Book 2: Chapter 6: Adulting (1/2)

”Look Merrill!” Dan said, pointing at his screen. ”Connor's famous!”

The tiny furball scurried up Dan's arm and planted herself on his shoulder. Beady little eyes gaze down at the laptop on Dan's desk, and the website he'd opened. Connor's face was plastered across the front, a wide shot of him and Freya leaving a house that Dan didn't recognize, both in full police uniform. Connor's hand was partially shielding his face, but Dan could see the scowl beneath it.

A second picture had the pair entering their cruiser, with about a dozen people gawking at various distances in the background. Dan could see more than a few phones pointed in their direction, to say nothing of the voyeur who'd taken this shot and sold it off. The website's name was Po-Po-Pinups, and was the internet equivalent of a local tabloid magazine/forum, focusing on the APD and its members. Connor and Freya, both being scions of wealthy and politically connected families, as well as some of the department's newest initiates, drew large amounts of attention. His boyish good looks, and her statuesque beauty, only served to inflame the absurd media machine.

Merrill took in the scene, and chittered in Dan's ear.

”Humans are weird,” Dan agreed amicably. He'd learned about the website last month, when he'd met Connor for lunch and spotted a man with a camera trailing the younger man. The police were basically D-list celebrities in Dimension A, and despite the general respect, awe, and even fear that the populace held towards them, it did little to dissuade nosey paparazzi looking for a payday.

Dan's face had briefly appeared on the website, alongside an elaborate speculation of a homosexual tryst between the two men. That line of conjecture had died in its infancy, after a community member had pointed that Connor was 'so far out of that other guy's league they aren't even playing the same sport.' Reading that had been just... ouch! Right in the pride. Some infantile part of Dan had demanded a response to the statement, and now he was the proud owner of a shit-posting account on a tabloid forum.

Truly, Dan was living his best life.

He scrolled down to the bottom of the screen, where comments were posted, and noted the date. The picture had been taken just yesterday. Perfect. Connor and Freya were scheduled to have dinner at his place, tonight, to celebrate Abby's return home from Georgia. It would be the perfect opportunity to give them shit for their new celebrity status. The forum was already going wild with theories on what the pair of lovebirds were doing at that house. Most theories revolved around swinging; despite their attire, none involved the poor couple's actual job as police officers.

Dan closed out the window, before his brain was permanently damaged by exposure to the uncensored insanity of the internet. He'd already experienced more than his allotted share of things that ought not exist and humanity ought not know. Even entirely disregarding his own origin and powers, there was an entire sub-forum of the site dedicated to Gregoir. If Dan had accidently clicked that, he might have to buy a lead-lined case to quarantine his laptop. And then hurl it deep into space.

It's the only way to be sure.

Dan shut down his computer, and gently clicked it closed. He ran a mental checklist of what else he needed to accomplish, today. Groceries, done. Everything was ready for Abby's party. Chores, finished. He'd finally gotten around to fixing his A/C. The thermostat now operated at temperatures between Antarctica and Texas. The lawn was mowed. His grass shined. His yard was the envy of the neighborhood.

What else?

Dan pulled out his phone, and accessed his emails. He flicked through the sparse personal correspondence, and quickly read an email from Margaret. It seemed that Abby's aunt would not be able to make the party. She claimed other plans, but Dan suspected the little old lady didn't want to spoil the fun of the younger crowd. He really didn't want to know what she thought he got up to at his house parties. That woman had a twisted mind.

He pocketed his phone. Drummed his fingers against his desk. Thump thump thump. His leg bounced restlessly. Merrill, sensing his building energy, scrambled down his shoulder and across the carpet. She nestled herself atop the living couch as Dan jumped up from his seat, a wide smile on his face.

”No more responsibility!” he announced, spinning to face the little mouse and pumping both arms in the air. ”It's flight practice time!”

His phone chimed. He paused, keeping one arm suspended uncertainly as he fished the device out of his pocket. He checked the text—

13:02 CornyGraham: Got job for you. Bro needs delivery. Txt back asap if available.

—then slumped. His other arm flopped own against his side.

”It's work time,” he grumbled to no one in particular. Merrill chittered in what Dan liked to imagine was sympathy.

Cornelius Graham needed something delivered. Actually, his brother needed something delivered, and Cornelius knew a guy. Dan had never met Connor's father. The man was a former policeman, and a current member of the House of Representatives. Dan knew little about local politics, and wasn't particularly keen for that to change, but doing a favor for a friend was hardly a big ask.

It was a little odd that Congressman Graham needed a courier, especially one with Dan's specific capabilities, but Cornelius' message had indicated urgency. Dan quickly fired back a text quoting his price and size limitations, and asking for a location for pickup. The picture of a dark parking garage that he received moments later did nothing to relieve Dan's confusion.

After a brief bout of paranoia, Dan texted a reply.

13:05 Daniel Newman: how many did I miss at Sinner's?

13:06 CornyGraham: Missed 5. Good caution. Now come.

Well that was decent enough proof. Dan doubted he was being lead into anything illegal or dangerous. He trusted Cornelius, more or less. But this was clearly a little more than standard police shit. If things went sideways, he just hoped he got a cooler pseudonym than Deep Throat.

He blew the picture up, looked at the surroundings, then willed himself there. Dan didn't have the slightest clue where the place was, but his Navigator took care of those annoying things called 'details'. If the location existed, Dan would appear there. And so he did.