The Starlight Sentinels: The Amusing Story of a Struggling Superhero Team

Chapter 4: The Haunting Visage of Vyn Lon

"I gotta be honest, I'm really dreading this," said Sam.

"We'll be okay," assured Olivia as she focused on her driving.

"Seriously, I don't want to do this," admitted Sam.

"You knew this was coming, it's too late to back out now," said Olivia as they rounded a corner.

"I know, it's just... I just thought we would work out a better way than this." Olivia slowed to a stop and put her car in park while Sam looked up at the supermarket looming over her. "A'ight, let's get this over with." The pair grabbed a shopping cart each and headed inside.

Sam did her best to stifle the urge to groan as she and Olivia marched through aisles of produce, but somewhere around trying to locate tangerines she couldn't bear it any long and let out a long and irritated sigh.

"Something bothering you?" asked Olivia, despite knowing the answer.

"Why the hell does Daryl insist two people take turns shopping for everybody else?"

"He said it's a team building exercise; gives us all a chance to bond," shrugged Olivia as she tossed what she was somewhat certain were tangerines into one of the carts. "Or something like that."

"It's a waste of time. Everyone should just do their own damn shopping. Instead, we're stuck here shopping for five people and fetching tangerines for someone who thinks chores are a form of team building."

"Yeah, like it matters who goes shopping with who. I'm just—wait, where are the grapes?"

"Up front where we came in," answered Sam. "Why?"

"Those were on Angela's list."

Sam groaned again. "You see, this is just inefficient, two people with five shopping lists split between them. You know what, just give me yours and Angie's lists. I'll keep track of the lists; you grab things I read off them; division of labor."

"Um, okay." Olivia handed her lists over to Sam. "I'm gonna run back and grab the grapes." Sam examined the lists while Olivia dashed back to the front of the store.

"Damn. Is Angela's handwriting always this fancy?" Sam asked herself. Olivia returned with the grapes and the pair pushed their carts deep into dairy territory.

"Hold up," said Sam as they neared a veritable bounty of cheeses. "Okay, I want Cracker Barrel extra sharp, Kid wants Kraft singles, Daryl wants... Reny Picot brie soft ripened and Alouette gorgonzola crumbled?" Olivia looked over at Sam, who was just staring at Daryl's list in disbelief. "That son of a bitch," Sam grumbled to herself as Olivia started hunting for the cheeses. "So, you're just gonna have to what?"

"What?" said Olivia as she hunted for the correct cheeses.

"You said it didn't matter who you shopped with because you just..."

"Oh, I'm just gonna have to go out again later anyway."

"Why's that?"

"I need things I don't feel like putting on a list for everyone to see."

"Like what? Tampons?" Olivia didn't answer. "Oh come on, you can tell me, we're bonding remember? Oh, I just got a great idea," said Sam as a sinister smile moved across her face. "When it's Daryl's turn to do the shopping I'm gonna put like thirty maxi pads on my list. See how he likes standing around in line with those stacked up in his cart. And I'll ask for two dozen paper towels as well, make him lug around a third cart with nothing but paper towels all day."

"You'd really buy a ton of pads and paper towels you don't need, just to annoy Daryl?" asked Olivia.

"Damn right I will. He wants to push this arbitrary grocery routine on all of us, then he can bond with my brand of menstrual products. And paper towels have a million uses, so you never don't need them. Hell, I've used folded ones for pads a few times."

"I really didn't need to know that," said Olivia as she dropped a variety of packaged cheeses into a cart.

"Just saying, you can use paper towels for almost—whoa hold up, what the hell is this?" Sam grabbed a brick of extra sharp cheddar.

"That's the one you wanted, right?"

"Did I say I wanted reduced fat?"

"It's not reduced fat."

"Oh no, what's this say?" Sam pointed to a very thin blue banner near the end of the package. Looking closely, Olivia could read the text printed on it.

"Oh, I didn't even see that."

"Of course you didn't, they make that shit small on purpose so you buy the wrong kind." Sam angrily stuck the offending cheese back on the shelf and grabbed the correct one. "And they do that because nobody in their right mind ever buys low-fat cheese. If you're eating cheese, then you want fat. Making it low-fat defeats the point of it being cheese!"

"I guess so," shrugged Olivia as Sam started shoving her cart towards the bread aisle.

"Why does Eric even get a list? He doesn't even live at the firehouse. And what the hell is this?" Sam pointed to an item on the list.

"Mana, low, chalk, Mack, something. I can't read his handwriting."

"Me neither, so I guess we're skipping that, he'll live." Sam halted her cart in front of several shelves packed with bread. "Wonder bread, Sarah Lee raisin bread, and Arnold's seedless rye."

"Got it." Olivia started her search.

"So what are you doing later?" asked Sam.

"Probably practicing with my guitar while I stare at a screen waiting for nothing to happen, again. I'm still stuck on monitor duty. Daryl's not happy about me telling that reporter that Angela was our a newest member."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly making his job easier. You take a demon out shopping, get caught, then you tell the press she's one of us when she gets spotted a second time."

"That reporter cornered me; I panicked. Washington told me to say that if she was seen again. Isn't she kinda one of us now? We wouldn't have caught Mary Misfortune without her."

"It's not about that. It's you saying she works for us being a loaded statement. I don't know how all this hero registration stuff works but Daryl seems to, and it sounds like you caused him all kinds of hell by saying that."

"Well, maybe that's a good thing. It's been almost two months now and—I don't think they have any Arnold's seedless rye."

Sam groaned. "Let me look."

"Let's just get another brand."

"No, I want that brand. If I can't have it, I'd rather get a different bread from that brand," insisted Sam as she started pawing through the shelves. "This is one more reason we should all just do our own shopping. You may be okay with wasting your money on what you didn't want, but I'm not."

"Okay, whatever." Olivia rolled her eyes as Sam started pushing loaves of bread aside to look at the ones in back. "Anyway, the Order still hasn't sent anyone to help Angela and anytime I ask Daryl about it, he says they're busy and she's not a priority. He should be mad at them if anything, not me."

"Look, I know you care about Angie and I get you're annoyed with the Order for blowing us off, but you need to be reasonable about this."

"It wasn't my idea to send her after Mary Misfortune."

"No, it was your idea to sneak her into a mall. Lucky things worked out the way they did, because if they'd hadn't, the Order might start thinking Angela is dangerous, and that it'd be easier just to get rid of her."

"Don't say that," snapped Olivia in a sharp tone.

"I'm just saying, not everyone is going to see Angela like you do. Don't forget Izuna wanted her 'taken care of' before the mayor laid the smack down on her. You really want to help Angie? Then just keep her comfortable until somebody picks her up. Because short of a guaranteed ticket home, it's not worth the risk of people seeing her anymore than—aha!" Sam fished out a loaf of bread from the very back of the shelf. "Little bitch was hiding on me but I got it!"

"And it only took like five minutes," mumbled Olivia under her breath.

"All right, onto condiments." Sam grabbed a bottle of mustard.

"Aren't you gonna tell me what to get?" asked Olivia.

"It'd just be faster if I grab everything real quick," insisted Sam.

"So, does the Order ignoring Angela not bother you?" asked Olivia. "I mean, we're supposed to be heroes and yet the Order tells us to do nothing."

"We're a group of two teenagers, an out-of-work army vet, and a man who thinks forcing people to pair up for errands is a team building exercise. We're not exactly special forces." Sam started eyeing the pickles.

"Still, you think they'd let us do something for her. She doesn't even know how she got here or who took her. Why didn't we ever follow up on the plane she was found in?"

"Washington acted like Homeland Security was handling that."

"Well, did they find anything?"

Sam shrugged. "That's all Washington told me."

"Maybe we should look into it then. We can ask Washington what plane it was and find out—"

"Olivia," said Sam. "Just let it go already."

"What? I should just trust the government to take care of it?"

"No, but you gotta accept that some things are just beyond your control, especially when you're treading thin ice with your boss as it is."

"So I should just do nothing?"

"Let's say you knew where the plane came from, then what? You going to go visit every airport it landed at? Start asking everyone if they saw somebody stashing a demon on a plane? I hope it didn't land anywhere that doesn't speak English," chuckled Sam.

"I get your point," sighed Olivia.

"Just relax. You already saved Angie's life, you don't have to be her personal savior too. Somebody will come for her and—where the hell are the Claussen pickles?"

"What?"

"It's Daryl again, it's like he only eats things with fancy ass names."

"Let's just skip it."

"Not happening."

"We already skipped something on Eric's list."

"Because we couldn't read it, that's on him. This is on me," said Sam. "And if you're worried about Angela, why don't you get her a nice treat or something? Maybe pick her up a steak?"

"She doesn't eat meat."

"For real? She's a demonic vegetarian?"

"Yeah. Now I feel really stupid for making her bacon one morning."

"She's not a vegan demon is she? Because then you might as well not bring her breakfast at all anymore."

"No, she just won't eat meat. Her master didn't want her developing a taste for blood."

"He sounds like tons of fun. Why is she in such a rush to get back to him again?" Sam's phone started ringing. "It's Daryl. Just great." Sam clicked the receive button. "What's up boss? Me? I'm looking for your damn pickles right now that's what I'm doing; they've disappeared off the face of the—what? What do you mean they keep them refrigerated? Well I'm glad you called to clear that up. Now can we—"

Sam's face dropped. "Can it wait until after we're done shopping?" Sam let out a long groan. "Fine, we'll be right back." Sam pocketed her phone and turned to Olivia.

"Well?" she asked.

"We've gotta go. There's some sort of emergency," said Sam.

"Now?"

"Yeah." Sam looked at their shopping carts, then at Olivia. "No matter what Daryl says, this counts as our turn shopping."

"Got it." The pair swiftly made their way out of the store and back into the parking lot. Olivia started her car and they hurried back to the firehouse. Olivia's siren allowed her to weave through traffic with relative ease and before long the firehouse came into view. The car swerved into the garage and the pair raced inside to find Daryl at the computer.

"Both of you, get ready," he said without turning around. "We need to leave as soon as possible." Sam darted upstairs to her room, unlocked a pair of cases sitting at the foot of her bed and retrieved her equipment. She dressed herself with amazing speed and returned to Daryl in full uniform. Olivia followed soon after, now wearing her familiar black hoodie, thick glasses and cowboy boots.

"So what is going on?" asked Sam.

"I'll explain when Eric gets here," said Daryl.

"Where is he?" asked Olivia.

"He was at school, but should be on his way. It might be faster to go pick him up." Before Daryl could reach for his phone, the side door swung open.

"I'm here!" yelled Eric as he charged into the room with his father.

"Get dressed, the Order has issued an alpha level alert," said Daryl.

"Right, let me grab my costume and..." Eric paused suddenly. "Wait, did you just say alpha alert?"

"Yes."

"You dragged me out of school for an alpha alert?"

"It's the highest level alert," replied a stunned Daryl.

"No, omega is the highest, alpha is the lowest."

"No, alpha isn't..." Daryl trailed off as he pondered what Eric said.

"Just show me the damn message you received."

"Language," scolded Joseph as Daryl led Eric to the computer.

"You see, alpha alert. Starlight Sentinels report to—"

"Deer's Mill, Indiana?" Eric read off the screen in an annoyed tone.

"Yeah."

Eric shot Daryl a disapproving glance. "You really think the end of the world is coming from Indiana?"

"Well, we won't know until we get there."

"What did the mission notes say?"

"Mission notes?"

"You didn't check?" Daryl shook his head in a sheepish manner. "Oh, good one mighty leader." Eric turned back to the computer. "I can't be the leader, I'm too young. But the middle-aged guy who doesn't know the code levels can." Eric stopped typing and examined the screen.

"It says we're to investigate..." Eric grimaced. "Alleged ghost sightings and report in at our earliest convenience."

"Ghosts?" scoffed Sam.

"Well, that still sounds important," said Daryl.

"No it doesn't, it's just a plebo mission," retorted Eric.

"Plebo mission?"

"You know, like a placebo. This is just a false alarm where somebody needs some reassuring. The Order just wants us to make an appearance so this..." Eric looked back at the monitor. "Gerald Garcia person will think it's taken care of."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Daryl.

"Because none of us know a damn thing about ghosts."

"Eric..."

"It's barely a cuss word," Eric said to his father.

"Perhaps they don't have any experts to send," rationalized Daryl.

"Look at where they want us to go." Eric pointed to the monitor. "Now what's close to this?" Daryl was stumped. "Chicago! If this was something important they'd send the Cavaliers, not us," spoke a disappointed Eric.

"Well, I guess I overreacted," admitted an embarrassed Daryl. "Sentinels, at ease."

"That's great, just great," moaned Sam as she removed her helmet. "And as far as me and Olivia are concerned, we did our turn shopping, so you can run back to the store yourself."

"I understand," spoke a tepid Daryl. "Still, they do want us to investigate and since you are already here we—"

"Oh no, I got my exams coming up next month," said Eric. "I haven't even started studying and Dad says if I fail any classes I gotta make it up in summer school."

"And you could use more time to heal after what you did during that car chase," added Joseph.

"I told you, I'm fine. It was just some road rash and bruises."

"You were flung from a moving car. You could have been killed!"

"Don't start that again..."

"Right, well, I guess we don't all have to go," said Daryl as Eric and his father started arguing. "Olivia, didn't you say you're from Indiana? Maybe you'd like to come along? If we have time, we could even stop over in your hometown."

"Home? Um, no, I think I'm good here," said Olivia. "Besides, I don't like leaving Angela alone for too long."

"All right," Daryl turned to Sam. "I don't suppose you want to come?"

Sam scratched her head. "Sure, why not?" she shrugged.

"Really?"

"I'm already dressed for it. And I wouldn't mind getting out of town for a while."

"Okay, we should get ready, we've got a long drive ahead of us."

"I got time to pack a change of clothes first?" asked Sam. "Seeing how this isn't an emergency anymore."

"Sure, I guess I should do that as well," realized Daryl. "Eric, will you be all right without me for a couple of days?"

"You're actually leaving me here?" asked a surprised Eric.

"You're right, I'll call Washington." Daryl reached for his phone.

"No, wait, I can handle things," insisted Eric in a hasty fashion.

"I'd feel better if Washington was around," said Joseph, prompting Eric to groan.

"You guys are going to keep treating me like a kid until I hit eighteen. Like I'll somehow immediately change into a different person once I hit a certain date. It's so dumb."

"I agree," said Sam. "At the rate you're going, you won't stop acting like a kid until at least your late twenties."

"Oh shut up!" barked Eric. "I hope a poltergeist eats you."

"Yeah, that'll happen. Right after I fight a vampire and the Gorn."

"Or a demon?" added Olivia in a sarcastic voice.

"Hey, I believe Angela exists because she's sleeping in the room next to mine. That doesn't mean I'm gonna start believing everyone who says they've seen a demon anymore than someone who tells me they saw a ghost without providing some proof first. Hell, some people think Tupac is still alive because he released more albums after he died than before."

*   *   *

Daryl slowed his motorcycle to a stop. He briefly stretched his back, tired from the long ride, then surveyed the rural landscape surrounding him. It looked exactly like every other piece of farmland he had passed in the last hour and the only break in the scenery was a thick forest lying ahead.

"We're lost. Aren't we?" asked Sam.

"We're not lost," insisted Daryl.

"That's exactly what someone who's lost would say."

"We're not lost. The directions said we stay on road Two-Thirty-Four until we hit Deer's Mill."

Sam looked over Daryl's shoulder, noting the road they were on was curving into the looming forest that blocked out the setting sun and cast a shadow over where they were standing. "Wait, we're going in there?"

"We're still not at Deer's Mill, so yes. Why, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is we've been on this road for miles now. We've passed three cemeteries, two churches, and I swear I saw someone with a hook hand a mile back. Now it's getting dark and you want to go into the damn woods. This is how horror movies get started; crappy horror movies."

"I thought you don't believe in ghosts?"

"I don't, but I'm afraid of whatever it is country yokels do to people out here in the dark away from the rest of civilization."

"Now you're just being ridiculous. People living out here aren't different from anyone else."

"Yeah right, maybe to a big white guy like you. A black woman dressed like a commando? Not so much."

"Look, if we don't get there soon, I'll find a hotel where we can stay the night. Okay?"

"Yeah, hopefully before we meet the cast of Deliverance." Daryl rolled his eyes at Sam's comment then grabbed the handlebars. Moving into the woods, Daryl found he needed the bike's headlight just to see. The rows of tall pines blotted out the waning sunlight. Searching for signs of civilization, Daryl could only hear the sound of the bike's engine cutting through an eerie silence as the worn asphalt was seemingly swallowed by the black woods.

The thought of turning back entered Daryl's mind. They had been on the road for hours now and even if they got there soon, they would be too tired to be of much help. Searching for a place to turn around, Daryl suddenly spotted someone standing in the road.

He jerked the handlebars as the person standing in the road burst into a blinding light. The bike swerved off the pavement and into the dirt as Daryl managed to skid it to a shaky stop. Quickly looking over his shoulder, Daryl saw no sign of the figure from before, just more empty highway surrounded by the looming forest.

"What the hell just happened?" asked a groggy Sam.

"Did you see that?" asked Daryl.

"See what?"

Daryl looked back for any sign of the mystery person. "I saw someone standing in the middle of the road, and there was this bright light and..."

"Umm, you feeling okay boss?"

"I'm telling you, I saw someone."

Sam stepped off the bike and grabbed her flashlight. "Hey!" she called as she scanned the area for any signs of life. "Is there anybody out there?" Sam listened closely for a response. There was a faint rustling in the distance and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, but no answer to her call.

"I don't see anything." Sam pocketed her flashlight. "You sure you saw someone?"

"I saw something," spoke Daryl. "But I'm not sure if it was someone."

"What?" asked Sam. "Boss, how 'bout you let me drive for a while?"

"No, I'll be all right."

Sam got back on the bike. "Let's hurry up and find somewhere to stay for the night. This place is starting to weird me out."

"Yeah, good idea." Daryl started the motorcycle and sped off deeper into the darkness. The endless woods felt suffocating after about a mile, but relief finally came as the trees on the left-hand side began to thin. Daryl breathed easier when he spotted a small clearing with a building nestled behind a paved path running beside the highway.

Daryl slowed his motorcycle to a stop and used its headlight to better see his surroundings. To the left was a building that looked like a small red barn with a white door. The path in front of the building led to an old covered bridge that ran parallel to a modern bridge. Daryl pulled up to the bridge and parked his bike.

"Are we there yet?" asked a sleepy Sam.

"I'm not sure." Daryl stepped off his bike and examined the bridge more closely. It was an aged wooden bridge, painted the same shade of red as the building they had passed. At the top was a sign that read '1878 J.J. Daniels Builder' and below it another sign that read 'Cross this bridge at a walk'.

"So, is this Deer's Mill?" asked Sam.

"I don't know."

"This sucks, why couldn't this ghost haunt somewhere off the highway? Or—" Sam became silent as the pair heard a soft splashing coming from under the bridge.

"Hello? Is someone—" Sam clasped her hand over Daryl's mouth and motioned for him to listen. The splashing turned into more of a scurrying sound, as if something just ran for cover under the bridge.

"I'll climb down on the left, you fly in on the right. We meet under the bridge." Daryl nodded and ascended into the air while Sam slowly made her way down the small hill the bridge was built on.

Daryl flew in from the other side and spotted something sitting in the darkness beneath the bridge. He flew in for a closer look, reaching for his flashlight, when a figure leapt at him from the darkness. Something heavy collided with Daryl, knocking him backwards and into the creek. Daryl pushed whatever attacked him away and scrambled to his feet.

"Daryl! You okay?" called Sam as she charged onto the scene.

"Something's here! It just attacked me." Sam scanned the area with her light and found Daryl's attacker, a dim looking Great Dane climbing out of the creek.

"This him?" Sam shined her light on the dog.

"A dog?" asked a very wet and muddy Daryl.

"Is that all?" asked Sam, still sounding unsure.

"What were you expecting exactly?" asked Daryl.

"I... I don't know," mumbled a confused Sam. "I guess old habits die hard. My bad." Sam holstered her taser. "Least it's not a ghost, or even a demon this time." The dog barked a couple of times, then chased after something unseen.

"I hate dogs." Daryl tried brushing some of the mud off of his outfit. "Uh, and I'm really starting to hate this trip."

"We should just find somewhere to crash," suggested Sam.

"Agreed." The pair headed up the hill and back towards the bike.

"You should change out of those wet clothes boss."

"I really don't feel comfortable doing that."

"Why? No one's here."

"You're here."

"I don't mind." An annoyed Daryl stared at Sam. "Fine, let me avert my eyes to better protect your delicate modesty." Sam turned her back to Daryl while he retrieved his bag from the motorcycle. After checking to be sure no one was nearby, Daryl began to unzip his jacket, only to stop when he heard a door slam behind him. Spinning around, Daryl saw someone leaving the small barn-like building.

"Excuse me." Approaching the person, Daryl saw he was a teenager with long unkempt hair, shabby clothes and large studded boots. "Excuse me," said Daryl a little louder.

"Yeah?" The boy turned around. He had a vacant expression on his face that barely changed when he saw Daryl and Sam. "Whatcha want?"

"Is there a hotel or any kind of room for rent around here?"

"Not really," he said, sounding completely unconcerned. "Probably some in Crawfordsville."

"Where's that?" asked Sam.

"Like, fifteen miles up the road, I think?"

"Is there anywhere I can change, like a bathroom?" asked Daryl.

"Bathroom is for customers only," recited the boy.

"Customers?" asked Sam. "For what exactly?"

"Uhhh, we rent out canoes, and spots on the campground... oh, and we rent some cabins too."

"You work here?" asked Daryl.

"Yeah."

"And you rent cabins here?" asked Sam.

"Um, yeah."

"Like, right here? On the river?"

"No, it's a creek, not a river."

Sam sighed. "Here on the creek?" she asked again.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you mention that when he asked about rooms for rent?"

The boy pondered the question. "Because we're closed right now, duh."

"Well can you make an exception?" pleaded Daryl. "We could really use a room right now."

"Uhhh, no, then everyone's gonna want special treatment."

"Who's everyone?" asked Sam. "We're the only ones here."

"Please? I'll pay you extra," promised Daryl.

"Uhhhh..." The teenager seemed to lose his train of thought, standing with his mouth agape for several seconds before finally answering. "Okay." The boy stood motionless for a few seconds longer, then very slowly headed back to the building he had just come from. Daryl and Sam followed him inside to what appeared to be a general store.

"So, what kind of cabin did you want?" he asked.

"What kind are there?" asked Daryl.

"There's log..." The teenager paused. "And there's canyon."

"And? What's the difference?" asked Sam.

"Um, the log cabins have a bathroom."

"And the canyon ones don't?" asked Daryl.

"Yeah..." he trailed off. "You could use the public showers. They tend to be pretty crowded right now."

"I'll take a log cabin," assured Daryl.

"Okay." The kid put a pair of forms on the table.

"You don't know where Deer's Mill is, do ya?" asked Sam as she started filling out the forms.

"Yeah, that's here. Or it was, people call this place Waveland now, sometimes." The kid seemed to blank out for a minute before turning back to Daryl. "So, did you fall in the river or something?"

An irritated Daryl glared at the boy. "No, I fell into a creek," he said.

"Oh." Sam gave the boy the forms and Daryl handed him a wet credit card. The boy handed Daryl a key in return. "It's two hundred a night, two-night minimum, and there's a hundred dollar security deposit. No smoking, pets, pop-ups, loud music, swimming, fireworks, cutting trees down or using outside firewood." The teenager swiped Daryl's card and handed it back.

"What fun," quipped Sam. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, didn't he say he pay me extra?" Daryl placed a wet twenty dollar bill on the table. "You got any money that's not wet?" asked the boy.

"Fresh out," answered an irritated Daryl.

"Okay. Cabin three."

"Great, where's that?"

The kid led the pair back outside. "See the old bridge?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Past it, to the left, on the ridge facing the river."

"There weren't any closer you could have given us?" asked Daryl.

"Not log cabins, and that's what you wanted. Also, you can't take your motorcycle up there either. You'll need to go over the new bridge and park it to the right of the canoe livery, then go back left and keep walking the rest of the way up to where the cabins are."

"You said that ridge?" Daryl pointed across the creek.

"Yeah."

"And there isn't a faster way?"

"Not unless you can fly, heh."

Daryl sighed. "Sam, do me a favor and park my motorcycle." Daryl handed his keys to Sam, grabbed his bag off the bike and soared into the air, causing the boy's eyes to go wide with shock. Sam held back a laugh as the stunned teenager slowly turned to her, as if he was expecting an answer.

"What?" she said, feigning innocence. "What'd you think was gonna happen?" Sam ignored the still shocked boy and mounted Daryl's bike. She wasted no time crossing the bridge and finding a spot to park near what she assumed was the canoe livery. A short hike later, Sam found the cabins at the end of a gravel trail in a small clearing amongst the trees. Looking at them, she assumed Daryl was in the one with a muddy outfit draped on the porch.

"Honey, I'm home," quipped Sam as she stepped inside. The cabin was a single long room with a few windows and a bed. There was a small fridge, a microwave, and even a kitchen sink. A bed was tucked into a corner behind a wooden ladder that led up to a small loft that contained a futon.

Sam followed a pair of muddy footprints to a closed door, where she could hear a shower running in the next room. Figuring Daryl wouldn't hear her through the door, she headed over to the bed and sat down.

"And to think, I could be home right now shopping for groceries." Sam removed her helmet, vest, body armor, and backpack. As she arranged her equipment, the shower stopped running. Daryl emerged shortly after, clad in a plain shirt and shorts. Sam couldn't help noticing how much less imposing Daryl was without his costume, being somewhat slimmer than she would have guessed. "Feeling any better boss?" she asked as she untied her shoes.

"A little. There are no towels, so I'm still wet, just not cold."

"You think for four hundred bucks they'd give you a damn towel." Sam reached into her backpack and pulled out a clean towel.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Packed it." Sam tossed the towel to Daryl. "It pays to be prepared."

"Do you always pack a towel?"

"I pack two." Sam removed a second towel from her bag. "Towels are one of the most massively useful things you can have. They're like paper towels, but even better. Plus, my mom used to pinch them from the hotel she worked at, so we were always finding uses for the damn things."

"I'm glad you're here." Daryl started drying his hair.

"You mean you're glad I brought towels," she said with a smile.

"No, I really do appreciate you coming along. I know you were mad about earlier and didn't want to come, so thanks. To be honest, I always feel kind of weird doing the superhero thing by myself."

"That's because you run around in a cape. If you ditched that—"

"I'd look like a normal flying man?" Sam smirked at Daryl.

"Okay, point taken. Still, seems like a lot of hassle just to look cool."

"I don't wear it because it looks cool."

"Oh come on, why then?"

"It helps people understand I'm a superhero."

"Really?" asked an unconvinced Sam.

"Seriously. When I was working as a sidekick, I didn't have a cape, and I got mistaken for everything. An acrobat, a space alien, part of an emo band, rock band, grunge band, metal band, a circus performer, a mascot for Hot Topic. At least three people thought I was Criss Angel; everything but a superhero.

"When I was promoted past sidekick and teamed up with Eric, I got a cape. Now, at worst, people think I'm a magician, but most figure superhero when they see someone fly by with a cape."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you'd be surprised how much people assume just by what you're wearing. When I was in college, I had this black shirt that said 'Security' on the back in plain white lettering."

"And people thought you were a security guard?"

"Sometimes. I was standing in line at the bank once and the guy behind me asked which security firm I worked for?"

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him it's just a shirt."

"Man, if I were you, I had been screwing with people left and right. If just a shirt fooled some people, imagine what sunglasses and a belt with keys and all kind of crap hanging off it would have got you?" chuckled Sam.

"Well I didn't want to trick anyone, I just had lousy taste in shirts." Daryl finished drying himself and set the towel down.

"Still, a cape can't be the only way to show people you're a superhero," reasoned Sam. "What about a mask or something?"

"The Order actively discourages heroes from wearing masks unless they offer some kind of practical benefit," explained Daryl. "There's been studies that show people feel less liable for their actions if they feel anonymous, so the Order encourages superheroes who work in the public eye to keep their faces visible to hopefully avoid that mentality."

"As long as we're on the subject of faces, where'd you get that scar?" Sam gestured to the small mark just above Daryl's right eye. "There a story behind it too?" Daryl touched the mark on his head, and his smile faded.

"There is," he said in a dreary tone. "But I'd rather not get into that."

"All right, bad memories; I can relate. Just forget I said anything." An awkward silence settled in between the pair. "So... did you want to try and find this Garcia guy tonight?" asked Sam, desperate to change the subject.

"Nah. I'm worn out as it is. We should just wait until morning. It doesn't look like a big 'town' anyway." Daryl turned to Sam. "Is that the only bed?"

"You want in?" grinned Sam.

"Guess I'm sleeping on the floor." Sam pointed towards the ladder. Daryl climbed up and discovered the small futon in the loft above.

"Didn't know if that counted as a bed or not," said Sam.

"It'll do I guess." Daryl climbed back down. "Don't suppose you packed pillows and blankets?"

"Nope. But you can have the bedding." Sam handed the pillow and blanket to Daryl. "Only seems fair since I'm getting the bed."

"Thanks Sam." Daryl laid out the pillow and blanket on the futon.

"You're not going to bed already?" said Sam as she pulled her socks off.

"I might read for a while, but yeah, I'm not feeling so well," said Daryl as he pulled a book from his bag.

"Did you leave me any hot water?" asked Sam as she undid her belt.

"There wasn't much to leave." Daryl watched as Sam took her shirt off. "Um..."

"You don't like it, don't look. I don't do jammies and I'm not sleeping in twenty pounds of equipment." Sam unzipped her fly.

"Well, I'll just give you some privacy then." Daryl climbed into the loft. He pulled the futon back a bit and lay down on it. It felt like a thick gym mat and was much shorter than he was. Tumbling in place, Daryl tried to get comfortable, only to realize that probably wasn't going to happen. Instead, he laid his head on the pillow and reached for his book.

"Hey." Daryl turned his head and found Sam leaning over the edge of the loft. "If you don't feel well you can have the bed."

"That's nice of you to offer, but I'll be all right," assured Daryl.

"You sure? Because if you need anything." Sam leaned in close. "Don't be afraid to ask," she said with a strange smile.

"Um, I think I'm good," answered a confused Daryl.

"A'ight, I hear ya. But the offer stands if you change your mind." Sam headed for the bathroom, leaving Daryl to ponder what she meant by that.

*   *   *

Daryl shielded his eyes from the morning sunlight pouring into the room.

"Morning boss." Sam waved up to Daryl.

"What time is it?" Daryl climbed out of his loft.

"Almost ten. I tried waking you up, but damn, you could sleep through a hurricane."

"Yeah, my sister used to take advantage of that fact." Daryl noticed the scent of baked bread and cheese in the air.

"What's that smell?" asked Daryl.

"Pizza. I borrowed your bike, went to this store a few miles up the road, picked up a few things." Sam walked over to the fridge. "Wanna beer?"

"Isn't it kind of early to be drinking?" asked Daryl.

"For you maybe, I've been up since before six." Sam grabbed a beer out of the fridge.

"Still, I'd rather have some coffee."

"I kinda figured that, so I made you some. You're gonna want to warm it up. I didn't think you'd be out so long."

Daryl slowly shuffled over to the simmering coffee pot. "This smells good," he said as he turned on the pot's burner.

"Yeah, I picked up the same brand you had on your shopping list."

"Good to know my team building exercise is already having an effect."

Sam's face dropped. "Dammit," she mumbled under her breath.

"Thanks for the coffee, you didn't have to do that."

"Well I didn't have much else to do. I already did my morning exercises, showered, got changed into my civvies. You were out, so I went for a walk until this place's shop opened up.

"I asked around about this Garcia guy, turns out he's the owner. Left a message for him to come meet with us. Then I asked if there was anywhere else to shop since this place has ripoff prices. I also called home, Olivia says everything's fine. Oh, and she solved the mystery of Eric's messy shopping list; he wanted Mauna Loa chocolate macadamia nuts. Aren't you sad you missed all that excitement by sleeping in?" Sam took a swig from her beer.

"I really should have brought my alarm. Still, I guess it's true what they say about the army." Daryl took a sip of his coffee.

"What's that?"

"That you do more before ten than most people do all day."

"That's not the army's doing, that's my father. He'd always wake me up at the crack of dawn. 'There's only so many hours in a day' he'd tell me every morning. By the time I got to college, I'd wake up early just out of habit. Couldn't sleep in if I wanted to." Sam took another swig from her beer. "I got a bit of bad news for you though."

"What's that?" asked Daryl.

"Your cape is gone."

"What?" Daryl immediately raced out the door and searched the front porch for any sign of his cape, but found nothing.

"It was missing when I woke up. I told the guy at the store about it, but he just said stuff get's taken all the time," explained Sam.

"I had just changed out the clasp on it so I wouldn't get stuck on things anymore."

"I'm sorry. Why don't you come back in, eat some breakfast?" Sam coaxed Daryl back into the cabin. "Come on, you can get another one once we get back."

"I know," sighed Daryl. "This trip just keeps getting worse and worse." Daryl started chewing on a lukewarm slice of pizza.

"Yeah, about that. I was thinking, since we're already here, and you had to pay for a second night, maybe we could just take it easy today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after we find this Garcia guy, just enjoy the rest of the day. Go for a walk or rent a canoe. This place is really beautiful during the day. Just one big forest with a creek running through it. Almost kinda romantic."

"I don't know, I was hoping we could finish our work quickly so we can get back home tonight."

"Well, you're the boss," shrugged Sam. "I just figured we might enjoy some downtime." A knock on the door caught the pair's attention.

"I'll get it." Daryl headed for the front door.

"Maybe it's the ghost come to turn itself in." Daryl found a bearded middle-aged man with sunglasses standing on the front porch.

"Can I help you?" asked Daryl.

"Somebody here wanted to talk to the owner?" asked the man.

"That was me," said Sam as she joined Daryl. "You Gerald?"

"Sure am."

"My name is Count Nutus, and this is my counterpart, G.I. Genocide. We are here because you reported seeing a ghost or something of that nature?"

A confused expression formed on Gerald's face. "Are you serious?"

"Is that not correct?" asked Daryl.

"No, it is. I just didn't think anyone would come, or believe me for that matter." Gerald scratched his head. "You said you're..."

"Count Nutus. We're superheroes and we're here to help you."

"Really? You don't look the type."

"We're out of uniform at the moment," said Sam.

"Let's talk about your problem. What exactly is happening here?"

"Well, I bought this place a few years ago. Business hasn't exactly been booming but I've been getting by. Starting last week, we've had a problem with things going missing from the shop at the canoe livery."

"What exactly went missing?" asked Daryl.

"Some candy bars, soft drinks, stuff like that."

"What about money? Any money taken?" asked Sam.

"No, the register was untouched. All the doors were still locked. Just some missing junk food and the like."

"Sounds like one of your employees pocketed some things," said Sam.

"That's what I thought. After the third straight night of this, I collected everyone's keys and did inventory myself. Next morning, some more candy and cola had gone missing. I thought maybe an animal was doing it, but it seemed like it would make a mess or something. The only way we ever knew anything is missing was by doing inventory."

"Maybe someone else has a copy of the keys?" suggested Daryl.

"I thought about that too, so one night I just staked out the shop. I come in to help out with evening inventory and once I see nothing was taken during the day, I leave with my employees and lock up. Then when they went home, I snuck back into the shop and locked myself in.

"I do another count and nothing's missing yet, so I find a corner and settle in. Now, I don't know how long I was just waiting there. In fact, I regretted not bringing a book or something because it felt like I was sitting in the dark for hours. But at some point during the night, I see this bright white light coming from the cold case. I watched as this glowing thing rose right out of the floor and took the shape of a man."

"A man?" asked Daryl.

"Or maybe a woman, I don't know, but it was person-shaped. With arms and a head. It looked like it was made out of light. I started thinking maybe I was dreaming, so I closed my eyes and tried to wake up, but then I heard someone sifting through the store. I opened my eyes and I don't see that light anymore, but I see someone digging through the cold case in the dark.

"I tried to sneak up behind him and got about half way before he heard me. I froze in place, waiting for him to turn around, but it changed into something made out of white light! It spun around in the air and looked at me..." Gerald trailed off and started rubbing his forehead.

"It looked at you?" asked Daryl.

"I think. I couldn't really make out its face clearly. It didn't seem to have eyes, just these kind of, empty sockets, but it was looking right at me. I just stood there for what felt like forever, terrified, until it finally left. Seemed to fly right through the wall. I was too afraid to chase after it. And after I finally got my wits together, I went home and just tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't." Gerald sat down on the porch.

"Have you told anyone else about what you saw?" asked Daryl.

"I was kinda of afraid to call the police. I figured they might think I was crazy if I told them what I saw. Also, I was afraid of scaring off customers. I didn't need another bad season this year. Do you know what I have to pay in liability for—"

"The ghost," reminded Sam.

"Right, sorry. I didn't know who to talk to, so I started looking around online to see if anyone handles this kind of thing. I emailed a few websites that deal with paranormal disturbances and one of them wrote back right away, saying they could help me. Someone named Nemo-side, I think."

"Mnemosyne probably. He's the Order's head of information retrieval."

"So, does that mean you people believe me?" asked Gerald.

"I believe something is stealing from you, and I believe we can help you," assured Daryl. "Has this happened again since you saw this thief?"

"Yeah, two nights ago a couple of drinks went missing and some hard candies. Last night it was a bottle of water, some gum, and a bag of mixed nuts. I thought about setting up a camera, but I was kinda afraid I might piss it off or something. Did you ever see those Paranormal Activity movies?"

"No, but I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. I'll call up to our superiors and see how they want this handled right now." Daryl went back into the cabin to retrieve his phone.

"So, do you people do stuff like this often?" asked Gerald.

"You mean ghost hunting?" asked Sam.

"Umm... yeah, I guess."

"This is a first for me, but I'm still kinda new to this. If you're talking about weird crap in general, that does seem to be our speciality. On my first day I had to chase a demon through a train yard."

"Oh... kay." Gerald couldn't tell if Sam was joking or not. "So, do you like charge for this, or...?"

"Nah, we're funded by a chain-smoking crabby billionaire, you're fine." Again, Gerald just looked at Sam in confusion. "If you want, you could comp us the cabin here," she suggested.

"Oh no, I got a strict no refunds policy."

"Oh come on, the only reason we rented one is because some dog knocked my boss into the river and he needed a place to change."

"Dog? Was it a Great Dane?"

"Yeah, was he yours?"

"No, but I've been trying to catch that son of a bitch for months. He keeps scaring customers off. I think some family just left him here. You catch him and I'll give you a free cabin anytime you're here."

"Really? I'll keep that in mind. But still, since we're going to be helping you with your little ghost problem, you think maybe you could at least comp us a canoe or something?"

"Uh, all right. I'll tell the people at livery to set one aside for..."

"Sam," she finished.

"Right, I'll tell them that."

"Mr. Garcia," spoke Daryl as he stepped outside. "Would you mind if we watched your shop tonight?"

"You think you can catch this thing?"

"Possibly. At the very least we'll learn more about it."

"If you think that's a good idea. I'll come get you at closing time."

"That would be fine," assured Daryl.

"All right, see ya around five o'clock." Gerald left the pair to be alone.

"So, what'd the Order say?" asked Sam.

"They want us to learn more about this specter and if possible capture it."

"Don't they have someone who deals with this kind of thing? Like, a department for the recently deceased or something?"

"They seemed confident we could handle it, partially because they don't think we're dealing with a ghost."

"What makes them so sure?"

"What would a ghost need with candy and soft drinks? They think we're dealing with a petty criminal who has powers that allow him to take a form similar to a ghost."

"I don't know, if you could go through walls would you really waste time taking handfuls of junk food?"

"Maybe it's someone on the run, trying to lay low?"

"Then why rip off the same place over and over again, after being spotted, and for so little?"

"Well, what do you think we're dealing with?"

"I think this is something more like Angela."

"You think we're dealing with another demon?"

"No, I mean it's something that's just trying to survive. It's steals small amounts of food every night and then runs off. It's operating on instinct."

"But it couldn't instinctively know when the shop closes or to carefully remove a few items so it wouldn't be noticed. It's made a deliberate effort to not be detected. That shows a level of understanding beyond instincts."

"Not much. Why not take the money from the register and buy whatever you need in the next town over? Or take enough food to last more than one night? No way this thing is some ordinary person with a superpower."

"Well, with some luck, we'll find out tonight. We should probably search the surrounding area in the meantime. Whatever we're looking for can't be too far if it keeps returning here every night," reasoned Daryl.

"Or, we could take it easy until nightfall, when we know it'll be back. Not wear ourselves out searching a few hundred square miles of forest."

"I'd rather we begin now. We might discover where it stays in the day if we're fortunate. I'll start with that encounter we had last night on the road."

"You think what you saw last night was what's coming around here?"

"Possibly. I only saw it for a moment, but I distinctly remember seeing a white light like Mr. Garcia described. I'm going to backtrack and do a flyby of the area. Maybe I'll get lucky and find something. Now as for you—"

"I could grab a canoe and check down river, and then hike back through the woods. Even if I don't find anything I'll at least get a feel for the area," suggested Sam nonchalantly.

"I suppose that couldn't hurt. Still, it might be faster if I just flew you down river, that way you wouldn't wear yourself out paddling in a canoe."

"Nah, I'll be fine. You really should get started on your search. After all, you actually saw this thing once. Maybe you'll find it again."

"Well, if you're sure you'll be okay."

"I am," assured Sam with a smile.

"All right. Hopefully my outfit has dried out. What about you? Aren't you going to get into uniform?"

"Yeah, a scary black woman in body armor with a belt full of weapons hiking through the woods. I'm sure that would go over real well out here in the countryside," joked a wry Sam.

"You really think people are that judgmental?" asked Daryl.

"You told me just last night that the right t-shirt was enough for people to believe you were a security guard. How do you think people will react to seeing someone in my getup?"

"Didn't you say it pays to be prepared?"

"You're right, all that ghost busting equipment I carry around on me is perfect for this situation." Daryl stared at a smirking Sam. "I've got a knife and my phone. If you know what else fends off a ghost attack or ghostlike baddie, let me know. Otherwise, I got my fill of hiking with thirty pounds of equipment during basic training."

"I thought it was twenty pounds."

"It turns into thirty after about a mile."

"Fine, keep in touch and we'll meet at the livery at four. Understand?"

"Yes sir," answered Sam with a smile and a salute.

"Well, I'm going to get changed." Daryl stepped back in the cabin.

"Be sure to lock the cabin, seeing as there're thieves around. Oh, and one more thing, you remember that big dog, the one from last night?"

"Yes. Is it connected to all of this?"

"No, but the owner said he'd give us free cabins for life if we caught it."

"Right. I'll keep that in mind," answered Daryl in an insincere tone. Sam wandered away from the cabin and hiked down to the canoe livery. A short search revealed a window where people went to claim their canoes.

"Hey," she called to the person standing in the window. "My name is Sam, the owner said there's a canoe waiting for me." Sam looked out over the river, admiring its natural beauty as she waited for her canoe.

"Here." The clerk dragged a canoe out of the livery for Sam.

"Thanks." Sam picked up the canoe and leaned it against her shoulder.

"There are some groups leaving for the next canoe tours in about twenty minutes," explained the livery employee.

"Any recommendations?"

"The lower scenic tour is supposed to be very nice."

"Sounds good." Sam picked up an oar and looked back to the river. For a moment, she could see Daryl off in the distance, flying over the forest.

"What was that?" asked the livery employee.

"Just a regular flying man who doesn't know how to have a good time."

*   *   *

Daryl yawned as he stretched his arms. The night air was cool and a refreshing breeze passed by as he adjusted his seat on the branch. He looked down from the tree he was perched on for any sign of movement on the ground. He had been sitting for about two hours now, waiting for the mysterious spirit, and had found nothing. Daryl looked down at the canoe livery beneath him next, wondering what was happening inside.

"Sam," he said.

"Yeah Boss?" she answered over the radio.

"How you holding up?"

"Fine. Everything is quiet in the store. You sound exhausted though."

"Yeah. Flying around all day really took it out of me."

"I warned you. What were you expecting to find exactly? A big neon sign that led you right to this thing?"

"Well I don't know, that's why I went looking. What about you? You're not tired from hiking and rowing?"

"Nah, I had a great time. Nice long scenic trip down a gentle stream followed by a hike through the woods. You should've come with me; other than the dorky life jacket they make you wear you would've loved it. Plus, you could use the exercise."

"I jog regularly, thank you."

"That's lower body, whatcha do for upper body?"

"I try to do some push-ups and sit-ups every morning."

"How many?"

"Is that really relevant?" asked Daryl.

"Hey, you called me," reminded Sam. "If you don't want to talk we can go back to our vigilant watch. Over." Daryl looked off in the distance. There were darkened woods in every direction, and nothing else. Other than the sound of the creek and a little wind, it was incredibly quiet.

Daryl rocked in place on the branch he was sitting on for a moment. He looked down at the book he had brought, which he had already read in the few hours he had been camped in the tree. Looking up at the stars, Daryl found himself enjoying the beautiful starlit night sky that he couldn't get in the city. Then it dawned on him how bored he was.

"I try to do twenty-five of each every morning," said Daryl. "But I don't always get around to it."

"You can't manage a measly twenty-five sit-ups and push-ups every morning?" asked Sam. "Is this why you didn't want to take your shirt off around me?"

"No," reputed Daryl. "How many do you do?"

"After I wake up and stretch, I do a hundred push-ups and sit-ups. Before lunch, I try to work in another fifty of each and mix it up with some alternating one-armed push-ups. I also try some lunges, if my knees aren't bothering me. In the evening, I do planks instead of push-ups."

"Planks?"

"You know, it's like when you hold the push-up position. Really good for your core. I alternate between that, side planks, and some leg curls for a while until I'm tired. And I do a few small sets and stretches before bed."

"You do this every day?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I do more. Just depends on how I'm feeling."

"More? Are you sure you're not superhuman?"

"Nah, I just got into the habit of doing tons of push-ups in the army."

"Tough training regiment?"

"More like I never knew when to shut up. I was always making smartass remarks and getting push-ups as punishment. I think I racked up over five hundred in a single day once. Ended up in the infirmary since I lost the use of my arms for a while."

"All because you wanted to talk back to your superiors?"

"What can I say, my drill instructor was just such a tight ass. I never could resist the chance to piss her off. No matter what I said, she'd always fly off the handle in the most hilarious way. Then of course I'd laugh and get double how many ever push-ups she just said or I'd have to run a mile, but I never got tired of it. Well, figuratively, obviously I'd get physically tired some days when I was mouthier than usual.

"After a while I got used to the extra work; just the price to get a rise out of my C.O. Then came our fitness test and I was doubling my scores from last time and shaving almost a minute off my two-mile run. I remember when I was in the gym afterwards, benching more than I ever thought possible, and it was the first time I ever felt truly strong, and I loved it."

"That must have been very empowering for you," reasoned Daryl.

"Oh it was, but the downside was it killed my love life."

"How so?"

"You saw how so last night when I took my shirt off," scoffed Sam. "Rare is the man who wants to go to bed with a woman whose biceps are bigger than his own. And even rarer are ones I'd actually want to sleep with. Lately, the only kind of men I seem to attract are little runts with a fetish and your occasional closeted gay."

"Well, I think you're attractive," complimented Daryl.

"Uh-huh, sure you do," said Sam. "That's why you went right to sleep last night when I started taking my clothes off."

"I was just trying to give you some privacy."

"I appreciate you lying to make me feel better, but it's not necessary."

"I'm not lying, it's just—"

"Daryl quiet!" ordered Sam. "You hear that?" Daryl listened closely. He could hear the wind through the trees, water running through the creek, and a dog barking in the distance.

"What am I listening for?"

"That dog. You hear it?"

"Yeah."

"That might be the same one from last night."

"So?"

"So if you catch it we can stay here free anytime."

"When would we ever come back here after this?"

"When we have free rooms for life, that's when."

"We're not here as dog catchers."

"Come on, it'll take you a minute. And I've got the shop covered." Daryl sighed in response to Sam. "We've got absolutely nothing better to do. What harm would there be in taking a look?"

"Fine, I'll go take a look. But that's it." Daryl ascended into the air and flew after the barking sound he heard in the distance. He headed towards the old bridge and drew his flashlight. There, under the bridge, was a familiar dog, barking up at him.

"You again." The dog barked in response. "Let's see if there's anything I could use for a leash." The dog started barking again and took off running. "Wait up!" Daryl followed the dog, flying ahead of it and cutting it off. "Slow down mutt. What are you getting worked up about?" Daryl turned around and saw a glimmering white light streaming off towards the livery.

"Sam, I see it! It's heading towards the livery."

"The dog?"

"No, the ghost—thief—thing made out of light, it's heading your way!"

"Copy. Keep watch from the air. I'll try to take it out. Over and out." Sam gripped her taser and watched for any sign of movement. She sat patiently in the corner of the shop, camouflaged by a shelf full of tacky souvenirs. Cautiously she scanned the room from one side to another, taking care not to make any noise while she looked for any sign of movement.

A chill ran down her spine as she suddenly felt a presence directly next to her. Sam slowly turned her head and saw a ghostly figure floating beside her. It looked like a faint image of a person made from a glowing haze of bright white light. Its face was almost devoid of features, containing only sunken eye sockets and a shape that would suggest a nose and a mouth.

Sam looked on in terror as it remained in place a foot above the floor. Suddenly, it moved forward into the shop, stopping in front of a cold case full of drinks. Sam, unable to look away, saw the eerie being disappear in a sudden flash and in its place stood someone else. She watched as this person started prowling through the various bottled drinks in the cooler.

After watching him for a few seconds, Sam came to her senses. She took aim with her taser and squeezed the trigger. The shot struck the intruder in the back causing him to collapse on the floor in shock. Sam held the trigger down for an extra moment to assure she had immobilized her target.

"Daryl, get in here. I just stunned this thing." Sam unlocked the front door and quickly moved to the twitching body on the floor. The person was wearing a tattered white robe with odd shapes etched on it in gold. Sam bound the thief's hands with a twist tie as Daryl burst in.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It flew in here, changed from a ghost into this and I hit it with the taser." Sam removed the taser prongs and flipped the person over so they could see his face. The thief looked like a young man with long flowing blonde hair and light yellow, almost golden skin. He was quite short, fairly thin, and had an unassuming face with delicate features.

"What is he?" asked Sam.

"I'm not sure." The weary thief slowly regained consciousness, his odd amber eyes locking with his captors'. "Don't move." The thief blinked at Daryl and Sam, then changed back into a figure of light.

"Dammit!" Sam swung at the luminous being only for her hand to pass right into it. The figure flew through Sam and out the door.

"Gah! That felt really weird."

"Come on!" Daryl grabbed hold of Sam and flew after the thief. The specter darted quickly into the thick woods, Daryl following after it as closely as he could. The ghostly image passed through the trees with ease while Daryl desperately tried to carve a path towards his target.

"Where's it going?" asked Sam as they soared through the dark woods.

"I don't know, but I think I can stop it." Daryl reached out his hand and concentrated. He pulled his hand back, propelling a mess of branches and sticks back towards him. Daryl pulled up to avoid the mess while the thief kept moving, unaffected by the attack.

"What was that supposed to do?" asked Sam.

"I was hoping that would at least slow him down. I'm going to have to try something more drastic."

"Drastic?" Daryl flew up above the forest's canopy and chased after the fleeing specter from above the trees. The gap between them slowly began to close as Daryl gained on the thief.

"I'm going to land in a minute. When I do, I want you to wait until after I immobilize the thief to run after him. Understand? Don't move until after I stop him from moving."

"Wait. How are you going—"

"Don't move until after I finish. Understand?" repeated Daryl.

"Yeah, but how will I know—"

"You'll know, now get ready." Daryl plunged through the trees and landed in a spot just ahead of the fast approaching phantom. He released Sam and watched as the thief flew ahead of them.

"Get ready to run after him." Daryl held out his hands and focused on the distant white light. He quickly swung his hands downward and a deafening cracking sound followed. Sam watched the white light disappear into a mess of bark and branches, violently ripped from the trees, crashing into the ground with a swarm of pine needles to form an implosion of foliage.

"Holy shit." Sam watched as a pair of pines collapsed in the distance. "Daryl?" Daryl was kneeling on the ground, holding his head in both hands.

"Go after him," he said in a weak voice. Sam switched on her flashlight and ran to where she last saw the thief's luminous form. Everywhere she stepped there were broken branches and an entire layer of stripped bark blanketed the forest floor.

Her light passed over a pair of small yellow hands sticking out from under the brush. She cleared the clutter, revealing the thief underneath, his hands still bound by Sam's tie. Again, she flipped him over onto his back. His gentle face was now covered in small cuts and light bruises.

"I didn't kill him, did I?" asked a still weary Daryl. Sam examined the thief carefully, checking for a pulse and pressing her ear against his chest.

"He's still breathing," she informed. "What the hell did you do?"

"I drastically increased the gravity in this area for a moment."

"You can do that?"

"It's difficult, and fairly destructive." Daryl rubbed his forehead. "It also gives me a splitting headache."

"More than fairly destructive I'd say. How'd you know that'd even affect him while he was doing his ghost trick?"

"When I talked to the Order, they told me intangible beings are usually still affected by outside forces if they're extreme enough. If gravity had no effect at all on him, he'd fly right off the planet in that form." Daryl looked down on the unconscious gold-skinned man. "It was a long shot, but I guess I disturbed his concentration when he felt the pull." Sam started searching the man's pockets. "He looks so harmless."

"Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving." Sam placed a small device in Daryl's hand. It was a rusted and worn metal object with buttons and a pair of small blinking lights on it.

"What is this?" asked Daryl.

"No idea. It's all he had other than a half-used pack of gum." The man started stirring. He opened his eyes and saw Daryl holding his object.

"Nahdahnu!" he shouted desperately as he struggled against his bonds.

"Calm down," ordered Sam.

"If you want this back you'll need to cooperate." The strange man stopped struggling. "Do you understand me?" The man looked at Daryl for a moment, then nodded. "Do you speak English?" The man seemed to ponder that question before answering.

"¿Si?"

"Well that's a mixed message," grumbled Sam as Daryl knelt down beside the man.

"Say something," prompted Daryl.

"Something?" he said.

"Who are you?" Daryl motioned towards the man.

"My name. Vyn Lon," he said slowly

"Count Nutus." Daryl pointed to himself. "G.I. Genocide." He motioned to Sam. "Where are you from?" Vyn seemed stumped by this question. "Where did you come from?" repeated Daryl.

"From far place?" he said with more than a hint of confusion.

"That's not much help," said Sam.

"Where were you going?" Vyn looked at Daryl, unsure how to answer. "Home? Do you know home?" Vyn nodded. "Can you show us home?" Vyn shook his head. "Why not?"

"Far. Too far."

"What is not far? What can you show us?" Vyn looked to the device Daryl was holding.

"I need key," he motioned towards the device with his head.

"Show me first. Then the key. Understand?" Vyn nodded, and Daryl helped him stand up. "Sam, his hands."

"You sure about that boss?" asked Sam.

"You've already searched him and if he really wanted to escape he'd just become intangible again." Sam removed a knife from her belt.

"Hold still." Sam carefully cut the tie around Vyn's wrists.

"Are you okay?" Vyn looked at Daryl. "Well? Are you well?"

"Si. Yes," he answered.

"Show us what this goes to." Daryl motioned to the key. "Understand?"

"I understand," nodded Vyn.

"Lead on." Vyn looked up at the sky, shuffling in place while keeping his view upward, then slowly started walking forward.

"Why are we doing this?" whispered Sam. "We should just take this guy in already."

"And how do you propose we do that? He can pass through walls."

"Then call the Order. They'll have ways to deal with him."

"I'd rather we learn more about him first so that I may better inform the Order when I do contact them. Besides, he's cooperating and he hasn't harmed anyone."

"Just stolen some things."

"Whose combined value is much less than a cabin for the night."

"I just don't think we should trust this guy. For all we know, that gizmo is a bomb or he's leading us into a trap."

"Understanding something isn't the same as trusting it." Vyn tripped over a root and fell forward onto his hands and knees. "Also, he may not even be capable of leading us into a trap." Daryl helped Vyn back to his feet. He was breathing hard and sweat was dripping down his face. "Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

"I tired," he said in between breaths.

"Tired? We've walked like thirty feet," said Sam.

"Vyn. Would you rather fly? Like before?" Vyn nodded. "All right. Go ahead." Daryl backed away as Vyn changed back into his luminous form.

"I hope you know what you're doing," said Sam.

"So do I." Daryl wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and flew after Vyn. They waded through the thick forest, eventually emerging in an open field. Vyn changed back into his original form and approached a large haystack. Set out around the haystack were neatly stacked empty bottles, folded candy wrappers, and a large black cape with a red lining.

"My cape!" Daryl picked it up off the ground. "You took this?"

"Sorry. I cold. Sorry," apologized Vyn in a meek voice. "Please, key." Daryl donned his cape, then removed Vyn's device from his pocket. Vyn tried to take it, but Daryl refused to release his grip on it.

"Show me what you want with this." Daryl motioned to the buttons on the device. Vyn looked reluctant to act, but slowly he pressed the buttons, eventually typing in a long sequence with them. One of the lights on the device changed colors and a strange hum filled the air.

A blinding light shot out from the haystack, causing Daryl and Sam to shield their eyes as the haystack seemed to explode. As the air cleared, hay raining down around them, Daryl and Sam found themselves illuminated by the light of a large vehicle resting where the haystack used to be sitting.

"Holy shit." The vessel looked like a small rusted fuselage with two large curved protrusions arching out of its sides and backwards in a semicircle. At the ends of the protrusions were large orbs made of some unknown material that glowed blue ever so slightly. A large window adorned the front of the vehicle and a spotlight was mounted under it. "What are we looking at?"

"Vyn," said Daryl. "Where do you come from?"

"Across the universe," he said almost as if he was singing.

"We've been chasing a goddamn space alien," said Sam with more than a hint of panic.

"Come." Daryl and Sam slowly moved to where Vyn was standing. "Key." Daryl looked over at the vehicle, then back at Vyn. "Key." Daryl was about to offer the alien device to Vyn, but Sam grabbed his arm.

"Does this really seem like a good idea to you?" asked Sam. "You have no idea what'll happen if you give that back to him. That thing could be a weapon of some kind."

"Weapon?" asked Vyn. "Not weapon."

"Vyn," said Daryl. "Why are you here?"

"See Earth," answered Vyn.

"You're a tourist?" asked Sam. "I'm having trouble believing that."

"Well, he is camping in the woods and surviving on junk food from a gift shop. I don't think he's hostile."

"But you don't know that." Daryl saw the concern in Sam's eyes.

"You're right, I don't." Daryl pocketed Vyn's device, then removed a pair of keys and handed them to Sam.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Head back to the cabin and wait there," instructed Daryl.

"What?"

"If anything happens to me, at least you can tell the Order what happened here."

"I... I can't just leave you here."

"I'll be all right. I'm just going to learn as much as I can from our visitor." Daryl smiled at Sam.

"Fine, but if anything, and I mean anything happens, you contact me, immediately. Capiche?"

"I will." Sam eyed Vyn, then looked back at Daryl. "I'll be okay." Daryl nodded at Sam, who reluctantly headed back into the forest. "Vyn, if I return your key, will you continue to cooperate with me?"

"Yes." Daryl handed the device back to Vyn, who started fiddling with it immediately. After a few clicks, a panel on the side of the ship slid open. "Come." Daryl ducked down and stepped inside. The interior was incredibly cramped, the air thick and arid. Three pairs of seats led forward to a pilot 's seat at the front of the fuselage. The equipment that coated the walls seemed like a contradiction. Antiquated dials and switches surrounding sleek cutting edge screens. Daryl looked over to see Vyn setting the folded wrappers and empty bottles on one of the seats.

"What are you doing?" asked Daryl.

"Not waste," answered Vyn before turning to one of the instrument panels. Daryl watched as Vyn started fiddling with some of the dials.

"And what are you doing now?" asked Daryl.

"Machines. Turns them on," answered Vyn.

"Slow down. You're not planning on going somewhere are you?"

"Go?" Vyn hopped in the pilot's seat, placed his 'key' in a panel in front of him and grabbed hold of the controls. "Go where?"

"Nowhere." Daryl approached Vyn. "Stay right here. Understand?" Vyn let go of the controls and turned around. "Vyn. Why were you hiding?" Vyn looked away from Daryl, unsure how to answer. "Please. It's important you tell me. Why were you hiding out here?"

"Afraid," he answered in a quiet tone.

"Afraid of what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Earth mans," specified Vyn.

"You're afraid of humans? Why?"

"What you do."

"What are we doing?"

"Death, destroying. I listen Earth broadcasts. Hear horror. Afraid do to me."

"Then why did you come here?"

"I also hear wonders. Tales of beauty. Singing at night. Smiles in light. Things my people not believe..." Vyn trailed off, seeming quite emotional as he did.

"I don't understand. What exactly are you looking for?"

"I not know," giggled Vyn. "Hope I find." Daryl just stared at Vyn, puzzled by what he was saying.

"It sounds like you took a great risk to come here," realized Daryl.

"Yes," nodded Vyn.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Vyn pondered Daryl's question. "Some," he admitted.

"I guess you would be." Daryl examined the injuries on Vyn's face. "I apologize for the harm we caused you earlier. That wasn't our intention, we just didn't know how else to reach you. Do you understand?"

"I think," said Vyn.

"I won't hurt you again and you're safe with me." Daryl extended his hand. "Friend?" Vyn slowly took hold of Daryl's hand, then threw his arm around the man and hugged Daryl tightly.

"Okay." Daryl reluctantly patted Vyn on the back. Vyn, however, looked up and gently kissed Daryl on the cheek. "All right, that's enough of that." Daryl slowly pushed Vyn back into his seat. "Here on Earth, we just shake hands." Vyn appeared confused by this statement. "Hold out your hand." Daryl gripped Vyn's outstretched hand and slowly moved it up and down.

"Shake?"

"Yes. This is a traditional Earth greeting."

"Oh." Vyn continued the gesture excitedly until Daryl let go of his hand.

"Now Vyn, I'll need you to come with me."

"I not understand."

"I need to take you from here."

"Go?"

"Yes, you'll need to go with me."

"Go where?"

"Back where I come from."

"Home?" Vyn pointed to himself.

"My home." Daryl pointed to himself.

"Oh, your home."

"Yes, we need to go to my home," Daryl explained slowly.

"Oh." Daryl's phone started ringing. Removing it from his belt he saw Olivia was calling.

"Excuse me." Daryl clicked the receive button. "What is it Olivia?"

"Uh Daryl, Mr. Tetra is here and—" There was a fumbling sound as the phone changed hands.

"Give me that," barked Nick's voice. "Where the hell are you?"

"Mr. Tetra, this really isn't the time."

"Make time, you've been avoiding me all week."

"I haven't been avoiding you."

"What that?" asked Vyn.

"It's nothing," Daryl answered.

"It's not nothing," replied Nick.

"No, Mr. Tetra, I wasn't talking to you."

"Well you should be!"

"Home?" asked Vyn.

Daryl placed his hand over the phone. "Yes, I'm speaking with someone back home. I'll be done shortly." Vyn started fiddling with an instrument panel while Daryl moved to a seat further in the back. "Mr. Tetra, what's the problem exactly?"

"I want to settle this demon girl thing already. I was under the impression her staying with you was a temporary thing. Now you're using her to catch crooks, guitar girl here is telling the press she's part of the team, and you keep saying you're just waiting for her to be picked up. You don't think I know what you're doing?"

"Enlighten me Nick, what exactly am I doing?"

"You want to add her to the team. You keep putting off the whole issue of nobody coming to get her, hoping that I'll just accept her living here. Well forget it, I'm already paying for one more person than I agreed to."

"I'm not adding Angela to the team. Washington suggested we use her to catch Misfortune and Olivia told the news she's on our team to smooth over sightings of Angela. Once I get back to town, I'll make it a priority to turn her over to the Order. I'm already going to be talking to them about my discovery here, so I'll be sure to mention it."

"Where are you anyway? Why aren't you here? And for that matter, why was there a charge on your expense account for four hundred dollars last night from somewhere a state over? That card is for working expenses only, not for you to vacation on."

"I am working and believe me, this hasn't been a vacation for me. The Order requested we investigate a nearby incident."

"Isn't it your job to protect this city? Isn't that what I pay you for?"

"My job is to uphold the law and maintain peace anywhere the Order needs me to." Daryl felt a small jolt as something caused the ship to shutter.

"Yeah, well you're staying in my building, so I'd like some consideration until that's not true anymore." Daryl noticed the ship's door had closed. Moving up front, Daryl found Vyn sitting in the pilot's seat. "Hello? Are you even listening to me?" asked Nick.

"I'll call you back in a minute Nick." Daryl looked out the ship's front window and noticed they were moving upwards into the sky.

"Don't think this is over. The second you're back, we're sorting this out."

"Vyn, what are you doing?" asked Daryl.

"Go home," he said in a cheerful voice.

"No. Vyn—" Vyn pulled a lever and the view of the window changed into a blinding light. "Vyn stop!" The blinding light disappeared and the view of the night sky returned.

"Problem?" asked Vyn.

"Set this ship down, right now," ordered Daryl.

"Yes," Vyn answered in a seemingly oblivious tone. He adjusted some of the controls and the ship started moving downward. A few seconds later, the vehicle landed with a soft thud and a hissing sound signaled the door opening. "Home?"

"In a moment. Let me just get some air. Don't touch anything, please." Daryl pocketed his phone and headed for the exit. He started rubbing his forehead as his migraine seemed to have returned in full force.

Stepping outside, Daryl took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He couldn't help noticing the air smelled a little off. He also realized he wasn't standing on dirt either but a stone surface, like an old road. Daryl moved his hand and discovered a busy city spread out before him.

"This can't be good," he mumbled to himself.

"Oh," awed Vyn as he exited the ship. "Home?"

"No, Vyn..." It dawned on Daryl that this area looked very familiar. "We're on top of the firehouse. You landed the ship on the roof."

"Home?" repeated Vyn.

"Yeah, but how did you know?" Vyn pointed to Daryl's pocket. "My phone. You followed my phone's signal?"

"Phone home." Daryl cracked a small smile at Vyn's comment. He was going to say something when his phone started ringing again. Vyn strolled over to the edge of the roof as Daryl answered the call. "Hello?"

"Daryl?" asked a startled Sam. "Are you okay? I just saw something fly off in the distance. Did that little bastard run off?"

"Not quite," answered Daryl.

"Did he do anything to you? Where are you?"

"I'm back home, apparently."

"Home? You mean the cabin?"

"No, I'm back at the firehouse."

A short bout of silence followed this comment. "What?" asked Sam.

"Vyn flew me back to the firehouse."

"Are you serious?"

"Whoever you are, you're trespassing!" Olivia emerged from a nearby hatch. "I'm warning you, I'm stronger than I look!" She ran around to the other side of the ship to confront her opponent. "Seriously I'm—Daryl?"

"Hi Olivia," he said in a nonchalant tone.

"I thought you were in Indiana. What are you doing here, and what is this thing?" Olivia turned to Vyn. "Who's this?"

"Vyn Lon." He stretched his hand out towards Olivia.

"Olivia Rivera." Olivia shook Vyn's hand. "Daryl, what's going on?"

"Who's that in the background?" asked Sam.

"It's Olivia," he answered.

"Unbelievable," grumbled Nick as he slowly climbed the ladder. "I install roof access in this building and some jackass takes that as a sign to crash his crap on my property." Nick maneuvered his way to the front of the ship. "Okay, somebody better start explaining—Daryl?"

"Hello Mr. Tetra."

"What the hell are you doing here? What is this thing? Who's that?"

"Vyn Lon." Vyn offered Nick his hand in an excited fashion.

"Nick Tetra." Nick shook Vyn's hand.

"Is that Tetra?" asked Sam.

"Yeah."

"Ow." Vyn pulled his hand back. "Too hard."

"What, you never had a firm handshake before?" asked Nick.

"No," said Vyn as he nursed his hand.

"Okay..." said Nick. "Daryl, explain."

"Well, Sam and I went to investigate a disturbance in rural Indiana. We found Vyn, who claims to be a visitor to our world. When I was talking to you over the phone, Vyn saw it fit to fly me home, apparently," recounted Daryl, sounding like he didn't believe what had happened himself.

"Visitor? He's... an alien?" asked Olivia in disbelief.

"I think so," answered Daryl.

"Boss, I know you're busy, but what exactly do you want me to tell that Garcia guy when I see him?" asked Sam.

"Tell him he shouldn't have any problems with theft now."

"Is this Paris?" asked Vyn.

"No. Not even close," answered Daryl.

"Is he going to be staying here?" asked Olivia.

"Possibly?" answered an unsure Daryl.

"Boss, again, know you're busy, but are you coming back for me or should I just drive your bike back? Because we're done in Indiana, right?"

"We're done. I'd appreciate it if you brought my luggage and bike back."

"What's that?" Vyn pointed off in the distance.

"That's a church."

"How is it he speaks our language?" asked Olivia.

"Boss, one last thing, do you remember what happened to the dog?"

"Why can't I see the stars here?" asked Vyn.

"Shut up, all of you!" yelled Nick. "God, if you people tripped over the Holy Grail your only thought would be, 'Why does my foot hurt?" Nick examined the ship, then moved to where Daryl was standing. "You said this thing flew you here while you were on the phone with me?"

"Sorta. I was talking to you when I noticed Vyn had taken the ship into the air. After I hung up there was a flash of light and next thing I know we're landing on the roof," explained Daryl.

"Right, and how far was this place from here?"

"I think our directions said like a hundred and eighty miles."

"And that flash you saw, that happened after you hung up on me?"

"Yeah, like a few seconds later I think, why?"

"Why? Because if what you're telling me is true, it sounds like this small rust bucket traveled nearly two hundred miles in less than a minute, possibly less than second, without liquefying you in the process."

"You could travel anywhere on Earth," realized Olivia. "Instantly."

"Or travel to other planets," realized Nick. "That's what you use it for, isn't it?" Nick smiled at Vyn.

"Mr. Tetra, I'm too tired to fully appreciate all of this, but I do know I will be calling the Order in the immediate future and they will want to take good care of Vyn and his vehicle. So I wouldn't get used to it because—"

"Tell them I'll fully fund a joint cooperative study of the vehicle's technology permitting their and its owner's approval," instructed Nick.

"Nick, it doesn't work like—"

"Yes it does. I read all about this when I decided to sponsor you bozos. The Order often co-opts major research projects to cut down on costs. It's usually with government agencies but they've used private organizations as well. Go ahead and call them, they'll tell you."

"Right now?" asked Daryl.

"No, next week—yes right now!" exclaimed Nick. "You have got the discovery of a lifetime, and I may have the opportunity of a lifetime. Either way, your Order is going to want to hear about this."

"Sam, I've gotta go." Daryl hung up and started dialing while Nick approached Vyn. The short alien was leaning over the edge of the building, marveling at of the tapestry of different lights that formed the city's skyline.

"Vyn, right?" asked Nick.

"Yes?" he answered.

"How would you like a job?"