The dreaded reverse.

So. Another thing no one asked for. Something about going to new places and seeing new things just seems to all but force me to consider new ideas, so here we are. I'm still working on the next chapter of Soul Fire for tomorrow, so that might still happen. Yet for now, here we are.

So... I have an important thing to say here, and this is the only place I'll say it regarding this one. DISCLAIMER: this one will be involving some politics and perhaps even some social commentary. I want to make it clear here, that the politics and commentary will not be mine, but those of the characters I write. I may agree with them on some opinions they hold, and I most definitely do not agree with them on other opinions they hold, so in no way should anyone assume that I am in any way endorsing what is being written here. I'm willing to discuss it, of course, but please do not assume I am 'stumping' or preaching for any set of ideas or philosophy you read here.

Some of you, many of you, are likely to get triggered by some of the content of this one. It is my hope you'll be able to work past that and into the thought provoking mental space I'd like this one to help you reach. You have been warned, and may whatever God or Gods exist have mercy upon my soul for kicking this one off.

Please enjoy.

Life comes at you fast. This statement, used almost entirely for commercials and pithy old men trying to sound profound while being the farthest thing from it. It didn’t make the statement any less true, however; sometimes that speeding truck just hit you, and if you were lucky (or unlucky depending on your point of view) you got to see it just as it took you out.

This truck hit the entire planet, and only a few had seen it coming.

I woke up like I usually did, and knew something was wrong. Everything looked bleary, and my glasses seemed to want to fall off my face. Getting up, the room seemed a little higher? Nah, that was bullshit. I needed coffee; according to the alarm clock which had clearly not done it’s job, Work was in thirty-seven minutes.

The bathroom light was especially harsh today; maybe I should change that bulb? The newer LED ones were supposedly better now anyway.

I couldn’t see myself in the mirror. Oh I could see a face, just peering over the sink, but it wasn’t mine. Silver hair, milk-white skin, and ears that jutted out to a point on either side. I slowly blinked, and the deep blue eyes of what was clearly a girl blinked with me.

I hadn’t even drank last night.

Right, first things first, and this wouldn’t be creepy at all. Small amount of breast tissue, definitely female, looking a little underfed through the waist, but legs and arms seem to be fine size-wise. All in all, this would look normal for a twelve year old, save for the ears. And the sparkly silver hair. And the deep blue sea eyes.

Yeah.

I went back and found my phone; it was so much larger in my hand, but the thing worked fine, even if I had to use my pin to open it. I did have a fingerprint, but it was a completely different pattern, of course.

I had to wait. Finally, my boss picked up.

“Yeah, Reggie, this is Ed. I’m not going to be able to make it in today.”

Then I hung up on the man, deed done, turned off my phone, and crawled back under my nice warm covers. I’d deal with all this shit tomorrow.

That was my door. More specifically, that was some jackhole pounding on my door as if to break it down. Good luck on that, it was a security door you’d need a battering ram for, but I should probably at least answer it and get rid of the person so I could go back to sleep.

Yep, I was still small and white as milk.

I had to work a little harder to open the door than I was used to, which wasn’t fun.

Cops were on the other side of it; two uniforms and what looked to be a detective. “Can I help you?”

They all three looked at each other, then back at me. “Edward Cooper?”

“Yes?”

“I am detective Stile, and these are officers Arnolds and Weaver. Can you come with us, ma’am?” The two officers had done those stupid little waves as their names were spoken. I hated them already.

I was currently dressed in a shirt, with no shoes or wallet or anything, and I was still tired. “Am I under arrest?”

The detective piped up: “If we say no, will you shut the door?”

He was onto me. “Yeah. I’m not really dressed for going out, and I don’t really have anything to fix that right now. I might be able to buy or order something later, but I’m still a little tired so if it’s not pressing….”

The bastard in the incredibly cheap suit actually put his foot in the door; I couldn’t really deform the appendage like I used to be able to do, but before he barged in, I certainly tried. “Get an oversized shirt or something, and belt it up. We need to take you downtown as soon as possible. And yes, if it helps, consider yourself under arrest.”

“What’s the charge?”

The man grinned, not even having the grace to hop on one foot or something. “Indecent exposure.”

Now, I new a thing about police and charges. One of the things I knew was that indecent exposure can only occur outside your own home. But there were three of them, and each were larger than my new ears. The entire going back to sleep to see if it was all a dream solution hadn’t worked anyway.

“Fine, let me work on it.”

At least they weren’t manhandling me out the door. Me yesterday? I could have at least given all three a run for their money. Size was something I used to have. Which was good, because the oversized shirt was a thing I could totally do. The choice for today was an old tattered t-shirt that proudly proclaimed that coffee was the gift of life.

Not a single belt of mine would fit me, and the only thing I could do about shoes was to roll up some socks, and that was it. Operation shirt as a dress was a go.

I went into the bathroom to change from one shirt to the other, and got the socks situated. Walking back like this may be the single most silly thing I’ve ever done… and I did my twenty-first birthday. “Fine, guess I’m ready.”

Detective Stile simply nodded. “Let’s go.”

Then he actually held his hand out. And wiggled his fingers. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Holding my hand out for you to take,” the insufferable bastard said.

Was he serious? “Dude, I’m fifty.”

“You’re forty-eight, but you look twelve at best. Just humor me, okay?”

Whatever. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

I was all about going down the stairs out of revenge, but that hand led me to the nearest elevator with a firm grip. It opened, and was empty. I got in, the uniforms getting in after and turning to face the door.

They weren’t watching me?

We got out after a straight shot to the ground floor, and the lobby was also empty. This was more than a little suspicious; my apartment building was a hole, but it was a busy hole. It had to be close to noon now, so where were all the people?

I got my answer the moment I stepped outside, the summer heat and humidity slapping me in the face like a physical force.

The other thing that slapped me in the face was all the noise. Here is where the people were, along with the honking cars and screaming… what even was that, facing off against the cops? Large and green, with tusks and muscles a pro-wrestler would be proud of. Like some Lord of the Rings shit.

Was that an elephant in the distance? Since when did my eyes get that good? What was even going on here?

There were more than just uniformed police out here. There were national guard, with weapons, patrolling the streets. “What in the hell is going on?”

“We don’t know yet,” detective Stile answered.

“Of course not, it’s only been a few hours and you just got here. It was rhetorical.”

The detective gave me a look, but let it slide as the two officers spread out and took the lead, trying to look stern.

I think they managed ‘constipated’, but I wasn’t the one they had to impress.

The streets were a mess, full of garbage and broken bottles, and other glass. Well, more so than yesterday, anyway, let’s not kid ourselves into thinking this city isn’t a cesspool under the best of times. Looking up though, that was a lot of fires in the distance. Six, seven, eight plumes of gritty black smoke….

Everyone was watching everything going on, and unfortunately that meant me as I picked my way around the glass and crap to avoid shedding blood here.

“Get in.”

The detective had the door to an unmarked open. The back door. I couldn’t really do much about it right now, so I got in. the uniforms got into their own car behind us, a patrol car.

“Where are they going?”

The Lord of the rings thing – an orc, wasn’t it – was now calm and talking to the cops he had been attacking. For a plot twist, they weren’t smacking him down with nightsticks, but talking back. I even saw smiles.

Detective Stile Turned on the cars air conditioner. Which made perfect sense, considering the heat and his suit, which was even worse than the one I had. Which wouldn’t fit me anymore. Did I even have enough money to buy a new wardrobe and pay rent?

No, I’d better save what I had.

The drive was a silent one; it showed the sorry state the city was in, in places. But it also showed how little things had changed most places. If I didn’t have the proof right in front of me, if I wasn’t the proof myself, I’d think there wasn’t a problem at all.

The traffic was arguably worse, yet that gave me more than enough time to take it all in. Like that small dragon over there, currently releasing smoking rings of fire right next to the homeless guy who was busy puffing away.

I was more impressed than either of them, it seemed.

I turned to the dime store novel detective, to find him already keying his little dash screen...adding a dot into an actual sea of dots already layered over a map of the city.

“You guys checking out each of those?”

Detective Stile nodded. “Yep. We’ve got national guard helping, but they are working a grid, going house to house, so they aren’t here yet.”

Well that told a tale. “It’s almost noon now, and I called in at eight… so you’ve been four hours at this now?”

Stile shook his head. “Longer. The time has lowered some – this all started last night.”

Wow, he looked pretty good for starting work last night. “So what gave me away? I just called in.”

“That’s it,” Stile answered, turning left far more carefully than most did in the city. “That’s all it took. There are a surprising number of conscientious people calling in with your situation. Though your exact situation is a first for us at the precinct. At least, as far as I know. Usually the guys stay guys, and the gals stay gals.”

Well, that was interesting. I wonder what made me different? Was it the fire in my heart, and the lightning in my veins? I could feel it inside me, boiling merrily away. Whatever it was.

“So, are you taking everyone you find like this to your precinct? Why?”

Detective Stile shook his head a little, biting his lip a little as someone cut him off. “So far. There aren’t that many people… changed. Altered. Whatever you’d like to call it, and you seem pretty calm. I could just hand you over to the guard, but I’ve got no idea what they are doing to anyone they take into custody. As for why, this is for your own protection. Imagine walking down the street as you are now, in the clothes you have on now, and trying to do some light shopping, say. It might work out, but it might not. Best to get on this thing, whatever it is, and nip any potential crimes in the bud.”

That made a little sense, even if it was all kinds of unconstitutional. However there were times in the past where the rights of citizens were ignored and people jailed over ‘the greater good’. It was clear some people in power thought this one qualified.

For my part, this was still not an idea I was a fan of, but compliance was better than not, for now.

This traffic was insane.

Detective Stile stopped at a light, then turned to me. “You hungry?”

Was I? “I could eat,” I told him, my interest peeked on where he was going with this.

The madman actually stopped and waved over one of our man street vendors. This one, of course, being one making dogs… and nachos. The guy moved closer despite himself, seeing the unmarked for what it was and lured by the sight of money.

He did bring his cart with him, luckily enough. “What do you want?”

Hm, not quite hostile, but clearly suspecting something. Then his eyes found me, and his eyebrows shot to where his hair would be, if he had any. I could sympathize.

“You good with chili? I can vouch, his chili dogs are to die for.” detective Stiles vouched.

“Sure, give me one chili, one regular with sill relish, and a side of nachos,” I told the man.

He grinned back at me. “Sure thing kid.  Everything okay here?”

Detective Stile eyebrows had rose, and now they impossibly rose again. Surprise, I had a stomach.

Yeah that was going to get annoying fast, but this guy’s heart was in the right place. “Yeah, detective Stile is doing right by me.”

I didn’t need to see a badge and number to know who the detective was. The car and the number in it helped, but it was fine. If Stiles was someone else, if he was like the green man, then I would deal with him.

I obviously couldn’t do what I used to – but my body was singing to me now. Telling me there was a way to protect myself, and more. That this, despite the look of it, was not a dangerous situation.

I could also bend. Boy, could I bend. My wrists went all the way back, and so would my fingers. I didn’t start with the legs, since that would be committing a crime with a cop next to me.

The hot dog guy passed my food over, and detective Stiles passed it on before taking his. He also  bid a fond farewell to more bills than he’d clearly expected to lose.

We’d been in traffic the entire time, with drivers behind us. Detective Stiles had ignored the honks and cursing as if it didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t.

Detective Stiles started on his dog, driving with one hand in a way that all but declared his experience at it. For my part, I started on the normal dog, which would ironically be the least messy of my stuff.

We finished at the same time, just as my escort pulled into a police precinct. It wasn’t one I’d been to before, and wasn’t one that served the area I lived in… but it was clearly an active police precinct, which meant if I was going to get screwed, I was going to get screwed by at least some of the powers that be, rather than some rebels or malcontents or other craziness.

Detective Stiles had a reserved parking space, with his name spray painted in and everything. He stepped out, and the door closest to me opened. The officers were there, the bosom buddies Arnold and weaver, and both had shopping bags. A little adjustment and one grabbed my food while the other shouldered the bags and helped me out of the car.

I didn’t need help, but they insisted.

At least they couldn’t offer me a hand going into the building. That honor was reserved for the good detective, who was holding out his now chili encrusted palm thinking I’d take it. I just shoo’d him. “I won’t be running away here. Lead on.”

The man seemed to shake himself a little. “Right. Follow me.”

I was led into the large set of double doors of a building that bore the hallmarks of turn of last century government buildings; large double doors, some vague statuary cast in concrete out front to either side of the steps, pillars that didn’t really hold anything up. I’d read somewhere that the whole point of such flourishes was in part to make one feel small.

I did feel pretty small in this moment.

The doorway was very busy, with people rushing in and out, and the lobby was almost standing room only, with the noise just one notch below a complete dull roar. My ears twitched in response, despite myself.

People who noticed me stopped for a moment and gawked as I went by, some doing what looked like a full mental reboot to me before going back to whatever they were doing.

I mean, I got it, but there were far better prospects for staring; another green man, poured into one of those hard plastic shell seats that was about half a size too small for him, patiently waiting with his hands on his lap.

A person who seemed to be mixed with an animal – they had ears and a tail. Lion?

A person smaller than me while looking older, with a beard that reached the floor. Even I knew what that one was, and he was wearing a cops blues.

...Was that a large, talking bird?

A gentle tug at my hand brought me back. “This way,” detective Stiles yelled, only just managing to go above the background noise.

The man led me to… a bathroom? He then positioned himself outside the door. “Go ahead and take your time.”

The two bags officer Weaver was carrying were shoved at me. Bags filled with soft bundles… clothes? They had gotten clothes for me?

What was going on? Why were a trio of cops doing all this when the city was going to hell? This wasn’t their job!

Whatever, I did need clothes. I’d pay them back for this much, at least, but Stile deserved the nacho treatment.

Hm, yeah this isn’t cool. This looked like officer Weaver shopped in the young miss department, wherever he went. Everything was petite or extra-small… and barely fit at all. It was all new though, and there were several of everything. I settled on a black t-shirt that said ‘my other shirt hates you too’ and a pair of cargo shorts.

The underwear took a few tries. I hadn’t really measured myself, nor had anyone else, to I had to open 3 packs before something felt right there.  The bras… they’d gotten me bras. That was even worse. The second to last one felt the best, but even it was a little eh.

I’d wear it, of course. Someone had bought it for me, so I’d be grateful. Even for the shoes, which were a kid’s size sneaker. At least they weren’t dress or mary janes or something like that.

I came out, my own shirt in the bag and everything else packed up. Officer Weaver promptly grabbed the bag, so I let him have it.

“Come on,” detective Stile commanded. I half wanted to deny him and take another look around, but that was just old stubborn me.

This time I, or we, were lead to an interrogation room. Not one of the good high tech ones, just a boxy hole in the wall with a camera in the ceiling corner, no one way glass, and a table and chairs that looked straight out of the eighteen-fifties.

I could appreciate massive construction performed with hardwoods; it was almost never beautiful unless massive amounts of time were taken on it but it also stood the test of time, which was a thing of beauty all on it’s own.

Detective Stile held the door for me. I got in, squeaking along in the new sneakers, and sat where I was supposed to sit, as the big bad wanted criminal. The detective followed me in, and shut the door.

Then we waited. What were we waiting for?

“So… you just woke up like this? Did anything unusual happen last night?”

How did he think I’d answer that one? “Yeah, a late night host told a joke and it was actually funny. Then I went to bed, and you know the rest.”

Stiles looked surprised as he passed my second dog and nachos over. “Really? Who was it and what did he say?”

“Jimmy Fallon and I already forgot, sorry.” Wow, this dog would probably have been really good while the chili was hot. My new detective friend had good taste – shame I’d waited on it a bit; this cold it was only so-so.

The nachos were still hot enough to hit the spot, however. Whatever spot that was now.

“I must say, you’re taking this well,” Stiles said, observing like what he was.

“Would it matter how I took it?”

“No, but we’ve already seen everything from crying and histrionics, to screaming rage. I’m commending you for being calm about this.”

I fixed him with my best stare: “I’m an older middle aged factory worker. I make a low income, I do the same thing every day. Every day, I eat shit for a living. I had two bum knees, other injuries that never healed, and nerve and lung damage from past jobs that I never got compensated for.

But right now? Right now I can move, stretch, and bend as if I were twelve again, and breathing isn’t constant pain. I can put my foot near my head if I want to, and it’s unlikely my boss will ever want me to go back to stamping cut rate car parts. There are laws in place to protect me, so I can likely get moved to a job sitting behind a desk, or just get hired by someone else for that. In short, I’ve got a second chance, no matter what I look like.”

There would be no doubt I’d be missing a few things about my old life, but a nearly full restart? Another fifty plus years of life, regardless of what I looked like? Yeah I could take that.

The good detective looked both mildly surprised and thoughtful. “Right, I could see that. If something like this happened to me… well, it’s hard to remember you’re an adult right now.”

Yeah, that needed to be called out: “Rude.”

“Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry, but he let me eat in silence for a bit, and finish savoring the taste of ‘free to me’.

I had to ask though. “So what happens now? Why am I here?”

“Your own protection. Today’s a volatile time, and orders from above have us making sure anyone like you gets the help you might need, and not get shanked in a dark alley by someone who saw too much ‘Lord of the Rings’.”

Makes sense I guess. But wait. “Are you telling me, that a government agency efficiently mobilized and directed others to do a thing? From your dispatchers on down? Truly, we are living in a fantasy world today.”

Detective Stiles Grinned. “Rich coming from you, but you’re not wrong. My understanding is, we had help in that, but what kind and how much I don’t know. All the calls we got today? That is, Weaver Arnolds and I? Have been to pick up people like you. Well, not exactly like you, and most looking very different than you, but all very calm and thoughtful people changed by whatever is going on.”

Hmm. “So, you’re the right person to see certain kinds of people. The right person for the job, and someone in a higher position knows it.”

Stiles nodded. “I think so too. We’re being moved like chess pieces here, and the effect is global.”

This effect was global? The entire world, and no nukes had been thrown yet? What was humanity coming to? How high up did all this go? Was there some chessmaster up there pulling all the strings from a darkened eighteen hundreds smoking room, a globe between their hands as they laugh maniacally?

The door opened, and I felt my ears twitch.

Something was on the other side. Something with molten blood and a sun in their breast, that had an… aura? Something, that hit me almost like a truck might from the other side of that wooden portal.

Someone who looked like me.

Not entirely like me, of course. He was older, and a He, with dark hair. But the same fine features? The same large and wiggly ears? He had those. We shared those – and strength. In that way that I knew I was strong, I knew he was strong too. Stronger than I was, but not a threat.

At least not yet. I’d believe all that when I saw it.

“Hello,” the man greeted us, smirking like a cat with feathers hanging from his mouth.

Detective Stiles was even as he responded, but his bushy eyebrows betrayed him. “Hello. Who might you be?

“No one of consequence,” the man replied as he let himself into the small room, squeezing his whatever it was against me. “I just felt my sister here, and decided I’d come say hi.”

Sister? “Buddy, I don’t know you from Adam.”

He laughed and pointed up at his ears, as if that meant anything. “I mean sister in race, of course. A fellow elf, and I’m happy to see you. We seem to be rare enough.”

This man knew something. That wasn’t a simple line, it was a test. So he was older than I was in more ways than one. “What do you know?”

“Only the same things you do, sister. That the world is changing, and we will be a large part of it. Want to go? You were brought here to meet me, after all. You don’t have to stay. We can get you a nice hotel room and chat over drinks.”

“You both will get carded, and neither of you have I.D.” detective Stiles finally managed to put in.

The ‘fellow elf’ just stared at him, a plastic smile on his face making it clear he didn’t care at all what the man said.

“I need an adult,” I argued in my best deadpan to diffuse whatever the hell this was. Something bad, in any case; I didn’t want a fight in a police precinct with whatever this guy was, and there was no doubt that if he drew down, which side I’d be on. After all, the detective had gotten me nachos.

The guy looked like he knew it; that disgust there? It was like he read my mind, but it was also smothered so quickly it might as well not have existed at all.

His actual response? “I am an adult, and so are you.”

Then he held up a laminated card, invading my space just a bit more to make sure I saw it. Office of homeland security, huh? That was a big one, if true. Again as if he read my mind, he turned to the detective. “Go ahead.”

The man looked it over and gave his verdict with faint surprise: “That’s legit.”

“Darn right it is,” the smile, those eyes, they never wavered.

Now, this could be a con. Stiles and this elf could be in it together to fool me – but why? What would be the point here? I hadn’t even heard a good explanation of what was going on, let alone a pitch!

“What’s the point of all this?”

The elf answered promptly, but with the faintest whiff of irritation. “I told you; the world is changing. The status quo? The powers that be? The mom and pop down the street? They are all going to need allies. More help than most of us can ever give, and very soon. So the United States government is willing to give a little, in order to get a little.”

Right. “And how do you know this?”

“Because I work for the government,” was the flippant reply. There was more to it – much more. He was informing the government, somehow. Now he was latched onto me like a tick on a hound, and he wouldn’t let go until he had his fill – or exploded.

Even so, my instincts told me there was nothing here that would harm me yet.

“Fine, let’s go. Do we need a driver? If so, I nominate detective Stiles.”

Threat or not, I wanted allies, and the good detective was the closest I had just now.

“I can drive,” the elf responded. “But if you want a a third wheel, then sure, detective Stiles can drive us.”

“I’ll need orders from my lieutenant,” the man in question replied. Cool as a cucumber, all of a sudden.

“Then go get them. We’ll wait,” the elf responded, that smile not giving an inch. Why was he so… fixated?

What was even more infuriating was he hadn’t even given his name yet! Was I just supposed to think ‘the asshat’ forever in my head?

The door slammed shut, and then there were two.

“Name is Vincent, by the way. I don’t think I ever mentioned that. Vincent Eldwin Ostenmeyer the third.”

Then he held out his hand, as if his name wasn’t a bombshell all on it’s own. I didn’t know it, but it carried the scent of old money and easy power with it, as if the man was a noble somehow. As if nobles still existed somehow.

“Not sure what name I should have at the moment. Pretty sure my old one doesn’t fit me anymore.”

Vincent nodded, suddenly serious, and the grin was nowhere to be seen. “That’s fair. We can work on it, I suppose. One of my jobs, one of the things I can do for you, is a new identity, name and all. That includes records, birth certificates, passport, work history… all of it. You just tell me how much of your past you want to keep, and we can work out the rest.”

That… was generous. I was already ahead of the game, just having working knees. “Yeah, I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Sure,” Vincent’s grin now was easygoing, a slight hint, and there was no edge in him. He was almost puppy-like, and that was something I thought I’d never think about another man. Or just a man; whoops.

Right, he was still talking: “So there are some things you need to know, mainly about yourself, but we’re being recorded in here so I’ll give you the option of whether you want to learn it now or not.”

That was a no-brainer. “We’ll wait. Not sure I want ever uniform knowing as much about me as I do just yet. Anything too personal?”

“I don’t really think so. People will learn it all in the weeks to come, you just get to first.”

That was a little reassuring. “I’ll still wait. The hotel at least, won’t be bugged and you want to talk there anyway.”

I didn’t like that shady glance away. Would homeland security bug a hotel room? I didn’t really have a choice anyway, if anyone was looking for me. My apartment was burned already; everyone had seen me come from it, so if anyone meant me harm they’d check there first. Probably.

Of course, the hotels would likely be next, but that was someone else’s problem.

I finished my nachos in relative silence. Every time I so much as glanced at Vincent, he favored me with a small, gentle smile. A creepy smile. Detective Stiles could not get back soon enough.

“So, when did this happen to you? This morning?” It couldn’t be this morning.

“Last week. We had a bit of time to prepare for this. I can’t speak on how soon everyone else found out, but for the good old US of A, we got a week’s warning.”

“So you do know what’s going on after all?”

Vincent shrugged. “We know enough. We don’t know whys or hows, but we know what and when. It is not hyperbole for me to say that we are fighting for the future of our way of life, and possibly even the human race as a whole.”

Yeah, I didn’t buy that at all. Something eventful was happening; maybe even something world shattering. But bad enough to kill off the most adaptable life form that the earth had ever produced? The intelligent roach that was humanity? Something that not even an ice age could kill, when we were in our infancy?

Nah, not buying it.

Again, Vincent seemed to read my mind: “It’s hard to believe, I know. But it is possible. However, I feel I should stress something at this point. You can cheer for humanity; we both can. But you aren’t human anymore, just as I am not. The sooner you realize that fact, the better. We are a different race.”

Oh, now that was just asking for it. “A better race?”

That joke earned me a violent shake of the head. “I wouldn’t say that. We have different strengths and weaknesses now, and you need to recognize them quickly. The world is changing, and your survival will depend on how well you adapt to what you’ve become.”

He...might have a point. I knew the ears were different, and the senses. Something else, something that seemed to boil inside me. What else was different?

“Don’t worry,” Vincent said. “The hotel has a doctor. A doctor that knows our kind, and a few others. He helped me, and he can help you.”

Really? “When did this happen for him?”

“That’s… complicated,” Vincent admitted. “He’s human. Sort of. I’ll let him tell you, if he decides to.”

The door opened, and detective Stiles entered, as bold as possible. “Alright, my lieutenant said to extend all courtesy and cooperation to you. So I guess you got yourself a driver.”

Vincent Hopped up, just like a kid. “Great! Let’s go!”

He led the way out. Detective Stiles raised an eyebrow… and waited. I got up and followed, squeezing past the man with an ease I liked. I was smaller, sure, but that was something with some upsides.

I could easily skip after Vincent through the crowd, like a greased pig making a run at a fair. You know, if I wanted to act like I was five. Like some other people were doing.

Even so, we crossed the place quickly, even through all the new arrivals… none of which looked like us. There was only one of the green guys, and everyone else was human, but some were odd. That is, they felt odd to me for some reason. Some of them even felt a little dangerous.

I really hoped I’d get an explanation of this shit soon.

Detective Stiles caught up with us. Vincent had camped out the front passenger seat, but that was more than fine. I’d rather have the mesh glass between us anyway.

“So where are we going?” The good detective asked.

“The Hyatt.”

The Hyatt? That was 5 star… I think one night cost more than two weeks of my rent.

“Yep. We have reservations!” Vincent bubbled.

Swanky. Either Vincent or the government had more faith in me than I did, and really wanted to get on my good side. It was too bad I had no good side.

Of course, I wasn’t going to tell them that. Momma didn’t raise no fool.

The drive was a silent one, and unlike just a bit earlier, the city seemed much more calm. We passed a fire that was cordoned off, but it was being fought and it looked under control from here. The building wasn’t a write-off, either; some old apartment building with only one apartment showing visible damage.

The place stunk to high hell though. Worse than it should have.

Luckily we went past it quickly. Not quite quick enough; I saw Vincent wrinkling his nose too.

Then gain, detective Stiles was too, so maybe that wasn’t the smoking gun it might otherwise be.

The Hyatt was a good twenty minutes away from where we were, at least. If I remembered correctly. For some reason I was tempted to try some driving games like ‘I spy’ or a hundred bottles of beer on the wall. Though the last was as much song as it was game of annoyance.

I’d stay strong though, I shouldn’t do anything to make my reputation worse. At least not yet.

Vincent reached over and turned on the radio, breaking all the unwritten rules of driving! You never touched the driver’s radio!

He tuned in the news for a moment, and the announcer was going a little crazy: “Again, just in. An increase in fires and deaths, along with sightings of… strange sights and people all over the world. There is no doubt as to some form of events happening, yet these events have seemingly no explanation as yet….”

Vincent tsked and changed the channel… to find Toto’s “Africa”. Then he started singing along. Loudly.

He flopped his head back and grinned at me while doing it.

I saw detective Stiles roll his eyes through the mirror. I felt the same, honestly. I most certainly did not feel like singing along to what was clearly a banger of a song.

We hit more traffic just as Duran Duran came on, and Vincent went off key immediately. Which had to be on purpose, because how do you off-key Duran Duran? ‘Hungry like the wolf’ is literally just freaking talking to a tune.

Vincent knew all the songs, and when he bothered to sing them correctly, he had a decent voice. It wasn’t exactly entertainment, but I had people watching for that. However, the good detective couldn’t pull over to park fast enough – and he parked us right in front of the hotel, showing his badge and flicking his keys at one of those kids who parks cars for a living.

A good job, if you can get it. I’d tried, and people had taken one look at me for that and said no.

Another life, now. Odd to think like that, but the way that kid was looking at me now… well, when he ran into the open door, I wasn’t surprised. I decided to take the high road and not comment, however.

Vincent led the way into the lobby, and walked right up to the desk as if he owned the place. As if, had the front desk had a line, he’d have cut it. Something I could easily imagine happening.

The guy on the other side of the desk was in his 40s, had a pencil mustache and a thinning hairline, and was dressed in a full suit that likely cost more than my last car. In this heat. Not that the summer heat seemed this place at all; whatever the air system was in this place, it could probably keep a warehouse freezer unit cool. If I stayed here any length of time, I was in danger of needing a coat.

“I need the key for the suite next to mine. Is it ready?”

We were going to be neighbors? Great, just great. Then again, he probably couldn’t pick locks, so I’d be fine.

“Of course, sir,” the man replied in the smooth, oiled tone that always came from a long time dealing with other people’s bullshit in customer service trades. As if he’d seen it all, and weird-eared people were nothing new and probably going to cause him grief somehow.

It’s ok, well dressed dude. Vincent will likely be a pain if he hadn’t been already, but I know how to behave.

The key… which was actually a small clear white credit card with no name or identifying marks on it was handed over, and Vincent promptly turned and handed it over to me. “Come on, elevator is this way. Let’s go up.”

We went in, the detective following. He punched floor twenty… and if anyone tried to get in after us, I didn’t see it.

I should ask. “So you knew I was coming, somehow? You knew this would happen to me?”

Vincent shrugged. “Not you specifically, but I knew another like me would appear here, today. So I was allowed to prepare a few things.

Right. “How did you know that?”

“I would prefer not to say until we get to the room; this elevator has a camera in it.”

That was fair enough. Must be some answer.

The elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. On the other side was a typical, harassed looking father in his forties who was just beginning to go to seed. Blue collar, if I had to guess. Construction maybe, but not from here. He was a father for sure though, because the thin reedy looking mother was right next to him, holding the hands of her bright eyed son and daughter as we stepped off.

Vincent didn’t even spare a glance as he swept past, even as the daughter’s eyes widened to near comical size. Kid couldn’t be more than six, and she was fighting to get a better look at me.

I wiggled my eyebrows at her as my feet swept me out of her sight.

The good detective, bringing up the rear, caught it and had to work to bury his snort under what was clearly pure professionalism.

I don’t even think the mother noticed; the father saw, but was too busy to question it. Maybe he thought we were going to a party or something.

Vincent swiped the card over the plate of 2016, and it beeped. He opened the door, then turned to me. “Your suite, so you first.”

Wait, he said a suite? Here?

It was. The room was at least twice as big as my apartment, with an open floorplan that included a kitchen, complete with fridge and microwave. The bathroom was to the right, and It was bigger than my bedroom had been. It also had a walk in shower and bath, and I could probably fold myself into that toilet it was so huge.

The bed was a full king size, and looked like I could drown in it somehow. The desk? If I had a computer or anything, it would be great to use, and the chair for it was one of those overstuffed office chairs that you could lose yourself in.

Actually, with the clearly la-z-boy chair in the corner, I was spotting a trend in the furniture. Was this a thing with hotels like this? Did they all like furniture that was so soft and overstuffed, you had to work to get out of it? Perhaps this warranted further investigation.

“You want anything?” Vincent asked. He had the fridge open and was rummaging through it as if he lived here – which he might be, I guess.

As it so happened, I did want something. Quite badly, in a sudden urge of near overwhelming feeling. “I do, actually. Grape juice.”

For the first time since I met him, Vincent was flabbergasted. “You mean wine, right? They’ve got several kinds here.”

“No, I mean grape juice. White grapes, pulped into juice, with as little added sweetness as possible.”

I WANTED it.

Vincent gave me a look. I could see detective Stiles giving me a look as he checked out the bathroom up close. Then they both shrugged. “Alright, you’ll have to wait a bit.”

Then he picked up the phone. That poor guy downstairs, or his kitchen assistants or whatever, were going to be sent to the corner store for juice!

Should I give up? No, I’d time them on it. They were getting paid by the government for it, so they could easily deal with a few unreasonable requests.

“Hello, this is room 2016. I need unsweetened white grape juice and a seamstress.”

He hung up without waiting for a reply. Did seamstresses even still exist? “Don’t like my clothes?”

“Not at all, and by the end of the day neither will you, I’d imagine. Thing is, we don’t do too well with chemically made threads. We’re allergic – cotton, silk and wool are fine, but dacron, poly, and that stuff are out. You’ll break out in hives, and want to scratch your skin off, and it’ll get worse.”

Ah. Now that he mentioned it, I could feel a little… something. Like my new suit was scratching me.

The good detective looked a little stricken. “Dont worry about it, detective, I won’t hold it against you and I needed clothes.”

I was positive Vincent was telling the truth here; his clothes looked custom and expensive, so he probably knew from experience.

Well, I wasn’t undressing yet. I’d just have to deal. “Right, so what were you going to say in the elevator?”

Vincent’s response was dismissive: “Oh, that. Magic, of course. What kind of elves would we be if we didn’t have magic?”

What.

What.

“Magic? Seriously?”

My fellow elf smirked and rolled his fingers… and bright blue sparks sprang into life between them.

It was a neat trick, but I’d seen similar from street performers.

I told the man so, and he frowned. “Well, you can do it too. How about this? How about you tell me what language we’re speaking?”

What? “Trick question? English, of course….”

Detective Stiles was shaking his head and frowning. I thought back; that last sentence had sounded a little different.

“Okay, what was that and what’s your point?”

“Magic,” he said again, and made sparks. “We both have it, and languages are a power we share. Both of us can understand all languages, and speak any language we hear as if a native. I think it’s due to the ears.”

Then he wiggled his ears at me. Right. “Aside from that, do we have any other things?”

What else could I do?

“Well, you can also read any language as if you’ve learned it, so street signs or warnings won’t be an issue. A few other minor things you may or may not have yet, but the languages are a big one. Failing anything else, you can easily get a job as a U.N. translator.”

That seemed a little underwhelming, for a new life. “What about the sparks? What can you do with those?”

Vincent grinned as if he had a secret to share. Turns out he did. “You mean ‘what can we do with those?’ and the answer is, it’s a simple harmless light show. However, if you want, a small twist to the spell and you can start fires.”

Of course. But really? “What makes you think I can do that?”

Vincent’s eyes bulged for a moment, then he sighed. “Right. Surely you feel it? Something like a coffee buzz in your bones, or what you’d imagine fire or lightning to be like, under your skin?”

I did, and he got the message: “Right, that’s your mana, your magic power. And when you look for it, you can see and feel it both in yourself and others. I can feel yours, and with a little work, you should be able to feel mine. All magic users can or will be able to identify each other without much of a problem.”

“Well, I’ve never been good at focusing or whatever, but I can do work. Is it like… I can sense something about you, and it’s like me, but not quite the same. Is that it?”

Vincent nodded. “That’s probably it. A start anyway.”

“This is all well and good,” detective Stiles interrupted “But what exactly is going on? You know, at least some of it.”

Vincent nodded again. “I do. The short version is the rules of the world, maybe even our universe, are changing. Soon, dimensional portals or gates to all kinds of worlds or other universes are due to open, and all sorts of nastiness is due to spill out – maybe some races or things that won’t be openly hostile, but most everything that comes to town is going to be nasty. We are related to it somehow, being closer to whatever process is driving it than most people. Our government, and other governments around the world, want us to ensure that humans and the way of life we’ve built on this planet don’t collapse. We are to safeguard civilization itself, as we know it.”

That was… a lot. “You’ve got to work on your delivery. Like what? Dragons?”

We were elves after all, could dragons be far behind?

“Dragons, demons, trolls, ogres… it’s all on the table.”

“I saw an… orc? Some lord of the rings thing, poor guy. He seemed nice.” I might have known him, before he changed. I knew a few of the guys in that building after all. Only a few of them were assholes.

Vincent favored me with a slight nod. “Yeah, orcs. That one was probably a nice guy… but there might be some from portals or whatever people decide to call them that aren’t. Same with us.”

Right, evil elves was a thing too. A trope. “Cool.”

That earned me a few raised eyebrows, and my mouth was moving to explain before my brain caught up: “Look, we all have our crosses to bear. I happen to like dark elves. They are misunderstood, and I can fix them.”

They were hot too, but I managed to clamp down on that thought. Not that I seemed to feel anything like that anymore. I chose to believe that was just my ancient status rearing its ugly head.

Vincent smirked and gave me a thumbs up. “Good attitude.”

I didn’t need to hear that from him, and I told him so. Which just caused the smirk to grow.

“So, what’s your answer?” The man suddenly asked.

What? “To what?”

My fellow elf actually gaped a moment before answering: “To the government. Will you help us save humanity?”

What was I supposed to say to that? “What’s it pay?”

This time, instead of gaping, he laughed. “Well, it pays this hotel stay, for starters. Free papers to make you legal again, a salary, commission pay, and whatever else you might need short of, you know, openly rebelling or murder. And the murder might be negotiable, depending on who it is.”

Vincent’s eyes were positively sparkling now.

I was about to ask him for particulars when someone politely knocked on the door.

Vincent jumped up in an instant with an “I’ll get it!”

There was a… steward? Was that what they were called? At the door, and when Vincent opened it, he wheeled a cart in.

A cart with a pitcher of juice on it, a variety of grapes, three glasses, and a small bucket of ice with one of those tong-things sophisticated people used to pick up said ice, rather than their fingers.

Behind the younger and sharply dressed man was an older woman who was dressed even better, rocking a power suit like a slick lawyer might. She was carrying a briefcase with her, but the way her eyes snapped to me and softened in an instant left no doubt that she was no lawyer.

“Oh, you poor dear. Let’s get you out of that, as quickly as possible. It’s doing nothing for you.”

Yeah, priorities. "First thing's first."

I walked over to the service as the guy filled a glass for me. He backed away as I contemplated the end result he handed over. Then I guzzled it; taking my time to savor it, all the while holding out the 'wait one' hand.

It was delicious. I put the empty glass back, only then noticing the guy had left with no tip. I guess I'd make it up to him later.

"Okay, now we can worry about clothes," I informed the woman.