Avatar followed the faint sound of music through the garage. He'd stuck his head in here months ago when Ophilia gave him the official tour; back then it was a large, sterile space with a few token shelving units and worktables. Now the shelves and work surfaces had multiplied and there was a whiff of oil and Lava in the air.  At the far end of the garage, where the music became recognizable as Pink Floyd, the hoverbikes sat in a neat row, exciting and intimidating under their canvas coverings. 

Two bikes had been pulled out, apparently for service, and were partially disassembled.  One was a hypercycle and the other looked to be an old Harley.  The older bike seemed a Frankenstein monster version of itself and was without wheels.  It hung on a wheeled chassis frame.
 
Between the two bikes were two cheap lawn chairs. Stone sat in one, his booted feet propped in the other. As always, the man wore sunglasses and it was impossible to tell if he was awake. "Have a Cigar" faded out, and Avatar cleared his throat before "Wish You Were Here" began.

Stone sighed, but didn't move to get up.  "What?"

Avatar smiled a fraction. "Sorry to bug you," he said, "but I heard you're the man to see about riding lessons."

"I suppose," The reclined form on the chairs mumbled.  "Ever ride a motorcycle before?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I guess...because I've known too many people with metal hips and other fun souvenirs from motorcycle accidents," Avatar replied easily. He edged past Stone and inspected the Harley with evident fascination. "You doing all this work yourself?"

"Mmmhmm."  Stone swung his boots down and stood up slowly, stretching as he did so.  The Jim Beam logo on his black t-shirt stretched with him.  With a crack of his neck he ambled on over to Avatar and gestured to the unfinished project. 

"It's a hybrid," he explained as he removed a pack of Marlboros from his jeans pocket.  "Not a fan of sport bikes, so I'm replacing the guts of my sled with those from Ardent's hypercycle."

"Stealthier," Avatar suggested.

"The words 'stealthy' and 'motorcycle' should never be used together," Stone replied seriously.

The biker crouched down on bent knees and fiddled with the rear of the engine block which gleamed in the smoky lenses of his glasses.  "I still haven't figured out the right way to path some of the hover shit to the rear wheel."  He stood up again, now with a cigarette in his mouth, and exchanged the pack with the American flag Zippo lighter in his pocket.

"Call it a work in progress," he said before lighting his smoke. He regarded the other man thoughtfully. Avatar was dressed down for once, in black jeans and a bomber jacket over a denim shirt, but still looked a little too catalog-perfect to imagine astride a motorcycle.

After a long drag, Stone finally asked, "So why do you want to learn how to ride.  Lookin' for a metal hip?"

"It's not so much that I want to learn," Avatar admitted. "But I need to. Part of the job." He shook his head ruefully and added, "Anyway, I don't want to be the only idiot who can't ride. If Phi can do it, so can I.

"So when can we start?"

"Lot of people can't ride," Stone countered.  "Doesn't make them idiots.  You sure?"
 
"No, let's dick around some more."

Stone's dark shades stared at Avatar, his face a grim and stoic mask.  The silence dragged on, as did the stare, for a full ten count.

"Okay," Stone finally said, turning to walk over to one of the tarp-covered bikes.  He pulled back the canvas and the sleek machine glimmered in appreciation.

"This one's yours.  Have a seat."

"Cool." Avatar threw a leg over and slid into the seat. Keeping one foot on the floor he shifted his weight slightly, back and forth then side to side, trying to get a feel.

"Don't hump it," Stone said, "Just push it over there, to the center of the garage.  Keep your weight down on the seat, not forward, and use your feet, not your arms.  Rely on the brakes to stop - it's too heavy once it gets going."

Avatar nodded once, leaned back a little, and began walking the bike out. It took more effort than he expected, and he had to push it hard to the left to avoid the chairs.

"You have to--"  Stone took a quick double-step towards the bike as it started to keel over.  He caught the bike and rider in his hand and righted them.

"Don't over-steer when you turn."

"You mean...?" He gave the biker a puzzled look.

"Something like that." 

Stone went through the litany of controls and pedals with Avatar; where they were, when to use them, how to use them, and so on.  He had him pushing the bike around the garage for a good hour before he felt comfortable that the man knew enough about how to brake and steer to use the engine.

Something about Avatar didn't sit well with Stone.  If you cornered him and made him tell you what it was, the biker wouldn't be able to say.  It was a gut thing.

"How do you usually get around town?" the biker asked his latest student.

"Car," was the automatic reply. "Oh," he added, "in hero mode? Well, I can go wherever I send my 'avatar.' Or it can pick me up and fly. That's kind of awkward, but it works."

"And where's your car now?" Stone asked.

"I don't drive it to the Cathedral," Avatar replied. He looked up from the handlebars and shook his head. "I had this crazy idea about keeping my identity secret, but it's not as workable as I hoped." Some emotion crossed his face, too fast to identify. Then he shrugged and pulled off his mask, revealing the face of Edison Palmer.

"Gets sweaty anyway," he said.

With a shrug, Stone offered, "I'm the last guy you need to worry about over that shit, dude."

Palmer was taken aback by Stone's lack of reaction - the bastard already knew! - but he played it off.

"So Captain," Palmer said breezily,  "When do we get to the part about heading out on the highway looking for adventure and whatever comes our way?"

Stone shook his head.  "First we head out to the Super Foodtown in Gadsbury and look for some traction and not stalling."

About five minutes was all it took.  Stone carried Avatar in one arm and two chained-up hypercycles in the other and flew like a bullet down the hidden tunnel leading to the open sewers and finally the outside.  When they reached the Super Foodtown, Stone put them all down behind the building where the empty access road ran for a good quarter mile.

"Okay, get back on and start 'er up."

Avatar mounted the bike and took a moment to slip on a pair of oversized sunglasses. They were silly looking, but they covered a lot of his face. With something approaching familiarity if not grace, he turned on the fuel, pulled the choke, and turned the key. The cycle sprang to life and Avatar smiled as he hit the kill switch and squeezed the clutch. The bike, he noted, was already in neutral.

So far so good. But that was the easy part.

"Don't forget this," Stone said as he handed Avatar his helmet.  "Ever."

Avatar gravely accepted the helmet, and soon was making slow loops around the rear parking lot.

About four hours later, the pair were sitting in Stone's office.  The biker had gone for a chicken sandwich this time, with lettuce, tomato slices, and mayo.  To this he had the fine Windmill operators add a couple slices of bacon.  His Budweiser longneck was still present as part of his meal, however, as was the side of fries.

"You feel good?" he asked Edison.  "You think you got the hang of it?"

"Uhn. Mhn." Palmer replied between bites of his hot dog. He chased the dog with some Diet Coke and wiped his mouth with the back of the sleeve. "I feel like I made a good start," he said. He grinned broadly and added, "I can't believe you got me to hit the water. That was fucking awesome. I mean, I think I might have peed a little, but..."

He picked up his second dog and examined it before tucking in. "As a connoisseur ," he said with exaggerated pomp, "I pronounce these quite acceptable. Mhn."

Stone found himself giving Edison "the look" again and shook his head.  "Where'd they find you, dude?" he asked.  "No offense, but you don't strike me as the superheroic type."  The biker looked askance in thought for a moment and mumbling, added, "Maybe that's why they did pick you."

"Well, you know all about that," Palmer replied. "You're the ringer, right?" He took another bite and regarded Stone blithely.

"What do you mean?" the biker asked.

"Nemesis brought you in to: one, send a message to our patrons...and two, watch his back. Right?"

Stone shrugged.  "Something like that.  He wanted someone around he could trust.  So?"

"So good," Palmer replied. "This crew, he  needs someone watching his back." He sounded sincere, but Stone sensed the man's usual bland geniality coming back to the fore. "Nothing against our patrons, of course," he added perfunctorily.

Stone took a drink and replied, "I'm still not getting what you meant by a 'ringer'."

Palmer shrugged. "Skip it," he said and popped the last of the dog in his mouth.

The biker shrugged and made a mental note to ask Luke about it later. 

"So tell me about this 'avatar' thing.  What's that, like an out of body experience or something?"

Palmer nodded. "Except I'm still in my body," he said, "so it's like double vision."

Stone grunted; either in understanding or mild amusement, it was difficult to tell. 

"And the avatar can fly, and see and hear n'stuff, I get that.  But can it pick stuff up or is it like a ghost?"

"It's a ghost when I need it to be, and solid when I need it to be." He shrugged. "I don't know how it works. I've been able to do it since I was a kid. Never thought it was superhero-quality stuff. Not like being strong and bulletproof."

"Being bulletproof doesn't make anybody a superhero, whatever that is," Stone offered neutrally.  "Nemesis is way more heroic than me and he's just a guy."

"He is," Avatar  agreed. "He's quite a guy. Hell, he got you and me to sign up."

That made Stone sit up a little straighter. 

"Nemesis brought you in?" he asked.  "I always thought I was the only one he chose himself."

A sly smile spread across Avatar's face. "Don't worry," he said. "You're his favorite."

That elicited a grim look from the man in the shades, but only.  Stone considered what it might mean, assuming the glib metrosexual across the booth wasn't shining him on.  Luke had made it sound like he didn't have any input into the team, so it was an unexpected curveball for the biker to wrap his mind around.  His natural suspicions leavened his thought processes, but he'd still make a point to ask Luke about it.

"I guess that makes us both ringers," he finally said, before taking another bite of his sandwich.

Avatar choked on his soda. "Me?" he said. He wiped his chin mechanically. "Half the time I don't even know why I'm here."

His gaze drifted to the window as he became absorbed in his thoughts. "I helped Nemesis on this case last year," he said. "We stopped some wackjobs from killing a bunch of babies..." The man went tense all over for a moment, then shook his head and relaxed.

"Then Nem says, 'Good job, but there's more work to be done.' How do you say no to that?"

"Simple - you say 'no'," Stone replied easily while chewing.  After he swallowed he explained, "You don't owe anything to anybody 'cept yourself.  Obligations are bullshit for the most part, made up by people who want something from you."

"You've got this stone-cold routine down cold, don't you?"

Stone tilted his head once negatively, yet seemed to concur.  "I'm responsible for me, and nobody else.  If that makes me cold, then fine." 

Stone leaned forward to rest his elbow on the table and both pointed and spoke for emphasis as his sunglass-covered eyes focuses on Edison.

"But nobody's got a hold on me, and nobody makes me do anything I don't want to do.  Nobody."

Avatar slowly nodded across the table, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. He hadn't meant to wind the biker up, but getting under people's skin was habit with him.

"I get that," he said, returning to a serious tone. "Every time I see you, I catch myself remembering long hauls down Highway One. That's the vibe you give off. Endless road."

There was a pregnant pause, after which, with a shrug of nonchalance, Stone replied, "That's life."  He looked like he wanted to add something more, but instead the rugged Conquistador simply went with his drink and his stoic reserve.

The psychic mirrored the shrug. "Yep," he said.

They sat in silence for some time, just eating and stewing in their own juices, their individual thoughts focused on what had been said.  It was Stone who finally broke the silence.  He had finished his sandwich and after wiping his mouth with a napkin he balled it up and tossed it on his tray before he leaned back and regarded Edison with a semi-respectful skepticism.

"So now that you know how to ride," he asked, "do you plan on doing much of it?"

"That's the idea," Palmer replied. "Maybe drive up the West Coast someday."

"Yeah, that's good," Stone replied absently, nodding and looking into the surface of the booth table.  He just stared at the shiny red surface and said quietly, "I did Tijuana to Taholah in five days, with no freeways.  At the time, I didn't set out to drive the entire coast, but I did.  I just kept the ocean to my left and next thing you know I'm in Washington.  I stopped when I wanted to stop and look around and spent most of the night time just riding.  The things you see..."

"Sounds nice," Palmer murmured. He looked out the window and wondered if he really did want to see the Pacific again. Those roads held a lot of memories.

Stone sighed.  "Makes you wonder; if there is a God, why he put all us assholes on such a nice place as this."

Palmer chuckled at that. "I thought you were some kind of stoic zen master," he said. "But you're just bitter." He flashed a smile that was smaller, more shopworn, and much more sincere than his usual grins.

"I'm both," Stone confided.  He liked this guy, he realized just then.  The dude spoke his mind. 

He reached into his pocket and came out with his Marlboros.  After popping one into his mouth, he added, "You're alright, Palmer."

"You're a sucker," Palmer replied equitably. He regarded the other man a moment. Stone showed no surprise. Palmer pulled a lighter from nowhere, sparked it, and extended it across the table.

"Also," he said, "Those things will kill you."

"Doubtful," Stone replied as he lit his smoke off of Palmer's flame.  He leaned back and took a long drag.