The Phantom City

Chapter 4

Someone chuckled softly behind me. I flinched and turned again. This time, there was a disturbance in the darkness, an enormous ripple that condensed and shaped itself until the basic form of a man appeared, made of what seemed like dripping black oil. "A moment, apologies." He whispered. "The connection here is weak."

"I'm nuts. I've gone totally nuts." I muttered, watching the morphing shape. I wasn't sure why I was surprised to see something weird. Fever dreams do tend to get a little on the strange side.

Details started to fill in on the figure -- a sharp jawline, graying hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, a nondescript suit. Color washed over his calm, brown eyes last. He held himself like a prince might in front of a court, with his shoulders rolled back and diplomacy written into his smile.

"You've discovered the Tremors, have you? Yes, they're terrible shy, at first." The man blinked down at the darkness beneath his feet, his smile turning more fond. "But with time... more useful than you might think."

"Time's not really something I have." I blurted. "This criminal stabbed me, and I'm pretty sure I'm laying on the ground somewhere, and my friend is probably going to have a heart attack soon."

He reached down into the darkness, and it wound around his arm like a favored pet snake. "Is that right?" Absently stroking the coil on his arm, he raised his other hand and swiped it in midair. "Fascinating. I certainly wouldn't mind a good story. But, we should sit."

I jumped back -- between us, the 'floor' of the darkness began to shudder. Tremors, I thought. Out of nowhere, a two-seat table erupted upwards, made at first of the same living black oil as before. Two chairs followed suit. After a moment, the darkness melted away from the furniture, leaving behind the kind of setup you might see in a cozy city diner. There even a rosy orange ambiance pouring over the hardwood.

"Uh." I eloquently managed.

The man simply smiled again and took a seat, his hands clasped together. He waited for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Won't you join me, Owen?"

I frowned and lowered myself slowly into the chair, half expecting it to disappear beneath me. "So, here's my first guess." I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm in some kind of a lucid dream in a coma, and you're one of the aspects of my imagination -- in which case, serious props to me, because I had no clue my brain could do, uh, whatever you did. That would explain why you know my name, right?"

The man frowned thoughtfully. He leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Interesting theory. Unfortunately for you, not correct. A coma would likely be preferable to your current situation."

I froze. "Wait -- am I -- oh my God, am I dead? Are you some kind of angel?"

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. "Once again, an interesting theory, but no." His eyes gleamed. "I must say, however, you'd be the first to call me an angel."

I relaxed slightly, though his answer wasn't exactly comforting. "Fine. Who are you then? What is.. all this?" I vaguely gestured out to the darkness around us.

The man hummed, weaving shadow strands around his fingers. "Not safe." He conceded. "But we have a few moments, I think, before I cause any serious reactions. Yes, I could answer a question or two."

"You can call me Abel. It's best to start, I believe, with the serum." Abel turned his palm upwards, and the shadows responded, shooting forward and molding themselves into loose strands that resembled a brain. It hovered above us, a squirming, bubbling mass that made me want to shrink under my seat.

Abel pursed his lips, eying the figure. "Pardon the lack of detail. This is all from memory, you see. But yes, the serum. Quite the incredible feat, if you ask me. The inventor filled it with nanocomputers programmed to travel up your neural network and integrate with your mind."