He was at the table. And then he wasn't. 

The room was warm, and smelled of sex. He was lying in his bed, sheets tangled every which way around his naked body. The shower was running, and light crept around the corners and edges of the not-quite-shut bathroom door. His ceiling fan spun lazily on its lowest setting overhead, and the clock on his nightstand said 1:48 in crisp red led. He had that tired, satiated feeling he always had after a good fuck, and he could see his clothes scattered about on the floor, along with a skirt, blouse and bra that definitely weren't his. 

Humming could just barely be heard over the sound of water. 

He blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He looked toward the bathroom, then again at the clothes. His eyes darted around, unfocused, as he tried to put together what had happened. He'd been at Choppers with the crew, then...weirdness. Randerawl. A bunch of strangers. Post-apocalyptic danger. Powers and games and...

He scrambled out of bed and looked for his phone. He found it, pressed the menu button. 1:51am, 12/25/2011. He stared at the date and time until it faded, then hit the button again and watched until it switched to 1:52am. Christmas.

"A dream?" He hadn't meant to speak aloud, but that was okay. He sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, rubbing his face. A dream. An incredibly vivid, alcohol-induced dream, bordering on a hallucination. It had to be. A quiet laugh escaped, relief tinged with a touch of  worry. Parts of the evening were blank while the dream seemed so real. That wasn't a good sign, but it was still better than the alternative. He looked over his shoulder at the clothes on the floor, and again toward the bathroom.

He shook his head. No idea.

He dropped back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "A dream," he said again with a soft chuckle. "A fucking dream." He let out a huge sigh, trying to relax again. Christmas with the folks, maybe drinks again with a few of the crew after...just another day, a normal holiday visit.

"Normal is good," he said to the ceiling with a smile.

The shower cut off, and a few seconds later he heard the curtain being pulled back. He watched the ceiling fan make its eternal journey to nowhere and listened to the very nice sound of feminine humming that still issued from his bathroom. The door opened, and a girl he'd never seen before, a very attractive and very naked girl, clicked off the light and slid back into bed, blonde hair still damp, skin smelling of his soap. She was in her mid-twenties, and obviously spent some time at the gym. "Hi," she said quietly, running a and up his chest and tickling him under the chin. Her blue eye sparkled. 

Marcus couldn't help but be turned on a little, and the familiar ache of recent sex reminded him that apparently he'd already gone at least one round with this girl, if not two. He his hands find her back, then trail down to her oh-so-toned ass. He might not know who she was--or what happened last night--but that was no reason not to enjoy a fresh get-to-know-you session before he headed back to his parents'.

"Hello," he said with a smile he actually felt. He felt himself stirring again and his expression grew slightly more mischievous as his hands slowly explored her body. "Merry Christmas."

"Very merry," she murmured, her hands doing a little exploration of their own. She kissed the tip of his nose and sighed. "I should go. I've got work tomorrow, and it's kinda late." 

"Or early," he said suggestively, giving a little squeeze. "Wait. You work on Christmas?"

She returned his squeeze, breathing in the scent of him. "Yeah. I'm a nurse, remember?" She sat up, the red LED from the alarm clock bathing her form in a soft rose glow. "You better call me, Wings." She rapped him on the chest lightly with one hand. "Cause I'm not done with you yet." 

"Wings?" He asked, a twinge of anxiety hitting him. He sat up, scooting up a bit to lean against the wall. "And did I already get your number?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Seriously?" 

Marcus smiled sheepishly. "Well, yeah." He tried to think quickly. A memory to go on would be helpful. "Had to reset my phone," he said with a shrug.  "Lost a lot of contacts. I'm hoping to upgrade soon so it doesn't happen again."

"Are you ok?" she asked, as she slid out of bed and started gathering her clothes, giving him a very nice view of what he had,  theoretically, just enjoyed. "I just put it in there for you at dinner."  

Crap. "Well," he began, reaching over to retrieve his phone. "Yeah. Mostly. Just going through a personal crisis, is all. It's kinda hard to come back home sometimes. Always feels like I'm missing something. And lately work has been...well, work." He unlocked his phone and started scrolling through his contacts trying to find the unfamiliar entry. "I dozed for a minute while you were in the shower and it feels like I slept through an entire day. Strange dreams and all that." He shook his head and offered what he hoped was a suitably winsome smile. "Anxiety and stress, I guess. And the holidays in general. Makes me kinda wonky.."

Serena... there it was. He knew he didn't know any Serenas. Local number too. 

Serena was peering at him shrewdly as she slipped into her bra, then fastened it behind her back with quick, deft fingers. "If you're about to tell me you're married, or that you're going through a separation, or any codependent bullshit like that, you can just delete that number right now," she said, matter-of-factly. No malice or anger, just a statement as hard as diamond. "I can usually spot that sort of thing right off, but there's always a first time." 

Marcus laughed, genuinely relieved, if not for the reasons Serena might believe.

"God, no," he said. "Nothing like that." He set his phone to the side. "It really is just a stress thing. I'm just not sure I want to be a lawyer for the rest of my life. It's...I don't know. I've just always been content to get by. This dream I had...well, I guess it was kind of an eye opener. Like I need to do better. Or be better." He smiled and shrugged. "A bit early for a midlife crisis, I know, but what are you gonna do?" His smile faltered. "And why'd you call me 'wings'?"

Serena wrapped her top around her shoulders and clipped it at the side. One of those simple but not wrap things that looked great if a woman had the breasts to pull it off. Serene did. She pointed at his chest now that she was dressed. "Cause of those." She was pointing at the silvery-looking pair of feathered wings that hung on the chain around his neck. "Wouldn't look good on most men, but you pull it off." She sat on the bed near him as she slipped into her heels, then bent down and kissed him hard on the mouth, hair fanning her face and falling into his eyes. "I hope you get your shit together and call me. Because that was some intense sex." 

He almost messed up the kiss. The necklace... The necklace was real. The dream was real. His mind raced...

"Yeah," he said distractedly, then brought himself back to the here-and-now. "Yeah." He smiled. "It was." He hoped. "And I'll definitely call."

Serena stood up and flipped her hair back. "You better." She held his eyes with mock seriousness before winking. Marcus watched her turn and leave, a part of him admiring her form even with clothes on.. He'd really outdone himself this time, even if he didn't remember it. But that was only a small part of him; the rest of his mind was scrambling to make sense of what he did remember. Or thought he did.

Even before he heard the front door close Marcus was looking down, chin tucked to chest, examining the pendant. It was the same one. It was the same one as in the dream. The dream was real. But...

"It can't be." Marcus jumped out of bed and pulled on his pants. He looked out his window, then scrambled to find the remote for the tv. He sat on the edge of bed, remote in one hand, idly fingering the pendant with the other, as he turned to the news channels. Problems in the Middle East, playoff picks, campaign crap, European financial woes...all the usual. Nothing about any apocalypse. Nothing about it. Then how...?

"What the fuck?" He ran his hand through his hair. He fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Jesus Christ."

There was no way that the dream was real. Randerawl, that creepy bastard...he didn't look like a real person. And there was no apocalypse. And he was here in his hotel in Denver after apparently meeting and fucking some hot nurse named Serena, even if he didn't remember it. Except he had on the necklace Randerawl had given him.

"What. The. Fuck."

Restless, Marcus got up and took a shower, his mind racing the entire time. He couldn't make sense of it. He had no answers. He went back to bed, briefly distracted by the scent of sex and a perfume he didn't recognize (not that he would know if he recognized it). He lay there, going over every detail he could remember--from the bar, from the dream--until he at last drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

Marcus slept fitfully for the few hours allowed him before his body decided it was time to wake. His dreams ranged from freaky scenes with Randerawl as everything from his old Math teacher to a feeling of flying high above the world only to have Randerawl tug on a leash around his neck. Granted, there were brief scenes of what may or may not have happened with Serena in those dreams, as well, but his sense of disquiet upon awakening far outweighed any arousal he might have experienced.

It was barely 8am when he dragged himself out of bed. He headed to the bathroom and started the shower, taking a moment to check himself in the mirror while waiting for the water to warm up. Sure enough, there the chain around his neck, wings pendant dangling on his breastbone just past the hollow of his throat.

There was no clasp. He ran the chain around, the pendant bumping his breastbone. No clasp. He held it out but realized that the chain was a bit short to fit over his head. It was more like a choker as he lifted it to his chin. Upon closer examination in the mirror he also noted that the links of the chain appeared to be solid. He might be able to break the thin metal, but he wasn’t prepared to go that far just yet. He gave up analyzing the chain and spent a few moments admiring the delicate strength of the pendant. It really was kinda nice, if not something he would’ve picked out for himself. Still, it seemed to work. And Serena had liked it. He sighed and stepped into the shower.

Twenty minutes later he was shaved, showered and headed for the lobby of his hotel. He took a moment to enjoy a bagel (with cream cheese), a glass of OJ, and a cup of coffee while checking out the Post. In the back of his mind he was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on. There wasn’t much to go on but the necklace itself was a difficult clue to dismiss. More and more he began to wonder if everything he’d experienced was indeed real, but….perhaps it hadn’t happened yet. If today really was Christmas, and they were fifty-something years in the future during that meeting, then either none of them were going to age, or time-travel was involved somehow. Except the whole idea seemed to hinge on Randerawl and his so-called companions being able to somehow alter reality.

Thank God for comic books, Marcus thought, sipping at his coffee. Comics and sci-fi movies had given him a frame of reference for the crazy shit he might now have to accept as real. Time travel, dimensions, abilities, otherworldy entities…whatever. Strange shit, all of it, but also possibly real, and that was the tough pill to swallow. He stood up and went for a second cup of coffee.

Some time later he still hadn’t come to any conclusions but he couldn’t put off going to his folks’ any longer. He stepped outside and hailed a cab, two large shopping bags filled with gifts in either hand. Twenty minutes after that he was opening the door to his childhood home and stepping into the welcoming arms of his mother and father.

Linda Turner was a short matronly woman in her mid-fifties with a perpetual smile. Marcus sometimes teased her that she could be Paula Dean’s sister. His father, Larry, was tall and lanky, just beginning to show a bit of a paunch but still spry even though he was nearing seventy. His sister, Elena, was there. She, like Marcus, was tall, blond and fit, and while she could be a bit on the bitchy side she was usually pretty upbeat. Especially, as Marcus suspected was the case now, after a glass or two of wine. Her husband, Paul, was a stocky ex-military man who ran his own IT consultant firm. He and Marcus had never really been friends, but both were content to remain civil because of Elena. Bette and James Hagen were also in attendance. They were Larry and Linda’s oldest friends and Marcus thought of them as extended family. Even Buck, his parents Labrador, seemed happy to see him, and Marcus had never really spent time with the dog.

Inside the house was comfortable and pleasantly warm, and the smell of food already being prepped and cooked drifted from the kitchen. Marcus threw his jacket over the arm of the nearby sofa and spent many long minutes smiling and hugging and kissing cheeks until his father pressed a mulled cider into his hand and they all sat down to catch up. Christman knick-knacks were tastefully placed about the tables and mantle, a small but neatly-decorated tree in one corner, simple white lights and tinsel somehow seeming more elegant than the traditional gaudy and colorful décor. Gifts of all sizes ringed the base, the paper alternating between tastefully elegant and amusingly gaudy.

So he sat and visited, catching up on what he’d missed since his last visit, offering a few details of his recent happenings (minus the whole “game” thing), and laughing over times past. It was, all in all, a nice homecoming.

Buck began nudging people at random and Marcus stood to take the dog out for whatever needs he might have. Happy to have someone’s attention, the Lab led Marcus to the back, through the sliding glass door and into the yard. Marcus smiled as the dog ran around the hedges, looking for a good place to do his business. It was still chilly outside and Marcus hadn’t bothered to grab his coat, so he stamped his feet and flipped up his collar. The necklace moved on his chest and he once again contemplated the new accessory.

Wings. He could fly. According to Randerawl, that was. Then again, in theory the world had nearly ended, or soon would. Hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t right now. Buck was running around the yard and barked as several birds flew from the trees. Marcus watched the birds for the few moments it took for them to leave his sight. He couldn’t help but wonder—again—what it would be like, really like, to fly. He absently reached up to hold his pendant, starting thoughtfully up at the sky.

What the hell?

Taking a deep breath, Marcus tried to remember the movies with people flying. Superman just gave a little push with his feet, basically jumping into the air and taking off.

Feeling like an idiot, Marcus gave it a shot.

The ground peeled away, spinning gently as his body rotated in a slow barrel roll. It was effortless, as easy as walking. No smoke, no flames, no crazy wings flapping at his back, just the utter negation of gravity, and the feel of the wind flowing around him as he climbed into the chilly blue afternoon sky. Below, Buck began to bark, running around like a puppy in circles, head lifted towards his rapidly dwindling master. 

Marcus panicked, the sudden weightlessness sending his heart into overdrive. He flailed wildly for a few moments, his lazy rotation suddenly becoming a panicked scramble for balance, for purchase, for....rightness. He drifted about, started to gain a little moment and, willing himself to stop stop STOP, crashed into the ground. Buck jumped over and licked his face, barking happily at the new game.

Marcus picked himself up and brushed himself off, trying to will his heart into a more normal and less hammer-like rhythm. He took several deep breaths and reached down to pet Buck, who still wanted to play.

"That," Marcus said to the excited dog, "Was...fucking cool!" He couldn't help but grin. It was real. The whole flying thing was real. He wanted to jump up and soar into the sky, look down upon the earth, fly over the oceans and see the world as it was meant to be seen...

But that'd be stupid. He could kill himself trying that. More importantly, his mother would kill him if he suddenly disappeared at Christmas.

He looked at the back door, half-expecting to see stunned family staring at him. Seeing that his antics were so far unobserved he stood up and, breathing deep again, attempted the same maneuver. This time, though, he was ready for it, and he rose ten, twelve, maybe fifteen feet in the air before he looked down at the ground and sort of willed himself to drift back to earth. The landing was still a little rough but he could help but laugh as Buck continued to jump and back and run in circles.

He crouched down and ruffled the dogs head. Buck licked him again, grinning like only dogs can do. Marcus laughed again. "You have no idea."

Heart still racing he stood and led the dog back into the house. He explained his flushed face, breathless attitude and slightly grassy knees off as playing with Buck, which earned him gentle ribbing, and he sat the rest of the morning and early afternoon doing nothing but wanting another shot at flying. Buck gave him more attention than ever, too, the dog never very far from his feet.

It was early afternoon when everyone started making noises about leaving. They were all full from ham and all the fixings, pumpkin pie dessert, coffee with or without alcohol, cider, wine and what-have-you. It had been a pleasant day, with only a mild disagreement between Marcus and Paul threatening to escalate into an argument. Marcus let the issue slide, though--Paul really had no clue about politics, being a brainwashed liberal. He was simply in too good a mood to let a stupid jarhead ruin his mood.

Again laden with bags--this time laden with leftover pie, a couple of new shirts, books and cds and an expensive desk pen-and-clock set--Marcus got into his cab and headed back to the hotel. He had a couple of hours before he was to meet up with Jesse, Janice and a couple of the others. He'd planned on getting a nap in before hooking up with his friends--and maybe Serena--but now...

Marcus put on jeans and a t-shirt, a flannel shirt over that, and a hooded sweatshirt on top of that. He hitched his sunglasses onto his shirt collar and slipped out of his hotel room, impatiently taking the elevator back down to the parking garage. He got into his car and drove maybe a mile down the road to Deerfield Commons Elementary, his old grade school back when his parents thought Catholic schools had better educational advantages. He parked in the small lot and made his way through the walkways between the small buildings. The school looked much smaller than he remembered, but it'd been years since he'd even driven by. Still, it had what he was looking for.

First off, it was of course deserted, being Christmas. Secondly, the playground bordered the back end of a park, complete with eucalyptus trees and a small creek. It was easy to hop the fence and head into the more wooded area. The front of the park had a few people--a group of teens playing touch football, a couple walking their dogs, a few random passers-through. No one could really see him in the trees, though, unless they were looking long and hard. He found a small clearing and pulled up his hood, then put on his sunglasses. Then, staring at the sky, willed himself up.

And up he went. And sideways. And backwards. And rolls and loops, and upside down and right side up. He figured out the landing fairly quickly - he had expected to hit the ground hard, and so he did. Once he calmed down and simply willed himself a softer touch, it became so. The late afternoon sky was his, and he made good use of it. The speed with which he flew left him shaking and startled, the ground would roll by faster and faster, until everything was a green-brown blur. He found that he could decelerate just as quickly, stopping almost on a dime. 

He'd thought that friction might be a problem, but it was not. He'd worried that the higher he went, the colder it would become and the harder it would get to breathe. This was not the case. Never did he feel more than a light breeze upon his face, no matter how fast he went.

After his last landing Marcus could help but whoop in joy. Flying! Honest to God flying! He could scarcely believe it! He turned in place, feeling the ground beneath his feet, and it felt almost like it was holding him down. He wanted to fly everywhere. If there was one thing he knew, though, it was that this was exactly the sort of thing that could destroy him and his family. At best he could become some sort of freakish celebrity, hounded by cameras all day long. At worst he could end up a government lab rat. They'd drag his folks into it. And his sister. No, definitely something to keep secret. At least for now. He could get a costume of some sort, and maybe a mask, and he could fight crime or something. Well, maybe not that. That could be dangerous, and with today's modern CSI stuff they'd figure out who he was in no time.

No, best to keep it a secret for now, as hard as that might be. Keep the flying to a minimum until he could figure things out. Except for one last test.

Marcus looked up, straight up, and took off.

Shouldn't space be cold, Marcus wondered as he gazed down at the blue-green surface of his planet. Shouldn't I be dead? He couldn't hear anything. Couldn't feel anything beyond a slight coolness all around him. It was impossible to describe what he was seeing to anyone who hadn't done the same thing.. seen with human eyes the glory of the planet, as viewed from orbit. 

Breathless from the sight, Marcus turned himself and began his descent. At first he simply marveled at the sight of the world below him, but as his vision grew a little hazy as he reentered the atmosphere it occurred to him to be more observant of geology. It was amazing how much everything looked the same from space. As he grew close and features began to become more pronounced he eyeballed the coast and found Baja, California and the end of the Colorado River. Still a mile or two above the ground he poured on the speed, following the river to what he was sure was Grand Junction, Colorado. From there it was easy enough to keep half an eye on the 70 until he reached Denver. It hadn't taken as long as he'd thought but he now knew he could easily get lost if he didn't keep track of landmarks and direction.

It took him a little longer to get his bearings so that he touched again in the park some time later. He lowered himself to the ground and simply stood, taking slow, deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He wasn't all that tired--no more so than if he'd run for a bit--but the thrill of what he'd just done, what he'd just seen, left him feeling drained. A laugh bubbled up and he whooped into the sky, shouting his elation at the clouds. Whatever else might happen, he would always have the memory of the world spinning slowly before him. That was his and his alone.

Still smiling to himself and humming tiredly, he walked back to his car to head back to the hotel. He could still make it for drinks with his friends, and he seriously needed to consider his next course of action. If he could fly--and he could fly!--then it was almost certain everything else he'd been shown was true. The others had their own abilities, and they would be figuring out how to use them, hopefully in a good way. That, then, was Marcus'  next move. How could he use this ability to better himself and the world around him? More importantly, how could he stop or at least mollify the coming apocalypse? He had much to consider, that was certain. But today was Christmas, if only for a while longer, and he was going to spend the evening with his friends. If he was going to change the world he might as well do it after one good day of  relaxation.

His friends. Could he bring them in on this? Could he trust them not to tell anyone? Jesse almost certainly. Probably Janice, too. The others...maybe. Tom would follow Jesse's lead, he thought, but the others he couldn't be sure about. He'd have to see who was there tonight at Choppers. Besides, he had to tell someone. If he had to keep this a total secret he'd probably explode.

* * * * *

Freshly showered and suitably dressed for a casual night of drinking, Marcus entered Choppers and couldn't help but smile. Even on Christmas night the place was half full. The click of pool balls could be heard over the general murmur of conversations and the corner jukebox was cranking out some alternative angst-laden-guitar-heavy tune Marcus hadn't heard before. He zig-zagged through the tables and spotted his friends in a side booth. He slipped into the end as Janice scooted over. Jesse gave him a fist bump and Tom let go of his girlfriend's hand long enough to give a jaunty wave.

"Just us tonight?" he asked.

"So far," Jesse said. "Jackie had to bounce between her folks and Sara's tonight, so they might be in later. Haven't heard from Dale."

"Good enough." Marcus waved to catch the server's eye and gave a circular motion with his hand, indicating another round, plus one more for him.

"How was everybody's Christmas?"

The conversation bounced back and forth for a bit as everyone offered up anecdotes about their respective days with various family members. Some were heart-warming in a Reader's Digest sort of way, while others had the table laughing and trying not to spit beer.

"So..." Marcus began during a short lull. He'd been waiting for Kaitlyn to go to the bathroom and was pleased Janice hadn't bothered to go with her. In fact, her leg and his had been touching most of the evening. He wondered if maybe there was something there.

Giving himself a mental shake he screwed up his courage and decided to lead into it. "After we all met last night, I had the strangest...um, dream." He wasn't sure how he would continue. "Uh, by the way, just how much did we drink last night?"

"Not that much," Jesse said, brows drawn down in memory. "The usual I think, yeah?" 

Tom nodded. "Nothing spectacular. What did you dream about?" Their drinks made it to the table and were claimed. 

"Did you have an eppy on the way home?" teased Janice. 

Marcus chuckled. "No." The laughter died a little abruptly. "No," he said again, then, "Yeah. Maybe. I, uh, don't really remember much after the gift exchange." He looked around expectantly, embarrassed. "Things are a little weird today," he added.

Janice's teasing expression swiftly faded, replaced by concern. She touched him lightly on the hand. "Are you ok?" His other friends were looking at him now, traces of concern touching each of their faces as well.

"Yeah. What's up?" Tom asked, leaning forward. "You really didn't have that much to drink. None of us did." 

Marcus ran a hand through his hair. The novelty of flying had worn off and he was back to worrying. He couldn't understand how any of this could be happening. If he was the only one for whom things had changed--well, him and the others, presumably--then how could he possibly change what Randerawl said would happen? Who would believe him?

He found himself unconsciously fingering the necklace around his neck while trying to decide what and/or how much to tell his friends. He glanced down at the table, then back up. "Any of you ever see anything like this before?" he asked, holding the pendant up for them to see.

Everyone leaned forward to examine the silvery wings as they spun on their chain. 

"Pretty," Janice said. "Who gave it to you?" 

Marcus sighed. "That's a loaded question." He reached out and took a drink, then a deep breath. These were his friends. He had to tell them something.

"Guys, the last thing I remember last night is the gift exchange. I vaguely remember my chair breaking or falling or something, then nothing until this morning when I woke up with Serena." He waved a hand vaguely. "Seriously. Nothing all night until this morning." He forestalled any interruption by talking quickly. "And I have no idea who Serena is or where I met her or anything. Except she's hot, we had sex, and I guess we're supposed to see each other again." He smirked but kept talking. If he didn't get it all out now he might wimp out completely.

He held up a hand. "Hang on. There's more." He took another drink. A gulp, rather. "I had a dream. Except it was kind of like I was there. Anyway, there was a nuclear war or something and pretty much everything was screwed. Some creepy dude gave me this necklace--in the dream, mind you--and when I woke up I had it on. And it doesn't come off."

Marcus almost fell back in his chair. "But wait...still more. I'm one of a handful of people who apparently have the power to try to change things. Or maybe save them. Save the world, I guess. I don't know." He ran his hands over his face and offered up a smile that said, 'Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but that's what I've got'. "

He held out his arms. "I'll save the best for last, but I'm dying to know what you're thinking." He knew damned well what they were thinking. It's what he would be thinking. You're crazy! Batshit crazy! Except he didn't feel crazy. Yet.

Silence. Utter silence, and the circle of his friends face's regarding him seriously, doubt and concern and confusion plainly evident in their eyes. 

"Say what?" Tom finally asked. "Dude, seriously. What's going on? You fall asleep watching 'Heroes' while stoned last night or something?" 

A small laugh escaped. Marcus hadn't really expected anything else this early. "I don't smoke," he said to Tom. "Well, not any more. Looks bad if a lawyer can't pass a drug test." He shook his head. "I'm not kidding, guys. Things are getting very weird. This necklace," he said, holding up the pendent again. "Doesn't come off." He demonstrated trying to pull it over his head, the chain imperceptibly shrinking enough to keep that from happening. He gave up and shrugged, letting it drop back to his chest. "There are four other people out there with similar experiences, I think, and they, too, think they have to save the world. Well, one guy will probably try to conquer it. And I have to do something with this gift and I don't know what that is." He smiled wanly and nodded. "And yes, I know this all sounds completely insane, and no, I haven't gone crazy. But I needed to know if you guys had seen or heard anything last night. You haven't, so..." He paused, thinking, then nodded again to himself. "I need to show you guys something."

He stood up. "Leave your beers--we'll come right back--but would you all step out back with me?"

Again the group stared at him, his friends heads moving as if on slaved pivots, tracking him with the same eerie sort of linkage seen usually at Disneyland on a certain creepy children's ride. "What?" asked Janice. "Show us what?" 

Marcus paused for thought. "If I told you, you'd definitely think I was nuts." He smiled and rested his hands on the table. "Seriously, if I said that I could fly would you come out to see it?" He gave a jerk of his head. "Come on. You won't regret it."

"You just told us you have a magic necklace that you can't take off, and that you are palling around with people who want to save the world," Janice intoned, one eyebrow raised in admonition. 

"But one who doesn't," added Jesse. 

"And one who doesn't,' agreed Janice, nodding. "What on God's green earth is going to come falling out of your mouth next, Marcus Turner?" 

The group shimmied out of the booth and waited. "Well?" asked Jackie. 

Marcus sighed, standing straight again. "Tell you what. You come outside and let me show you something, and if you still think I'm crazy then I'll submit myself to an institution of your choosing." He spread his hands. "I've got exactly one last shot to prove I'm not going insane--to you and to me. Just...just give me a chance."

?