Hi everyone,
I'm new at this sort of thing, so sorry if I seemed rude if I didn't reply to your reviews. I've enjoyed getting reviews. It keeps me motivated to write more. I'll try to update more frequently but I'm taking summer school right now, and it is taking a toll on my creative juices. Hehe...Calculus...evil Calculus can do that to you. Anyways, just wanted to thank you for the reviews!
The world outside seemed to be grieving an unforeseen tragedy. Rain poured from the charcoal colored heavens like heavy drops of gasoline, and slithered with a hiss onto the concrete and pavement of the city. It stained the windows of cars, and soaked through the brick of more old-fashioned houses like a caustic dye, making the world look contaminated with a poison that was irreversible in its effect. While sensible citizens dodged into cozy homes, the more foolhardy, the romantics, and the young, remained in the rain, reveling in nature's dark side. Even they, however, knew the limits, and were homeward bound before the winds struck, making the world a spiritual world of restless phantoms, howling and wailing to the world of the living, secured away behind wooden, padlocked doors.
The howling awoke Vaughn, who had been dealing with his own phantoms in his restless dreams. To have emerged from a nightmare into a real nightmare confused him, as he looked fearfully out at the whirling mess outside. Pinching himself, and finding that he was indeed back in the real world, he rose to his feet unsteadily, stretching his back that was sore from the awkward position he had slept in. The humidity that had been thick in the warehouse before was replaced by a stinging coolness that made Vaughn shudder and rub his upper arms for warmth. He cursed as he realized that he had walked to the warehouse. It would be a perilous journey back home. Although he would have stayed in the warehouse, he realized it would be even more uncomfortable remaining there. Already the streets seemed to be flooded, and the dark rainwater was steadily seeping into the warehouse, making it even more damp and less than comfortable. He swallowed hard, and stepped out.
What he saw made his eyes widen. It was as if Mother Nature had released a Pandora's box of her most sinister forces upon the mortals in her wrath. Looking up at the sky, the clouds were a swirling mass of gray, an ominous version of Van Gogh's "Starry Night," and several spindly saplings along the road had snapped in two. The rain was heavy, and seemed to be a shower of bullets on Vaughn's body as he made his way towards his apartment. He clutched his chest, bent his head against the onslaught of rain like a charging bull, and steadily jogged along the street. The very air he breathed seemed to be like poison in his lungs as he coughed deeply from his chest and stomach. At one point, he slipped on the pavement, falling hard on his back. But he got up again, fighting through the blinding rain.
At last, he stood before his apartment door, drenched in water, pale and trembling, and yet, radiating with intense heat from his fever. He stepped into his sanctuary, his beloved home. Home sweet home, he thought. Suddenly, a strong arm grabbed him around his waist, and covered his mouth, stifling him from crying out. He struggled against the solid build of the stranger who held him, but found himself easily weakening in his attempts. Finally he punched the assailant in the stomach with his elbow, and extricated himself from the stranger's grasp. He turned on the lights, and was shocked to see Jack Bristow doubled over the kitchen table.
"Jack!" He hissed angrily, "What are you trying to do?" Jack looked up, surprised to see Vaughn. He lowered himself painfully into a chair, as he said tartly, "I thought you were Agent Ron." "And had it been Agent Ron, why would you have assaulted him like that?" Vaughn asked, leaning back against the wall. "Because, he is not who he says he is," Jack replied.