to go review your x-rays and then get started on getting you released. Try not to move your arm around too much and buzz the nurse desk if you need me." "Alright, see ya," I told Brett. Giving me a quick nod in farewell, my brother headed out the door. As soon as I was alone, I let out a weary sigh, silently thanking whoever might be looking out for me for the fact that I was still alive. When that black bolt had been rocketing at me, I'd been sure that I was toast. "Woulda sucked to die for some shitty old trinket," I muttered as I reached for the tv remote to find something to entertain me while I waited. I never even got the TV on, though, before I heard the sound of the door opening. "Mind if I come in?" Duncan questioned from over by the door. I shrugged. "Sure, why not." "Thanks," Duncan replied as he walked over to my bed. "You look pretty good for someone they say almost died." "Well that's my brother for ya," I responded. "He's really good at his job." Duncan nodded. "Yeah, I remember. Anyway, I uh just wanted to say that I'm glad you're alright. The museum has your medical bills all covered along with paid medical leave, of course. You're job will be waiting for you when you get better, too, although, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to come back after what happened." "I probably won't. Even Brett isn't enough of a miracle working to completely fix my shoulder," I explained. Duncan nodded again. "Yeah ... that's uh ... no surprise. I uh saw what you looked like before he got to you. It wasn't pretty." "Yeah ... it didn't feel pretty either," I remarked. "Oh ... by the way ..." I segued as I turned to the little stand next to my bed to grab the bracelet. "You should take this. It belongs to the museum. Plus, I think it's what that bitch was looking for. Somehow it got brought in here with me." "Really? Huh ..." Duncan muttered as he reached out to take the bracelet. "Doesn't look familiar." "It was in one of the crates in acquisitions. I guess it's part of some collection that got donated," I explained. For a moment, Duncan peered at the bracelet before shrugging. "Well whatever. I'll get one of the labcoats to tell me what it is." "Let me know what they say. I'd like to know what I almost died for," I told him. Nodding, Duncan turned toward the door to go. "Sure thing, Ash. I'll give you a call when I know more." "Alright. See ya," I responded. Still nodding, Duncan turned the bracelet over in his hand as he walked slowly toward the door. Clearly, he was as curious about what made the trinket so special as I was. That was no surprise, really. Someone breaking into the museum was a strange occurance, after all. Turning back to the TV, I reached for the remote to turn it on as I heard the door open. I also heard Duncan step outside, but the door never clicked close. Instead, the older man gasped, "What the hell?" Confused, I looked up to see Duncan come back into the room. "What's the matter?" "The bracelet ... it's gone ..." Duncan stammered, staring down at his empty hands. "What?" I questioned, thoroughly confused how someone could lose something that they were literally holding in their hands. "Did Brett put you up to this or something?" "Brett? Why would he ..." Duncan began, trailing off when he looked up at me. Instantly, his eyes widened and locked onto my lap. Furrowing my brow in confusion, I looked at my lap as well to see what duncan was looking at. Resting there on my wrist, was the copper bracelet, it's emerald sparkling in the light. It was like I'd never taken it off at all. "What the hell?" "That thing just vanished from my hand when I walked through the door," Duncan noted as he and I both stared at the bracelet. Not wanting to believe that I had some magic bracelet that I couldn't get rid of, I quickly worked the latch to get it off. Once it popped free, I offered it to Duncan again, making sure to keep my eyes on him, so that it couldn't possibly be some kind of trick. "You're gonna try it again." "Okay ... " Duncan replied uncertainly. Accepting the bracelet he started toward the door again. This time, I watched Duncan until his body blocked my view of the bracelet, then I immediately switched to looking at my wrist. I heard the door open again for Duncan to step outside. A moment later, the bracelet was just back on my wrist again. "Well fuck," I muttered, not happy at all. After all, some crazed woman had been willing to kill for the stupid thing and now I was stuck with it. While I pondered how bad my situation had just gotten, Duncan walked back over to my bed. "I guess it's one of those power stone things you hear about in the news sometimes." "Yeah, but what does it do besides act as clingy as a psycho ex girlfriend?" I questioned, twisting my wrist around to look at the bracelet from every angle. I didn't feel empowered in any way, and the thing didn't have any markings on it to indicate how it was supposed to be used. "And more importantly, how do I get it to stop acting that way? Maybe there were some notes with the collection it came in with?" "If there were, good luck finding them. That room's a mess, and most of the stuff in the boxes were ruined," Duncan told me. "I could try to ask around the staff and see if anyone knows anything." "Really? That would be great!" I replied before I realized a problem with that plan. "But ... uhm ... could you ... not tell anyone that I have this thing?" Duncan furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why?" "Because I don't want that crazy bitch finding out and coming after me for it," I explained. Duncan's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh ... right. Yeah, that would be bad. Don't worry, I'll keep it quiet." *********************************************** *********************************************** As I looked out the window, I could practically see the net income of people dropping as Brett drove toward my home. That was no surprise, of course. I lived in one of the worst parts of town, after all - not that it bothered me. I didn't need a big empty house like my brother had. Soon, income levels hit rock bottom and that was when the car finally rolled to a stop. In front of me was home sweet home, a rundown little complex of low-rent apartments. The place looked like a mess with some graffiti painted on the wall and clear signs of degrading structural integrity. Even the cars parked around it had seen better days. Most were old and several had wrongly colored parts from body work that had been done to them. "Whelp, thanks for the ride, bro," I announced as I awkwardly unbuckled myself with my left hand since my right was now in a sling at my brother's insistence. "You sure you don't want to stay with me for a few days?" Brett asked the question for the third time since I'd been released from the hospital. As he asked, he looked around warily as if he expected his expensive little sports car to get stolen right out from under him. I nodded. "I'm sure. My place is more comfortable, and I don't like the look your maid gives me everytime she sees me. I swear she thinks I'm an actual cockroach. It wouldn't surprise me if she tried to spray me with bug spray in my sleep." "Well ... alright ..." Brett mumbled, clearly not happy with my decision. "Oh stop it. I may not act like it, but I'm a fucking grown man. I can manage to take care of myself without ruining your work on my shoulder," I spat in annoyance as I shoved the door open with my foot and got out. Brett let out a defeated sigh. "You're right, sorry. Give me a call if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you in a couple days for your check up." "See ya in a couple days," I told him right before slamming the door closed and starting toward my place. It took a couple of moments before the car behind me finally drove off. My apartment was the worst of the lot, sitting on the far end of the building on the first floor. One might think being on the first floor was a good thing, but only if one had never lived below my upstairs neighbor. I'd never figured out what she actually did for a living, but it seemed to be some mix of strangling a guitar and being the world's most enthusiastic wall banger. That last part was probably a different kind of banging, though. Adding to the bad location of my apartment was its proximity to the dumpster for the building. The thing was only about a dozen paces away, and by pick up day could usually be smelled all the way at my door. On particularly unlucky weeks, the stench didn't even stop at the door. Sighing as I made it to my door, I fished around in my pocket for my keys. I managed to get them out only to have my left hand fail to keep hold of them properly, dropping them on the ground at my feet. "Ah fuck," I sighed as I bent down to get them. Just as I got all the way bent over, I heard a loud hiss come from behind me, causing me to start with surprise. Twisting around, I oriented on the source of the angry sound, some grumpy stray cat that had been hissing at me for the last few days. The thing was scrawny, gray furred, and poking its head around the corner of the building to hiss and spit at me for being there. "Yeah, well fuck you too," I shot back at the cat as I finished scooping my keys off the ground. Ignoring the continued hissing, I got my door unlocked and stepped inside. The interior of my apartment perfectly suited its exterior. The walls were dingy, and the carpet worn thin and stained. My furnishings were sparse and cheap, sporting a couch with one broken leg propped up with books, and a couple large crates to serve as a coffee table and end table. I even had a shitty little CRT TV mostly so that no one would want to steal it. As soon as I was through the door, I tugged off my sling and walked over to a cabinet in the kitchenette, pulling out a bottle of whiskey that resided there. It was already half empty, but that just meant I still had half of it to finish off. Popping it open, I took a swig, relishing the feel of it burning down my throat. "Ah, it's good to be home," I sighed as I started toward my bedroom with the bottle still in hand. In there, I flopped into my desk chair in front of my crappy old computer, sat my bottle on the desk, and clicked the power button. While it booted up, I dug through the drawer to grab some marijuana. Nothing goes better together than whiskey and weed. Once my various consumables were ready, I turned back to the now booted computer. A few clicks had a folder opened in front of me while I hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm ... I'm thinking magical girls and let's go with ... tentacle monsters," I finally decided, before starting the video up and leaning back to enjoy my evening. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 04 The obnoxious bleats of my ringtone penetrated into my hazy sleep, tugging me awake, though, only just barely. Groaning, I opened blurry eyes, trying to sort out exactly where I was and what was going on. Somehow, I'd ended up on the floor, a fact that my back was not at all pleased with. The rest of me wasn't too pleased with it either, judging by how sore I felt. The only light in the room was the very faint amount that managed to leak through the blinds during the day. "Okay, phone. I hear ya ..." I grumbled before rolling over and trying to get my feet under me. It wasn't an easy task, and if not for the nearby bed to grab ahold of, I'd probably have ended up on my ass more than once. By the time I'd gotten to my feet, the phone had stopped ringing, which presented a whole new problem. I now had to figure out where it was. My best guess was that it was in the bedroom, judging by how loud it had been, but everything seemed loud right now. Even my own breathing was giving me a headache. Several minutes of nearly blind fumbling followed, during which I actually did manage to fall once. Finally, though, I had my phone in my hand. It proudly displayed that I had one message, so I called it to check. "You have one unheard message ... first unheard message ... a member of your household has one prescription that is-" the phone told me before I ended the call. "Oh ... right ... painkillers," I muttered, rubbing at my pounding head. "Gonna need those for sure." Tossing my phone on my bed, I turned toward the bathroom, half walking and half stumbling as my I made my way there. Inside, I stopped in front of the mirror, leaning heavily on the counter. "Hey there, pudgy," I teased my reflection - not that I looked as pudgy as usual at the moment. Instead, I had a pale, haggard, almost gaunt look to me. "Guess almost dying is good for losing weight," I remarked, shrugging. I certainly looked like I'd almost died - or in fact was still almost dying. A lot of that was the blood shot eyes and slack, half-awake way that I slumped against the counter, more like an animated corpse than a living person. It made me wonder how awful I must have looked before my brother fixed me up. Deciding that was enough staring in the mirror, I opened the medicine cabinet to grab some painkillers. They weren't prescription, but they'd hopefully still do at least something about the hangover headache. Certainly, I was going to need some relief if I was going to manage to actually go outside of my apartment. After taking a double dose of pain pills, I tilted my head to the side to give myself a sniff, crinkling my nose at the mix of sweat, booze, and funk that entered my nose. Even with how bad I obviously smelled, I was tempted to skip the shower anyway. Only the fact that I hoped it would wake me up a little got me to start stripping down. The last thing I removed was the strange copper bracelet. I'd done some testing with it after what had happened with Duncan, but I still didn't know too much. Apparently, if it or I were moved out of the room the other was in, it would just appear on my wrist. I also seemed to be the only one that could take it off, as I'd had both Duncan and Brett try after discovering its teleporting nature with no luck. It hadn't revealed any other abilities to me, though. "Stupid thing," I muttered as I tossed the bracelet on the counter. If I was going to be stuck with it, the least it could have done was let fly or be immune to hangovers or some shit. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Hmm," I hummed thoughtfully to myself as I stared at the selection in the store's liquor aisle. Like most convenience stores, it wasn't a particular large or high class selection, but that was fine with me. I cared more about maximizing my alcohol per dollar than getting the best stuff anyway. While trying to decide between two large bottles of whiskey and one really large bottle of whiskey, I heard the sound of someone approaching. It was obviously a woman from the sharp click of her shoes on the tile floor. That piqued my interest enough to glance up to see them. A short way down the aisle stood a pretty young thing somewhere in that perfect coed age with an excellent figure packaged in revealing summer attire. She was looking at the beer selection, so I took that as proof enough that she was old enough to be interested in. Putting a lopsided smile onto my face, I tipped my head to her and said, "Hey there, cutie." The mundane greeting was enough to get the woman to look up, meeting my eyes for just a moment. I could practically see the revulsion fill up those orbs before spilling out onto her face in a disgusted expression. A faint shudder was all that I got in reply before she turned back to her beer. This time, she selected her beverage choice almost immediately before turning and hurrying off. "Bet that woulda worked for Brett," I grumbled before shrugging off the rejection. It was hardly the first time that had happened to me after all. Deciding that I needed as much liquor as possible, I snagged two of the extra large bottles before leaving the aisle as well. I strolled languidly through the store, glancing around more as just something to do than out of any actual interest in what the place had to offer. That was what made it all the more surprising to me when one aisle caught my eye. As with most stores, this one had an aisle entirely devoted to spoiling children - the candy aisle. Like many adults, I almost never ventured near the place. Kids didn't trick or treat in my neighborhood, and I had long outgrown the desire to stuff my face with sugar. Still, a little sweet to mix in with my drug consumption sounded pretty good at that moment. Shrugging, I turned off the main path and delved into the dizzying assortment of processed sugar. I was surprised that I recognized most of the names, but not well enough to really know what would be good. The nostalgia of it made me want to grab them all. "You're not getting workman's comp yet," I reminded myself before snagging a fruit flavored one off the shelf and stuffing it in my right hand pocket. I figured I might as well save the dollar. With my random urge sated, I got myself back on track, heading to the pharmacy to grab my meds. It was a bit of a walk to get across most of the store, leaving me huffing slightly from lugging the whiskey all that way. At least there was no line, though, allowing me to walk straight up to the kindly older gentleman that was manning the counter. "Good afternoon! How can I help you?" the old man greeted cheerily. "Ashton Hinton," I supplied my name. Nodding, the old man started to type, pulling up my file. A few questions later, my identity was confirmed and he grabbed my meds off the shelf behind him. "You want me to get those for you too?" he asked, pointing to the bottles in my hand. "Yeah, thanks," I replied, plopping the two bottles on the counter. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed the candy bar from my pocket and started to place it on the counter as well. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late to put it back in my pocket, causing me to silently curse my stupidity. I'd just cost myself a dollar for nothing. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Stupid fucking station being so damn far away," I grumbled as I made what was about a five block hike from the subway back to my apartment. The entire way, I had been huffing for breath, sweat glistening on my brow. My left arm ached as well, suffering under the weight of the whiskey I'd bought as well as the fact that I couldn't switch the weight to my right hand to give it a break. At least, my apartment was finally in view, though, that only meant that the hardest part remained. The last little stretch of the journey was a steep upward hill to where the apartment building sat. In reality, it was probably twenty feet up from where I was at most, but aching and tired, it looked like Everest to me. "I need a car ... " I groaned as I stared at the incline. That would solve all my problems, if only I could afford one. "Maybe I can get Brett to pity me enough to get me one ... " I mused as I forced myself to start the trek up. Normally, my brother avoided giving me money or anything that could easily be sold for money. I couldn't really blame him, given that I had sold my last car for pot money. However, this time, I'd recently almost died and was still hurt. Brett was a sucker for stuff like that. I just needed to play up how much pain I was in when I saw him the next day and I'd have a shot. The sputtering hiss of an angry cat tugged me from my scheming as I neared the door to my apartment. After a quick jump in surprise, I tilted my head down to glare at the source of the noise. Once again, that gray stray was poking its head around the corner of the apartment to hiss at me. "Fuck every damn day. Are you ever going to stop that?!" I growled at the cat, earning another hate-filled hiss in response. "I should call animal control on you, you little shit." The cat wasn't the least bit intimidated by my threat, meeting my glare with unrestrained hostility. It was like the thing was daring me to try messing with it. I didn't want to find out what it had planned for if I did try something. "Damn demon cat," I muttered as I quickly worked the lock and slipped through the door, slamming it closed behind me. "Thing would probably leap on me and claw my eyes out or some shit." Once I was inside, I dropped my bag of stuff on the counter, sighing in relief. Flexing my left hand to loosen it up, I pulled the bag open with my right to get started on indulging in the vices contained within. Painkillers came out first, mostly just because they weren't something I always had, then I started to reach for one of the whiskey bottles. My hand stopped just before grabbing the bottle, though, as I noted the little package of candy I'd impulsively bought. Without really thinking about it, I grabbed that instead and started off toward my room. In my room, I walked over to my computer chair, tearing open the candy as I went. Plopping into the chair, I used one hand to toss a piece of candy into my mouth while the other grabbed the mouse. "Huh, pretty good," I mused as I chewed on the sugary treat. I didn't give it too much thought, though, as I still had to find some entertainment. Once I found one, I leaned back in my chair and popped one of the pain pills into my mouth. "Let's see if the power of love can defeat a masked stranger this time ..." *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 05 The sound of my phone ringing once again pulled me from sleep. It didn't do a very good job of it, though, as my head felt like mush and my body like lead. There was no hangover, at least, nor was I on the floor. This time, I'd apparently passed out in my desk chair somewhere in the middle of ... my movie. "Damn painkillers knocked me out," I grumbled as I rubbed at my eyes with one hand, reaching for the phone laying on my desk with the other. "Hello?" "Where the hell are you, Ash?!" my brother's infuriated voice shouted from the other end of the line. "You were supposed to get to my office hours ago for your check up!" Furrowing my brow in confusion, I wondered if Brett wasn't having a little medicinal fun today, too. "What are you talking about, dude? That's not 'til tomorrow." "God, you don't even know what day it is, do you?!" Brett huffed. "That'll teach me to ever write you a prescription." "I know what day it is, ass!" I argued. "It's Thursday. I'm not supposed to see you 'til Friday." On the other end, I heard a loud groan. "Yeah ... it's not Thursday." "What?" I questioned. "Of course it is." "No. It's not. Go check," Brett instructed. Sighing in exasperation, I forced myself to sit up enough so that I could reach the mouse and move it. A moment later, my computer screen powered up again, causing me to squint from the sudden light in my dark room. Through blurry vision, I managed to guide the mouse pointer over to the clock and clicked. Much to my surprise, the little pop up window said Friday. "What the hell?" I muttered at the sight. "I just took one ..." "Yeah, sure you did," Brett remarked sarcastically over the phone. "Whatever. I'll squeeze you in during my lunch break, so just get here by one. Okay?" Still dumbfounded, I stared at the clock on the computer screen. According to it, I'd slept away nearly a whole day. That had never happened before, at least not without me taking a lot more than one little pain pill. "Ash?" Brett said when I didn't answer. "Huh? Oh ... one ... yeah ... I'll be there," I finally replied. There was a moment's pause before Brett added, "Maybe I should send a cab to pick you up or something." "I'll be fi-" I started to reject the offer out-of-hand, before stopping to think. After all, if I turned Brett down, I'd just have to take the subway, which would cost me money and take a lot more time. It wasn't like Brett couldn't afford it. "Actually, that would be a big help, thanks." "No problem," Brett responded. "And, Ash, lay off the pills a little." "I really just took one!" I protested. "I'll see you at one," came Brett's reply right before he hung up. Sighing, I tossed my phone on my desk. I wasn't surprised that Brett didn't believe me. I wasn't sure that I even believed me. It would make a lot more sense if I had ended up taking a bunch of pills and just forgotten about it after I blacked out. Suddenly curious, I grabbed the pill bottle off the desk. There had been thirty in total when I'd gotten them. Popping it open, I dumped the pills out on the desk and started to count. A moment later, I got to twenty-nine before I finally ran out. Shaking my head, I slumped back in my chair. "I must be turning into a lightweight in my old age ..." My self-reflection lasted all of a moment before I shrugged and shoved myself out of my chair. Stretching my hands over my head to loosen up from my excessively long nap, I got my mind focused on the day ahead. Clearly, I couldn't take any more of those pain pills unless I wanted to just lose a month of my life, but I still had time off from work and plenty of booze to enjoy it with. I just had to get the stupid check up with my brother out of the way and I could get back to enjoying myself. "Guess I should get ready for that then," I mused, turning toward the bathroom. Brett would want to know I was taking care of myself, which meant a shower, some clean clothes, and me finding that stupid sling he wanted me to wear. In the bathroom, I stopped in front of the mirror to rub at my chin. I'd never had much of a beard, but I still had to shave on occasion. Apparently, this wouldn't be one of those occasions, though as there was only a little bit of stubble. After the beard check, I quickly went over the rest of my appearance. Some eye drops were going to be a must given how bloodshot my brown orbs were. There was nothing to be done about the dark circles under my eyes or the thin, haggard look, however. "My diet has been awfully liquid, lately," I remarked as I poked at my cheeks. After half-dying, I'd had one decent meal in the hospital, then nothing really other than the candy bar the day before and lots of whiskey. It was no wonder that I looked like shit. "Brett's probably gonna throw a fit about that, He's such a fucking mother hen." Dismissing my reflection as a lost cause like I usually did, I quickly stripped and hopped into the shower. Like most of the apartment, it was shitty. The water pressure was terrible, and the damn thing never managed to get more than lukewarm. It always made me want to break the water heater just to see if I could force the landlord to fix it. After all, it's not like I would've cared if I had to just go without a shower for a couple weeks. "Skinny and haggard ain't lookin' so bad down here, though," I mused in the shower, patting my much diminished tummy bulge. It hadn't been so close to flat since I was in a high school. Of course, back in high school, I'd also been a scrawny little shit, and some of that scrawniness was starting to show itself again without the pudge to add some bulk. It was better than being fat at least. After a couple minutes, the shower was done and I was back in my room getting dressed for the day. Nothing fit great, but it didn't need to. There was definitely one pretty big problem, though. "Where the hell is that sling?" I growled in annoyance, trying to remember where I'd tossed the thing. It wasn't like I even needed the damn thing. Other than being a little numb, my arm felt perfectly fine. It wasn't even stiff anymore. Brett would be expecting me to wear it, though, so I had to find it. Vaguely remembering taking it off when I got home, I headed out into the main room of the apartment. Sure enough, there it was, laying on the counter right next to the two bottles of whiskey that I hadn't gotten around to the night before. For a moment, I considered getting started on one of them now. It wouldn't be the first time that I had whiskey for breakfast. Still, it didn't seem all that appealing at the moment. "Brett would be pissed if I showed up drunk," I muttered, giving up on the whiskey to go grab some chocolate cereal from the cupboard. *********************************************** *********************************************** A smile spread across my face as I set foot in Brett's doctor's office. Immediately, I swiped a hand back over my hair to smooth it out, adding a little swagger to my step. Doing my best to be suave, I strolled over to the reception desk and leaned against it casually. The source of my sudden cheerfulness sat behind the desk. She was a girl by the name of Beth, an adorably perky, little blonde that worked for my brother as a nurse. She was also almost ten years younger than me and hated my guts, but those were trifling matters. "Hey there, sugar," I greeted. "Is Brett ready for me?" Even just the sound of my voice got Beth to wince. When she actually looked up at me it was with cold disdain in her eyes. It was a look that I'd never seen her give anyone else in my entire life. Until she'd first given it to me, I hadn't even thought the cute little thing could even dislike someone. "Dr. Hinton is with another patient. He should be just a moment," Beth replied, using civil words but said in a tone that couldn't be less welcoming. "Brr," I joked, affecting a shiver. "Why do you always have to be so cold?" "It might have something to do with how you drunkenly hit on my sister ... at her wedding reception ... then vomited all over her," Beth answered icily. I just shrugged it off nonchalantly. "Well that's her fault for having an open bar." Beth's eyes narrowed to the tiniest of slits. "I hope someone puts cyanide in your pain meds." "Whoa, whoa!" I exclaimed, holding my hands up. "Aren't you guys supposed to be all 'first do no harm'?" "There would be no harm in removing you from the face of the earth," Beth retorted, adopting a sickeningly sweet smile to go with the death in her eyes. This time, when I shivered, it was because of real chills going down my spine. Deciding those chills meant that I would be in real danger, if I continued, I shrugged again to try to appear nonplussed then turned to plop in one of the seats. Waiting quietly wouldn't kill me. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long before the door to the back opened and Brett stepped through. Behind him came a kindly old lady with a cane who was laughing at something Brett must have said before they'd come through the door. It wasn't a surprise. Brett was popular with ladies of all ages. No one would ever wish he had cyanide in his meds. "I'll see you next week, Dr. Hinton," the old lady said in a farewell, offering a friendly wave to go with it. "Looking forward to it, Mrs. Cruise," Brett replied, before his attention shifted to take in the reception area. A frown stole across his face when he saw the scowl on Beth's face. Sighing, he turned toward me. "I see you're making a good impression as usual." "I was just trying to be pleasant," I said in my defense. "As pleasant as a flea, and just as in need of extermination," Beth rejoindered sharply from her desk. Rolling his eyes, Brett waved me over. "Come on. Let's go before this gets any worse." Shrugging, I rose from my seat and walked over to the door which Brett held open. As I walked by, I noticed he had a slightly bemused look on his face. At first, I thought that it might just be because I didn't keep going at it with Beth, but as we walked back to one of the exam rooms, he kept just looking at me. "What?" I finally asked. "Huh?" Brett mumbled snapping out of it. "You've been staring at me, so what is it? Worried about how I look, because let me assure that I'm ugly as I've always been," I told him. Brett shook his head. "No, it's just something seemed kind of off about you." "Well I have lost some weight, since the whole almost dying thing," I noted, figuring that was probably what it was. "I noticed that. That's probably just some system shock from the trauma combined with some after effects of my power being used on you," Brett responded, smoothly entering doctor mode. "Nothing to worry about as long as it doesn't get too extreme." "I see, so I can expect to be my usually pudgy self again in a few months?" I asked. Brett nodded hesitantly. "Well ... without exercise or a diet change or anything else like that then ... yes probably." That news was a little disappointing to hear. There was no way I was going to diet or exercise, after all. "Well, good to know." *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 06 "Thank God that's over with," I sighed right after slamming the door to Brett's car shut behind me, freeing me from my brother's company and the incessant nagging that went along with it. "I swear sometimes he sounds just like Mom." Determined to forget all about wasting time on that stupid check up, I took a deep breath and started toward my apartment, pulling my keys from my pocket along the way. Inside, there was booze and entertainment aplenty, and I wouldn't have to leave again until I needed to make another trip to the store. It was going to be heaven. "Mryow..." came the weak whimpering sound of a plaintive cat, interrupting my fantasies. For a moment, I was so confused by the fact that the noise wasn't a hiss, that I just furrowed my brow and stood there. "So you finally got over the hissing, huh?" I remarked as I glanced over to the cat's usual spot. Awaiting me there was another surprise. Instead of doing its usual thing of poking its head around the corner and hissing at me when I came home. The cat was flopped onto its side a good couple feet from the corner. As such, its body was in plain sight, which also meant that I could see how bad of a shape it was in today. Its fur was either matted down with what looked like congealed blood or in some places torn right off. The thing looked like it had been on the wrong end of a fight with something that was all claws and anger. "Guess you hissed at something you shouldn't have," I taunted the badly injured cat, before turning to get back to unlocking my door. There was just one problem with that course of action, though. When I tried to reach for the door with my right hand, the hand refused to move an inch. It was like someone had grabbed my wrist and held it in place. Confused once again, I turned back toward the cat to peer at my hand. There was no sign of anyone holding it, nor anything around for it to be snagged on. A quick tug showed that while I could move the hand around as well as the arm, but my wrist, the wrist with that weird copper bracelet on it, refused to budge from where it was. "Damn it!" I cursed, grabbing the bracelet with my other hand. I quickly found the little latch on it and tried to pry it open, but it too refused to budge. "What the hell's wrong with this fucking thing?" In the background, I faintly heard another pitiful mewl from the cat while I tried to figure out how to free myself from the shackling bracelet. At the sound the bracelet moved, but not to let me free of it. Instead, it jerked slightly toward the cat as if trying to point at it. Blinking, I looked at the bracelet, then the cat, then back at the bracelet again. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me! You want me to help it?!" The bracelet didn't reply in any way. It just sat there on my wrist, continuing to hold me in place no matter how much I tried to tug it toward my apartment. That was seeming like a 'yes' to me. "Unbelievable ..." I sighed in exasperation. "First you latch yourself onto me without even asking, and now you're gonna make me help some flea-ridden, stray cat?" Once again, the cat whined, causing the bracelet to jerk toward it a little bit. "Fine! I'll help the damn cat that always hisses at me and probably wants to claw my eyes out!" I huffed, starting toward the cat. Sure enough, the bracelet stopped holding my wrist in place and let me go. Stomping over to the cat, I knelt down next to it to look it over. The thing was clearly in really bad shape, but I didn't really know what I could do for it. Several of the claw marks looked pretty deep and still leaked blood. It needed real medical attention. "Well no way am I fucking trekking across town to a vet with a half- dead cat in my arms," I grumbled, reaching into my pocket for my cell phone. Brett had only just dropped me off, so he couldn't have gone too far. "He can heal the damn cat." A dial and a few rings later, Brett picked up and said, "Hey, Ash. Forget something?" "Not exactly," I replied. "There's this stray cat at my place that's all clawed up, and that stupid bracelet I got stuck with is making me help it. You think you could come back here and take a look at it for me?" "Wait, did you just say the bracelet is making you help it?" Brett asked, concern evident in his voice. Even though I was on the phone, I nodded like Brett could see me. "Yep. Damn thing just held me in place until I agreed to help the little pest. I figured calling you has got a better chance of working out than me trying to schlep it to a vet somewhere." "Alright, sure. I'll come on back. I'll just be a couple minutes," Brett told me. "Great. See ya," I responded before hanging up and turning back to the cat. "Alright, so help's on the way. Just to be safe, I should probably do what I can to help out 'til he gets here, though. Wouldn't want this stupid thing cutting my hand off or something, because I didn't do everything I could," I added, glaring at the bracelet on my wrist. Not sure if it would be a good idea to move the cat, I got up and started toward my apartment. My best bet was to just gather basic supplies that Brett might need, like hot water and clean towels and stuff. I was pretty sure that I even had a first aid kit under the sink. It was for people, but maybe that stuff works for cats too. Unlike my previous attempt to enter my apartment, the bracelet didn't resist me this time, allowing me to roam around gathering the various items that I thought might help. By the time I got some water heated up, I had a pretty good pile of supplies out by the cat. It was all just in time for Brett to pull up in his car. "Hey. It's not much, but I gathered what I had," I informed Brett as he got out of the car and started toward the cat. "I see that. Thanks," Brett replied without slowing down in the slightest. A moment later, he was kneeling next to his patient, carefully examining it. After several more moments, he straightened up and turned to me. "These towels are clean, right?" I nodded. "Should be." "Alright, then help me move it onto one of those as gently as possible, then start cleaning out its cuts," Brett instructed, enlisting me as his nurse. Kneeling down beside the cat, I did as instructed, helping shift the thing onto one of the towels and start cleaning its wounds. Every time I finished with a wound, Brett would check it, then use some disinfectant from the first aid kit. After that, he would press a finger onto the cut, while using his other hand to keep the cat from thrashing about in pain. Then, a warm, soft, yellow light would spread over his hand and the gash would start to close. Within just a couple minutes, all the visible wounds were gone, and the cat was sound asleep. "Well, I'm no vet, but it should be out of danger for now," Brett finally declared, leaning back. "You should still take it in just to be safe, though." Hearing that suggestion made me wince. If the bracelet was determined that I had to help this cat, then I'd probably have to do exactly as Brett instructed. A trip to the vet was the exact thing I'd be trying to avoid by calling him. "Damn it ..." I cursed under my breath. "Think I could bum a ride off ya?" Brett nodded. "Sure. Just wrap it in some towels and we'll get going." *********************************************** *********************************************** "God, this is taking forever," I grumbled as I shifted in the waiting room chair to get comfortable. It wasn't reall