Edward kept his head low as he walked the streets back to his dingy little apartment.  He knew his powers would likely get him out of a jam if any cops recognized him, but he was still learning to use them and he didn’t want to count on them unless it was necessary.  Fortunately, the city was a place where you could blend in even without the aid of illusions.

This was his life now.  Wanted for multiple homicides, including that of his own wife, he had little choice about it.  He took what he could get.

He made enough to scrape by, taking the odd job that paid in cash and didn’t ask questions.  Much of it was likely illegal, but who cared at this point.  Besides, most people didn’t like being around him for very long.  Something about him disturbed people… they sensed that he was now different.

He had felt the sensation himself on occasion, the presence of others who weren’t quite human anymore.  He caught glimpses of strange figures from time to time, but hadn’t pursued them.  He had enough problems at the moment.

The problem he had right now were the footsteps he heard behind him.

They had been following him for several blocks, despite the turns he had made.  They stopped when he stopped, and had been unable to spot anyone.  He decided to find cover and wait out whoever it was.  He walked down an alley and sunk down behind a trash bin.

The steps followed. They stopped when they reached his hiding place, and a voice spoke.

"Mr. Horton, I understand you may be accustomed to hiding in filth over the last several weeks, but I believe I can offer you something better."

Edward didn't turn or stop in his tracks, merely slowed his steps as he goes. He knew, somwhere deep inside, that something like this would happen sometime soon. He'd known it since the fatefull day his wife died. He had been waiting for it, trying to prepare for it, imagining what it would be like, but, somehow, he had not imagined this. Which left him unprepared.

He was trying his best to hide his fear, to look cool, to say something that would put him in a position of superiority, but he knew whatever he said would come out in a stutter.

He took another puff of his cigarette. Unknowingly, and unwillingly, his power manifested again, as the smoke he exhaled whirled and twirled around him, proof enough that he wasn't like everybody else.

He took dialogue from one of his characters, hoping his voice would not tremble.

"I'm listening."

The figure smiled slightly, obviously catching the uncertainty in Edward's voice.  As Edward came out from his hiding place, he saw a large black man, well over six and a half feet tall and solidly built.  He would have looked like a prizefighter except for his fine, black silk suit and cane.  He wore dark sunglasses and his long dreadlocks were pulled back in a ponytail.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Talent. As you may have surmised by now, I am like you... Gifted, as we say.  I'm sure you have little knowledge of just what that means, given your current situation.  However, I may be able to provide you with that knowledge, as well as certain financial rewards, if you might be willing to help me with a little task."

Edward takes another big smoke of his cigar, unable to hide his uneasyness.

"Yes, you are quite right on that."

He puffed the smoke out of his mouth, which rolled lazily to his raised left hand and twirled around his nervous, playfull fingers.

"I still dont't know what to make of this. Maybe you can help me figure it out, in return for the help in your little endeavor?"

Another puff, which this time came out perfectly normal.

"Call me H, by the way. I kind of prefer it."

The man called Mr. Talent smiled at the response.

"Excellent.  I suspect that I was correct in seeking you out, and I am confident that I shall be able to answer many of your questions.  I will discuss the details of my proposal tomorrow evening at my offices."

He handed a card to H.  On one side was typed simply "Mr. Talent".  On the reverse side an address had been written with a time: 9:00 PM.

"At that time you will meet the other individuals who will be assisting in this task.  I will explain the requirements and your compensation.  I understand that you are not currently prone to loose conversation, but I wish to stress that your complete discretion in this matter is expected."

"If I do not see you tomorrow evening, I will assume you have changed your mind and that our paths will not cross again."

With that, Mr. Talent gave a slight bow with his head, turned and strolled out of the alley.  The sound of his footsteps and the cane tapping the sidewalk could be heard fading into the night.

H was still unsure of all this; to him it had all happened too fast - this was not in the least was he was used to, but then his whole life had taken on a new level since after the death of his wife.

He would look this Mr. Talent up. His curiosity was piqued, and the mistery man calling himself Mr. Talent reminded him of a situation he described sometime in a short novel... maybe he had lived all this at some point in his life, and was destined to relive it all again, as punishment for his wife's death?

Only time would tell, he told himself.

He went on with his business, right until time to meet Mr. Talent. His uneasiness grew, as he knew it would.

All words, pictures, characters, tiles and just about everything else was created by and is copyright Stephen Rice and Electric Comics, 1996

Bytes and Bandwidth by Saturn5