Disclaimer: Same old same old. Don't own Sydney, Folken, or Jet. They own me! I do own the evil Tommy and the easily amused Phillip.

Chapter 6

"This game is so much fun, if not a little simple," Sydney said lightly.

With Sydney's assistance Tommy had won his last two games. He was reluctant to listen at first but Sydney saw opportunities that he just could not. Some seemed rather risky and they argued for a little while.

"Okay Mr. Losstarot, would you please return to your seat?"

"Tommy, you don't want me around anymore?" Sydney asked.

"Well I'm through playing this game now." Sydney had taken all the fun out of it. For now anyway.

Folken reached the desk and handed Tommy the form.

"Is this your first time here." He glanced at the form, "Mr. Fanel?"

"No."

Tommy opened Folken's file on the computer and inputted some information.

"The Doctor will be with you as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

Folken returned to his seat. All he could do was wait.

The two men sat in companionable silence for a while until there was a loud ruckus outside that sound like the engines of a plane. Through the window Folken, Sydney, and of course Phillip could see the dust being disturbed by a beat up brown space ship descending.

"Amazing," Folken thought, "Something that large flying without the use of Levistones."

Sydney wasn't really one for things of scientific or technological nature but he did have to admit it was quite awe inspiring. Philip thought it was just plain awesome...but it was ugly as all get out. Finally the large metal contraption landed smoothly. After a while a lone figure emerged. It was definitely a male from the height and breadth of the person. He was clothed in a cream-colored suit and wearing a matching fedora hat. As he strolled to the building he paused and took of the jacket and draped it over his left arm. When he entered the building he nodded at Tommy with a tip of his hat and walked towards him.

"Yes, can I help you?" Tommy sneered. The day he fills in for Rhonda would be the day everyone wanted to come.

The man looked at the nametag. "Yeah. You sure can, Tommy. I have a 12:50 appointment," he said amiably.

"What is your name sir?"

"Jet Black."

Phillip thought that was such a cool name. Jet kind of reminded him of the old school players like Humphrey Bogart and Cary Grant. He looked like a detective or something. This guy looked like he'd seen some action. He had a scar that bisected his still intact left eye. Underneath this same eye was a small metal plate. "I wonder what this guy's deal is?"

"What the hell kind of name is Jet Black," Tommy thought spitefully. What he said out loud was "Is this your first time here Mr. er, Black?

"No."

"Well if you would just have a seat over there," Tommy said while pointing to the waiting area. His attention then returned to the computer.

"Sure thing," Jet said pleasantly. Jet's grandma, God bless her soul, taught him that when people are rude just get even sweeter and if that doesn't work... well you might have to kick some ass.

As Jet walked the few yards to his seat he really got a good look at other two men for the first time. He could only mentally shake his head.

"What's up with these guys?" he wondered.






A/N: Short very short. Sucked really sucked. Well at least Tommy stopped playing Freecell, but his computer problems are not over. And what's up with Jet's hand and what does a homicidal clown to do with its current condition? You'll find out next chapter...I promise! *crosses fingers behind her back* No really!