"Hello Flash," uttered the likeness of the king, his arms open wide. "If you're listening to this rather marvellous creation straight out of the research and development department, then clearly you've cracked my sneaky, but factually correct, encryption. Well done my boy! I miss our 'what if?' games, and hope that things become a little less hectic soon, so that we can resume playing. And on the subject of hectic, I need your help. I understand you were at the laminium ball match yesterday. To say things have kicked off would be rather an understatement. I'd like you to file a full report as soon as possible, but only to me please, including every last detail you can think of. Also, and here's the tricky bit, I'd like you to start your own investigation into exactly what happened. Currently the King's Guards and the Crimson Guards both have their own investigations running side by side, but I need someone I can trust to look into things, and I believe your unique perspective would serve me well. I'm sure by now you realise that there's more to this than meets the eye, as well as understanding the danger I'm now placing you in. But if anyone's up to the task, then I know it's you. I would request that you don't tell anyone what you're up to, and I'm sorry to say that must include Peter and the rest of your new found friends. When you have something, anything... get in touch. The usual resources are at your disposal. Good luck. Your King."
Flash, still seemingly studying the telepathic papers, was struck by a confusing mixture of emotions. Delighted that the king trusted him to undertake the assignment, he was disappointed that he couldn't tell his friends what was going on, and more than a little afraid of not only what he would find, but also of crossing paths with the Crimson Guards, knowing on that count alone, he'd have to be extremely vigilant. Without hesitation, and knowing time was of the essence, he left the enclave of his mind and let his body overwhelm him. Only a split second later he was back in control, though momentarily it left him a little disorientated. For an instant he expected to be in his dragon form. On finding that he wasn't, a tinge of sadness crept over him like ivy running up the outside of a thatched cottage. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, despite his anger at being held captive in this falsehood of a body, he leant closer to where Peter and Tank were sitting, both sporting slightly glazed looks. Announcing that he had to leave, his friends' attentiveness returned instantly, so that he could explain that he had a couple of errands to run for the king. Nodding their understanding, something crossed Peter's face for a moment at the mention of the king, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. Flash recognised it for what it was... jealousy, and to be honest, he couldn't really blame his friend, knowing the full story of the king's relationship with him. But the king was tied up with important matters, and until those were resolved Flash knew it was unlikely that Peter would be granted the time he so desired with the monarch. Standing, Flash shook both of them by the hand and then disappeared down the concourse, leaving the two friends to catch the monorail back to Salisbridge.
28
Odd Ball
Kneeling down on the slightly sticky floor, she picked up the new bottles from the crate and slid them to the back of the shelf, before placing the old bottles in front of them, carefully giving them a little shake as she did so. It was mind numbingly boring sometimes... she knew that, but she just supposed that every job was like that in some way, shape or form. It was dealing with the people and the resulting conversations that she liked the best, well, for the most part. It wasn't pleasant when they were really drunk, but even then they usually weren't too bad. Not as bad as the last couple of places that she'd worked at in the city centre. Scuffles and violence of some sort were a nightly occurrence there, and something that she'd learnt to hate. So much so, that she'd had to get away, look for another job... somewhere safer. It had taken the better part of three months to find one, here at the sports club, but she'd known within a matter of days that the move had been the right one for her. Mainly, it was quiet, particularly during the week. Oh, there was the odd event in the function room, the occasional committee meeting and training nights were quite lively, but usually people were courteous, good mannered and polite. She liked them all. The rugby players always showed the most respect, something that she found endearing. Her thoughts turned to Peter's friend Tank. He'd always been very polite and nice to her, but it was as obvious as the nose on her face that he didn't approve of her relationship with Peter. Unable to understand why, she wondered if Peter had in the past suffered a bad break up, with Tank looking out for his friend now in case the same thing should happen again. It wasn't the only thing she supposed. Perhaps it was her job, or perhaps there was something she didn't know, some dark secret that they both shared. A tight little smile flitted across her perfect, pale face at the very thought of Peter having a dark secret.
Although not exactly sure why, the lacrosse girls intimidated her. They were all extremely fit and most were outgoing and confident with it.
'Perhaps,' she thought, as she added yet more bottles, 'it's because I'm so shy and unlike them in almost every way. I've never played a team sport, even at school, and my idea of fit is going to the gym once a week.' Still, she'd never had a problem in serving any of them in the clubhouse. And that left the hockey players. Standing up, stretching her arms high up into the air, something of a ritual after stocking the bar, thoughts of hockey players caused her to gaze out the window across the deserted Astroturf pitch. Peter didn't know it, but sometimes she sneaked out to watch him while he played. Taking her lunch hour late, or her break early, depending on the time of day, she'd blend seamlessly into the crowd and just watch in awe. Not really understanding much about the game, but as it ebbed and flowed backwards and forwards, she recognised his passion, commitment and regard for his teammates. It made her so proud. She was pretty sure he'd never caught her watching, although his friends almost had on a couple of occasions. Another smile lit up her face. When she thought of the hockey players that frequented this place, all she could think of was him. Hoping he'd had as good a time as he could while working away this week, he'd explained that infrequently in his job he had to travel overseas to check on the security of the other Cropptech sites. This week had been one of those times, and for security reasons he couldn't even tell her where he'd been. She'd just wished him well, and was deeply looking forward to seeing him tonight.
Brought back to the present by the squeal of the door to the bar opening and the soft gust of air that accompanied it, a mass of wiry, copper hair bobbing about with every stride, the chairman of the sports club walked in, his smart grey trousers befitting the dark blue blazer and matching tie.
She smiled. It was sunshine on a dark, stormy day. Water in a desert.
"Good morning," she remarked as he walked past, only to be greeted by a mumbled reply that she couldn't hear. She stood, stunned.
'How rude,' she thought, only to herself, knowing he'd never been particularly polite, well, not to her anyway. Not only did she find him intimidating, but she always got the impression that she was somehow beneath him.
'Huh,' she thought, 'well he's not going to ruin my day.' Picking up the empty crates from the floor, she headed through the swing doors at the end of the bar and up the stairs to the stock cupboard, following directly in the chairman's wake. Reaching the top, she strolled purposefully along the corridor, pushed open the cupboard door and stacked the crate on top of several empty ones. Turning to go back downstairs, she just caught a glimpse of the chairman across the function room, sitting at the desk in his office. He sat there, head in hands... sobbing! For some reason, Janice fought back her instinct to go and see if he was alright. She wanted to, but a tiny little voice deep within her urged her not to. And then her decision was justified. Out of nowhere the chairman bolted to his feet, turned to face the gunship grey metal filing cabinet beside his desk and went berserk, kicking, punching and head butting the defenceless cabinet. Thinking quickly, she pulled the door to, desperate not to be discovered. The chairman's 'moment' lasted longer than a minute, with Janice all the time cowering in the stock cupboard, too frightened to leave in case he caught a glimpse of her. Steadily, the sound of flesh on metal died away, only to be replaced by the loudest sobbing and coughing she'd ever heard. Peeking through the tiny gap in the door, she noted that the chairman was back at his desk, facing directly away from her. With all the stealth of a stalking tiger, she slipped out, quietly pulled the door closed and padded softly down the stairs back to the bar, determined to be as far away from him as possible.