Things had been pretty quiet since the last abduction.
It felt odd to think that - “since the last abduction.” Because yes, there had been more than one, and yes, he was keeping count. But about a month had passed, and though everything still lingered, he was starting to feel like maybe things would settle down again. At least for a minute.
Bo pulled into a gas station, his motorcycle rumbling as he slowed, rolling up to the meter. It was a mild, fall day. Still warm by his standards, but it was California, and almost always warm. There were wispy little clouds in the bright blue sky that seemed to flee from the sun as it inched towards the horizon. Bo squinted at it for a moment, hand over his eyes to keep the light from reflecting off his helmet.
The only thing that made it more bearable was the cool breeze that came by every few seconds, making the light leather jacket a not-regrettable choice of outerwear.
He looked away from the sun, revving his engine down as he hopped off, keys spinning around his pointer finger before he caught them in his hand. As he started pressing buttons, he slipped off his helmet with his free hand, before tucking it under his arm.
He could feel the stares of a few people. This was an average gas station, and he had always thought he was an average person, but anyone of his height, stature, and cyclops appearance usually gained at least a few curious stares. If they were polite, they were momentary - quickly drawn away because it would be rude to stare.
But this was California. Some people were just rude.
He pulled out the nozzle, sticking it into his bike before he caught sight of someone for a brief moment. He had to pause, looking over to the gas station’s store. It had been a very long time since he’d suspected anyone of following him, but something didn’t sit right.
He started retracing his steps mentally. Scanning the area. Counting heads, counting cars.
Ah, cars.
There was a dark black convertible parked on the corner of the street. He felt like he’d seen it all day.
But... was he really being followed? Now?
Well, it’d be stupid of them to shoot him in broad daylight with a dozen witnesses around, so there was still hope to lose then if he was. He looked back to his bike, securing the pump before sighing and leaning back on a yellow post, right by the windshield-cleaner station he had no use for.
If I wasn't bleeding out of a nasty gash on my side, I might have found some humor in the irony of ending up on injured on another world again. It seemed like it was starting to be a common occurrence. At least this time didn't involve me being on the verge of passing out like I had been on Bobby's world - I was close, but not nearly close enough.
I was on a world that resembled my own a little more than the other ones I had been on. There weren't any people with strange physical features or powers in action, so I doubted I was on Nikko's world. It didn't fit Megara or Bobby's worlds, either.
So I was somewhere else, with wounds I was doing my very best to hide.
It looked like I was at some kind of store in the middle of seemingly nowhere. There was a car and what I thought was a motorcycle - I hadn't exactly gone out for drives before ending up with Natty boy and Asmira.
Wincing at the pain from the cuts I had gotten, I decided to approach the person closest to me. That person was the guy next to the motorcycle. He looked like he was filling it up with something, but I didn't know enough about motorcycles to fill in the blanks or care.
I readjusted my jacket so my wounds were sufficiently covered.
Then I made my way over to him, doing my very best to ignore the pain. I had died before. I could handle this if I just stopped trying to think about how much blood I was going to lose. Thanks, Natty boy, for having a ridiculously long list of enemies that just loved to stab and prod us with their powers.
"Hey," I said, giving my signature smirk and a somewhat restrained wave. I made sure to keep my distance - I wasn't sure I could keep up the facade of being alright if I got too close. "Can you tell me where we are? I'm a little lost."
Bo watched as the kid approached slowly, looking a little tense. He had a british-sounding accent. Could’ve been an international student, or any number of things.
“Uh, 5th Street and Kenny Lane,” he answered, glancing over at the street signs. “Where you headed?”
I gave him a smile like he had given me the information I needed - he hadn't - and then quickly realized that I had no idea how to answer that second question. He was going to ask for some kind of address or name. I knew nothing about this world - save for the fact that this guy sounded American. I could have been somewhere in America, but that was just as useful as the street names.
"I'm not really sure," I admitted. Time to do just a little bit of lying. "I know I'm going to my cousin's place, but my dad's the one taking me. He's inside."
I gestured behind me.
"I thought I'd ask to help him out. He's terrible with directions, but hates to admit it."
Now that I had exhausted that avenue, it was time to hit someone else up for answers - and to get my hands on something to help my injuries. I turned away from the man and gave him a wave, hoping he didn't see how I stumbled ever so slightly as I made my way over to the little building.
He kept an eye out for the black convertible, but he was still unsure. The sun was going down, the air was cooling down, and the wind was picking up. It smelled like it might start to rain - if not tonight, then surely in the morning.
Looking over his shoulder didn’t help much. As the lights grew dim, Bo grew less and less assured that someone would or wouldn’t be waiting back hone to find him. He considered going to Petrus or James’s house - but he’d never bring danger to their door. Davy, now Davy wouldn’t mind under regular circumstances, and maybe he could call him up, but Davy had a family of his own.
He slowed at a stop light, looking up at the blazing red dot.
When did he become so closed off? When did he start thinking he had to do it all by himself again?
He didn’t know.
Red turned to green, and he rumbled forward. There was a motel he had in mind. Further out, just a mile or so from the shoreline. You could smell the fresh air coming in from the ocean, but you couldn’t see it. The motel was tucked in by a hill, blocking any views of the water from the single-story floor.
He hadn’t been there in years, but it was one he remembered going to once or twice as a child, when his dad said they needed to take a little “weekend vacation.”
He learned later that that was his way of saying they were in danger, or that he needed to wait for the buzz around a certain kill to blow over.
One time they’d spent a week there. Bo had spent most of his hours in the pool, while his dad kept hopping in and out for phone calls. He smelled like chlorine and sunscreen for days after, and most of what he’d eaten that week was instant oatmeal and instant ramen.
They were different times.
The memories were pushed to the back of his mind as he pulled up to the front office, parked his bike, slid off his helmet and walked inside. Almost immediately after entering, he could tell his very presence drew suspicion. It didn’t help that it was getting late, either, he was sure.
“Room for one?” she asked.
“That’s correct!” Bo chirped. “Don’t really care where in the building.”
She nodded, checking things on the computer before nodding.
He had to sign a small waiver and pay, but it only took a few short minutes. All was well.
As he tucked the room key into his pocket and turned to walk away, he paused. “Is there a vending machine in here?” he asked.
The next hour was about as eventful as I would have guessed in a situation like this - I stole a couple of medical supplies from the little store I had walked into after the conversation with the one-eyed man, slipped out through a side exit so he wouldn't catch me in my lie, and knocked a suspicious looking guy out so I could borrow his body.
There was the slight problem of not being able to drive, but I got around it by taking the long way - walking. I eventually made my way to a motel that wasn't too far from where I had possessed the guy. I got a few funny looks from people who saw me carrying well, me, around, but a rainstorm was on the way. No one wanted to be out on the streets.
The guy, thankfully, was loaded, and the motel looked just shady enough to avoid asking too many questions with another cash. Maybe I should have felt guilty about hijacking his body and emptying his wallet, but I definitely needed both more than he did right now.
"Hi," I said to the receptionist, giving her a smile worthy of Lockwood. "I'd like a room, please."
The woman gave my body, which was currently leaning up against me, - and then me - a wary look. I just kept smiling.
"He's a little hungover," I said, dropping my voice down.
"He looks underage," the receptionist said, unconvinced.
Why couldn't I have looked older than I physically was?
"He has really bad baby face," I said. "Trust me - you're not the first person to think that. Now, can I get a room?"
The woman's hand started to move for the phone.
Could this night get any worse?
I grabbed a wad of cash from my pocket and placed it on the desk. No one else was in the room. The woman studied it for a moment, then gave me the room key after making me sign a form. I pretended not to notice her taking the extra cash.
"Thanks," I said, giving the key a little shake as I started walking away from the desk. It was getting harder to move with my body, especially with the room key in tow, but I was almost at my room. I checked the key again - Room 113. I just had to take a left at the corner-
I paused and stared.
There was a guy standing next to this strange box filled with food. The guy looked familiar, but I wasn't really focused on that. I hadn't ever seen a box like that. I hadn't even seen half of the food in it before, and couldn't exactly read any of the labels on the bags or packages.
Something caught my eye.
There was a big, glazed roll wrapped up in plastic, and it looked delicious. I didn't need to read its label to know it would be delicious. All I needed to know was how to get it, and that just took a little bit of guesswork once I saw the letters underneath the roll and the keypad on the side of the box.
I slid one of the bills from my pocket into the little slot, typed in the code, and voila. One roll, in all of its glazed, sticky goodness. I grabbed it from the weird dispenser at the bottom, grabbed the ridiculous amount of change, and somehow managed to not drop my body.
Still completely ignoring the guy who had been using it before me, I unwrapped my meal and dug in.
It was delicious.
Grinning, I took an even bigger bite out of it. I was so distracted by my discovery that my body finally slipped out from underneath my arm and went crumbling to the man's feet.
I looked over at him mid-bite.
He was the guy I had seen earlier.
And he was still ridiculously big compared to me.
I slowly lowered the roll and glanced between him and my body, waiting to see what he would do next.
Bo froze, with his Sprite drink in hand. Staring, despite himself, at the man who approached him with the boy from the gas station in his arms.
He hadn’t seen Trey for years. Ten? Eleven? Maybe more than that, maybe less. Things between 19 and 23 were such a blur, he could never really be sure of the whens anymore.
There was so much confusion. First, Trey seemed infinitely more infatuated with the vending machine than either Bo or the boy in his arms. He looked like a child looking in a candy store, except Trey had seen a vending machine before. Why did he look like the existence of one was a novelty?
Was Trey high?
He watched as Trey got a Big Texas bun and pried it open, getting his hands sticky before dropping the unconscious boy altogether.
So many questions.
Trey was wearing all black. Black jeans, black shoes, black shirt, black jean jacket. It was like he was dressed to try to blend in with the night - contrasting against his paler skin and his 5’oclock shadow.
“Trey?” he asked, looking down at the boy, then up at Trey again.
Was... Trey the one following him? Realization dawned on him, but something didn’t quite click. This wasn’t the Trey he knew.
For a moment, I wondered if the man had somehow recognized me. I didn't know how he would have known it was me, but he was definitely looking at me like I was familiar.
It was only when he said a name I didn't recognize that I realized he did recognize me - just not the me that was sprawled out on the ground. He recognized the guy I was possessing right now. A guy I knew nothing about, save for his name and our shared taste in black clothes.
"Fancy seeing you here, too," I said. Thankfully, my accent didn't carry over when I was possessing people - I sounded just like Trey was supposed to sound. Imitating how he spoke, on the other hand, was something I wasn't really prepared for.
I leaned down and picked my body up, making sure to still hide the bloody injury in my side as I leaned my body up against my side. I caught sight of a garbage can near the vending machine and very reluctantly discarded the roll. I needed to focus on this, and I really needed the extra hand.
But I underestimated how sticky my hands were, and I had to draw my hand back to avoid getting my precious leather jacket stained. I realized a second later that sacrifices had to be made. I managed to catch my body again before it could fall back to the floor, but the blood soaking through the faded t-shirt my body was wearing was all too easy to see.
I resisted the urge to swear.
Side-stepping the man - and struggling to move with my body - I started heading down to where my room was.
"Well, it was nice seeing you," I said, "but I really need to get my friend here laying down."
There was no reasonable, logical way that Bo was going to just let Trey walk off with an injured boy for no reason.
If the boy had gotten hurt because they'd interacted at the gas station, he needed to know. If it was something else, he at least needed to make sure Trey was actually trying to help him and not finish the job. Whoever the British kid was, Bo did not believe he deserved to die, especially not like this: in the arms of a criminal, in a sketchy motel.
Bo followed, wedging himself between the door and Trey as much as he could. He put his hand on the doorframe, using his arm to block the entrance if only a little.
"Listen, I agree," he said, his voice getting a little lower. His normal, friendly composure was fading. He felt like he was receding into a past version of himself. Like a chameleon, suddenly showing its true colors. Maybe this would always be a part of him.
Maybe that last kidnapping didn't do him any good - trying to teach him some kind of lesson about becoming a better person, even though it mostly just messed him up even more. Maybe he'd always be like this.
"The kid needs help," he said. "But who even is the kid to you anyway? He doesn't just need to be laid down. He needs a hospital."
In retrospect, my body probably did need a hospital. But they were in short supply on the world I had just come from, and I hadn't exactly gotten medical treatment on the world before it.
Besides, from what I heard from Lucy, you need needed some kind of record. I didn't have a record, and something told me this Trey guy - the something being the way the one-eyed guy's demeanor had just changed - wouldn't want to be seen in a hospital.
Just who had I possessed?
"He's my..." What kind of relationship would Trey have with a supposed seventeen year old? Family? Weird friendship with an age gap? Or... "...student."
That wasn't weird, right? Agencies had teachers. Apprenticeships had involved teaching, and Nikko was someone's student, too. Trey could totally be my teacher.
"And a hospital really isn't possible right now," I said, trying to slip under him to get inside my now unlocked room. "I would appreciate if you moved, though, so my student doesn't bleed out on this carpet."
Bo pulled his arm away - slowly, deliberately. A student, huh.
"Well you're not doing a very good job teaching him," he said quietly. But that wasn't the pressing issue at the moment. "Look. I'll help you stabilize him. And no, it's not optional. I don't know what you've been up to in the past few years but I'm pretty sure I still know more about fixing up stab wounds than you. Your dad never went out looking for fights like mine did."
He pushed the door open for Trey.
"You got any first aid stuff on you, or do I need to run to the front desk and pillage their little convenience store for something?"
I didn't want to think about the implications of that, so for now I focused on getting into the room. I could try figuring out whatever kind of relationship Trey had with this guy later.
I reached into the pocket of my leather jacket once I unceremoniously dumped my body down on the bed. I pulled what I had gotten from the little store earlier: bandages, what looked like disinfectant, and a bottle of what had to be painkillers. The painkillers really weren't needed right now, but the other supplies were.
"I'm good," I said, putting my supplies down on the ground next to the bed. Now, where to begin?
Bo was careful to close the door behind them, doing a quick glance down the hall. It looked empty, as far as he could tell. None of the cars were on, and none of the doors were open. No heads peeking out.
But, security cameras. They had to have those.
He'd have to think about that later. He would've thought Trey would've thought of it later, but, desperate times called for desperate measures. Apparently Trey was in a pinch, because he never used to be this sloppy. Even though they hadn't kept up with each other in past years, Bo still heard about him down the grapevine. He was always more thorough, more organized than this. That was something his dad could've learned from - Marcus always did that for him, and Bo had to learn it from Marcus, but mostly on his own. Trey, though - he was taught since he was young.
Marcus always said it was what separated the lowly street criminals from the professionals.
Bo never wanted to be a professional in any of that. But even after ten years, he still knew how it worked. It was like he'd never left.
He hurried over to the boys beside, looking at what Trey had on hand. It wasn't terrible for being in a pinch, but he really wished they could just rush the boy to a hospital.
"Yeah, well he's not," Bo muttered as he kneeled beside the bed. He moved the boy's jacket out of the way before gingerly peeling up the bloodied shirt to get a better look at the wound. He took in a quiet, sharp breath. He'd had a similar kind of stab wound once. For a moment, it was like reliving the pain, vicariously - sympathetically - through him.
They needed to stop the bleeding.
"One second-" He ran into the bathroom and grabbed a clean towel. He could throw it out. The hotel wouldn't miss one towel.
He ran back in, immediately applying pressure to the wound like he'd done it a million times. (And in truth, he had done it a lot. Maybe not a million times, but enough times.)
The wound really wasn't as bad as it looked. It was bleeding a lot, and definitely hurt, but I hadn't gone unconscious from it - the only reason my body was laying on the bed like it was was because I wasn't in it. I had learned from experience that taking care of from the outside was the easiest way to get better, thanks to all the extra sleep.
Part of me wondered if this guy - who I still didn't know the name of - would still be helping me out if he realized I wasn't Trey. I could probably handle him in a fight with my powers, but it wasn't worth the risk. This guy obviously knew more about treating stab wounds than I did.
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what I could say without revealing that I wasn't really the guy I was possessing. But I could peek out the room's window and see if I had been followed. Not to the motel; there was no one to follow me from earlier. But there was always the possibility that I hadn't been the only one to come to this world. Worse case scenario, the guys who had stabbed me ended up here, too. Best case scenario? Asmira and Nathaniel had been dragged along for the ride.
But the parking lot and street beyond were both empty; no one wanted to venture out in the rain that had begun to fall.
I turned away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place. If Asmira was here, she'd probably already have me back on my feet. And if Natty boy was here, he'd be completely useless - he thought a paper cut was painful.
I turned back to the one-eyed guy and my body. Maybe it was a good idea to pay attention to what he was doing. I was planning on getting out of here as soon as I could - running into someone who knew the guy I was possessing had never been part of the plan. I needed to find somewhere else to go, and I'd need to know how to take care of my body when I got there.
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