Jose approached me Monday, before my leave, to ask how my New Years went. I suppose I over spoke and spilled the beans with Rose nearby. Jose enjoyed hearing me talk passionately of my night with Bruce. It's a side of me he's never seen. A side to prove I'm not a cold woman but with a heart so desperate to share it with another. I proudly advised I was no longer a single woman and thanked him for making this possible. Jose stood ten feet tall with pride, stoked he made another successful match, and was all smiles the rest of the work week. Rose kept her ears open and stood outside the staging door, fingertips dancing on her BlackBerry, documenting every word. She attached the note to an email and forwards it. My condition "Charley" brought Moose to monitor my goings with close inspection, and he was not pleased to find the blue star upon his GPS unit nailed to Bruce Banner's home on New Years Eve and Day. The note arriving Monday night from Rose only confirmed my location.
On Tuesday, Bruce shared lunch in Vendoland with me, even though he wasn't scheduled to work at the lab.
"I'll bring lunch on Thursday.", Bruce said before we parted eyes, my heart fluttering with my eyelids.
"Hey! I'd like to cook dinner on Friday, at my place. How does vegetable stir fry sound?"
"That sounds fantastic! Using your garden vegetables, right?"
"You better believe it.", I wink, then disappear behind DESS' door.
On Thursday, Bruce swipes his badge to my floor and receives no response. He tries twice more, again with no response. The paper bag in his left hand, holding our cold deli sandwiches, makes a crumbling sound as his grip hardens. His greatest concern comes to light.
"Son of a BITCH.", he hisses.
He knows this is Moose's doing. Bruce heads to his lab, puts the bag into the cooler, and enters his office.
"We need to talk.", says Moose, sitting in Bruce's chair.
"Then you'd better start talking, for my patience is running real thin.", he growls.
"Happy New Year, by the way."
"Get to the point.", snaps Bruce.
Moose taps his upper left arm three times, looking dead into Bruce's eyes, and the message is clear. He is reminding Bruce of the RFID capsule in my arm to track my movement.
"It stops right here, right now.", pointing at Bruce's desk.
Bruce drops both open hands hard upon his desk, sending forth a message of disapproval. Within his ear canal the sounds of his muscles pull, the blood rushes, and the tissues shift. With every breath, the monster urges Bruce for one shot in Moose's face ...just a tap, a push, a flick of its green finger. The threat doesn't break Moose's egotistical demeanor.
"Bruce. She's unstable, an unknown, and therefore, we need to keep her naïve of her past. The Glass House isn't going to be ready for another two months."
"You're putting her in there?! For what purpose!"
"Research."
Moose taps a toothpick out of a black container and chews away.
"Research. Right. Like the monkeys she works with, you're going to display her in your personal exhibit? It's inhumane!"
"Who said she's Human? Thor doesn't believe she is. Didn't your parents teach you to never question God?"
Bruce pushes off the desk, spins around to face his door, and shakes his head. His chest begins to hurt from his deep heaving, fists tight to hold back the monster stirring within, and teeth clenched hard to hold in his angry words. Nothing he says will change Moose's mindset, but he fights for our relationship anyway. He rests his hands upon his hips, faces Moose, and fires back.
"You're going to listen to a Norse God, whom can't even keep the people he's responsible for from killing each other, and not your conscience? I expected better judgment from a Commander of Earth's saving grace."
Moose smiles at Bruce's desk, amused with his defense.
"By the end of your work day, I expect you to change your phone number. Your access is already pulled to her floor and no more in or outside rendezvous. She is off-limits."
"She's not a threat, Moose. She's ...".
"Your girlfriend, no more."
Bruce slams his open hands hard upon his desk, growling, furious Moose can swing his power with no discretion.
"She approached me! I followed orders, Moose, just like you asked!"
"I can have her transferred to Site R by 5pm. It's your call.", Moose says nonchalantly.
"You wouldn't.", brows heavy, narrowing his eyes.
Bruce knows Moose is serious. Having Jules at Site R equates to zero contact. Raven Rock is a defunct military underground base, which BlackOps graciously purchased and rehabbed for safekeeping high risk unknowns, aggressive aliens, and plethora of cryogenically sealed specimens from outer worlds. Site R is a last resort, a prison, and a dead end for uncooperative and deadly creatures. The jobs pay well, but living underground is not for everyone. Each employee lives and works underground for ninety days straight and receives a full week vacation outside afterwards. There is no knowing what Moose would do to her at Site R. She could be an employee or a prisoner and this unknown frightens Bruce to the core. He steps back, calms his demeanor, and agrees to Moose's requests.
"I'll do it."
"I knew you would."
Moose leaves Bruce standing alone, staring at his desk, and in complete mental disarray. He worked so hard to gain her trust, to rekindle their lost relationship, and now? A disaster of undeniable repercussions is about to ensue in his life. There is no fixing, no undoing, and no rescuing his relationship with Jules. He frets how she will handle the coming tide. Immediately, his closest confidant comes to mind and makes a cry for help.
"Tony? Call me. ASAP."
I send a text after returning to my desk, hungry: 'Were we supposed to meet for lunch today?' My cellphone remains quiet and I find it terribly odd. Maybe I had it wrong ...were we to meet Friday? Maybe he confused dinner with lunch.
I stare at my phone, motionless, all the way home, begging for a response. Pal Hal notices my expression of disappointment and confusion.
"You appear troubled, Jules. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. I think my phone has gone awry. I'm not getting any messages."
I must have cradled my phone all night like an infant, desperate for Bruce's response. I begged for a vibration, a ping, even a wrong phone number call. It's terribly quiet ...mute ...cold. Inpatient, I call him.
'The subscriber you have dialed is no longer in service.'
"What?!"
I redial twice more and even manually key in his number, thinking it will make a difference, yet the same 'no longer in service' message comes thru. In a panic, I text him: 'Bruce. Please respond.'
'Message denied.'
"I don't understand. Why didn't he tell me he was changing his number? Maybe he lost his phone? Yes. That's it. He's getting a new phone."
I pace my apartment, justifying his lack of response, an encounter, his affection to ease my worries with random excuses.
"He knows my address. He'll stop by. I'm sure."
No one visits me.
The next day, I keep my phone in view upon my desk. I want to believe it's technology making my life a living hell, but my gut keeps delivering negative probabilities. Bruce and I have a connection. I FELT it that night! Even Laura said he's got a crush on me. Believing the issue is my phone, I turn to Rose for help.
"Can I ask a small favor?"
"Sure.", she responds, fingers dancing away on her keyboard.
"Send me a test message via text to my phone?"
"Alright."
It beeps with her message, and my heart drops out of my chest.
"Thanks."
She goes right back to her work, deep in thought as usual.
Lunch is my last hope, and I find myself alone in the back of the room. I stare at both my untouched bagel with turkey, provolone, lettuce, and my phone. My body is posed as still as a sand crane, waiting for a fish to appear and nourish me. My eyes wander to the door of the lunchroom, every time someone waltzes in.
'Something is wrong. This feels wrong.'
I spent my entire weekend inside my greenhouse, among my true friends, contemplating what I may have said or done to Bruce to push him away. I hoped Woekey would make a visit, but the bird doesn't show. Time felt irrelevant, despite the sun rising and setting. It was the longest weekend of my life.
The next week, I find myself unwinding emotionally at home. As soon as I leave Hal's car and walk up the stairs, I cry. As I eat my dinner alone, I cry. I'm crying in the shower. I'm crying myself to sleep. Bruce wouldn't let me go like this, would he? HE was the one asking ME to be his boyfriend! Maybe I said something inappropriate? Yes. I must have done something ...but what? My memories suck as it is! The past is juggling with the present, stronger than past weeks, colliding in furor to mend the broken bridge.
At work, I muster to push my personal issues aside to keep my focus on the task. Surprisingly, I find it easy to fake a smile and pretend my life is peachy keen. Before I know it, I'm emotionally numb to my unusual dilemma. I'm in denial of Bruce's absence, holding on to hope my phone will chime to his message or a call will come my way. Oftentimes, I daydream of him walking into our office or into Vendoland. By Friday afternoon, I grow tired of holding my Pandora box of emotions under control. I rest my face in my hands and weep quietly. Rose hears a sniffle and questions my behavior.
"What's wrong, Jules?"
"I don't feel well."
"Wrap up what you're doing and go home."
"I'm fine.", wiping the tears away.
"You just said you don't feel well.", annoyed by my response.
"I'll make it.", I mumble and refocus my mind back on my spreadsheet, heavy of data collected from my telekinesis sessions with rhesus #1 and #3. A perfect pair, matching nearly each object the other held while sitting behind a concrete wall and moving the objects in gentle nudges to get the other to pick up the correct item. Possible vocalizations outside our hearing capacity was ruled out and my initial disbelief that telekinesis was even realistic is now a fact.
Almost three weeks passed since the raven made its visit. Every other day or so at work, Rose would ask me if the bird ever returned. Despite Woekey's absence, my monitoring continued. Rose documented every detail of my behavior and word, sending a quick synopsis of my work day to her boss.
My Friday night dinner consists of steamed salmon, white rice, and green beans with buttered panko. Sitting at the table with dried salty tears on my cheeks, I stare at the kitchen stove. My mind drifts heavily, burdened in worry over Bruce's wellbeing. What if he was in an accident and had been laid up in a hospital all this time? I pull out the laptop and do a search with the local newspapers, looking for vehicular or pedestrian accidents. Every website I touch, BOD gets a peek. They now know I'm looking for Bruce. With no luck, I search the missing and lost pets database for a docile, hand reared raven. Again, I find no matches. I'm relieved, for I don't want to lose Woekey. Not now. I need its company, more than ever.
After taking a bite of the salmon, a strong tap sounds from the sliding door. Immediately, I leave my chair and squeal with excitement!
"Oh my God! Thank God you're here!"
The raven waltzes in, proceeds with a strut as if it's King to my home. I normally leave the door partly open, but today's weather is rather brutal. The current temperature is 2 degrees Fahrenheit and is to get as low as -12 degrees overnight.
"Where've you been, Woekey? Are you hungry?"
CAW!
"I'm sure. You've got to be burning fuel like crazy, just to keep warm."
I examine the contents in my fridge and grab the plastic bag filled with shaved deli turkey. I pull out a good handful of meat and set it on a white ceramic plate. As soon as I place it on the floor, Woekey walks up and gobbles all the meat like a starved beast. I lower a soup bowl of water to the floor, which it drinks little of. I watch in amusement, as the bird turns around and quickly hops away, taking flight to land upon my bed.
"Hey now!"
God, I needed a good laugh! I find it comical this bird would just kick back after a free meal and head right for the sack. I sit back down and continue with my meal.
"So. How's Woekey anyway?"
I eat and watch in amazement. The bird's looking around, tilting its head this way and that. Very typical bird behavior. Clearly, it's examining my room.
"I'll be honest, Woekey. I really missed your company. Bruce has gone AWOL on me. He changed his phone number, stopped visiting me at lunch, and I have no explanation. None. I must've done something to scare him off. I mean, he asked ME out. Why would he just ...just stop seeing me?"
I toy at my dinner, look at the bird, and then lose it in tears.
"What's WRONG with me?!", I scream. I pick up my plate and throw it at my front door. "Fuuuuck!"
Quickly, I hide my face into my hands and cry my eyes out, while Woekey flutters down to the floor and pursues the scattered dinner for his taking. He searches out the salmon first, the breaded beans, and then the rice last. I look up and chuckle at his behavior.
WOEKEY. WOEKEEEEY.
"Yes, I know. Your name is Woekey. Thanks for cleaning up. Sorry you had to see that."
I don't know where my anger came from, but I feel much better. As I wipe up the mess with a dish towel, I begin to question if I've been angry in my past for all I feel is loneliness and independence.
"I need more than an emotional memory. I need pictures to go along with it! FUCK! Who the Hell am I!", I yell.
CAW!
Woekey rests upon my comforter once more, bringing me to chuckle again and smile at his peaceful demeanor. I toss the towel at the sink and proceed to the bed, agreeing to a rest. Woekey watches me as I pass by, noting my human curves underneath the beige tank top and the bikini white panties to express my hip bones. I lay down with my feet pointing at my headboard and rest my head upon my left arm, only three feet from the birds position. I give in to the night, for my mind is weary and full of meaningless questions of Bruce and I.
"I'm tired of worrying about Bruce. But I can't help it. It's out of his character to just ...just avoid my existence. Why me?"
Woekey lets out a yawn and blinks its eyes, sharing a disinterest in my concerns. In turn, I yawn back and carefully approach the back of its head with my right fingers. I gently pet the soft silky black feathers, stroke down the back and then massage the rear of its neck. A few minutes later, Woekey turns its head to eye me, lowers its noggin upon the bed, and nestles its beak into the cloak of its feathers. The bird remains this way for another five minutes and then it was fully asleep. How odd, I thought, and grab my pillow to lay next to my friend. The night is bitterly cold, and I allow Woekey to stay indoors. Peacefully it slept, feathers faintly moving to each breath. Its company is reassurance I am among a friend, and for the first night since Bruce ignored my being, I didn't cry myself to sleep.
Saturday morning came with my body feeling well rested for a change. I raise my head to check on Woekey. Bewildered, my eyes widen in surprise for the bird is nowhere to be seen. I rise quickly and look around the room in desperation.
"Woekey? Where are you, bird?"
I squat down to look under the bed. Nothing. I walk into the bathroom and check the shower. I look at the kitchen counter. I look behind the shoji screen and around the dresser. I double my efforts everywhere, yet not a sign of the bird. I even check the locks on both doors.
"Woekey?"
I'm beyond perplexed.
'I didn't let the bird back outside, did I?!'
I question if the bird was even in my apartment. Did I dream of this? Did I make this up, out of desperation to be with someone?
'I must be loosing my FUCKING mind!'
When Loki did visit, he did so at night in Asgard, hence his tired demeanor. When he awoke, the dark midnight blue eyes watched me sleep soundly, sharing a heavy grin over his accomplishments. His presence, shadowed from Heimdall's watch, is breathtakingly beautiful. The black feathered cloak rests over him, head and all, giving all eyes before him the making of a raven. Before his leave, he pet my hair with his left index finger and thumb, and plants a whisper into my right ear.
"Vanish, and you no longer walk among the mortals. Appear, to return. This is your gift."
It's colder than fudge out. Woekey's visit rebuilt my drive, one more and I swear final attempt to answer my lost relationship. I settle for a walk to Bruce's home, despite a distance of five miles there and another five back. With a little help of Google satellite imagery, I spot his rooftop tiki bar and lock his location on my iPhone. Bundled up to brave the elements of Midwest's winter, I'm blasted in the face by Skadi, the Goddess of Winter, cutting thru my black pea coat to change my mind. Unfazed, I walk with the early sun and icy sidewalks. The occasional brisk wind curses my decision. Even the freezing temps don't bother the exposed flesh of my rosy cheeks. It takes me two hours to reach his home, and as soon as I see the silver gated fence, my heart skips and flops like if it's dying. Grabbing my chest upon my coat with my left hand, I take a number of deep breaths to ease myself. I swallow hard, stare at the intercom button upon the ornate fence, and contemplate whether this is a good idea. I worry.
'I look desperate. Okay. Don't look desperate.'
I peer up to the large picturesque windows and see a reflection of the blue sky upon the glass. Fighting back my tears and shaking my hands, I finally press the button.
Silence.
I try again. And again. I get no response.
'Maybe he's at Tony's.'
Bruce approaches the window of his workshop and gasps when he finds me out front. His feet shuffles back a number of steps to clear the view of the window,
"Shit! Shit-shit-shit! Go away, Jules!"
He immediately calls Tony.
"She's out front, Tony! She's not leaving!", he yells in a panic.
"Calm down! And don't respond! She'll leave. Make her think you're not home."
I walk a couple of blocks further, hitting the Mag Mile, and proceed to window shop to kill time. I view the beautiful high fashion dresses in season, the ridiculous four inch heels in sequins, and other oddities along the way. A long line of dedicated customers and visitors stand outside Chicago's favorite popcorn shop, braving the cold. Mom's and their daughters leave the American Girl store with shopping bags full of over-priced doll clothing and accessories. I wander inside the Watertower Place and buy a pound of clear gummy bears in white chocolate, which are my personal addiction, and find a bench to rest my weary Soul to people watch the rest of my afternoon.
"Did she come back?", Tony asks in a phone call after sunset.
"No. And I didn't hear from Moose or anyone from BOD. Man ...I hate this!"
"I know this is hard, but you need to avoid her. Having her underground for three months? I wouldn't even wish it on my enemy."
When I make my way back to Bruce's, the night's in full swing, and I find the lights on in his kitchen. Nervous once more, I shake out my hands and then press the intercom button. Bruce jumps from the sound of the chime, and he slowly makes his way from the living room to the kitchen window. I see him looking out, standing to the side, slowly motioning his right hand to move ...shoo ...go away. I clasp my hands to my lips and stand motionless, patiently wait for a response. My heart is working so hard, my chest feels as if I've been beaten and bruised with an angry fist. I see his body move to the left, as if he's trying to hide from my view. Not a wave or a verbal response follows our moment. I grab the silver fence with both hands watch him with intensity.
'Why aren't you responding? Why aren't you coming out to see me? Why the silent treatment?'
My heart bleeds, as he walks away from the window. I hesitate to try the intercom, but I give it one more shot. I get nothing. I look back up and watch the kitchen light turn off. My eyes lock to his front door, but he doesn't show. It was that very moment, life came to a raging halt. I fall to my knees in tears, still gripping the fence, and cry like a baby. How could a man so warm, so kind, now treat me so cold? Is this retribution for treating him cold on our first two dates?
"Why me? Why is this happening?", I say aloud thru my tears. "I'm sorry! Whatever I've done wrong? I'm so very sorry!"
Bruce has the intercom on to hear me and watches my reaction on the video, and his own heart nearly dies from the guilt of allowing me to believe I've done wrong. Desperate, he wants to rush outside to comfort me. Anger quickly builds within, as he paces back and forth within his bedroom, practicing his breathing exercises. The beast empathized with me and he's angry with Bruce.
The wind is brutal, whipping the icy hairs across my face from my tears. Red streaks appear upon my cheeks from each strike, and I eventually give up. I pick myself up and cry out his name.
"Bruce?! Bruce! If you can hear me? I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. Please forgive me for hurting you in any way. I can't blame you for leaving me. It was wrong of me to allow you into my life, when I don't even know who I am."
I walk away, depressed as fuck, and the stray hairs around my face become laden in icy tears. Memories of my past, full of depressing moments like this, flood my mind. Visions of my quiet and lonely childhood returns, followed with my quiet, antisocial, and independent adulthood. They stand out in epic colors, memories so vivid with detail, I can't grasp how I managed to live this way. I walk home in the freezing cold, zombie-like, as I continue to flash back to my past. It all makes sense now. I've never had a taste of happiness before. This? Bruce and I? It was too good to be true. I scared him off. My lack of understanding of happy and relationships scared him off.
My apologies tripped Bruce's safety switch, unleashing the monster within, and in ten seconds flat, his bedroom is declared uninhabitable. An end bedpost turned into wooden spears and pierced through the drywall to his walk-in closet and into his bathroom. The bed he threw against the brick wall, breaking the frame. The headboard he smashed into little pieces. The corner wall to his closet is sheared clean. White chalky dust settles gently in his bedroom and upon a naked, crying man. It's been years since he lost control of his rage, unleashing the mean green monster within. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, picks up his phone, and calls Tony back.
"Do you know of any good, reliable carpenters?"
"Hey, alright! You've finally decided to go ahead and upgrade your man cave?"
"No. I destroyed my bedroom."
"What?! What happened? ...oh man."
While Bruce tells Tony what he did in response to my words, I'm about half way home. Still upset, I begin to speak out loud in anger.
"I wish I didn't exist! I wish I could just disappear! I wish I could just vanish!"
I have my arms wrapped tight around my chest to trap my body heat in and my head down low out of sadness. Quickly, I see another set of legs and feet ahead of me, and I stop to avoid a collision. Instead, the stranger walks right thru me! I turn around in complete shock and watch the man casually walk away. I continue my walk home with a cautious attitude and spot another man walking my way. I stand still and as he nears, I close my eyes. He passes right through me!
'What ...what's happening? How did he just do that?'
I quickly find a car side view mirror, look into it, and notice my face missing!
'Oh my God! I'm invisible!'
Ecstatic and scared to my wits, I swipe my hands through a lamp post and then grab it at will. The knack is imminently familiar. The gift feels my own. Such glee fills me, erasing any prior concerns of Bruce and I. Purposely, I walk thru trees, people, and yell obscenities to a group of five thug wannabes with the waist of their pants holding onto dear life around their upper thighs.
"Pull up your pants, assholes!", I yell with a delightful grin, walking right through them and waving my wands all over their shocked facial expressions .
"Who the FUCK just said shit!", one of the men hollers.
I freeze in place, surprised I was heard, for I assumed invisibility meant I can't be heard, seen, period.
"Bitch better show yourself!", another shouts, followed with much approval and grunts from the others. I turn slowly to view their anger, each one looking around parked cars and up at the houses. I slap my right hand over my mouth, holding back the laughter screaming inside. The commotion cheers me even further and I take off skipping home in delight.
"Punk wannabes!", I shout back.
I had to. It's like taking a stick and prodding a fire ant hill, pissing the army off to oblivion. The guys holler back a handful of obscenities as I skip away, feeling empowered.
I don't even bother with the keys. I pass thru my two doors and head straight to my standing mirror, seeing no one.
"Come back."
"Return."
"Unvanish."
I scratch my head and feel rather confused. Why is this so hard?
"Show myself?"
I grab the iPhone, pull up an online Thesaurus, and eyeball the options.
"Appear."
Just like magic, I reappear upon the reflective metal. I throw my arms around in joy, grab my head in bewilderment, and play with my newfound ability for the next full hour. Bruce is barely a dent on my mind, now. I have something else to deal with. I have myself. My new ability. I feel ...reborn.
On my way to work, Bruce slips into my mind. Instead of watching the traffic pass us by, I look at my hands and fidget my fingers. My memories are slowly returning and my shocking ability to vanish is worrisome. Yet naughty ideas surface, leaking from my hippocampus, issuing sketches of unthinkable acts. Sneaking into his home unnoticed, spying on him, watch him take a shower, see if it's another girl he's fallen for ...or I could rob a bank, take anything I want from any store, or fuck someone up that's deserving of it. Nevertheless, I question my very existence.
'Who AM I?'
All week I sit quietly at my desk, uninterested to mingle casually with my colleagues and only if it's work related. I often see Rose tinkering with that damned Blackberry device like her life depends on it. I never once suspected she was sending info about me to anyone. Why would I? Hell, I never suspected I was a possible threat to B.O.D. and was constantly monitored around the clock. Rose alerts Moose of my change in behavior and he moves my alert status to Bravo.
I go about my morning duties, shift the monkeys into a clean holding cell with breakfast. 8:30am rolls around and Rose asks me a question.
"No signs of your mystery bird?"
"He stopped by Friday night. I let him sleep inside, due to the extreme cold."
"Is the bird still in your apartment?"
I break eye contact with her and take a short pause. What do I tell her? That the bird just mysteriously disappeared?
"No. I let it out, before I left for errands Saturday morning. It hasn't returned since."
An emergency meeting is held with several key B.O.D. staff members, all who've been monitoring Jules since day one. There's a concern that the raven in question is Loki in disguise, for it's known that Loki can shape shift. The name is too coincidental and her change in behavior denotes a possible reversal of her amnesia.
"It wouldn't surprise me that Loki is purposely stimulating her memories, just to bring her abilities back.", says a man whom goes by Bingo, for he takes his loving Grandma to the VFW Hall every Wednesday night to play.
"And you're worried that Dr. Banner would trigger her memories? He's not the issue, here. If anything, he's an asset. To be up close and personal, he can keep us informed of any potential issues we cannot capture thru the RFID or video. We know Jules is cautious to express her personal side.", says Rose.
"Good points. I'll handle Bruce. Rose, keep me updated, especially on the raven. Have Migs in my office in two days. I believe he can be found in New Zealand."
The Glass House is still under final prep, with Moose pushing the project to completion in five weeks instead of eight. Rachel sits quietly in the meeting, taking notes, and Moose instructs her to call Thor.
"Make him aware of Jules and her visitor. I want confidence on Thor's part his brother ends his casual encounters with Jules. Her memories are rising to the surface sooner than anticipated. We don't need the God of Misfortune aggravating the slumbering beast. Our goal is to keep her mind dormant until the Glass House is complete."
Heimdall listens to Rachel's calling and sends a messenger to alert Thor. Time is irrelevant on Asgard. It does not co-exist in real-time as on Midgard, therefore, seconds after Rachel calls out Thor's name the gateway automatically activates and he walks out of the grey stormy circle inside the transporter room.
"Hey!"
"Greetings, Rachel. You called for me ...and appear troubled."
"We suspect Loki is visiting Jules.", leaving the firm embrace of his arms.
"Here, in this facility?"
"No. We believe he's visiting in the form of a bird. A raven. At her place."
"A raven?"
"The bird calls itself Woekey."
"By Odin's beard, did you say Woe Key?"
Odin has two ravens of his own: Hugin and Munin. Never did Thor see Loki shape shift into a raven before. That did not mean he hasn't done so and he knows Loki is capable of shape shifting into any kind of living creature or duplicating his own.
"I will explore this matter and return in haste."
He quickly walks up the ramp and yells out Heimdall's name. The gate opens up, he walks thru the swirling gray matter, and the gate quickly closes behind him. Upon Thor's return, he questions Heimdall.
"Have you taken any notice of Loki outside of Asgard?"
"I have not. His presence remains."
"A raven going by the name of Woekey has been visiting Jules."
"He has tested my vision on many occasions, but without success. He is wiser now and well versed in sorcery. It is possible he has found a way to breach my security."
Thor leaves the circular pad and with the swing of his mjolnir he flies towards the city. As he approaches the palace, he flies up and to the right of the building, housing the private residence of his brother. He lands on the garden patio above the building and quickly proceeds down the hall to Loki's door. He knocks loudly.
"Loki! I must speak with you!"
Loki is sitting in his favorite black and red velvet-lined chair, facing the open French doors, and motions the male servant to open the door. Thor quickly approaches Loki.
"Please come clean, Brother. Have you made a visit to Midgard?"
Loki raises his eyebrows with surprise. He turns his upper torso counterclockwise and greets his brother with a smile.
"I remain loyal to Father and have kept my promise not to stray."
"You swear it?"
Loki changes his amused reaction to curiosity.
"Your skepticism is most troublesome, Brother. Why the suspicion?"
"Rachel claims Jules had been taken in by a raven. A raven whom calls itself Woekey."
Loki looks away from Thor and laughs loudly.
"Do NOT amuse me!", he scorns and his voice rattles loose items needlessly.
Loki returns his eyes on his brother, still amused in a chuckle.
"I affirm to you my presence has been on Asgard. I have no pleasure of making a visit to that wretched woman. Not after she ventured to kill us all."
Thor relaxes his tense body, believing his brother. He recalls the guards witnessing Jules attacking Loki in the Rayless Vault, wounded in the process with his left hand cut open and her loud threats to kill his family was also heard by Odin.
"My apologies for the accusations, Brother."
Loki waves his right hand at Thor as to respond with forgiveness. Thor turns around and leaves the room, bringing Loki to stand and walk in a fit of pride outside to the patio. He stands two feet away from the railing and with his arms down to his side, he rests his glare upon the horizon and ponders his next move. Heimdall observes Loki from his guarded post, eager to catch him red-handed.
Late Friday night Woekey shows up again, just as I'm fluffing the sheet and comforter over my legs. The tapping of my sliding glass door is Woekey's signature, and I gladly allow it to enter my dark home.
"Rotten timing. You're lucky I'm still awake.", opening the fridge to pull out the turkey meat. He immediately flies up to my bed and nestles on my fluffy comforter.
"Are you kidding me? You're here to sleep? You ARE an odd creature."
I snuggle back under the covers and pat my hand upon the comforter near my second pillow.
"Come here, Woekey. Next to me."
I don't know why I began to humanize the bird, treating it as my own. I recall Bruce telling me to not discuss Woekey at work and to avoid the bird. My immediate reaction was to bond even more with the raven. Now that Bruce is out of the picture, I'm compelled to house Woekey in my greenhouse. A selfish act, yes, but I yearn its company. Much like my plants, I yearn its unconditional love.
Woekey hops over to my right hand and lays down close to my head. Its response to my simple request brings me to silent tears.
"I wish I could fly away with you. I'd love to see where you go. Where you live. Flight just ...it just feels like a natural ability. If I could just fly away. FAR away from this madness. If only ...".
Tonight I dreamt heavily of free flying over mountains, deserts, and vast oceans. It felt familiar, recent, and natural. The corners of my lips reached high to my cheekbones, for I was so God damned happy in my dream tonight. When I awoke, I wanted to thank Woekey but the bird was nowhere to be found. Once again, I scoured my apartment to find my doors locked and myself alone. I refused to question the birds disappearance.
'I'm not crazy. I'm not. The bird was here. It slept with me. Woekey slept with me.'
However, Loki appeared in spirit as I slept, disguised under the raven-like cloak. He pet my head and whispered into my right ear.
"Soar high with no limitations, Jules. This gift is bestowed to you."
A week after Bruce stopped communications with me, I noticed Jose began to distance himself from me as well. We only discussed work-related matters and his usual comical persona was gone. The comical personal questions ceased, as well as random chatter. I accepted this change of venue and found comfort he or no one pried into my personal life. By the third week, I began to feel a desperation from Jose to speak with me on a more personal level. But it wasn't just him I began to pick up emotions from. At lunch, I began to feel the emotions of others, which lead to random information about themselves. As I work my Sudoku puzzle and now sit with my back facing the room, I'm actually tuning into these emotional energies. One man was dealing with a sick mother in a nursing home with months left on her biological clock. A woman yearns to have children of her own, especially after her young sister gave birth to her third child. Everyday, I use my Empathic ability to read out strangers in the hall, in Vendoland, or in the convenience store.
'So. I can read emotions and become invisible. Damn! I can do some serious damage with my abilities. This is Superhero shit!'
It doesn't take long for me to fall back to my old ways. I begin to take cash from the evil Mom and Pop convenience stores, operating as a front to their true purpose of heavyweight drug trafficking. February's rent comes with two grand extra for Mr. Rey, and he nearly cried. It just felt right.
"Happy New Year, Mr. Rey.", I said.
Thor pulls a meeting together with his clan, sharing his concerns of his brother's possible leave to Midgard by magic. Of the four, Sif holds the most hatred for Loki. He takes this into consideration and asks for her help.
"I have a task for you."
"Does it involve a crusade?"
"No, it does not, but it equals in importance. I would like you to follow Loki close. See to it he does not use magic to leave Asgard."
"My pleasure."
Sif locates Loki walking to the Library and she follows at a safe distance. Loki browses the historical texts of past civilizations and pulls out a bluish leather-bound book. It's 13 x 19 inches in size and filled with three hundred pages. The library's built with an open atrium nestled in the middle of the building. He takes a seat and kicks his feet up on to an end table, looks up to the open sky and begins to flip thru the book. Destruction of Stryka. A fitting book, he thought, and proceeds to read. Sif hides off to his right, thirty feet out of sight. She randomly picks a book from the shelf and sits down on the marbled floor. At random intervals she flips the pages in book, yet keeps most of her attention on him. After a good hour, Loki let out a yawn and reposition his body to slouch back into his chair and rest the open book over his face. He crosses his arms and rests them on his chest. Sif watches with increased interest, observing his chest rise and then fall in a slow consistent pattern of sleep. She smirks, rolls her eyes, and looks down at the book she holds in her hands. She closes the book to read the title. Proper Female Etiquette of Mimir.
"Oh, brother!", she hisses quietly, and places the book back on the bookshelf. She remains diligent and keeps her watch.
I pick a cucumber, a green bell pepper, a zucchini, and a handful of cherry tomatoes. I cradle all but the tomatoes into my left arm. The cherry tomatoes I hold in my hand and snack away. Just as I open the greenhouse door to exit, I hear the sound of joy.
WOEKEEEY. WOEKEEEY.
"Woekey!"
To see my friend soar to me is a beautiful sight! I'm so excited to see that damned bird, my heart flutters as if the man of my dreams walked into my life! I close the greenhouse door and slide open the door to the apartment, watching the raven quickly move ahead and enter before me. I respond with sarcasm and laughter and shut the sliding door.
"Well, excuuuuse me!"
I lie the veggies on the countertop and begin to wash them.
"Where do you go? Do you have friends, or other ravens, you live with? You know. I'm beginning to suspect you're a male. You have a crush on me, don't you?" I chuckle at my joke and dry off my hands. "Are you staying for dinner? I make a killer stir fry ...".
As I turn around to speak at Woekey, a tall slender man with shoulder length silvery hair, dressed in a strange leathery brown attire, stands facing me with a strong sneer. I holler in shock, lean my back against the countertop and grab the edges with my fingertips. I hold my breath and close my eyes hard for five seconds. Slowly, I open my eyes and the man is gone! I quickly scan the room, still white-knuckling the edge of the counter.
CAW!
I jump up, forgetting about the bird.
"Christ!"
I quickly relax my body and begin to breathe heavily. Slowly, I let go of the counter, yet I cautiously keep my guard.
"My God. That didn't just happen."
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I sit quietly with both hands in between my legs, squeezing my thighs together hard. Something feels amiss. That face. I've seen that face before! I forgot all about the bird. The raven stands on the floor, watching my reactions. Soon enough, I spoke the words Woekey was waiting for.
"It's the same guy!" I look at the raven. "It's the same guy that gave me the heebie geebies a while back in the lunch room! And ...and I've seen him ... here, before. Here."
CAW! CAW!
Woekey's response snaps me back to reality and I feel much more at ease. It's presence made me feel safe, for I was not alone.
Loki's eyes remain open and fixed upon the pages which rest over his eyes, smiling with great approval. He stretches out his arms and folds them back onto his chest.
The rest of the night, I remain hyper alert. I kept the raven in my room overnight and never did the raven motion to leave me. It was quite content on staying indoors, strutting his feathers like a pimp on the floor, the top of the chair, and now on my bed. Just before I lay down under my covers, I pat the left pillow three times, call forth his name, and the raven hops to the pillow, relaxes, and nestles its beak under its left wing.
"That's my boy. Such a good bird.", gently stroking the side of its neck. "I really appreciate your company.", I whisper.
I fight to keep my eyes open for as long as I can, indulging my eyes with Woekey's silky black feathers. Soon after I lose my battle to the night, Loki appears under his cloak by my side. He looks down at me and grins, petting my head and speaking into my left ear.
"Heal with your hands, Jules. Heal yourself or another. This is a gift bestowed to you, my dear."
Loki lays besides me a little longer than he cares to, for he cites the human stench similar to rotten meat. But with each visit, he feels more protective of me. He views my abilities as an asset. With every stroke of his hand upon my head, he whispers into my ear to remind me of my talents: fly, disappear, heal. Over and over, his reminders drift thru the ear canal and prods the hippocampus. Ever so slowly, my memories stir and my dreams return to the old chase and run scenario of armed men wanting my flight abilities.
Loki lifts the book from his face, stretches his arms out, and smiles upon the open pages of Stryka's destruction. Sitting upright in the chair, he flips thru several pages and then closes the book. Sif watches him well, noting his movements upon his wake and placing the book back on the shelf. Sif's pleased to find Loki heading for the meal hall, for she was famished.
It's Saturday morning. I quickly rise to a sitting position, look at the pillow and the foot of my bed to see the raven is missing. I don't react in shock but feel more accepting of Woekey's disappearance. I lay back down and allow my body to slowly awake. My rhesus monkeys come to mind and their incredible ability to decipher what lies behind a concrete wall. Since the new year, we have accomplished a great deal on the telekinesis project. Rose is putting her presentation together, for in four weeks it will be the first week of March and our work to be sold in front if the same panel of big wigs. Because I'm the peon, I've been given fair warning of a layoff, once the presentation is complete. To be honest, I'm looking forward to the time off. I need it to discover who I am. Dreams of men in black chasing me as I fly has become a nightly fixation and all too familiar. I've stopped using my bank card since I rediscovered my vanishing ability and been using the dirty cash from the mom and pop stores. B.O.D. also has their dirty fingers on my bank account, and advised Moose by week four of my lack of usage.
It's a week into February, yet with todays high temperature of 68 Fahrenheit feels more like early Summer. I take out my lawn chair from the greenhouse and sit outside to soak in the warm sunshine. My Sudoku book is handy, as well as a tall glass of iced sweet tea. On a warm day like this, iced sweet tea is in order. I work thru several puzzles and then hear the love if my life call forth his arrival.
CAW! CAW!
He's flying above the front of my building, gliding forward to land upon my rooftop. I stand up in a cheer, smiling profusely at a sign of good fortune. I was so delighted to see that bird again! I exclaimed my joy in his name.
"Woekey!"
Just then, in the blink of an instant, a sliver of silver whisks thru the air with Woekey appearing to take a direct hit. My eyes widen, horrified, as I witness him loosing altitude and flutter erratically. I howl in horror as he tumbles down from the air, struggling to keep flight. Just as he falls, I quickly turn my head to the left and look across the rooftop. A male figure with a long black braid down his back re-enters the rooftop door across the way. I quickly run thru my apartment, down the stairs, and to where I believe Woekey fell. I look between every car parked street side. Nothing. I walk around the cars. Nothing. I even look underneath the cars. I back up to the front of my building and look across the street and down both sidewalks. Nothing. I don't hear a bird in distress either. I stand in udder disbelief.
"This is not happening! It's not real! None of this is real!", I yell forth with hands in fists. Several strangers walk by and scrutinize me visually yet shower me with internal questions. 'What's wrong with her?' 'What's the matter?' 'What's she freaking out about?'
"Did you see a black bird fall from the sky?", I ask in desperation and only receive frowns and snickers.
More strangers pass and watch me anguish, moving between cars and investigating the air. I can feel their distrustful emotions of myself, forcing me to retreat into the protection of my niche. I question my sanity and whether I actually saw Woekey get killed. I back up to the door and look around one last time. Back inside I shut the door and lock it with hands shaking, loosing my composure and cry like a child lost, unwanted ...forgotten. I fall upon the bed and let the flood of tears soak into my pillow. I'm scared, confused, and distraught. Who was that man whom killed my friend? And why?
Loki was lying on his bed, when he was making an attempt to fly to Jules. Just as the thin blade whisked by, a fraction of a second was all it took to nip his upper right bicep. Immediately, he brought himself back to Asgard. Loki recognized the man whom attempted to kill him as Migizi, or whom most call Migs. He laughs hysterically, enjoying the thought of Migs failure for a while longer in silence. As he rubs the thin cut, a new plan is set in motion to retrieve her pendant back from the All-Father's loving collection. He wants to harness her power thru friendship. He wants an ally. A folk tale alleges he's part Styrka thru his mother, and the stone Jules once wore was created by his ancestors. He truly feels they'd be a good fit to conquer Realms, Worlds, or what he sees beneficial to himself. However, the pendant now lies within the The Great Room of Token, along with many other powerful artifacts Odin and Odin's father collected. To take the pendant out of the room without notice will be a strong challenge. A smile stretches a mile wide with thoughts of his brother, Thor.
"Ah, yes. My loving brother. You and I must carouse ...like old times."