Twilight on Jasper Ch. 2

A gay story: Twilight on Jasper Ch. 2 Note: This story involves a character of mine named Lazarus. Now, Lazarus is normally 16 years old. However, this story takes place two years in the future, so he’s 18. Mainly because I don’t write child porn; that’s completely gross. I also made a boo-boo about where he’s from. In Twilight on Dreamworld, I mention that he’s Taiwanese, but that would suggest he’s from Taiwan. The original concept was that he was from Thailand, but I really don’t know if the people call themselves Thai or Thaiwanese or whatever. I apologize for the mix-up and I hope this clarifies things. The story is involved and may be a little lengthy, but I think it’s worth it. Have fun, read on and enjoy.

Whoever said dreams don’t come true didn’t know what they were talking about. Approximately two years ago, I was a twirpy little geek with nothing but a bunch of crazy fantasies and the most intricate dream realm anyone could ever imagine. If you told me back then that I’d be sitting in Jim Hanley’s Universe in Midtown Manhattan doing a comic book signing right now, I’d have laughed at you. Here I am, however, sitting behind this huge desk before a line of people that would make George Lucas proud.

It all began happening after I came home. I tried to think of how I could immortalize those characters in just the right way. About four months later, the first issue of “In Your Dreams” came out. It was about me, a regular loser cartoonist kid from a broken home dreamed up a superhero…Lazarus. Low and behold, a few months after creating him, strange sightings of a young, nubile Thai crimefighter began popping up all over the city. It was a way I could introduce all my characters, old and new into the storyline. All in all, I’m very pleased with it, and I’m currently working on issue #20!

In the beginning, it was hard. I sold three issues at a time to comic stores at half the cover price as a trial. However, it wasn’t until the third issue came out that all of a sudden, my comic became a hit. It was as if people discovered my comic much like archeologists would discover an ancient Egyptian tomb. I have a buyer mailing list a mile long, with people all over the country! I never imagined the comic would do so well.

About a year ago, I moved out of my mother’s house, and now I live in a small basement apartment in Old Mill Basin, Brooklyn. It’s quaint and there’s never enough light, but it suffices as both my living quarters and my studio. There’s a man I’ve been working on this with. An editor whose been working with me since issue #5. His name is Bryon, believe it or not, same as my imaginary friend whom I re-discovered only two years ago. He even spells it the same way. He and I are very close. He’s only four months younger than me and he and I clicked almost immediately; sort of like we’ve known each other our entire lives. He’s got this short brown hair in a mushroom-ish cut and these beautiful emerald green eyes. His body’s pretty hot too, and I should know because I stare at it all the time. We’ve never even kissed, let alone slept together, and I’m not even sure my feelings for him are mutual, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all I’ve been through, it’s that I can always dream.

“Oh my God, Jasper! Jasper Collins!” A girl about my age with the longest blond hair I’ve ever seen leaps up and down in front of me. “I am SUCH a fan! I have three copies of each issue and I even bought a signed lithograph from Ebay! When are you coming out with the trade paperback??”

I rub the back of my neck nervously. “Trade paperback? Hmm. Never occurred to me…” I glance at Bryon who’s been sitting next to me this whole time. He didn’t like signing autographs; he was just there for moral support. “That’s something to look into. What do you think?”

“We’ll be rich. Let’s do it.” He replies with his signature, charming smile, flicking my round glasses playfully.

“Oh my God,” The blond continues as I hand her the signed comic back. “I absolutely LOVE Quentin. Why did you have to make him gay??”

Bryon and I glance at each other and chuckle. “The character wouldn’t have worked as well otherwise, ma’am.” I smile and motion for the next person to step up. I glance at my watch and realize we’ve been here for forty minutes, and my publisher hasn’t shown up yet. He was supposed to bring us some sort of surprise.

“Sorry I’m late!!” We both turn to see him waddle through the door, sweat pouring down his temples like a geyser. Good ole’ plump Jeffrey from Paradise Found Press. “Have I got a treat for you!” He brushes his thinning red hair back and the sweat makes it stay like that. “You’re going to flip out!”

“What’s up, Jeff, what did you bring us?” I stand up to shake his hand, and Jeffrey stuffs a small square backpack into my hands.

“Go on, tell me what you think! Am I a genius or WHAT??”

Bryon leans over me to look over my shoulder. “Open it! I wanna see!”

The clasps unsnap and I see something blue and black peek out. “Jeff, what the hell is this?” I frown at him as some of the closer people on line rubberneck. I take it out and unfold it. I swear to God, half the room bursts into hysterical laughter.

“It’s the actual Lazarus costume! C’mon, isn’t it cool?? I had it tailored and made special, just for you! Just for issue number twenty! It even comes with a wig and nun-chucks!” I barely hear him because of Bryon laughing so hard in my ear. Everyone is laughing except me. I merely resolve to stand there, beet red from humiliation.

Jeffrey gets closer to me and murmurs, “It’s nice, right? C’mon, tell me what you’re thinking.”

I lean over, display a sinister grin and murmur back, “Start running.”

I make it a staple to move the line along at this point, knowing full well what a long, stressful day this is turning into. I might be enjoying myself, but I had to admit, I wouldn’t mind being home in bed right now. __

“WOW!!” Bryon exclaims, nearly falling through my doorway. I’m quick to follow, equally as exhausted. “I need a swig of whiskey and a nice, warm futon. Can I borrow yours?”

“You can borrow it for about twenty minutes, just long enough for me to take a shower and change, and then I’ll have to kick you out.” I walk into the little alcove where I keep my dresser, toss aside that stupid fucking costume and begin gathering my clothing.

Bryon plops himself lazily down on my futon and whines pathetically. “Aww, c’mon, man. Can’t I sleep over? I don’t feel like traveling over an hour and a half to get home.”

“I’ll call you a taxi.” I frown, my back towards him so he can’t see how much it hurts to send him home. I want so badly for him to spend the night, but I’m afraid I might do something stupid and fuck up our whole relationship. In essence, I just don’t trust myself to be good around him. But I can’t let him know that.

“Goddammit, Jason.” He folds his arms and my eyes fling open. It’s been so long since anyone besides my mother has called me that. For a moment, I think about how tragic it is that I barely respond to my real name anymore. Around other people, he usually called me Jasper.

“What?” I retort coyly.

“What?? What’s with YOU? What, do you have rats in here or something? You’re afraid I might see them? What’s your problem??”

“No, I…I mean I just…” I put my head down for a moment and spin around to look at him. “I just can’t sleep when…other people are…y’know…*around*.”

He squints his eyes at me. “That’s the biggest, hairiest load of shit I’ve ever heard.” He suddenly stands up and throws his arms up at me. “You have been officially cleansed of this decision. I am staying over whether you like it or not, now take your shower. I’ll put out the extra pillows.”

“But…this is my house!”

“And I’m your best friend. And if I can’t bust your balls, NOBODY CAN! Now get in that shower before I call the Coast Guard and have them drag you down to the ocean!” He nods, content with himself, and politely sits back down.

I sigh heavily. “You asked for it. If I’m absolved of all responsibility, then I’m also absolved of all blame.”

“Deal. Now take your damn shower, pus-ball.”

__

After my hour-long shower, I slowly get re-dressed in my tiny bathroom. Very slowly. I know Bryon will be out there sleeping when I come out, so it might not be that bad. The night will go by quickly, I just have to calm the raging hard-on I’ve had since he declared he’d be staying over tonight. I walk out into cool air and a dimly lit living room with my baggy pajamas and elephant slippers. Bryon is still up, sitting on the futon cushion that had been spread on the floor, layered generously with pillows and thick quilts. He’s flipping through an older-looking book with a smile on his face.

Oh God.

“What are you reading??” I suddenly can’t move, my eyes wide and my throat dry.

“One of your sketchbooks. This is some of your better work, Jason. How come you never showed this to me?” He turns a page and blinks a few times, his smile getting wider. “Wow. This is some racy stuff.”

My beloved Book of Men. “Who told you to look through my shit, Bryon?! Put that down!!” I take a couple of steps towards him, yelling maybe a few decibels higher than I mean to. He looks up at me with a serious wide-eyed glare.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d get so upset. It’s cool, I’ll put it back.”

“That’s…not the point!” I rub my face, not knowing exactly what else to do or say.

“Look, man. If you’re worried about what I think of you, I told you, it’s cool. I already knew like way long ago that you were gay.”

I pause. “You did? I mean…what gave it away?”

“You mean besides the fact that you drool over me every time my head is turned?” He starts laughing. “I dunno, I guess I just knew.” He tilts his head at me. “I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I? I’m sorry. Come over here and get under the covers it’s freezing in here and you’re sopping wet. Besides, I see a few people in here that aren’t in the comic and I’d like to know about them.” He moves over to make room for me, smiling the whole time. Was he for real? Does he just not care that I’m gay? Was he expecting me to hit on him or something? Does he want me to?

“I…I’m sorry I yelled.”

“Don’t worry about it. Now get over here.” And I do.

__

“…And that’s not actually a character, he was a neighbor of mine for a few years that I thought was really hot, so I just added him in. Oh, and that guy was this college kid that I spoke to on the L train once. Didn’t even get his name…” He turns the page and I realize that I had drawn Bryon in here. I had completely forgotten, and now he was chuckling at me. I depicted him laying across my futon, looking at my picture and gripping his huge cock in his hand. I had spent over four hours putting it details and shading, making it just right. The ironic part is, I had never even whacked off to it.

He raises the book and nods in approval. “Not bad. My thighs aren’t like that, though.” I bury my head under the covers. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t be embarrassed, I like it. I really do.” Does nothing faze this guy? “Is that why you didn’t want me to sleep over, because you didn’t want me to see this? Because you want to sleep with me?”

Still under the covers, I nod. “Can I die now?”

He pulls the covers off of me and pulls my chin up with his finger. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll pose for you and you can draw me right. Okay?”

I wasn’t really hearing this. “Right now?”

“Sure. C’mon, get a pencil and put your glasses on. I’ll get undressed.”

“Bryon, you don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to.” He moves closer to me, putting an arm around me. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you. In fact…” He leans over, touches the side of my face and kisses me, slipping his warm tongue into my mouth. I instantly grab him, feeling up and down his smooth, lithe body. He moans in delight as his hands fumble to take off my clothing. I begin returning the favor. He pulls my shirt over my head and our lips find their way back to each other almost immediately. I pull his boxers off and he yanks my pajama pants down and one of his warm hands finds its way into my briefs and grips tightly onto my swollen dick. I grab his waist, feeling up his tight ass as he climbs on top of me. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel his fat cock pushing its way into something of mine. I don’t even care what.

I urge his hips up toward my chest, so that he’s sitting on my shoulders. And just like that, I slide his veined member past my lips and began sucking for all I was worth. His hairy balls pressed firmly against my hairless chest. He arches his hips forward so more of his length can slide into my welcoming mouth, sucking in through his teeth and gripping my head with both his hands. Both my hands grip desperately at his firm ass, and eventually, one of my fingers worms its way onto his pink pucker, rubbing it sensually, stimulating him from both ends.

“Oh god, Jason…keep sucking me, you feel so good!” Bryon holds my head up by the back of my neck with both hands, making it easier to take as much of his sweet dick into me as possible. I lap and suck on it hungrily, getting so sloppy, drool spills out of both corners of my mouth and down my chin. One hand explores from his deep forest of pubic hair up to his tight abs and smooth chest. I grip onto his shoulder for support as he lunges his aching prick down my throat. My other hand continues to rub the outside of his asshole, teasing him, making him want my cock so bad he begs for it.

I feel my arousal make my hard-on pulse and throb, and it gets worse with every one of his heated, guttural groans. I moan against the hot flesh of his thick shaft, widening my mouth to accept more of him into me. He keeps pushing himself in deeper and deeper until my lips touch his luscious patch of dark brown pubes. All I can think about is how long I’ve yearned for this man, longed to touch him, to fondle and grope him, and even go so far as to want him inside of me.

Just as I begin thinking that, he slides down off my shoulders and sits up on his knees in between my legs, gripping each of my thighs tightly, pulling me into him. I feel his swollen dick press up against my ass as he leans over and kisses me passionately. As I go to reciprocate, he moves his mouth down to behind my ear, down to my neck, teasing me with his tongue, nibbling on the sensitive flesh, making it tingle and giving me goosebumps all over my body. I slide my hands all over his soft, warm flesh, squeezing his ass with both hands, moving up to his back, them running my fingers through his silky brown hair.

His hips begin to buck slightly, suggesting to me that he wants his hot cock inside of me. He grasps my thighs again and pulls them apart, rubbing the head of his dick against the tight opening of my ass. I moan heavily against his lips, and the more he taunts and teases my ass, the louder I moan. He whispers something in my ear about my ass already having a bit of it’s own lube, and all it needed was just a touch more. He slides off of me and down so his face is right next to my ass. He pulls my ass cheeks apart with both hands and plunges his tongue deep into me. I throw my head back, groaning and gasping, running my fingers in his hair, gripping a whole bunch of it in my clenched fists.

I feel his saliva running down onto my balls and I feel one of his fingers push its way into my lubed hole. It doesn’t hurt at all, all I feel is amazing pleasure that makes me want something a lot bigger in there. Before I know it, he’s thrusting his whole finger up to the knuckle into me and I’m loving it. I scream out and beg him to fuck me, and it doesn’t take his long to comply. After all, I was quite lubed already and all he had to do was spit on his dick and slide it gently into me, which is exactly what he does. He sits up on his knees again and grabs my cock, still rock hard from this fantastic stimulation, drools a little more on the head of his own dick and begins rocking his hips back and forth, easing his length into me. It’s uncomfortable going in, but once he’s in up to the hilt, my mind is reeling with desire. I pull my legs back to my chest to give him better access, and he plows into me with increasing speed and strength.

All the while, he’s stroking me off, and with all this going on, I know I won’t last much longer. “That’s it, Jason, take my cock. You know how much you love it.” Bryon grunts out as he thrusts himself deep into me, making me cry out so loud, I must be waking the landlord. I let go of my legs and reach behind my head, gripping the blanket tight. He grips my legs himself, pushing them as far forward as they would go, now piledriving that bloated prick of his into me rapidly. His eyes are closed, his brows kitted and teeth clenched, beads of sweat dripping down his dampened temples; this let me know he wasn’t terribly far away from coming inside me, and boy, was I looking forward to it.

“Oh yeah, Bryon…fuck me! Fuck me hard, that’s it!” I mutter out, barely able to form words. My legs slide down his body and wrap around his waist. He’s not even speaking anymore, he’s just moaning, continuing to slam into me with all his might.

All of a sudden, his thrusts slow down and he grabs my hips, digging his nails into me. “Oh my god!!” He gasps out. “Here I cum, I’m gonna shoot my load inside you!” He thrusts it into me a few more times, crying my name out loudly as I feel his hot juices flood my ass, moving up into my stomach. As he calms down, he continues to pump my cock, getting me close to completion as well.

I grab his hand and guide it along as he slowly pulls his cock out of me with his free hand. I immediately feel his seed spill out of me and drip down onto my thighs and balls. He stops jerking me off and slides his warm mouth onto my aching dick, sucking it down, taking it all the way to the hilt. I grab his head and guide it up and down on me, feeling his fingers feel around on the inside of my asshole, still dripping wet from his thick sperm. He moans against my prick, knowing just how crazy he’s making me. He knows I’m right on the edge because my rapid breathing is giving me away. I yank his hair, making his head bob up and down onto me, making his suck it harder. I groan out loudly and thrust my cock as deep as it would go down my best friend’s throat, unleashing my own load so hard, he can’t even swallow it all. He gags, and most of my load spills all over my stomach and thighs. I jerk myself off for the remainder of the orgasm, gasping and panting like a dog.

He apologizes up and down for gagging, and I tell him it’s alright, and it felt amazing nevertheless. He leans down and laps up a good portion of my cum from my stomach, remarking on how good it tastes. He kisses me and pushes a little of my cum into my own mouth. We giggle and make out, feeling each other all over afterwards.

“Bryon, I think I’m in love with you.” I mutter sweetly into his ear.

He smiles. “Wake up.”

“What?”

Just then, I hear frantic banging on the door. Bryon’s voice is screaming out, “JASON!!! WAKE UP!!!”

I bolt up into a sitting position and realize I’ve been lying down in my bathtub and the water has been overflowing. The shower was still going and I was freezing cold and shriveled up like a prune. Daylight streams through the windows and the wooden bathroom door was jolting with Bryon’s punches. “JASON!! Please tell me you’re alright!! I’m sorry, I fell asleep! Oh my GOD!!”

“Bryon…?” I call out, glaring at the water all over the floor and seeping heavily out of the gap under the door. “Bryon, hold on, I’m okay.” I turn off the water and wrap myself in a towel, then I unlock the door.

Bryon grabs me and hugs me tight. “I thought you drowned yourself, you stupid bastard!! You’re shivering, are you okay? You want me to take you to a hospital?”

The carpeting in here is soaking wet and I didn’t know what I was going to tell my landlord. He was going to have my head for this. “No, I’m okay, I just need to get dressed.” He walks me to my alcove and I begin tearing through my clothing looking for something warm enough to thaw me out. “I’m going to get killed for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bryon turns his back while I dress, gauging the water damage to the entire living room floor. I didn’t even want to know what shape the tiles in the bathroom were in after being watered like a rose garden all night. “We’ll go out and have breakfast. Maybe it’ll dry.”

“Maybe I’ll get evicted and sued.” I sigh, throwing on a sweater and carrying my socks and shoes to the doorway.

“You’re so negative. Cheer up, you still have me.” He smiles, putting an arm around me as we slide out the door, putting on our socks and shoes outside. I let him borrow a pair of mine, since his socks are drenched. We’re halfway up the staircase when two men in suits and trench coats come marching up to the top of the stairs.

“Jason Allan Montgomery?” The taller one grunts loudly.

Bryon and I glance at each other. “Yeah, that’s me. What’s up?”

“I’m Detective Michael Bennett, this is Detective Nathan Morris. Can we have a word with you please?” They flip their badges at us a little too quickly.

“Let me see those.” Bryon trots up the stairs.

“What is this about?” I trot up after him.

“Why don’t we just take a little walk?” The shorter one, Nathan Morris grips me by shoulder. This whole thing is making me nervous. “Mr. Montgomery, where were you last night at about 12:30 am?”

“I was with my friend, Bryon.” I halfway motion to Bryon, squinting at the cop with contempt. The cops glance at each other, their eyebrows raised. “Why, what happened?”

“Someone assaulted a few people a couple of blocks from here and we came to see if you knew anything about that.”

“Why would I know anything about that? Because it was in my neighborhood?”

“No, because he was dressed as that character of yours, Lazarus.” __

“Look, I already told you! I fell asleep in the bathtub! Bryon fell asleep on my futon! We were dead tired after the book signing!” I slam my fists on the interrogation room table. I didn’t understand why this was happening. Who would dress up at Lazarus and frame me for beating up people? This made no sense.

“And that still doesn’t answer my question, son.” Detective Michael Bennett stands up and leans over me. “It WAS you, wasn’t it? At least fifty people saw your publisher give you that costume yesterday afternoon. Maybe you had some weird urge to try it on, huh? Maybe you waited until you knew your friend would be asleep, snuck out, left the water running and acted out some perverted, sick ass fantasy of yours!”

“NO!!”

“And then after you got through beating people’s brains in with a pair of nun-chucks, you snuck back in and played it off like you had been there all night!”

“NO WAY! There’s no way I would do stupid shit like that! I don’t even know how to USE nun-chucks!”

The officer walks around the table and grabs me by the collar, yanking me out of my seat. “Don’t lie to me, son! You beat the shit out of those people and one of them might very well DIE today! And if he does, we’ll put you away for the rest of your life, you little piece of shit!”

I squirm and struggle, screaming out at the top of my lungs. “Put me down!! You can’t manhandle me like this! I want a lawyer!”

“Fine.” He drops me and I fall to the floor with an audible thud. “Sarge, get this little psycho creep a lawyer.”

“I want Ben Matlock, dammit!” I shout out.

“Shut the fuck up, you little fruitcake.”

__

The worst part about being in a filthy holding cell wasn’t the huge, angry-looking bald black guy sitting next to me. It wasn’t even the small militia of gang trash mumbling to themselves about how pretty I looked. It wasn’t even the fact that I could get a colorful assortment of diseases and infections from the sheer filth of this place. It was the fact that Bryon wasn’t here with me. They were probably giving him the third degree just like they gave me. Truth be told, I was hungry, I was tired and I was piss scared of falling asleep around these creeps without having Bryon there to watch my back.

I had spent almost three hours in here frightened for my life, and at long last, here comes some skinny cop to let in Bryon and somebody else. Bryon sits down next to me with a heavy sigh. I glance at him wide-eyed. “What were you guys talking about for over three hours, Bry?? What did they ask you?”

“Jason, it doesn’t matter.” His voice seems weak and drained. “That guy in the hospital they said you beat up just died. The cops are calling the D.A. down here.”

“Oh my God.” My eyes bulge out of my skull, and I rake back my now shoulder-length burgundy hair nervously. “My ass is toast. What am I going to do?? You believe I didn’t do it, right?”

“I KNOW you didn’t do it, Jason.” And the way he looks at me, and the look in his beautiful bright eyes, I knew right then that he was probably the only person in the entire tri-state area who was convinced of my innocence. His eyes suddenly begin welling up with tears. “Jason…I *overheard* stuff out there. Stuff they were talking to the D.A. about. They said they were going to…” He trails off and hugs me tight. Jeez, even his grip is weak. I was beginning to get worried. If they roughed Bryon up, they’d really be sorry.

I pull away from him, but still gripping on his shoulders. “Spit it out, Bry. I can take it.”

“They mentioned Murder 2…that’s 25 to life.” Bryon bursts into tears and buries his head into my chest. Okay, so maybe I can’t take it. For a long while, I just sit there and hold him with my eyes wide and my jaw on the floor as Bryon sobbed openly in my arms. I barely notice the people around us get really quiet and stare at us.

“We’ve got to get you outta here.” Bryon speaks up suddenly.

“And even if we did get out of here. Where would we go?”

“You could live with me, or you could move back in with your m—”

“HELL FUCKING NO!” I stand up and glare at him angrily. Everyone in here with us nearly hits the ceiling. I glance around at them, halfway embarrassed and slowly sit back down. They’re all glaring at me like I had three purple heads, and there’s this long, uneasy moment of silence.

“But I wont let them do that to you, Jason. I won’t!” Bryon whispers harshly to me.

I’m just about to respond when I hear one of the cops walking down the corridor towards this holding cell. He glares in and slowly undoes the lock. Bryon stands up and grabs my arm. The cop slides the door open slightly and smirks cockily. “Montgomery? Your lawyer’s here, come with me.” Bryon and I walk out and he guides us into the interrogation room. Already sitting there is a rather pleasant-looking older man in his mid-to late thirties. He has neatly cut chestnut hair and a pair of cold, gray eyes. He reminded me of the type of lawyer a huge company would hire.

“May I have a few moments alone with my client?” He turns and motions for the loitering cops to get lost and close the door. When they do, I walk in and sit across from him, giving him a nervous smile. Bryon stays by the mirror and crosses his arms. I glance at him and then back at my lawyer. “Something wrong, Mr. Montgomery?”

I pull out a seat for Bryon, but he doesn’t move. He merely waves at me like everything’s okay. “No.” I look back at the lawyer and he’s giving Bryon the same look I just did.

“I’m alright, just fucking talk already!” Bryon tosses his arms up, annoyed.

“Sorry, I guess everybody’s a little touchy today.” I smile at the lawyer again.

“I’m Irving Steele. I’ll be defending you for the duration of the trial.” He fixes his wire-rimmed glasses and blinks at me a few times.

“Call me Jason. So…I suppose this is where I tell you I didn’t do it.”

“And this is where I tell you that someone needs to be able to collaborate your alibi, or we’re in serious trouble.” He folds his hands on the table in front of himself and frowns at me. No wedding ring. Everything about him is perfect. His eyebrows are meticulous, his double-breasted navy-blue business suit and his tie match perfectly, his black dress shoes are sparkling, there isn’t a hair out of place and he doesn’t even have so much as a piece of lint on his clothing. For some reason, that bothered me.

“Bryon was there. He can back me up.”

Bryon is quick to talk over me. “Jason, I think it would be best if you just left me out of this for now.”

“What??” I spin around and throw my arms out dramatically. “What the hell is your problem??” One of the cops opens the door and asks if everything’s okay. Bryon slips out past him. He just leaves me there to rot. I’m in such shock, I just sit down with a flabbergasted look on my face.

“We’re alright, Sergeant.” Irving speaks up. When he leaves, Irving gives me a glare that makes my spine shiver. “Jason, that was uncalled for. The last thing we need is you shouting at people. And don’t even think about pulling a stunt like that in court, or we’ll lose for sure. You got it?” Yes, daddy.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.” I cradle my head and sigh, still not believing that Bryon just ditched me like that. Ever since the cops arrested me, he’s been acting weird.

“Good. Now tell me, who is Bryon?”

“My best friend. He was there that night. I fell asleep in the shower and he fell asleep on my futon. That morning, he woke me up and my apartment was a mess, and now not only is my landlord going to sue the pants off of me and evict me, but now the D.A. is here and they want me for Murder 2!”

His pale eyes widen and his mouth forms a perfect little “o”. The most expression I’ve seen from him yet. “Jason…did the officer who escorted you here tell you that?”

“No, Bryon did. He overheard the cops talking to the D.A. on the phone. He was standing right there.” I point to the mirror where he had been standing. “He wouldn’t sit down and then he told me he wanted me to leave him out of this. Didn’t you hear him? He’s the guy who stormed out of here just now.”

Silence. Complete and utter silence. Just then, something clicked. Something really, really horrible that made me feel so screwed and so humiliated, the thought of killing myself right here and now made a whole lot of sense. Irving’s brows were knit, as if searching through his vocabulary to pick just the right words to use right now.

“Jason, you and I have been speaking in this room…alone. You do know that, don’t you?” He glances at the seat I had pulled out for Bryon.

I bite my lip as tears stream from my eyes. I can’t look at him, so I stare at a large scrape mark at the center of the table. I cover my mouth with both hands and tremble silently. The whole time…was he…? I’m such an idiot. He just sits there and stares at me with this pitiful look on his face. After a while, I whisper out, “I…have…no alibi.”

“I see.” His eyes break away from me and onto his dark brown briefcase. He opens it up and takes out some papers. “I think the D.A. and I can work out a deal where you won’t have to go to jail during the trial. Maybe even at all.” He glances at the big mirror.

The door opens, and Detective Nathan Morris walks in. “That could definitely be arranged, Mr. Steele. Son, why don’t you come with me?”

They take me to Belleview Hospital. I cry my eyes out the entire way. __

It’s Twilight. I don’t remember much after they brought me here. The doctor checked me out and gave me a needle. He wouldn’t tell me what was in it, only that it was part of the physical exam. That was all I remember. And now, several hours or even days later, I don’t even know…I’m tied down to a bed with leather straps, my head hurts and I feel like I’m going to throw up. There’s someone sitting near me, stroking my hair. I don’t care who it is- I just want to punch their lights out right now because they aren’t helping my headache. I start to open my eyes, and low and behold. There sits Bryon.

“You…asshole.” I grumble softly, yet angrily. “You…lied to me…”

“There were no lies told, Jason. I was real because you made me real. You saw what you wanted to see because you missed me. And believe me, I missed you too. I’m glad to be back in your life, and I’m happy you still believed enough in me.”

“I…I’m…in the funny farm because of you.” I start struggling against my bonds weakly. I was still very messed up from whatever that doctor pumped into me.

“But you’re off the hook, Jason. Completely. Your lawyer will say you’re crazy so they can’t put you in jail. And soon, they’ll know it wasn’t you who killed that guy.”

“How do you know?”

“No time to explain. I can’t stay here too long. Places like this and the police station make me sick.” He goes to undo the straps and his hands pass right through them. He turns to me, gasping in horror. “Stop it! You’re letting your world make me fade away again!” He pouts like a child would. “How come you suddenly don’t believe in me anymore?”

“I’ve been talking to myself this whole time…everyone must think I’m nuts. No wonder I’m in a loony bin. I probably belong here.”

“Lose the shit talk, Jasper.” A voice comes from above me, near one of the gated up windows. “…Or I’m going to let you rot in here.” I glance up just in time to see Lazarus – the REAL Lazarus – screw open the gate and climb into the window. He’s older and his voice got deeper. He should be 18 now, and he developed into quite a man.

“Mai…oh God, it’s you…Mai, please…I’m losing it. I…I don’t know what’s real anymore! Help me!”

He walks over and grips me by my shoulders, staring at me straight in the eye. “I am real, Jasper. I am and so is Bryon. Look at me!” He shakes me and I begin crying again. “You can touch me, you can smell me and you can hear my voice. I am real. Now pull yourself together and let’s get the fuck outta here!” I see him grab onto the nearly translucent Bryon, and he flickers and begins to get solid again.

“Bryon…I’m sorry, get out before this place and I kill you!” He nods and walks over to the door. Lazarus gets me loose and I sit up too fast. I grab my head and suck in through my teeth at the sharp, dizzying pain.

I see Bryon go for the doorknob and suddenly, the door opens and that same doctor, the one who gave me the shot glares at both Lazarus and I. He gasps and takes a step backwards. “Somebody call the police!!”

“Fuck you, old man!” Lazarus flips off the doctor, throws me over his shoulder and jumps up onto the windowsill.

“Lazarus…what are you doing?? You’re not going to…” Just then, he leaps out the window, and we both go freefalling about a dozen flights down. I scream like a little bitch at the top of my lungs. I see his arm extend and throw something attached to a long rope. I hear a distant clank and we’re suddenly tugged and I almost go falling from his grasp. I scream some more as he pulls me up to get a better grip on him.

“Hold on tight, Jasper! Everything’s cool from here on in.” I cling onto his firm, athletic body for dear life, and he starts climbing the rope. I’m sort of in a reverse piggy-back position, with my arms wrapped around the back of his neck, my legs around his slender waist and my face buried in his heaving chest. There was something so exhilarating and erotic about this, but I was too scared witless to do anything about it.

When we reach the top of the neighboring building, we sneak inside through the roof and quickly make our way down the stairs. “So…why did you find your way here? More trouble in the dream realm?” I try to make small talk to get my mind off of how ridiculously deep in the shit I must be right now.

“No, I actually escaped the dream realm. When I realized where I was, I looked you up in the phonebook so I could come see you. I was on my way to your house, when I saw three guys trying to rape a pregnant woman in an ally, so I did my thing.” He smiles proudly. “Your city needs a crimefighter.”

I sigh. “Mai, one of those guys died in the hospital. They arrested me because they thought you weren’t real.”

“And to them, I wasn’t. But they have to believe I’m real now.”

“No, they’ll just say you were some _other_ retard in my producer’s costume. You have to understand something, Mai. My world isn’t ready to accept people like you yet. They’re all so scared and nervous that there could possibly be something out there that they can’t control at all times, so they discard those things as being fake because it makes them feel like they have more power. And the ways they try to explain it away are downright pathetic!”

“I know. People would rather believe that aliens are in cahoots with the U.S. Military than believe that there really is a monster under their bed. You’re talking to Noah about the flood, Jasper.” We silently sneak out the back exit and we’re around the corner and down the block before we hear the sirens.

“We can’t go back to my house. It’s drenched and they’ll look for me there.” I cover myself up, realizing that I’m only in a hospital gown, my briefs and socks. He drapes his cape around me and glances around nervously. “Are you okay? You look paranoid.”

“I thought I heard something…oh, nevermind.”

We walk a little ways and I glance back up at the hospital. “Will Bryon be okay? He’s still up there.”

“We’re the only ones who can see him, remember?” Mai puts his arms around me. “Don’t worry, we’ll be safe, we’re going to Bryon’s house.”

“But Bryon isn’t…”

Lazarus stops and slaps a hand over my mouth, glaring into my eyes angrily. “Shut up. Just shut up. I don’t even want to hear you say those words, Jasper Collins.” I nod slowly, sorrowfully. He lets go, giving me another pissed off look for good measure.

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just get outta here.” __

We’re breaking into a Salvation Army thrift store. I’ve gone shopping here once or twice before out of sheer lack of capitol, but I never imagined myself breaking into one of these places. It seemed wrong: almost like stealing a piece of bread out of the filthy hands of a homeless man. We took a few items, packed them away in a duffle bag we found in the back and left $19 on the front counter. We snuck back out and hurried off into the night.

We take the V train. I didn’t even know there was a V train, but evidently there is. We take it to the last stop and get off in a neighborhood I wasn’t familiar with. Walking side by side with one of my characters never gets old. It was unbelievably exciting the first time when Osiris Hehp-Tehal came to get me, and with the stunning and amazing Mai Lautan walking next to me, I felt the same exact way. It was incredible, and so was he. He was out of costume and we were both fully clothed. He was wearing this skin-tight black cotton tee shirt that form-fitted to every deeply tanned muscle and curve. I couldn’t get my eyes off of him. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, and as usual, I remained in the dark.

“What?” Mai glances over, noticing how I’m feasting on him with my eyes. He offers me a nervous smile and a subtle tilt of his head.

“You’re utterly insatiable.” I give him a sensuous toothy grin in return.

He chuckles quietly. “You made me straight, remember? Blame yourself.” I did? Well, in the comic, maybe…

I snicker and shake my head as we turn the corner onto a relatively abandoned and dilapidated area. “Damn you and damn me twice.” I look around. “This can’t be where Bryon lives.”

“When he left your house, he usually used to go straight back to the realm. For the last few days, he’s been stuck here and none of us knew why until just yesterday.” That must be why he’s been so adamant about staying over my place lately. We make our way into what looks to be an abandoned warehouse. It’s dark, it’s creepy and there are a thousand and one spiders, roaches and rusty shards of metal sticking out every which way that I could get Tetanus on.

“Yeah?” I cringe and hug myself as he leads me deeper into this pit, under a flight of stairs and to this hidden metal door with chains all over it. “Why is that?”

“Because of your comic, Jasper.” He turns to me and frowns, a serious look in his deep mahogany eyes.

“My comic?? But I kept my promise to you people! How the hell else did you want me to keep you around??” I throw my hands up frustratingly at him.

“Now wait just a minute, you didn’t let me finish.”

“What the fuck do you people WANT from me?!?!” I cut him off angrily. “What more can I DO for you!?”

“Listen to me, it’s not you that’s the problem, it’s everybody else!” He shouts over me, growing equally as frustrated. “We were born from your imagination, right? We lived in your dream realm, right? So what happens when hundreds of thousands of people dream completely different dreams about the people from somebody else’s dream realm?”

He stops talking for a moment, and there’s a long pause. “I…I dunno, what?”

“Your dream realm begins to break down! There isn’t really one particular dream realm we can all go to, so we all follow Bryon’s lead and come here. That’s what. It’s either we come here, or we break apart with the dream realm. You tell ME if we did the right thing or not.” He grits his teeth and crosses his arms.

“So you are all here?” I glance at the metal door.

“Yup. Now knock on it thrice in the shape of a triangle.”

“What? Why would I…is that like, the secret password or something?”

He moves me closer to the door and sighs. “Just do it, smartass.”

Rolling my eyes and feeling like a complete dick, I do exactly what he says. The door suddenly shimmers and it goes from looking like a huge, imposing metal door locked up tight with thick chains, to a small, wooden door with light peeking out from inside. I grab the doorknob and open it rather easily.

“SURPRISE!!!” The sudden choir of people shouting at me makes me leap back. The flood of light makes my eyes squint. I take another glance in and I see everyone…and I do mean everyone I have ever created crammed in a room the size of a subway car. There’s an old, ratty couch in the corner, a messed up black and white T.V. sitting on a half-broken, mismatched set of dressers with about a dozen mismatched and messed up plastic and fold-out chairs and a lopsided card table strategically placed on a filthy, ripped area rug which is the only thing covering the cold cement floor. As for the crumbling brick walls, they have a candleholder nailed to one side with two tapers burning and the rest are covered with my odd sketches and character studies. All in all, it was horrifying and the sweetest, more heart-felt place I’d ever seen.

“Welcome to your new house, Jasper!” “Yeah, we made this place for you!” “I hope you like it!” “We all pitched in to get this place ready.” “What do you think?” “Do you like it?”

“I…I…” Walking in, I study the gleaming faces of my characters. Their eyes begged for my approval for all their hard work. This wasn’t their fault. I smile wide and survey the place. I then look back at them and chuckle. “I love it, guys. Thank you.” And I mean it. I don’t think there was ever a statement that I said more from the heart than this.

“Hey, Jasper.” Mai comes up from behind me and pats me on the back. “We’re your family, it’s not a problem.”

“Group hug!” Talis Vanguard shouts out in a goofy tone.

I glance over with a finger pointed toward him. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“An accomplice. That makes perfect sense.” Detective Michael Bennett sits in a highway full of gridlocked traffic and goes over his notes as his shorter and stockier partner flips through a recent issue of “In Your Dreams” while gobbling down a blueberry bear’s claw like the Apocalypse is mere moments away. “Who does the kid know? The mother tells us he only had like two friends, and now we got another name out of the clear blue yonder. What do you think, Nate?”

Bryon sits quietly in the back seat and listens to their conversation.

“Mff.” Detective Nathan Morris sloshes down a mouthful of coffee. “The mother’s just as much a fruitcake as her kid. I wouldn’t trust her to give me the right time of day.”

“Yeah, and with what happened there just now?” Bennett brings his finger up thoughtfully and turns towards his partner, his other hand dropping the notepad onto the dashboard of his unmarked car. “She willingly lets us look around the apartment, but the minute one of us goes to glance into a few of the kid’s scrapbooks, she freaks out and tells us to get a warrant? What the hell is goin’ through that broad’s head?

“Oh shit. Hahahahaha!” Morris laughs rather loudly and turns a page.

“Jeffery Norton, his publisher, the fat redheaded guy that sweats all the time? He tells us that this Montgomery kid would almost always refer to himself as ‘us’ and ‘we’, but talk normally every once in a while to throw him off. And then he’d sit there and talk and laugh to himself like there was really somebody there. What a little creep.” Bennett picks up his notepad again and studies it intently. “He named two friends of his besides this elusive Bryon guy. One guy, Rick knows him from the printing place, and he says the same thing. Donald, who does the computer formatting…or whatever…says that Montgomery’s mentioned an Editor named Bryon, but nobody’s ever seen the guy!”

“Heh heh. Yeah. Weird.”

“Are you even listening to me, Nate??” Bennett shouts, dropping the pad on his lap.

Morris looks up for the first time since he’s picked up the comic. “Uh…yeah. I heard every word you said.”

Bennett sighs and puts his hands back on the wheel. “I just can’t wait to get this search warrant so we can see what the toothless broad is hiding.”

Morris lifts his “I-heart-NY” coffee cup and drinks, spilling a little coffee on his already crumb-covered shirt and tie. “Fuck…providing we get the courthouse this year.”

“I’m tempted to get out and walk.” And with that, traffic finally begins to move. “Halle-fuckin’-lujah, we’re saved.” __

Knock, knock, knock. “Mrs. Montgomery?” Both Detectives and the few extra bodies the Captain so generously afforded them crowded around the door. “It’s the police, we have a warrant to search the premises, now open the door!” Morris bangs on the door a few more times.

“Alright, alright, keep your jock straps on!” She finally opens the door with a sour, defeated scowl on her aged face.

The uniforms push past her and Bennett shoves the warrant into her hand. The two Detectives go straight for Jason’s room, and his mother follows close behind them, as if trying to wordlessly threaten them with her looming presence. They go through his empty dresser drawers, they go through his photo albums and most importantly, they flip through the few sketchpads that he left behind. They’re mostly facial portraits.

“Who are these people, Mrs. Montgomery? Friends of his?” Bennett holds up one of the sketchbooks.

“I don’t know…characters of his, I guess.” She shrugs and looks away.

“What about this one?” Morris holds up a portrait of Bryon with his name above it. A victorious grin creeps across his features.

“That? That’s Bryon…Jason’s imaginary friend or something. Ever since he came back home two years ago, he always insisted I set a place for him at the table. I don’t know what got into him. He hasn’t talked about Bryon since he was eight.”

The Detectives glare at each other, then back at the mother. Bennett raises a brow. “You mean he’s had this imaginary friend for years?” She nods. “You ever meet a kid that looked like this?”

“No. Never.”

“What about any childhood friends with the name Bryon?”

“No, officer, I would have remembered. Jason’s had this imaginary friend since he was a toddler. As he got older, Bryon got more defined, complete with a personality, likes and dislikes. There were times he’d just talk to Bryon, and he’d leave gaps in the conversation as though someone were actually talking back. It was the strangest thing.”

“Anything else we should know about this Bryon character?”

“Well, Bryon loves jelly but hates peanut butter…”

Bennett groans and rolls his eyes. “Anything USEFUL, ma’am?”

“Well, sometimes Jason would find out things. The kind of things he couldn’t have found out about, but yet knew. Like if he was fast asleep in the house and I left him with a sitter to go on a date. He’d sometimes ask about things that happened on the date, or things that happened at work. Stuff that he just couldn’t have known about.”

“So either the kid’s psychic or you talk in your sleep.” Morris chuckles and opens another book. “Hey, Mikey. Check this out.” He holds up a full-body drawing of Osiris Hehp-Tehal with his height, weight, hair and eye color scribbled on the side of it.

“Hey, I know him.” The mother squints her eyes at the drawing. “That guy was in my house about two years ago. Came in the middle of the night too, in a raging blizzard and kidnapped my boy. I thought he had a weapon, so I just waited until they left and called the police. Check your records, I’m sure you’ll find my case.”

“Jackpot. Bag it, guys. Bag all of this.” Bennett turns suddenly to his partner with a giant grin on his dark, bearded face. “Get this stuff to the station and see if they got anything worthwhile on that case. And Mrs. Montgomery, thanks for the cooperation. If you hear or see anything else, give us a call.” And with that, Morris rushes down to the station and Bennett rushes outside and whips out his cell phone.

“Yeah, Cap’n? I want you to put an A.P.B. out for a Middle-Eastern male, early to mid-thirties. He’s approximately 5’9”, 175 lbs. With long black hair and a goatee. His name is possibly Osiris Hehp-Tehal. Yeah, H-E-H-P, dash, Tehal, right. Give me anything you can find on this guy. He may be armed and dangerous.”

Bryon stands behind Bennett and touches a finger to his lips. “This isn’t good.” He backs away slowly before finally turning and running off.

“SHE WHAT??” I almost fall on the floor from what I’m hearing.

“I know. I had no idea she had seen Osiris either.” Bryon sulks, slumping in his chair.

“Where is he anyway? They have an A.P.B. out on him…that means they want to arrest him, right? So what possesses him to be seen out in public?” I frown, crossing my arms, glaring around the room.

“He’s been like, in and out ever since we got here.” Alejandro sighs, rubbing his face nervously.

His lovely counterpart, Artemis speaks up. “He’s been to every library and internet café in the city. I have no idea what that techie freak is up to.”

Seth Mendle chimes in. “The good news is that he doesn’t exist here. If they catch him, they won’t find anything on him.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, man.” Davis Frisco, an enemy turned friend points out thoughtfully while leaning against the wall. “Jasper, you did put him in the comic on several occasions, and since your mother said she saw him, they’re going to assume you based the character off of a real person.”

“But he doesn’t have any documentation stating that he was born here.” Seth argues.

Another character, the petite, graceful black-winged angel, Russell Gelling speaks up at this point. “Agreed, honey. But might I remind you that in the comic book, Osiris is a computer hacker by vocation. By an ordinary policeman’s deduction, he could have easily wiped out his own records.”

“Wonderful. This is just friggin’ wonderful.” I throw my hands about in frustration. “You guys have no home realm to go to, The long arm of the law is after Osiris because the police think he’s an armed and dangerous internet terrorist kidnapper, I’m trapped here because I’m wanted for murder because SOMEBODY…” I glare angrily at Mai. “Couldn’t keep their habits in their pants…”

“HAY!” Mai stands up, insulted. “A pregnant lady was being RAPED!! What the hell did you WANT me to do, huh, smartass??”

“Not beat them to DEATH, that’s for sure!” I stand up as well.

“Alright, alright, enough. Stop this, please.” Quentin stands up, getting in between us. He’s not as lovely and graceful as he usually is. His normally long, flowing golden hair is knotted and dull, his usual flawless face is dirty and lined from stress and the black clothing that clings to his perfect, lean frame from sweat was filthy and tattered. Despite this, he’s still a gorgeous man, but none of us have exactly been up to par lately.

“You think I wanted that man to die?? I don’t normally kill, Jasper, you know that!” Mai’s voice cracks as tears threaten his dark eyes.

“So shit happened and we all stepped in it. Can we move on now??” Davis growls.

For a long time afterwards, none of us speak. We just sit there and assess the screwed up situation we’re in and try to come up with a plan. We eventually resolve to send Bryon back out to spy some more on the detectives. Since they were split up at this point, we needed two spies, and maybe a third to hang around the D.A.’s office to find out what plan of action is being taken. I decide to give my attorney a call…from a payphone. __

“Yeah, Steele.” His tone is cold and impatient.

“Hello, I’m calling to find out the progress on that People v. Montgomery case.” I keep my tone as impersonal and calm as possible, but I was half-hoping he would recognize my voice. I didn’t really think he could help me, but I did need a lawyer after all.

“Who is this?” I don’t answer. “Jason? Jason, is that you?”

“Look, before you say anything, just listen to me. I wasn’t kidnapped two years ago. My mom was lying, that guy Osiris is only one of my characters, she just doesn’t want to admit I ran away willingly. The cops aren’t going to find anything on him because he doesn’t really exist.”

“Where can we meet? Don’t worry, nobody has to know I saw you.”

“How do I know I can trust you, Mr. Steele?” I sigh heavily, running my fingers through my hair again. “I mean…I don’t really know you.”

“I’m the only shot you have at proving your innocence, Jason. You can keep running, but they’ll catch up to you eventually. I’ll make sure they don’t get their hands on you until the trial, okay?” After that, there’s a long pause. There’s something in his voice that’s different from in the police station. Something more…sympathetic.

I sigh, not really seeing another alternative. “You got a pad and pencil?” __

5:30 pm. There he is, right on schedule. How did I guess he was the punctual type? He is wearing a pale green suit, but the tie and jacket were missing and his white shirt is rolled up at the sleeves and halfway unbuttoned. I couldn’t blame him, it was a thousand degrees out. All I was wearing was a thin Captain Marvel tee shirt and ripped jeans and I was melting. He spots me and walks towards me and I actually see him smile. He has a nice smile, and I think to myself that he should do it more often.

“Jason, my God. I’m glad you haven’t left the country. Where have you been staying?”

“With a few friends.” I grab him by the arm and lead him inside the crowded diner. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go eat.”

“How long has it been since you’ve had a decent meal? Don’t your friends feed you? Look at you, you’re filthy.” Shit-picking prick. I suddenly wanted to smack him in the face for sounding too much like my friggin’ mother.

“With all due respect, Mr. Steele, shut up and order. I’m starving.” I flip through the menu hastily and I see his brows knit sadly at me again.

“You’re angry with me for sending you to Belleview.” He cradles his chin with a fist.

“No, I’m angry with you for busting my balls. Not all of us are as perfect in appearance as you, Mr. Steele.” My tone positively drips with contempt and sarcasm. He merely closes his eyes and sighs at me, saying nothing. A long pause goes by where we just sit there and pretend to look at the menus. I already know what I want, and since he’s paying, it’s gonna be costly.

Suddenly, he speaks up in a rather passive voice. “Do you know anyone who would want to frame you for murder?”

“I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m nuts.” He glances up at me with both eyebrows raised. I just laugh and put the menu down. “What am I saying? You already think I’m nuts.” He responds by snickering and closing his eyes.

“You’re 20 years old and you have an imaginary friend, Jason. What do you want me to think? You don’t seem nuts right now, I must admit.”

“Just because I have an imaginary friend doesn’t make me nuts. It means I haven’t forgotten about him from when I was a kid.”

“So you admit he isn’t real.”

“I never said that. He is imaginary, but to me, he’s as real as you are.” I take a sip of water that some Mexican guy brings over to us. “I don’t expect you to understand any of this. In fact, if I wasn’t going through it, I’d probably call me nuts too. I don’t even think you can fairly defend me because I can’t even explain it to you.”

“Because I wouldn’t believe you? Well, lets hear it then.”

I chuckle more to myself than at him. “You aren’t going to believe it, but alright…just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I sigh and fiddle with the sweat dripping down the glass. “This whole thing started about two years ago on a freezing cold night in December. I was sitting at the computer making up a brand new character named Davis Frisco…”

And so, the truth came out. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. He sat there and listened wordlessly in between ordering and the occasional bite of food. He sat there as I spilt my guts to him against my better judgment and he devoted 100% of his attention to me the entire time. Even about three hours later, after I closed with the words, “…and here we are.” He still glared forward as though I never stopped talking. I shovel the last forkful of my food into my mouth and look at him looking at me.

He finally glances down at his plate and exhales deeply. “Whoo. That’s…quite a story.” He rubs the back of his neck, his jaw open and his eyes narrow in contemplation.

I smile without showing teeth, and with my mouth still full, I say, “Told ya’ you wouldn’t believe me.” He knows better than to respond. I swallow my food and follow up with, “In my defense here, all I can say is, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.”

Alright, alright, but even if I did believe this story…and this is a BIG IF…there would be no way in hell we could use it for a defense. We’d be laughed right out of the courtroom. Do you have any idea how completely ludicrous this sounds?”

“I know exactly how ludicrous it sounds, but it’s the truth.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin and smile at him again. He’s sweating and trying not to let me see how confused and panicked he is. It was kind of cute, actually.

“Would you consider taking an insanity plea?” He rubs the back of his neck again.

“Oh God, Irving. I can’t spend one more day in that damn funny farm. You have no idea what its like.” Cover my mouth with both hands and look at him again. He’s glaring at me with this pitiful look, the kind of look people get when they watch Christian Children’s Fund commercials.

“Well, I can’t promise you anything, we’re just going to have to pray for a lenient judge. All I can say is, I’ll do what I can.” I smile and give him a reassuring nod. “Look, Jason…if you’d like, I can put you up for tonight. You can use my shower and I’ll lend you a decent change of clothes.” And with that, his gaze falls to my red and gold ripped tee shirt.

A series of dirty thoughts run through my head just then of him molesting me in my sleep and me liking it. I sit there and take a good look at him. He wasn’t meticulously perfect anymore, and it suited him. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his short brown hair is slick from sweat and hangs just slightly past his eyebrows, giving him this early Tom Cruise look. He even has a slight five o’clock shadow. I smile wide and stare deeply into his eyes, which are now filled with an almost paternal-like concern. “Okay,” I blurt out almost unconsciously. “But you have to give me a while first. I gotta go tell my friends I won’t be there tonight.”

His eyes light up like magic. “Wonderful! Here, let me write down my address.” He yanks out a felt-tipped pen and begins scribbling on a napkin. “Oh, and let me give you my cell number too, in case you get lost or you want me to pick you up someplace…”

“How will your wife and kids feel about me crashing there?” I figured it was worth a shot.

Not looking up from the napkin, he knits his brows and shakes his head. “I live alone, don’t worry about it. There’s plenty of room for you.” _Do_ you now? __

It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be, telling my friends I wouldn’t be there tonight. They thought it was because I didn’t like the place they had made for me, so I had to tell them I was going on a date and that I wouldn’t be home because I expected to get laid. As is, Bryon followed me part of the way, and I had to lose him by going into a McNasty one way, getting lost in the crowd and going out a completely different exit. The smell of their awful food made me sick to my stomach, but at least I’m alone now. I’m in a rather well off neighborhood with some pretty townhouses lined by bushes, small yard trees and ivy. I come up to the address on the napkin, which is an impressive house that fits right in with the rest of the block. The ivy-covered house has a certain character, which makes up for Irving Steele’s lack of it. I go up nervously and ring the doorbell, which plays a short tune from a song I don’t recognize.

The door swings open and Irving’s freshly shaved face emerges, lit up like a Christmas tree. “Jason- come in, come in! Make yourself at home.” He moves aside so I can stroll in. “Would you like something to drink? I have hot cocoa on the stove, I’ll go get you a cup.” He walks quickly through the cavernous, barely furnished rooms before I have a chance to decline. I watch him wordlessly as he makes his way into the kitchen.

This place is amazing. It reminds me of a museum, because everything is so immaculate and organized, it made me want to break something. There’s a pale blue plush carpet in every room, paintings on the walls, the bay windows were spotless and the garbage pails were empty. It’s almost as if no one really lived here.

Irving comes whirl-winding back toward me with a mug in each hand. “Go on, have a seat, get comfortable. You can even take your shoes off if you’d like.”

“Uh, thanks, but I’ll keep them on for now.” I secretly wanted to smear mud on his beautiful clean carpet. “Thanks for the cocoa.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. If you want more, it will only take me a minute or two to make it.” He sits down immediately next to me and glares into my eyes. I feel my cheeks get hot and I know I must be beet red. He’s wearing some sort of cologne or aftershave, and it smells really, really good. “You know, Jason,” He slides one of his strong hands on my knee, then gently squeezes. “I’m really glad you came over. I worry about you.” He’s blatantly hitting on me. What do I do?

“Uhhh…thanks.” Was all I could come up with. I was weirded out, yes, but at the same time, I wanted this to happen. He’s far too cute for me to turn down such an enticing offer. He sips at his cocoa and then puts the cup onto the glass coffee table. I stare at him and put mine to the side as well. We glance at each other for a moment and I can feel this sexual tension rising in my groin, along with something else. I put my hand on his knee, and begin rubbing sensually on the inside on his thigh.

His eyes widen dramatically and he recoils his hand, using it to grab my wrist. “Jason…what are you doing??”

I lean over, pressing myself against him, grabbing his waist with both hands. “Why, I’m graciously accepting your offer, Mr. Steele.” He grabs my shoulders in a weak protest as I grab his face and kiss him. His whole body tenses up and his eyes remain wide, but he doesn’t struggle. My tongue finds its way past his soft lips and into his warm mouth.

“Mm, Jason…stop…” He yanks away from me, still gripping my shoulders. “I didn’t…I mean, I’m sorry if I lead you to believe…”

“Shush, it’s okay.” I put a finger on his lips and a hand on his bloated crotch. “I can feel how bad you want it. You don’t have to pretend.” I lean over and kiss him again, this time massaging his cock through his silk robe at the same time. He lets out a shaky sigh as he grips my wrist again. I use my body to push him backwards onto the couch, and he does so quite willingly. He moans against my lips, still making weak, futile protests, but his body tells a completely different story. I climb on top of him and undo the knot to his robe, pushing it open to reveal a cute pair of silk boxers and a toned, smooth chest lightly sprinkled with dark hair. The man obviously works out a few days a week, and he looks good for it. I feel up his chest and sides, making out with him heavily and slowly grinding my hips into his.

He wants it just as bad as I do, and we both know it. Pretty soon, he’s not even struggling anymore. Finally admitting defeat, his body surrenders itself to me, his arms wrapping around me and his hips beginning to grind back. His moans become those of pleasure and excitement, and his tongue dances with mine just as eagerly. My fingers grope up his arms, onto his shoulders and up his neck, until I’m entwining them in his silky brown hair. He wastes no time pulling my shirt over my head and feeling up my bare, sweaty chest. He sits up just enough to help me slide his robe off and grip onto the back of his neck with one hand, pulling his head close and passionately invading his warm mouth with my tongue, while my other hand roams purposefully over his swollen crotch. The more I kiss him, the more I want of him, and all this kissing and foreplay is making me absolutely nuts with desire.

He begins blindly fumbling with the zipper of my jeans, trying to get it open. I let him struggle with it for a little while before I offer assistance. He peels my jeans off me almost violently, pulling them down past my knees. I kick off my sneakers and pull them off the rest of the way. I barely turn back around in time for him to sit up, grab me with an unexpected aggressiveness, reversing the roles so that I’m pinned underneath his heaving body. I gladly let him nudge my head back so he could suck and nibble on my neck, running the very tip of his tongue in tiny circles right above my collarbone, making me shudder and moan. All the while, he’s managed to worm his hands underneath my ass and has two giant fistfuls of my tender cheeks.

In turn, I slip my hands past the band of his boxers and feel his soft, smooth ass, running my fingers lightly over his crack. He has smooth, velvety hairs coating it, which made me want to grope him endlessly. He grunts loudly and bites hard on my shoulder, beginning to grind against me again. His thick, perfect pink lips brush up against my ear as he pants heavily from excitement. His lips find their way to my own once again, and all of a sudden, he scoops me up in his arms and picks me up off the couch as though I weighed next to nothing.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?” I yelp out from shock as we make our way over toward the carpeted stairway.

“Mm. Shower. I want you soaking wet.” He kisses me again, this time with more passion than I thought him capable of. This man was full of pleasant surprises, and I can barely wait for the next one.

We stumble into a maroon-colored bathroom with a stand-up shower big enough for eight people. Still tongue-kissing me, he puts me down on the matching rug and sends the sliding glass doors flying open to make way for us. He wastes no time turning on a warm shower and ripping my underwear off me before tossing me in. He climbs in after peeling off his boxers, revealing what had to be the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t huge, maybe about 7 ½ inches of cut meat, just slightly tanned to perfection. It had a smooth purple crown that practically begged me to lick the pearled droplets of pre-cum from it, and I complied to its silent demands all too eagerly.

He moans loudly as I get on my knees before him and begin worshiping that fabulous cock of his with my tongue. He runs his fingers frantically through my hair as the warm water drenches us. First I lick all over the head, making sure not to miss an ounce of the bitter, raunchy seed that slides out of his piss-slit. Then, I rub my tongue all over the thick, swollen shaft, slowly making my way over to his bloated, hairy balls. As I press up against his loaded nuts with my tongue and fingertips, he grips my hair tighter and holds my head there, groaning out his approval. I hear him fumble around with something, and then I feel his warm, soaped-up hands lather up my dripping wet shoulders. I glance up for a moment and he drops the soap into my hands. I get a good lather going and begin sucking his cock again, soaping up his smooth, firm ass.

“Ah! Oh God, Jason, your mouth feels so good on my cock…that’s it, suck me!” He grunts out loudly, gripping my shoulders tight.

I soap up one of my fingers and start to slowly work it into his welcoming pucker, using my mouth on his prick to relax him so he lets me in. The thought of my finger quickly being replaced with my aching dick is almost too much to bear. He groans and cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as I work my finger all the way into his hole.

“Not soap, not soap! Jason, please…I have aloe gel, use that instead.” He pulls the smallest bottle in creation off the shower shelf thingy and puts it in my hand.

I continue to suck his cock until my finger is all the way out. I stand up and he sighs in relief, turning his ass toward the stream of water to cool his burning asshole. I take this time to use what little Aloe Vera gel was in that tiny bottle, squirt it all over my hard member, toss the bottle aside and grab his slender hips with both hands. He immediately grabs the far wall with both hands and begs me to enter him. I couldn’t deny him now if I tried. My throbbing cock felt as though it would explode if it didn’t get some gratification soon.

I slowly push myself into his tight, welcoming ass, and he reaches back and spreads his ass cheeks to help me along. “Oh yeah…oh, Mr. Steele, you’re ass is so fucking amazing, I could fuck you all night!” So with both hands gripping onto the wall, I thrust my cock in and out of him rapidly, my hands exploring his firm ass and slender hips. I bend over and bite down passionately onto his shoulder, then reach around with one of my hands and grip his bloated cock.

Just then, his moans get about twice as loud from the stimulation. He throws his head back and cries out, bucking his hips against me to meet my panicked thrusts. “Ohh god, please don’t stop, Jason! I’m begging you! It feels so good…I swear, I haven’t been fucked like this in years!”

“…Well get used to it, Mr. Steele, because you’re gonna be fucked like this a lot more often! If I’m going to be living here until the trial, you’ve got a lot of bending over to do!” I cap off my words with a faster pace, spearing my prick into his abused ass brutally, and he loves it. He rewards me with an elongated scream of pleasure. Unfortunately, I was so incredibly turned on, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I dumped my load into his beautiful apple-shaped ass.

His back arches and he lets out a series final escalating gasps to let me know he’s on the brink of orgasm. “Fuck me, Jason, FUCK ME!! HARDER, goddammit…OH YES!!” That’s when he grips the hand I’m using the stroke him off and guides it along, screaming and gasping at the top of his lungs, splattering his rich seed all over the bathroom walls. “Cum inside me, Jason, that’s it…” He moans out, gasping for breath. I’m quick to follow suit, being more turned on right now than I have been in quite some time. I grab his shoulders with both hands and yank his whole body into me as I unleash my hot, thick sperm deep inside his bowels. We both groan out loudly as my thrusting diminishes into long, smooth strokes. I’m so deep in the throes of ecstasy, I almost don’t hear the bathroom door click open.

“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK…?!?!”

We both spin around toward a middle-aged man standing there in a suit and tie, yanking the sliding doors open. His semi-wrinkled face is tensed in the most mortified look I’ve ever seen. His form is half obscured by the swirling steam that had filled up the room. Mr. Steele quickly struggles into a standing position, covering his weakening erection, his face suddenly white as a sheet.

“Carey! What…are you…I mean…I thought you were on your way to Maui!”

“My flight was delayed until tomorrow night, and it’s a good thing too! Get out of my shower. BOTH OF YOU!”

“Carey, please, I can explain…” Mr. Steele puts his free hand up and waves it in a defensive motion.

“Save it, Irv! I want you and your boy toy dressed and out of my house, right now. MOVE IT!” With that, he leaps over the ledge and grabs the nearest towel, still babbling about how he could explain everything.

“Hey, wait a second…” I decide to get in on this little soap opera, climbing out of the bathtub after him and wrapping a towel around my waist. “This is his house too- you can’t just kick him out!”

The man cackles sarcastically. “His house…is that was he told you? Grow up, kid, the man is a public defender! You think he can afford a house like this??” Now why didn’t I think of that? “No, Mister Steele here was merely house sitting for me during my vacation. It’s nice to finally know what you do with the place while I’m gone, you sniveling little worm!” The man raises a fist and goes to hit Irving, pinning him up against the wall. I leap in between them and hold the man back. “Fucking little boys in my own shower, huh, Irv? You’re a real pervert, you know that??”

“Hey now, mister! I’ll have you know I’m quite legal, thank you very much! In another seven months, I’ll be able to drink!”

“Which you’ll do plenty of if you hang around this little weasel enough, kid. Now get your fucking clothes on and get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops.”

Minutes later, we’re walking down the darkened city streets in our damp, disheveled clothes, blushed faces and Irving with his nice, prominent black eye. “Look, Jason, I’m really sorry about…”

“Lying to me?”

“Yeah…and uh…“

“Humiliating me?”

“That too.”

“Nearly getting us both arrested?”

“Alright, look. There’s no need to rub it in.”

“You started it. So are you going to swallow your pride now and take me to your real house, or are we gonna sleep on a park bench tonight?” I stop walking and glare at him meaningfully, threateningly. If he hands me one more pathetic, lousy excuse, I swear, I’ll walk off and get myself a new lawyer.

He merely stops, looks down and sighs heavily. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Our journey begins on the Brooklyn-bound number 4 train. I couldn’t tell you about the whole train, but we are officially the only two white people in the car. We then transfer at Atlantic onto the number 2, which brings an even more dangerous looking crowd into our company. People that, for unknown reasons, seem to get their jollies out of staring at and silently challenging us from neighboring seats. We do our best to ignore it. When we get off in a neighborhood that makes my skin crawl, about four big hooligans follow us off the train, all the way to the end of the platform and into a parking lot with absolutely no light. I could barely see my own hand in front of my face, but I could hear them stomping after us, keeping pace. I think they want to mug and kill us. I’m scared and I want my mommy.

Irving whispers harshly to me, grabbing my arm. “This way, c’mon.” He leads me out of the side of the lot onto this sidewalk that’s so torn up, it was actually hazardous to walk on. There were a few streetlights here, and to my utter relief, the four hoodies hadn’t followed us this far. We got onto a large avenue where there were all these groups of people hanging out outside of corner delis, smoking pot and drinking large bottles of malt liquor out of brown paper bags. A few of them harass us for money on the way past, and a few ask if we want to buy drugs. There was a funny smell to this neighborhood, and all I could think about was that this made Bryon’s “place” look like friggin’ Bell Air.

Before I know it, he stops me dead in my tracks. We’re standing in front of a poorly lit, crumbling six floor walk-up building that looks like it’s survived more than a few fires, with paint-peeled steps, rusted, bent iron banisters and bars on every miniscule, yellow-tinted window. There was graffiti all over the place, and there was a bum clearly visible inside the lobby with a bottle of scotch and a ripped porno tape cover.

“Look,” He touches my shoulder with an odd, sort of panicked look in his eye. “There’s something I gotta tell you before we go in…” Just then, those four hoodies come around the corner and smile when they see us. Crap.

I grab his arm and lead us into the front door. “You can tell me later, just, let’s get inside.” He pulls out his keys and begins to unlock the inner door when that bum comes up to us with his filthy hand out. “Sorry, man. I’m poorer than you are.” Irving chuckles at me and leads me the rest of the way, up three flights of stairs, each flight smelling more of urine than the last, and finally up to a small unmarked door with a faded, plastic crucifix on it. I turn to him, panting like a dog from walking up those damn stairs. “So, is this it?”

“Yes, but there’s something you should know, Jason.”

“More surprises? Just open the damn door.”

“Please, just listen to me. Look, it’s not…I mean, when I got your case…it was…no accident.” His eyes become sorrowful and embarrassed.

“No accident? What are you talking about??” His silence makes me uneasy. “Irving, tell me what the hell you’re talking about. Open the door.” His breathing becomes labored and I hear the clicking of at least three or four locks, but all I could look at were his eyes.

The door swings open and Irving steps aside passively. “See for yourself.”

I walk into the pitch-dark apartment and feel along the walls for a switch. I find one and suddenly, the room is flooded with light, revealing a cramped studio with an old, ratty couch, shelves, bookcases, plastic table and chairs and all along the walls and doors were photocopies and homemade drawings of my comic book characters. All of them, especially Lazarus. Right above the couch was a whole bunch of newspaper clippings of me at the book signing and headlines about the trial and the beating of those guys by a man they claimed was dressed as Lazarus. Right above the clippings was a copy of In Your Dreams #1 signed, To Irving, XOXO…Jasper Collins. I’m in such shock, I almost fall on my ass.

He grabs me and holds me close to him. “Like I said…I begged my boss to let me have your case. You see, I’m a bag fan of yours, Jasper. I have been for two years. I’m an artist too, see? That’s some of my work up there, you like it?”

I push away from him and take another good look at the art that isn’t mine. He was pretty good, but his lines were too dark, too forced. “It’s…it’s good, Mr. Steele, real good.”

He closes and locks the door, then goes to grab me again, displaying a disturbed looking grin on his blushed face. “I knew you’d like it! I was going to wait until the trial ended before bringing you here so you wouldn’t be distracted. See, I was figuring that for the next issue, you and I could work together. That’s my dream, and I was sure that once you saw how much I loved your work, you’d want to be with me…”

“There’s…” He grabs my wrists and I tense up, glaring into his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong…with having dreams, Mr. Steele, but…I’m doing fine on my own.” His brows knit angrily and he yanks me closer to him by my wrists. “Mr. Steele, stop it. Leggo, arrgh, you’re hurting me!”

“You’re doing fine? You call this doing fine? You get rich and famous off your characters while almost destroying them in the process, you destroy their home, force them to live in hiding and now you’re on trial for murdering someone you can’t even prove you didn’t beat up? Son, if that’s your idea of fine, then I’d hate to see your life in shambles. However, if that’s what it’s going to take to prove to you how much you need me, then I can go ahead and arrange that!” He squeezes my wrists tightly, making me scream out in pain.

“Stop it! Let go’a me!! Steele, so help me, if you don’t fucking let go of me…”

“You’ll what, you’ll kill me? You couldn’t hurt a kitten, Jasper Collins.”

“Stop…CALLING ME THAT!!” *WHACK* I slam my knee into his crotch as hard as I can. He releases my wrists and grabs his groin with a loud cry. I don’t know what comes over me, but I uppercut him. He falls, but I know my punch did practically nothing to him. “Fucking pervert!!” I walk over and kick the side of his head, then a few times in the ribs. “I fucking hate you, you creepy ass psycho!!” I bend down and grab his hair, spitting in his face as I yell. “I don’t care if I was about to be put to death…I would never…EVER allow your ugly name to be printed on my comic, you understand me?! You suck donkey balls and your coloring skills bite whale ass!! Oh, and by the way…YOU’RE FIRED!” And with that, I walk over to the door, unlock it and walk out.

The bum in the lobby was gone and there was no sign of the hoodlum brigade all the way back to the subway station. I didn’t have any money so I ended up having to jump the turnstile just as the train was pulling in. Some fat transit cop attempted to chase me, but he was no match for my panicked state and rushing adrenaline. When I sit down on the train, I realize that I’m shaking like a leaf. This is stupid. Why am I doing this to myself? In a way, that creep, Steele was right; I caused this whole thing. It was me who fucked up and obliterated my own dream realm, it was me who indirectly killed that man, so it’s only fair that I take my punishment like an adult. Maybe it’s better this way. __

“Hi,” I go up to the officer behind the huge desk of the precinct when I first walk in. “I’m here to see Officers Nathan Morris and Michael Bennett. Are they around?”

“Yeah, what’s this about, son?”

I look him right in the eye and in a calm, collected tone, I say, “I’d like to confess to a murder, sir.”

“….Come with me.” He leads me around the corner, through a whole bunch of sparsely populated desks. Bennett and Morris are sitting at two desks facing each other.

“Well, well. It’s the man of the hour, Mister Montgomery.” Morris grins. “Thanks, sarge. Here, kid, have a seat.” Bennett pulls up a chair in between their two desks. I have their complete and total attention, and I don’t plan on disappointing them.

“I did it. I murdered that one guy. I didn’t mean to, and I know you two think I’m a royal fruitcake, but I’m here to say I did it.”

The cops begin chuckling quietly. Bennett shakes his head at me. “Aren’t you a little late for that, Jason?”

“…What? What are you talking about?” I glance back and forth at the two, who are still giggling at me.

“We already have the killer. He came in earlier tonight and confessed.” Bennett yawns.

“Confessed?? What, NO, I did it…me! It was me!” Who in the world could have… “How do you know he wasn’t lying? I know what those men were doing!”

“So did he. He also surrendered the getup to us and knew a few details about the crime only the real perp would know. So, yeah, I do know he wasn’t lying.” Morris sips at his coffee, spilling a little on his tie. “Fuck. Got a napkin, Mikey?”

That son of a bitch, if he doesn’t get the needle, I’ll kill him myself. “Wait, athletic Asian guy? Dark skinned, my height?”

The detectives look at each other. “That’s none of your concern. You’re off the hook, kid. Now go home and call your mother, she’s worried about you.”

“No, I know that guy, he’s a liar! He knew all that stuff because I told him, and he stole the costume from me!”

Bennett sighs heavily. “Both remaining guys picked the perp out of a line-up, kid. It won’t work. Now go home.”

I stand up, furious at them for speaking of my pride and joy like he was some common criminal. “Where is he? I wanna see him! I’m posting his bail!”

“He’s in the tombs, it’s past visiting hours and you can’t post bail because he hasn’t even been arraigned yet, now go the fuck home before I do decide to book you for something!”

Bennett stands up as well, equally as disgusted and we have a stare-down for a few seconds before I narrow my eyes and back away a few steps. “I’ll be back in the morning. I wanna see him before he gets arraigned.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

“Fine.” I turn around and walk out of the precinct. __

Earlier That Day: This is not a good idea, but it’s the only solution to get Jasper out of the mess that I put him in. He was right, this whole thing happened because I had to go and don the costume in a realm I had no idea about. I was stupid to think they’d merely just accept me, and so I decided to set things right. Bryon insisted on going with me, of course, to keep an eye out for me. He’s always been good like that. Seth Mendle is masquerading as my half-wit lawyer, just to give the blue boys a little false confidence, and Alejandro Vega is pretending to be an eyewitness and identify me so there are no questions. I handed them over my own costume, because I couldn’t get near Jasper’s apartment to get his homemade one. The surviving members of the rapists I beat up had no problem identifying me because, hey, I was the guy, right?

“My name…is…Hugo Leon.” I pretended to speak with an accent, saying I got here from Thailand illegally about two years ago, which explains the fact that I don’t have a social security number. I claimed that I first approached Jasper disguised as one of his characters so he’d be less hostile to my visit. I also said that Jasper consented to leaving with me and he would verify my story. That took Osiris off the hook. They took my prints and made me sign all sorts of forms, one of which being a full confession. I made sure to give them lots of little juicy details about the crime that only I would know so there wouldn’t be any questions. I claimed that I was a huge comic fan and became obsessed with In Your Dreams from the day I arrived in this country. I told him I made the costume myself, and that I saved Jasper because I knew he wasn’t guilty, and that it was my fault he’s now a fugitive. They bought it, and now I’m being escorted in cuffs to my new holding cell. Bryon is walking right beside us in tears, begging me to at least consider escaping. I don’t say a word.

They leave me in cuffs, and the door makes a horrible *CHUNG* sound as it shuts tight in between Bryon and I. I glance around at all the punks and gangsters I’m rooming with, and they’re looking at me like I’m a big piece of tenderloin swinging about inside a butcher shop window. I squint and smile at them as they chuckle and surround me. One of them is pulling off his belt.

“Hey there, pretty boy. You got a nice ass on you. Turn around so’s I can see it better.” He and the other six guys surrounding me laugh, and one of them laps his tongue out at me suggestively. Another one grips his crotch.

“Leave him alone, you shaved apes!” Bryon grips onto the bars, yelling at them. He’s gotta know only I can hear him. I merely glance back at him with a silent ‘hush’.

“You think the cops are gonna save you, boy? I don’t think so. They’re long gone. Now why don’t you make things easier for us and get on your knees, cause if you make us do it, it’s gonna be painful.” Damn, why did they have to leave the handcuffs on?? This was going to be a long night, and somebody is going to feel it in the morning. Unfortunately, right now, it looks like that somebody is gonna be me. __

Present: After storming out of the precinct, I decided to head back to the warehouse. I needed to do some thinking. Would it be wise to bust him out of there? Should I get one of my characters to do it? Should I just leave things alone and hope for an acquittal? I get down into the basement and open the door. To my shock, there’s nobody home, but there’s a bag full of fast food and thirty bucks waiting for me on the card table. There’s a note on the TV from Osiris saying he and a few of the others went and “handled stuff”, and that I should just go home and relax, my rug was dry and my landlord never found out about the flood. Not knowing what else to do, I take the food and the cash and go home. There, I find the whole crew sitting around inside my apartment talking, eating and laughing. When I walk in, dirty, tired and pissed off, Anubis sits me down, Russ feeds me a Napoleon while Quentin gives me a back massage.

“Can somebody please tell me what’s going on here? Mai is in jail and you guys don’t seem to care!”

“On the contrary, my friend.” Osiris speaks up, sitting cross-legged on my bed tacking away on his trusty laptop, hooked into what looked to be a brand new cell phone. “I have a plan.”

“Oh? Then enlighten me, my dearest expert hacker. And while you’re at it, you can tell me where you got the new hardware.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll never get caught.”

“He swiped it right off someone’s belt.” Matthew Hurst snickers.

“Anyway, tell ‘im about my plan, guys. Oh, this is dastardly. Simply brilliant.” Osiris throws his arms up and bows. “Awe and praise, everyone. Tell me how ridiculously and obscenely ingenious I am.”

“I’ll tell you how ridiculously and obscenely full of yourself you are.” Craig Kitterman frowns, crossing his arms.

“What was that? Do I smell something?”

“I’m afraid that’s me you’re smelling, Osiris. I was in Hellsville being assaulted by my lawyer.” I sigh. “Now will somebody please be kind enough to fill me in?”

“Sit back and put your feet up, Jasper. This one’s gonna knock your socks off.” __

Seth and I were standing outside that precinct first thing the next morning, and we wouldn’t go away until they let us see Mai. Apparently, we really were the first ones to see him that morning, because the cops were just as shocked as we were to find him handcuffed in a cell with about seven unconscious biker guys littering the floor.

“Hey, guys.” He gives us a big, innocent smile as the officer unlocks the door and barks at him to leave the cell. Mai calmly explains that these fine gentlemen wouldn’t take no for an answer and so he had to resort to violence. The cops can’t seem to get over the fact that he did all this while handcuffed. We were given a short while to talk to him alone, at which time we fill him into our plan.

“Hugo Leon?” I cringe. “What the hell made you use the name Hugo?”

“So you’d hear it and know it’s time hhyoooo-go post my bail! Heh heh heh…” Mai smacks the table and chuckles at his own joke.

“….” Seth smacks his forehead. “Mai, you’re an idiot.”

As the morning progresses, they place Mai in a cell by himself and we bring him back something to eat. We go with him to his arraignment and Seth argues that a person who walks into a police station and willingly admits to committing a crime is hardly a flight risk. The judge is tired and hungry and wants to rush things along, so he grants Mai $30,000 bail.

The night before, Osiris had used that laptop of his to trick a few ATM machines into giving up a good portion of their cash. This morning, before the bailiff could cart Mai off to Rykers, Seth posted his bail in cash and Mai was free to go. What the D.A., and even I didn’t know was that from the moment Osiris got here, while making his rounds at every internet café and library in the city, he had set up a nice little funneling system for himself, knowing something bad was going to happen. He created a few dummy accounts and funneled a fraction of a cent off the dollar from at least eight different banks. By now, we should have quite a fortune at our fingertips.

Osiris didn’t care about being subtle, because he knew that by the time they found out what was going on, the money would be ours. Last night, we began negotiations to buy a small island about six miles off the coast of Florida under a false name. The deal should go through long before Mai’s court date. The island would be for my babies, of course. It could never replace their realm, but it’s a good place to start.

As for me, my place is here, in my good old basement apartment with my brand new roommate, Bryon. After all, who else is gonna finish making In Your Dreams #20? Besides, I have to go down to visit my old friend, Irving Steele, who was stupid enough to find Bennett and Morris and tell them the truth, exactly as I told it to him. That little attempt to try and get back at me landed him a cozy little cell over at Belleview. From this I learned two things: first, homicide detectives can indeed be good for something, and two, whether you’re in a dream realm or in real life, there really is such a thing is “Happily Ever After”.

end