Title: Flotsam and Jetsam Part Two
Author: Tangles or TangleToy
Email: tangltoy@optonline.net or TangleToy@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I do not own the Morlocks, or the universe they are set in. Marvel does. No copyright infringement was meant by this work; and try as I might I'm making no money off this endeavor. I do own several of the original characters thrown in the story. But since I'm not making any money off the fic I can't pay myself, and therefore I'm still making squat.
Story Notes: This is the second part in the Flotsam and Jetsam series, which in itself is a sequel to a previous fic. Want to start at the beginning? Head over to my page: http://www.crosswinds.net/~tangletoy The timeline for this story is set during the point Storm had leadership of the Morlocks. I've decided to use the original Morlock origin and ignore the whole AOA Dark Beast retcon. If Marvel can change history on a whim, then so can I.
Author notes: I'd like to thank Manda and WinterOak for pestering me with questions about the story, and making me think the plot lines through. You guys are the best. I would also like to thank my wonderful beta readers: Colin, Manda, Andrew, Winter, Carma Sari, and Evenstar (especially Evenstar who did this twice 'cause I lost the first set of notes). No MSTing or pop ups please. I also ask that anyone wishing to archive, to please ask so I know what archive URL I'm book marking. Anyone wanting to borrow Haven or my characters please let me know. Thank you.
Feedback: I like feedback. No really, I'm not kidding. tangltoy@optonline.net Flamers will be fed to ravenous Bamfs.
Summary: Part two of the Flotsam and Jetsam series. Zan meets with an old friend. This is rated PG-13 for language.
Flotsam and Jetsam Part Two
By TangleToy
Zan followed Jet, silent for the most part, letting the hard tap-tap of his Bo staff mark time. As she moved deeper into the tunnels the light from the sparse fixtures took a harsh aspect. Shadows became darker and seemed to open into deep voids between the pools of fluorescent light. The air was colder and smelled like things both rotting and growing at once. Her bones started to ache from the humidity and chill and Zan could feel herself slowly sliding into a bleak, helpless anger.
"How long 'til we get the hell where we're going?" Zan asked Jet with irritation in her tone.
"Patience is a virtue Sun Dweller," the dark skinned Jet scolded. "Didn't you learn that in the Upworld?" Jetsam knew what Zan was feeling, even if he wouldn't permit himself to sympathize.
When he joined the underground community three years ago, he had thought of the Greek tales of Hades as he traveled the tunnels. He felt he was a soul on its way to live with the dead, and that only in his next life could he return to the surface. Jet was sure Zan now felt like she was traveling to a similar fate.
"Patience may be a virtue," Zan quoted the pop culture phrase, "but it's not one of mine. And my name is Zan or Alexzandra, not Sun Dweller."
Jet chuckled softly, "You have some acid to you, I'll give you that. But I'd accept the Sun Dweller tag if I were you, at least for a while."
"Really, Morlock?" Zan asked emphasizing the title of his community. "And why the fuck is that, hm?"
The boy turned impossible blue eyes on Zan and pinned her where she stood. "Because that's what you are. When you think of warmth, you think of the sun's heat on your skin. When you think of day, you see the noon sun overhead. That's what makes you an Upworlder. And until you can think differently you aren't really a Morlock, so don't expect people to treat you as such. And don't curse at me like that. I don't like it." He started moving again, not caring if she could match his long strides.
"That's not fair to judge me like that. It's not like I was born down here," Zan retorted in a wild guess about his attitude and heritage. "I grew up on the surface, you can't just expect me to abandon that."
"Yes, we can," he answered with some venom. "When you come to us, you come all the way. Either you're a Morlock and you pledge yourself to us, or you're no one worth our time. Our community is too important to let a surface cast off cause problems with her mind-set. And for your information, I wasn't born down here. I joined three years ago. So asking you to become one of us isn't a Herculean feat; I'm proof it can be done."
They came to another barrier gate and Jetsam pulled out his set of keys. "This is the last gate before we reach Morlock home sites. If you want to turn back, now's the time." He waited until Zan shook her head in the negative before opening the lock. Like he had done previously, Jet refastened the mechanism behind them.
"People can't leave if they want to?" Zan asked panicked. She was afraid of being trapped, because not even her mutant gifts let her escape enclosed rooms.
"Sure they can," muttered Jet. "We only lock and guard the main tunnel because it's the one outsiders take to get here. There are branch tunnels everywhere that can lead you out."
He took the Bo staff he had been using as a walking stick and slid it into its carrier on his back. "C'mon, we'll probably meet up soon with your Haven friend, Skitter. Her home site is on the community rim, because she takes her kid up to the surface all the time. Says she may have been forced through fate to join us, but that her kid doesn't have to live like this.
"Doesn't sound very Morlock-like," Zan remarked following the taller youth.
"No it doesn't, which is probably why you two will get on so good," Jet replied easily. When he heard the girl snort behind him, he glanced in her direction, a question in his eyes.
Zan hurriedly explained, "I doubt she'll have any love for me. Em, I meant the woman I was living with, she's an empath. She felt extreme guilt coming off Leigh one day and had some of us kids keep an eye on her. Turns out she was stealing from the residents, so the Haven council kicked her out."
She thought back to the awful day sometime afterward, when Skitter had returned carrying one dead child and dragging an almost frozen one behind her. "Leigh didn't do real well on her own, so they sent her here," Zan finished her explanation.
Jet seemed to be lost in thought, and he came back as Alexzandra finished. "Leigh's a pretty name. She doesn't use it down here, though; we all just call her Skitter. We leave behind our surface lives when we join, some with good reason. Morlocks even change how they look sometimes to make the difference in their lives more visible."
"Did you?" Zan asked, boldly reaching out to touch one of Jet's pointed ear tips.
He pulled away from the questing contact of her fingertips on his skin. "Of course! I looked as human as you before I came down here," Jet said with a snort. "I picked up the Vulcan look and the skin and hair color about a year after I was here. My own personal rebellion against the world."
"Sort of," Zan mused, "like getting tattoos and strange piercings to annoy your parents, I guess."
"Yeah, something like that," Jet agreed, "Except it's to further annoy the people on the surface who recognize you as mutant on sight anyway."
Zan frowned in thought, then asked, "But if you were human looking to begin with, how were you recognized as a mutant on sight?"
Jet's face hardened and his lips drew into an ugly thin line. "Some things, like my life on the surface, are just none of your business. Don't ask me again." After that they walked in aching quiet once more, the soft sound of water flowing in the distance.
Zan wasn't sure how exactly she had pissed off the Morlock with her question, but it had been unintentional. She needed all the friends she could make from here on in, and starting off with someone angry with her was against the plan. 'Besides,' she thought, 'knowing what he was like before he was a Morlock doesn't really matter. I don't intend to give my life story before I was a Havenite.'
"Look, I'm sorry," Zan apologized. "I didn't realize I was pushing a button with you. Don't be mad for keeps."
Jet's face smoothed out and he began talking to her again as if nothing had happened between them. His voice dropped low as he picked up Leigh's story again, "Skitter was turned away from a city run shelter. Did you know that? They took one look at her mutant looking rat eyes, and turned her family away. It was below freezing and her kids were under four. It was a sin."
"I know," Zan answered in equally hushed tones. She knew the story already. Up on the surface, the TV showed images of bigger than life mutants who ran out of control. Their feelings of abandonment by the human race and the anger caused by that fueled them to lash out in destructive ways. The news followed each act like vultures on dead meat. But it was the small petty acts, never seen on the screen, that were far more disturbing; and there was no reason for them except fear and there was no real reason for the fear to begin with.
"Well, well. What's this flotsam and jetsam floating by my door?" Skitter asked, making an appearance as if called out of thin air by their conversation. She stood at the entrance of a small branch tunnel, the opening strung across by wire with a rag door. Resting on Leigh's hip, her five year old with the same rat black eyes and frayed looking hair stared at them with a youngster's curiosity.
"Skitter," Jet addressed her bowing slightly from his waist. "You know Alexzandra of course."
The petite woman stepped forward with a nod, looking over Zan with sharp darting eyes. "Em's pup, little Zanna. Been a year since we met last, eh pup? Yes a year. Bet you didn't think then you'd be out of 'aven like me, did ya?"
The question had lacked any malice in the tone, but Zan still felt like she needed to defend herself. "Not being a thief like you at the time, no I didn't think I would be sharing your fate."
Jet sucked in a noisy breath, and the child looked to its mother for a cue for reaction to the unfolding scene. Skitter didn't seem to be taking any offense though. She was a picture of calm.
"But," Zan finished grinning, "here I am now, and no better than you. So let's wipe the slate clean."
Skitter nodded stiffly. "Of course, of course. We're square, you and me. Square and fair," Leigh chattered. Her voice had the same rodent qualities as her appearance. "I'd go as far to say a pair of old friends now. Old friends in a new place."
The child kicked out of its mother's grasp, and slid down her short legs to scamper off. The five-year-old disappeared behind the turn of a passage, and everyone recognized that in moments the community would know of the new arrival.
"Say," Skitter continued in her rat-a-tat speech, "old friend little pup, why don't you stay here with me. Hm? This ain't the Haven, Zanna girl. I could teach you. I could teach you good on how to be a Morlock."
Zan glanced at Jet from the corner of her eye. If she hadn't been looking, she would have missed the twitch of his lips that held back a smile. 'He thinks we're about as Morlock as the FOH,' she thought in annoyance.
"I have to take her to meet Callisto," Jet explained to Skitter. "But then you're more then welcome to take her under your wing."
"Oh yes," Leigh agreed. "She has to meet the ones in charge. Can't hide her from them, no."
She winked at Zan openly and added, "Don't worry, Em's pup, they aren't half as scary as Haven's bunch of goobers. They think they're big and bad. But you and me, we saw bad asses."
Jet raised one navy eyebrow at that, but refrained from making a comment. He didn't like Skitter's casual attitude towards the mutants who helped run the 'Alley'. But he knew the Morlocks didn't run off residents like Haven did. "Scary or not, we better get a move on it. There will be hell to pay if Callisto has to come looking for us." He turned and started to walk away, not waiting to see if the newcomer followed him or not.
"Callisto?" Zan whispered to Skitter.
"Win her over by winning Caliban," the older mutant replied with a knowing tone.
"Caliban?" Zan asked smiling.
Skitter pushed her playfully. "You go, pup. Don't keep them waiting. No. I'll come soon. Then old friends will trade stories, good?"
Zan nodded, still grinning, and rushed to catch up with Jetsam.
The juncture used as a meeting space branched off into smaller tunnels, spaced like spokes on a wheel. Then each smaller tunnel branched into smaller spaces used as living sites, storage, or workspace. During the day normally, the meeting room was used for meals or to gather the children together for schooling lessons. Today, however, everyone seemed to have urgent business that kept him or her from departing the main chamber. Callisto knew they wanted to size up the newcomer, so she didn't chase them away.
An outsider joining them in the Alley was nothing extraordinary, as it happened quite regularly. Tarbaby had brought down two new residents this week alone. However, someone coming in from Haven was different. Havenites avoided the tunnels as a rule, since the communities split years ago. They didn't want to come to the tunnels and be Morlocks. So when one of them worked their way down, everyone stopped to mark the occasion.
"Haven will fall into the Alley one day," Analee had told Callisto once. And they were, one by one.
Skitter's child, Dice, raced into the meeting room, his little bare feet making a pat-pat sound against the hard cement floor. "She's here, she's here!" The little boy cried. The muttering in the chamber moved like a tide rising and falling, crashing against the walls in aborted echoes; and bodies moved as people shuffled into the cliques that made up the social structure of the Morlock community. Eyes shifted to the tunnel that would disgorge the Upworlder, and everyone tried to not seem too eager.
Callisto knelt to Dice and quietly spoke to the little rat child. Caliban stood at her side with a child like glee on his face. Today felt like an adventure, and Dice was a herald to the inner kingdom.
After several minutes of speculation, Jetsam appeared through the tunnel entrance. He moved into the room carrying Zan in his wake. She looked surprised at the size of the gathering like she couldn't quite believe so many people lived in the Alley by choice, and that alone set disapproving tongues in motion again.
Callisto stepped apart from the crowd and nodded curtly at the gangly sixteen-year-old. "Welcome to the Alley. We're the Morlocks."
Zan nodded curtly, her eyes darting over the assembled group. Some present were mutated in ways they could never hope to hide. She tried not to stare anywhere too long, and her gaze finally came to rest on a pale, bald man with a simple smile. 'Caliban?' she wondered. Glancing about for the now familiar face of Jet, Zan realized he had disappeared as oddly as he had appeared the first time, and once again, she was on her own.
~Fin~
Part three soon...
Author: Tangles or TangleToy
Email: tangltoy@optonline.net or TangleToy@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I do not own the Morlocks, or the universe they are set in. Marvel does. No copyright infringement was meant by this work; and try as I might I'm making no money off this endeavor. I do own several of the original characters thrown in the story. But since I'm not making any money off the fic I can't pay myself, and therefore I'm still making squat.
Story Notes: This is the second part in the Flotsam and Jetsam series, which in itself is a sequel to a previous fic. Want to start at the beginning? Head over to my page: http://www.crosswinds.net/~tangletoy The timeline for this story is set during the point Storm had leadership of the Morlocks. I've decided to use the original Morlock origin and ignore the whole AOA Dark Beast retcon. If Marvel can change history on a whim, then so can I.
Author notes: I'd like to thank Manda and WinterOak for pestering me with questions about the story, and making me think the plot lines through. You guys are the best. I would also like to thank my wonderful beta readers: Colin, Manda, Andrew, Winter, Carma Sari, and Evenstar (especially Evenstar who did this twice 'cause I lost the first set of notes). No MSTing or pop ups please. I also ask that anyone wishing to archive, to please ask so I know what archive URL I'm book marking. Anyone wanting to borrow Haven or my characters please let me know. Thank you.
Feedback: I like feedback. No really, I'm not kidding. tangltoy@optonline.net Flamers will be fed to ravenous Bamfs.
Summary: Part two of the Flotsam and Jetsam series. Zan meets with an old friend. This is rated PG-13 for language.
Flotsam and Jetsam Part Two
By TangleToy
Zan followed Jet, silent for the most part, letting the hard tap-tap of his Bo staff mark time. As she moved deeper into the tunnels the light from the sparse fixtures took a harsh aspect. Shadows became darker and seemed to open into deep voids between the pools of fluorescent light. The air was colder and smelled like things both rotting and growing at once. Her bones started to ache from the humidity and chill and Zan could feel herself slowly sliding into a bleak, helpless anger.
"How long 'til we get the hell where we're going?" Zan asked Jet with irritation in her tone.
"Patience is a virtue Sun Dweller," the dark skinned Jet scolded. "Didn't you learn that in the Upworld?" Jetsam knew what Zan was feeling, even if he wouldn't permit himself to sympathize.
When he joined the underground community three years ago, he had thought of the Greek tales of Hades as he traveled the tunnels. He felt he was a soul on its way to live with the dead, and that only in his next life could he return to the surface. Jet was sure Zan now felt like she was traveling to a similar fate.
"Patience may be a virtue," Zan quoted the pop culture phrase, "but it's not one of mine. And my name is Zan or Alexzandra, not Sun Dweller."
Jet chuckled softly, "You have some acid to you, I'll give you that. But I'd accept the Sun Dweller tag if I were you, at least for a while."
"Really, Morlock?" Zan asked emphasizing the title of his community. "And why the fuck is that, hm?"
The boy turned impossible blue eyes on Zan and pinned her where she stood. "Because that's what you are. When you think of warmth, you think of the sun's heat on your skin. When you think of day, you see the noon sun overhead. That's what makes you an Upworlder. And until you can think differently you aren't really a Morlock, so don't expect people to treat you as such. And don't curse at me like that. I don't like it." He started moving again, not caring if she could match his long strides.
"That's not fair to judge me like that. It's not like I was born down here," Zan retorted in a wild guess about his attitude and heritage. "I grew up on the surface, you can't just expect me to abandon that."
"Yes, we can," he answered with some venom. "When you come to us, you come all the way. Either you're a Morlock and you pledge yourself to us, or you're no one worth our time. Our community is too important to let a surface cast off cause problems with her mind-set. And for your information, I wasn't born down here. I joined three years ago. So asking you to become one of us isn't a Herculean feat; I'm proof it can be done."
They came to another barrier gate and Jetsam pulled out his set of keys. "This is the last gate before we reach Morlock home sites. If you want to turn back, now's the time." He waited until Zan shook her head in the negative before opening the lock. Like he had done previously, Jet refastened the mechanism behind them.
"People can't leave if they want to?" Zan asked panicked. She was afraid of being trapped, because not even her mutant gifts let her escape enclosed rooms.
"Sure they can," muttered Jet. "We only lock and guard the main tunnel because it's the one outsiders take to get here. There are branch tunnels everywhere that can lead you out."
He took the Bo staff he had been using as a walking stick and slid it into its carrier on his back. "C'mon, we'll probably meet up soon with your Haven friend, Skitter. Her home site is on the community rim, because she takes her kid up to the surface all the time. Says she may have been forced through fate to join us, but that her kid doesn't have to live like this.
"Doesn't sound very Morlock-like," Zan remarked following the taller youth.
"No it doesn't, which is probably why you two will get on so good," Jet replied easily. When he heard the girl snort behind him, he glanced in her direction, a question in his eyes.
Zan hurriedly explained, "I doubt she'll have any love for me. Em, I meant the woman I was living with, she's an empath. She felt extreme guilt coming off Leigh one day and had some of us kids keep an eye on her. Turns out she was stealing from the residents, so the Haven council kicked her out."
She thought back to the awful day sometime afterward, when Skitter had returned carrying one dead child and dragging an almost frozen one behind her. "Leigh didn't do real well on her own, so they sent her here," Zan finished her explanation.
Jet seemed to be lost in thought, and he came back as Alexzandra finished. "Leigh's a pretty name. She doesn't use it down here, though; we all just call her Skitter. We leave behind our surface lives when we join, some with good reason. Morlocks even change how they look sometimes to make the difference in their lives more visible."
"Did you?" Zan asked, boldly reaching out to touch one of Jet's pointed ear tips.
He pulled away from the questing contact of her fingertips on his skin. "Of course! I looked as human as you before I came down here," Jet said with a snort. "I picked up the Vulcan look and the skin and hair color about a year after I was here. My own personal rebellion against the world."
"Sort of," Zan mused, "like getting tattoos and strange piercings to annoy your parents, I guess."
"Yeah, something like that," Jet agreed, "Except it's to further annoy the people on the surface who recognize you as mutant on sight anyway."
Zan frowned in thought, then asked, "But if you were human looking to begin with, how were you recognized as a mutant on sight?"
Jet's face hardened and his lips drew into an ugly thin line. "Some things, like my life on the surface, are just none of your business. Don't ask me again." After that they walked in aching quiet once more, the soft sound of water flowing in the distance.
Zan wasn't sure how exactly she had pissed off the Morlock with her question, but it had been unintentional. She needed all the friends she could make from here on in, and starting off with someone angry with her was against the plan. 'Besides,' she thought, 'knowing what he was like before he was a Morlock doesn't really matter. I don't intend to give my life story before I was a Havenite.'
"Look, I'm sorry," Zan apologized. "I didn't realize I was pushing a button with you. Don't be mad for keeps."
Jet's face smoothed out and he began talking to her again as if nothing had happened between them. His voice dropped low as he picked up Leigh's story again, "Skitter was turned away from a city run shelter. Did you know that? They took one look at her mutant looking rat eyes, and turned her family away. It was below freezing and her kids were under four. It was a sin."
"I know," Zan answered in equally hushed tones. She knew the story already. Up on the surface, the TV showed images of bigger than life mutants who ran out of control. Their feelings of abandonment by the human race and the anger caused by that fueled them to lash out in destructive ways. The news followed each act like vultures on dead meat. But it was the small petty acts, never seen on the screen, that were far more disturbing; and there was no reason for them except fear and there was no real reason for the fear to begin with.
"Well, well. What's this flotsam and jetsam floating by my door?" Skitter asked, making an appearance as if called out of thin air by their conversation. She stood at the entrance of a small branch tunnel, the opening strung across by wire with a rag door. Resting on Leigh's hip, her five year old with the same rat black eyes and frayed looking hair stared at them with a youngster's curiosity.
"Skitter," Jet addressed her bowing slightly from his waist. "You know Alexzandra of course."
The petite woman stepped forward with a nod, looking over Zan with sharp darting eyes. "Em's pup, little Zanna. Been a year since we met last, eh pup? Yes a year. Bet you didn't think then you'd be out of 'aven like me, did ya?"
The question had lacked any malice in the tone, but Zan still felt like she needed to defend herself. "Not being a thief like you at the time, no I didn't think I would be sharing your fate."
Jet sucked in a noisy breath, and the child looked to its mother for a cue for reaction to the unfolding scene. Skitter didn't seem to be taking any offense though. She was a picture of calm.
"But," Zan finished grinning, "here I am now, and no better than you. So let's wipe the slate clean."
Skitter nodded stiffly. "Of course, of course. We're square, you and me. Square and fair," Leigh chattered. Her voice had the same rodent qualities as her appearance. "I'd go as far to say a pair of old friends now. Old friends in a new place."
The child kicked out of its mother's grasp, and slid down her short legs to scamper off. The five-year-old disappeared behind the turn of a passage, and everyone recognized that in moments the community would know of the new arrival.
"Say," Skitter continued in her rat-a-tat speech, "old friend little pup, why don't you stay here with me. Hm? This ain't the Haven, Zanna girl. I could teach you. I could teach you good on how to be a Morlock."
Zan glanced at Jet from the corner of her eye. If she hadn't been looking, she would have missed the twitch of his lips that held back a smile. 'He thinks we're about as Morlock as the FOH,' she thought in annoyance.
"I have to take her to meet Callisto," Jet explained to Skitter. "But then you're more then welcome to take her under your wing."
"Oh yes," Leigh agreed. "She has to meet the ones in charge. Can't hide her from them, no."
She winked at Zan openly and added, "Don't worry, Em's pup, they aren't half as scary as Haven's bunch of goobers. They think they're big and bad. But you and me, we saw bad asses."
Jet raised one navy eyebrow at that, but refrained from making a comment. He didn't like Skitter's casual attitude towards the mutants who helped run the 'Alley'. But he knew the Morlocks didn't run off residents like Haven did. "Scary or not, we better get a move on it. There will be hell to pay if Callisto has to come looking for us." He turned and started to walk away, not waiting to see if the newcomer followed him or not.
"Callisto?" Zan whispered to Skitter.
"Win her over by winning Caliban," the older mutant replied with a knowing tone.
"Caliban?" Zan asked smiling.
Skitter pushed her playfully. "You go, pup. Don't keep them waiting. No. I'll come soon. Then old friends will trade stories, good?"
Zan nodded, still grinning, and rushed to catch up with Jetsam.
The juncture used as a meeting space branched off into smaller tunnels, spaced like spokes on a wheel. Then each smaller tunnel branched into smaller spaces used as living sites, storage, or workspace. During the day normally, the meeting room was used for meals or to gather the children together for schooling lessons. Today, however, everyone seemed to have urgent business that kept him or her from departing the main chamber. Callisto knew they wanted to size up the newcomer, so she didn't chase them away.
An outsider joining them in the Alley was nothing extraordinary, as it happened quite regularly. Tarbaby had brought down two new residents this week alone. However, someone coming in from Haven was different. Havenites avoided the tunnels as a rule, since the communities split years ago. They didn't want to come to the tunnels and be Morlocks. So when one of them worked their way down, everyone stopped to mark the occasion.
"Haven will fall into the Alley one day," Analee had told Callisto once. And they were, one by one.
Skitter's child, Dice, raced into the meeting room, his little bare feet making a pat-pat sound against the hard cement floor. "She's here, she's here!" The little boy cried. The muttering in the chamber moved like a tide rising and falling, crashing against the walls in aborted echoes; and bodies moved as people shuffled into the cliques that made up the social structure of the Morlock community. Eyes shifted to the tunnel that would disgorge the Upworlder, and everyone tried to not seem too eager.
Callisto knelt to Dice and quietly spoke to the little rat child. Caliban stood at her side with a child like glee on his face. Today felt like an adventure, and Dice was a herald to the inner kingdom.
After several minutes of speculation, Jetsam appeared through the tunnel entrance. He moved into the room carrying Zan in his wake. She looked surprised at the size of the gathering like she couldn't quite believe so many people lived in the Alley by choice, and that alone set disapproving tongues in motion again.
Callisto stepped apart from the crowd and nodded curtly at the gangly sixteen-year-old. "Welcome to the Alley. We're the Morlocks."
Zan nodded curtly, her eyes darting over the assembled group. Some present were mutated in ways they could never hope to hide. She tried not to stare anywhere too long, and her gaze finally came to rest on a pale, bald man with a simple smile. 'Caliban?' she wondered. Glancing about for the now familiar face of Jet, Zan realized he had disappeared as oddly as he had appeared the first time, and once again, she was on her own.
~Fin~
Part three soon...