It would be well into the evening before the police station was back in some semblance of working order. Every circuit breaker had been blown, the windows had been blown out, and there were mild injuries all about. Deborah, not feeling particularly welcome in her own precinct, sat on the steps as she let the cleanup crew do their work. A number of her colleagues had tried convincing her to go to the hospital, as the commissioner and some others had, but she had been staunch in remaining. A moment later, a yellow sedan parked itself on the street, and out stepped a young man dressed in a tweed sweater and a mustard yellow tie. His sandy blonde hair was coifed and parted to one side, giving him a dignified and clean look, though this belied his panicked gaze.

  "Deborah, thank goodness!" he exclaimed as he rushed over. "Wendy called and told me what was going on. She was stuck in court and couldn't come, so I came as her proxy. Not that this is how the law works, but I still wanted to help. What happened? Half the block has gone dark."

  "You tell me and we'll both know, Howard," Deborah replied dryly. "I can only say it was some sort of explosion. Maybe a flashbang laced with an emp, but even that doesn't make complete sense."

  She shook her head.

  "Who am I kidding? None of this makes sense. He just...exploded, Howard. I can't explain it any other way. One minute, he was there in the most clear-cut example of police brutality I've ever seen, and the next BOOM! Gone in a blast of light."

  Howard moved in and sat next to her, starting to extend a hand for her shoulder but stopping himself.

  "You don't think he's..."

  "No. Somehow I know he's alive. It's not like anyone would have noticed if he ran out, nor could anyone have chased him with us all trying to put our marbles back in. But...that mark on the wall..."

  She gave her head another shake before placing it in her hands.

  "It's happening again, Howard. All over again, just like with..."

  "Hey!" Howard said swiftly, this time taking her shoulders and pulling her close. "Save that for the next session. This isn't a safe place for that. Besides, this isn't your fault. Everyone knows the police have been stymied with those attacks. If you'll pardon the bad analogy, it was like standing on a lit powder keg, especially with a man like Doyle at the helm."

  "The sad thing is that he might've been right, though," Deborah said dejectedly. "Jacob clearly had an explosive of some sort on him and a powerful one at that. Could it be that he was just playing dumb? Did I let myself get distracted again?"

  Howard squeezed her shoulder, and then he stood and offered her a hand.

  "Well, you certainly won't find that out sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, detective. Now's the time to put your nose to the grindstone and get the truth. That's your job, isn't it...detective?

  Deborah looked up at him, and she finally managed a smile as she accepted his hand and stood.

  "You always know what to say, Howard," she said. "Thank you."

  "Just save the really heavy stuff for our next session." Howard chirped as he led her to his car. "I'm sure your old jalopy got fried like the rest, but I don't mind playing chauffeur."

  But already Deborah had swiped his keys and was sitting in the driver's seat with the engine roaring.

  "What're you waiting for, Doctor!" she called out. "Let's hit the road!"

  ............................................................................................................................

  Jacob felt like he was floating, drifting through an endless sea of gold. Around his neck, the star-shaped key glowed brilliantly and hummed an ethereal tune. He was somewhere between waking and dreaming, unable to process what he was feeling but no less at peace. Slowly, an image materialized before him, taking the vague shape of a woman. It...she...whatever it was exuded a powerful presence; its body was a kaleidoscope of bright colors of every hue that flittered gracefully like leaves in a summer breeze. They reached out and then touched the star. Its key tip pointed in a new direction, firing a beam of light. There was an audible click, and Jacob's vision started to fade, but not before he heard these words.

  "Tolle Te. Pone Te"

  ............................................................................................................................

  Jacob at last awoke with a stir. His everything hurt, but he wasn't sure why. It was like he had been under a sunlamp for hours, and his body ached with every movement. He started to rise, his muscles screaming in protest, and he found he was lying on some sort of cot. As his eyes adjusted, he saw there were many cots and even a couple of bunk bends, and on the wall was a faded mural of a large smiley face emoji with the words, "Be lazy! Use less muscles and smile!"

  "The heck?" he groaned as he turned to stand.

  That's when he came face to face with...something.

  Jacob screamed at it.

  It screamed at him.

  Jacob staggered and went tumbling backward, tripping over the cot and banging his head against the side rail of the next cot. Jacob curled in on himself as he slipped onto the ground, clutching at the back of his head. If there was any benefit from this impact, however, it sent the entirety of the day coming right back to him. From breakfast to the ruined apartment to the interrogation room, Jacob recalled it all in agonizing detail, and it had a powerful sobering effect. He scrambled to get right-sided, clawing at the side of the cot as he pulled himself up to a kneeling position. Finally, he could see the mysterious thing that had been staring at him, and to his surprise, it was a young boy. Going off the dark hair and skin tone, he appeared to be Hispanic, if only partly, and he was barefoot. His outfit consisted of a dirty pair of overalls with a button missing, the strap dangling loosely, a t-shirt with the words "Mr. Fix-it" printed in black bold on the chest, and a pair of large-rimmed classes that were held together by a small snip of duct tape. He didn't appear to be much older than ten, maybe a couple of years younger.

  "He-llo!" the boy greeted, speaking loudly and breaking up his words. "You...are...on...earth! Where...are...you...from?"

  Jacob scowled at him, and he rose to his full height.

  "What're you doing?" he asked.

  The boy blinked, shocked, and then he cracked a grin.

  "Oh, good! So you do speak English. I mean, I suppose you'd need to if you were going to infiltrate our society, but you can never be sure."

  Jacob's scowl deepened.

  "Dude! I am not an alien! I'm just as human as you are! Why am I even having this conversation? Where the heck am I, and who the heck are you, and what the heck is going on?!"

  The boy jumped at the bite in Jacob's tone, but he seemed to grow even more confused as he looked Jacob up and down.

  "I mean, you look human enough..."

  "I am human, you little turd!"

  "Hey, language and my name is Lance. Forgive me if I was covering my bases; it's not every day a guy with silver hair and gold eyes appears out of nowhere in a burst of light."

  Jacob gave an exasperated sigh, and he clapped a hand over his face before looking up at the ceiling.

  "Just my luck. One minute I'm getting manhandled by the police, and the next thing I know I talking to a colorblind, tinfoil hat-wearing weirdo in what I'm assuming is an abandoned prison."

  "Hey, I'm not colorblind!" the boy snapped. "You've got silver hair and gold eyes. If you ask me, you're the weirdo here."

  Jacob's head snapped back down, and he glared at the boy.

  "Listen you little rugrat, I'm having a bad day, and I'm not...in the mood...for..."

  He trailed off as he spied a full-length mirror bolted to the end of one of the bunk beds. Looking back at him was his reflection but with a number of notable differences. His hair had grown a couple of lengths, and its silvery threads glittered in the daylight filtering through the cracks in the wall. More than that, his bi-colored eyes had been replaced by a solid gold that had an almost eerie glow. Jacob made his way over to the mirror, hoping his eyes were just playing tricks, but once he was standing directly before it, he found it was no trick. All at once, Jacob started to scream.

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  He screamed, and he screamed, and he screamed until his tonsils vibrated and his molars shook freely in his gums. Behind him, the boy shielded his ears and cringed. He quickly raced off to a nearby bathroom, and he came out again with a small paper cup of water. With an upward thrust, he managed to splash the cleansing liquid over Jacob's face. It had an instant effect, shutting him up and making him still. Jacob blinked, and then he shot the boy a sidelong look.

  "Thanks. I needed that," he said stiffly.

  "Kinda figured," Lance replied in kind.

  Jacob looked back to the mirror, taking a close look. He could make out tinges of his true eye color under the gold. It was more like his eyes were glowing rather than his irises changing their pigments. His hair, on the other hand, had gone full platinum, and it lengthened to about the top of his shoulders. More than that, it looked like he had dropped a pound or two and he was about a foot taller. It was like he was looking at a completely different person, or maybe his DND persona.

  "What the heck is going on with me?" he said while running a hand through his hair. "This is so surreal. This has to be a dream."

  He felt a sharp pinch in his side, and he jumped back while glaring at Lance.

  "The heck was that for?!"

  "Proof you're not dreaming. I'm getting the hunch this isn't how you usually look?"

  Jacob rubbed his side and nodded his head.

  "How long have I been in that bed?"

  "Since you appeared. So, about an hour."

  "What day is it?"

  "Tuesday."

  "The thirteenth?"

  "Yep."

  Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. So, he hadn't Rip Van Wrinkled his way into the future. That was always comforting, but it still didn't answer all the other questions buzzing in his head. He gave the room another look, and he turned to Lance.

  "Come to think of it, where even is here? Feels like a prison."

  "It's not a prison!" Lance insisted snappishly. "It's Paradiso!"

  As if on cue, a ceiling tile fell and crashed against the top of Jacob's head, splitting in two before landing at his feet.

  "Paradiso, huh?" Jacob grumbled as he brushed the dust from his hair. "Feels more like the inferno."

  Lance rolled his eyes, and he moved in behind Jacob and started to push.

  "You just haven't seen the rest of the place. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour!""Hey, stop pushing!" Jacob exclaimed, but he was powerless to resist the tiny boy's insistence.

  Soon, they were out of the dormitory and into an open hallway that oversaw a large gymnasium. They made their way down a flight of stairs onto the gymnasium floor, where Jacob immediately sneezed from the dust his dragging heels kicked up.

  "Here is the gym and health spa." Lance said cheerily as he continued to shove. "Here you can work out your aggressions while getting in proper shape and building lasting friendships among your fellow man. We have regular hostings for local schools for basketball, wrestling, and indoor lacrosse."

  Jacob took a good look at the gym, noting the rusted ball wracks, several deflated balls for various sports, and a basketball goal that had fallen and smashed against the wooden tiled floor. There was also plenty of rather rude-looking graffiti spraypainted all over the walls that would make an anarchist turn red with shame, as well as punching bags that had been slashed open with switchblades. A lot of aggression was being worked out here, alright, but he didn't feel any closer to his fellow man. Before he could comment, Lance once more started shoving, pushing Jacob into a dining area. Or, rather, what was meant to be a dining area, but in practice, it looked like a bomb had hit it with a chair lying scattered to the winds, a wooden table broken in half, and a slew of steak knives driven into the wall with a picture of Lance in the middle held up by a thumbtack.

  "Here is our world-class kitchen with the finest pieces of equipment and ingredients this side of the West Coast. While also filling your belly, you can let yourself get a bit more artsy and experiment with the various dishes available in the numerous cookbooks in our collection."

  Said cookbooks had been used for kindling at some point, one was still smoldering, and the shriveling old lady on the cover shriveling up even more. That pit in the bottom of Jacob's stomach was only getting deeper, and his will to run was growing. But he was no less powerless to the small boy's shove. Now they were outside in what had once been a playground. The merry-go-round was ripped from its more and hanging in the branches of a dead tree, the swings were missing their chains, and the head of the rocking horse had been broken off and left to push up literal daisies in a grossly overgrown and heavily weeded garden.

  "And here is the recreational garden and children's park." Lance continued to narrate. "While the little ones enjoy themselves on our fun-filled equipment, you can immerse yourself in the time-consuming but meaning-granting toils of working the community garden. You can grow your own food or just something to brighten your and everyone else's day."

  "Lance."

  "Take in the great outdoors here in the middle of town."

  "Lance."

  "Just breathe it all in. Soak in the possibilities and wonder."

  "Lance."

  "It just makes you feel so alive and..."

  "LANCE!!!"

  The boy paused and looked up at him, cocking his head.

  "Yeah?"

  Jacob took a deep breath to stave off a particularly hot take he had prepared, and he offered something akin to a kind smile.

  "I like vandalism and dying plants as much as the next guy, but I really don't have time for all of this. My uncle is missing, I don't have a home anymore save the clothes on my back, and I'm pretty sure the police are going to be coming after me for something I didn't do. Suffice to say, I'm having a bad day, and all I want to do is get out of this city as quickly and as quietly as possible."

  Lance blinked a moment, and then he shrugged.

  "Your loss. C'mon. I'll show you the way out."

  He led Jacob back inside, but the two stopped as a group of people started their way in. Though most were a rough-looking sort--a menagerie of torn jeans and swing set chains dangling from their shoulders--the one in front was much more dapper looking. He was roughly Jacob's age, maybe a year older, and finely dressed in a bright red blazer with an embroidered S on the left lapel. It contrasted brightly against his darker clothing, though it was offset by a brown deerstalker hat. Something told Jacob that it was supposed to be a fashion statement, and from that same voice he received the sage advice not to talk about it. As he backed away, however, Lance continued to walk forward, undaunted and unthreatened.

  "Sup, Blazer, don't burn the place down."

  He moved with the intent to walk past, but the fellow, Blazer, shoved him back.

  "Ah ah ah, little man," he said in a jeering tone. "I believe we've got a small matter of business to discuss."

  Lance took a moment to fix up his glasses, and he looked up at the thug.

  "It's in the envelope in the kitchen."

  Blazer nodded to one of the boys behind him, who marched forward and brushed past Jacob. He smelled like dead fish and bad life decisions, making Jacob want all the more to leave.

  "Thing is, Lancey boy, we're increasing your rent." Blazer went on. "We're in, what you might call, hard econochromatic time and..."

  "You mean economic, and no we're not." Lance said with a small eyeroll. "Don't try to insult my intelligence, Blazer, you'll be here all day. I know how this racket works, so just name your price so I can get on with my day."

  Blazer didn't like that. In one swift motion, he struck Lance and bowled him hard to the ground, throwing his glasses aside. He stomped over to him and grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

  "You got a lot of mouth. Guess you Mexicans really don't know when to shut up and listen. I was gonna be nice and only raise the rent by five, but now it's going up thirty percent. If'n you don't pay, then the next time we're gonna take it out of your hide."

  On an impulse, Jacob took a step forward, but this immediately put him in Blazer's line of sight.

  "You gonna say something, freak eyes?"

  Jacob gulped down a harsh lump in his throat, and he backed away.

  "That's what I thought."

  Blazer released Lance just as his cohort returned with a vanilla envelope. He snarled at Jacob, making him jump, which brought a chorus of laughter from his friends as they made their way out. Jacob waited a few tense moments before running over to Lance and helping him to his feet.

  "Dare I ask," Jacob said, "who in the heck were they?"

  "Mr. NPD and his tacky fashion choices?" Lance chirped. "That's just Blazer and his band of miscreants. They're a would-be gang that likes to think they'll rule this town one day, but in truth, they're a bunch of cowards and weaklings who have nothing better to do but hang out at the junkyard. Every week they take a stab at me to make some small change."

  "They rob you?" Lance gasped. "As in regularly?"

  "Yeah, one of those protection racket things," Lance said as he dusted himself off. "You know the routine. They break your stuff, you pay them to stop breaking your stuff, they break your stuff anyway, and then they ask for more money. It's just like gacha games but illegal."

  Jacob balked at him, astonished that he was being so candid. However, this was when a thought finally occurred to him. He looked at Lance again, then to the ruined center around them.

  "Lance," he said, "do you...live...here?"

  Lance nodded.

  "Wasn't that obvious?"

  "I suppose not," Jacob muttered. "But you don't live here by yourself, right? You live with your parents?"

  Lance shook his head.

  "An uncle? Or an aunt?"

  Lance shook his head.

  "Grandparents?"

  Lance's face fell, and he looked down at his feet.

  "I had an abuela, but she's been dead for four years now. This was her place."

  He looked back up.

  "So, you know, I try to keep the place running. Only people that like to break things come here, but it's better than them being on the street, right?"

  He turned and made for the door.

  "C'mon. Your uncle ain't gonna find himself. Let's get going."

  Jacob continued to balk, stunned to silence. Four years on his own, and in a place like this? The idea broke his brain and left him senseless. The idea of being alone for so long, never mind being assailed by an idiot brute in an idiot suit, was something Jacob dared not entertain, and yet this kid seemed so unflappable and stoic.

  "Hey, you coming or what?!"

  Jacob snapped to attention, and he ran out, joining Lance on the sidewalk.

  "By the way, I never got your name," Lance said as they started to walk.

  "It's Jacob," Jacob replied, though he paused. "Wait a second, you're coming with me?"

  Lance nodded.

  "Uh, why?"

  Lance adopted a snarky little grin, and he tilted his head back.

  "Porque puedo."

  With that, he started forward, and Jacob resolved to follow him. Surely this was as weird as his day got. It had to be.