Post by Gregg Epstein on May 22, 2006 12:07:18 GMT -5
In the dream, it was 1987 and Kenneth Connell was still living in Pittsburgh. He had just got off from a long day at Zayre’s Auto Body Shop and had went to his apartment. Debbie ‘The Duck’ Fix was waiting for him in the bedroom. Sometimes it paid off to leave her a key to the place.
“You could give a guy a heart attack once in a while, Duck.”
“Oh, I get it. Quack. That’s a l’il joke ya jest played on me. Wanna fool around?”
“I can’t stay long, Duck. I just came here to get outta these rags. I wanna apologize to Barb and the kids for yelling at them for ripping my jacket.”
“Jacket? Whu jacket? Oh, that jacket, quack. Yer special jacket that the Old Man gave you.” The Duck was wearing a white tank top and polka dotted panties. “Don’t worry, Kenny. We can do a quickie.”
“Sorry, Debbie. I have to—“
“Please, don’t destroy Pittsburgh. Don’t create the Pitt on my account.”
Ken turned around, aghast. “What did you say, Debbie Duck?”
Ken saw the Justice Killer in his bedroom.
“You have to wake up now, Mr. Connell. The rest of the world’s paranormals are waiting for you. Foreplay can wait til later.”
“I have to see Barb and the kids. They’re counting on me. I have to apologize for yelling at them for rippin’ my jacket.”
“She’s dead, Ken. Her and the children. So is the Duck. She may look alive here but she is really just a psycho-image. A figment of your imagination.”
“She’s not dead.”
“I can prove it, Ken.” The Justice Killer turned to Ms. Fix and snapped his fingers. “Go to sleep, Duck.”
The Duck quacked and dropped dead.
Upon seeing that, Ken screamed awake. He was in his living quarters. Barb and the kids were dead. The Duck was also dead. He knew it. It just took time to accept.
Judge Justice was sitting on a lounge chair in his room. “I would like to congratulate you on passing your entrance exam. Now, it is time for your first mission.”
“Will the Captains be on this one?” Ken asked. “What is this mission?”
“This is.” The Judge tossed him the Wall Street Journal. “The guy on the front page is a Russian scientist name of Sergei Ramikov. He was recovering from the Chernobyl accident when the White Event occurred. He was transformed into a living, nuclear battery. He is residing in a tenement building in Queens, New York.”
“And my job is to stop him before he destroys the Big Apple.”
“That, and to contact Kickers, Inc., for help.”
“If I am going to need help on this one, I would like to use the full extent of the NSC operatives. And since the Captains operate in Manhattan, I would like to use them, you, your daughter, Playback, and Kleenex to track this paranormal.”
Justice nodded. “I’m sure I can arrange it.”
“When should we leave for New York?”
“After you change into your costume. No sense anyone recognizing you.”
Justice stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you to your privacy.”
“Uh, Judge. I’ve been having these crazy dreams, lately. About Barb and Debbie.”
“I know. But we can’t worry about that, now. Now, we have more important matters to attend to…”