It was eleven o’clock and all through the house, six individuals were stirring.

Up in the great room above the garage, the Asian rummaged carefully through the large roll-top desk while his blonde adopted sidekick in her Hello Kitty pink track suit worked her television remote control in frustration at an unresponsive jumbo widescreen. Down at the kitchen table, Al, Tom, Betty, and the talking orangutan were conversing back and forth on the results of Tom's sudden and impromptu test of whatever might trigger their latent memories or abilities.

Things might have gone on like this for quite a while, but while listening to Al’s latest reply to a question from Tom, the orang’s peripheral vision caught some movement outside the front door, through the lace curtain covering a panel of opaque glass than ran along both sides of the doorway. 

The orang stopped chuckling at his companion's antics, when he caught the movement. He turned to get a better view. "I believe there is ...."

A loud chime sounded from somewhere near the front door.

"... thomeone at the front entrance." The orang finished, slightly abashed. Obviously the chime forestalled the effectiveness of his warning.

The conversation died a quick death as everyone stared at each other.  A few moments later it sounded again. Tom headed warily towards the door, looking for the source of the sound, shaking out his right hand in an attempt to dull the throbbing. "You sir," he said quietly as he moved 'are built of bricks." 

"And you are fast.  But please don't do that again!  I think I can be sure that's not the trigger for me."  Al clenched a fist, grinning as he raised it slowly.  "Want to see if it's yours?"  Seeing Tom heading for the door, he lowered his voice.  "Wait.  Give me a second to get us some intel."

"Ah, yes... right right, good man." Tom whispered, stepping back.

Al focused his attention on the front door, nodded.  "OK.  There's one person out there, most likely a man.  Can't say more than that."  He shrugged.  "Sorry I can't give you any more."

The orang slid from the chair, and quickly ducked under the table, heading towards the kitchen. He doubted it was the owners, as they would not announce themselves to an empty house. Any one else would probably be surprised to see a member of his species sitting nonchalantly amongst them. The kitchen was the closest location that kept him in hearing range and out of sight of the front entrance. It also appeared to have any number of improvisable weapons should such things become necessary.

Betty hopped to and headed for the door, relievedfor something to pull her out of the back and forth of what ifs between the men and the beast.  She reached for the handle, but thought better of taking action, "should I open it?" she asked her companions, "that seems the right thing to do, or the expected thing."

"Hello?"  The man outside the door was leaning over trying to look at Betty through the opaque glass.  "Chris?  It's Bob Taylor."

Upstairs the Asian ceased his rummaging of the desk and stood with deliberate speed. He retrieved the bag and withdrew the pistol from it, sliding the rectangular piece into the base of the grip and slamming it home with the heel of his hand. His eyes narrowed briefly right before pulling back on the slide. He slung the bag over his shoulder, the pistol held low and next to his leg as he went to the door at the bottom of the stairs and looked down, straining to listen.

The quiet twin's attention had been riveted on the Asian for some time now, she had seen guns on the picture box, and was familiar with what they did.  When he moved, she watched him, remaining still but entirely focused on him, her intention was not to move unless he fell away from her sight.

With a whispered curse, Tom grabbed Betty by the wrist and pulled her none to gently from the door. "Stupid girl," he hissed, "haven't you been listening?" He grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards the stairwell. "Get up those stairs and find your sister. Stay hidden. Mayhaps this Bobtaylor is no threat, and mayhaps he is. Let Al handle it. Your job is to take her upstairs and run if things go badly, understood?"  Betty looked at Tom, her eyes momentarily dazed.

"Right.  Everyone ready?  Betty, do as Tom says.  Back through the kitchen, upstairs, quickly.  This Bobtaylor might be able to help.  Ready, Tom?"  With a growl, Betty stomped up the stairs, slightly wounded by the dimisal.

Al strode to the door, reached for the handle, turned it.  Nothing happened.  A quick check of the door and its surrounds turned up a key on a low table.  Shaking his head, smiling, Al unlocked the door and opened it.

Bob looked up at the much larger Al and started to talk.  "Hi, I'm Bo--"

"Bob.  Hi!  Come in.  I'm hoping you can help me."  Al reached out a hand, took hold of the surprised Bob and pulled him inside, closing and locking the door before he could resist.

Bob literally flew inside the doorway and impacted the door to the foyer closet directly opposite.  He fell backwards onto the floor and hit his head.  The closet door looked to be cracked, and Bob was dazed and semi-conscious.

Tom looked from Bob to Al, the closet door then back to Bob.  He shook his head.  "That could have gone better."

The Asian practically flew through the door, past the kitchen, and around the corner to the foyer.  A glance of disgust in Al's direction and he squatted down next to the man, immediately searching him quickly but methodically and removing any items he found. 
 

*****

Betty stalked to the stairs and was about to go up them, when her twin came racing down after the Asian.  The woman's eyes were full of alarm at his sudden burst of energy, and she gasped in surprise when her sister reached out for her.  "I guess I'm supposed to keep you calm."

The startled twin listened to her for a moment, and didn't resist her touch, but she adamantly refused to budge.  Instead she walked forward slowly, clinging to the wall until she was almost into the kitchen.  She peered around the corner and watched as the scene unfolded with the others.  Her worried eyes swung to regard her sister again, but it was easy to tell that she wasn't going to return willingly back up the stairs.  Betty rolled her eyes and followed her twin into the kitchen, she hopped onto the counter and decided to sit there, crosslegged as she watched the events unfold with the men.

*****

As the Asian searched, there was a small black gadget with a large screen similar to the small white one that Betty had found in the kitchen, with minor differences in look and feel.  There was also a leather wallet in his back pocket, and a pair of sun shades in his jacket.

"Quite," Tom agreed, startled at the speed with which the Asian had appeared. The man was a ghost. A ghost who was quickly and efficiently rummaging through the pockets of the dazed man on the floor, no less. "Is he alright?" Tom asked the Asian. 

It took Al a couple of seconds to work out what he'd done.  Strong didn't cover the half of it!  "Note to self.  Be careful."  He turned to the Asian.  "You were asked a question.  Is.  He.  All.  Right?"

"Unnhh..."  The man stirred and put a hand to what looked to be a growing red welt on his forehead.  "What... Stop..."

The Asian paused in his study of the items found and stared at Al for several long moments before gesturing to the slowly recovering man. "He's alive."

The Orang worked his way around to the tableau in the front hallway through the rooms adjoining the kitchen. When he got to the formal dining area, he paused long enough to carefully peer out the front window, looking to see if their visitor had anyone with him.  Seeing the four wheeled vehicle sitting at the curb, he called softly to Tom. "I believe we have a pothible tholution to our transportation problem." 

-?-

The Orang knuckled into the hallway. He nudged the Asian. "May I take a look? I theem to have thome knowledge of human anatomy. Perhapth, I can be of thome athithtance." 
 
The Asian nodded curtly and stood, tucking the items into his pockets and taking a small step backward. His eyes didn't leave the man on the floor. He refrained from further comment as the Orang took over.

The Orang patted the dazed human, lightly on the shoulder, his voice warm and friendly. "There, lie thtill. You appear to have taken a bad knock to the head. I need to atheth you to enthure there's no permanent damage." He smiled then, lips over teeth. Best not to frighten the human anymore than he probably already was.

"What?..."

The man's eyes seemed lost but they focused at the sound of the orang's voice.  A look of utter confusion dawned on his face which was quickly replaced by one of semi-panic.  He threw his prone self backwards away from the small group, his legs kicking against the floor in a scramble to push himself faster.

"What the!..."  His eyes were wide, staring at the orang.  "What the hell are you?"

He looked up at the others and his panic seemed to fade as quickly as it came, his wits returning and taking a firm hold on himself.  "Did that thing just... talk?!"

A ghost of a smile flickered across the Asian's face. Not being privvy to the discussion regarding the uniqueness of their Orang companion he was pleased that at least one of his assumptions had proven true; their more bestial companion may indeed be unique.

Tom raised his hands palm out, as if in surrender. "Calm yourself please sir. Despite the evidence, we certainly didn't mean you any harm. Our companion did talk, and we'd prefer it if you could keep that to yourself for now. It's a..." he searched for something in the darkness of his memory. "...it's a new thing, and we don't want to let it out of the bag just yet." He crouched and smiled in what he hoped was a non-aggressive way. "Please, what is your business at this house?" 

"I'm friends of John and Christine," he answered, maintaining a wary eye on the ape.  "Who the hell are you people?  Where are John and Christine?"

"Relax."  Al tried to speak as gently as he could.  "John and Christine aren't here.  Now.  Just a few questions...  Do you recognise any of us?"

The man on the floor looked at each of them in turn.  "No.  Who are you?"

The Orang chuckled. "That would theem to be the quethtion of the day." He pursed his maeleable lips a bit before continuing. "You don't theem to be thuffering any paralythith, though judging by the dithtanthe you traveled, the force required to over come the tenthile thtrength of the materialth comprithing that door, and the rithing lump on your forehead. I calculate that you hit the door hard enough to cause at leatht a concuthion, if not theveral thubluxations in the thervical vertebrae, and quite pothibly the upper thorathic vertebrae as well. I really don't thuggest you continue to move around as much until I've given you a thorough exam."

The Asian turned away and withdrew the man's wallet from his pocket. He turned it over in his hands before opening it and perusing the content.  The wallet itself was a small brown leather affair that folded in half.  One half of the unfolded inside was just an empty, unused flap.  The other side had a series of slots where cards were inserted. 

The top card slot had a clear plastic window and contained what looked like an official identification card.  The profile picture matched the face of the man on the floor and the given name on the ID was Robert Taylor.  The three cards slotted behind the ID were green, blue, and silver respectfully.  They all bore the same name as on the ID and each had a string of sixteen numbers on the front.

The Asian frowned slightly but tucked the wallet back into his pocket. He turned around again, content to let the others take the lead on this, as well. However, though his expression remained neutral he continued to carefully watch the man known as Bob Taylor.

The twin dressed in the pink sweats, emerged slowly from the kitchen area.  Her blue eyes were riveted on the prone man and she was very tuned into the sound of his voice.  The undertone of distress and concern, appealed to her, and she found herself wondering what had happened.  It seemed as though one of her companions had hurt him and the worry that made her feel, was evidenced in her hazel eyes.

She padded quietly into the other room and slipped down to her knees, slightly behind the Orangutan, as she peered over his shoulder.  Her gaze took in the stranger, it was lingering and without regard to social etiquette as she memorized every detail of him, from the lines on his face, to the scar the back of his hand, the size of his shoes, the style of his dress.  She remained as quiet as ever as she took inventory of her first human encounter, outside of the tree house.

Bob eyed her and the talking ape suspiciously.  He touched the lump on his head and grimaced, hissing in pain.  He squinted through it and started to stand up.

"I'm okay, I..."  He weaved a bit but caught himself with one hand against the nearby wall.  "Okay, maybe I ought to sit down for a minute."  There was a padded fancy wood chair in what looked like a dining type room behind him and he sat down in it after turning it to face the others.

As the new comer and the others migrated towards the dining room, the quiet twin watched after them.  And then, she smiled brightly, as an idea hit her and she hurried into the kitchen to pick up one of the unclaimed omelets.

"Look, I don't know what's - ouch - going on here," he said as he gingerly tried to get a feel for how large a bump he was dealing with.  "I want to know who you people are and why you're in my friends' house - and I want to know right now."

The Asian shadowed him, taking up a position to Bob's right, standing close but not uncomfortably so. He cocked his head slightly.  "You do not know them, do you? John and Christine?" He gave his head a short shake. "You do not know them, or not as well as you claim, at least. I think it should be you who explains why you are here." He smiled tightly. "Please."

Bob looked very confused.  "What the hell are you talking about?  I've known the Scaleras for years."

As the newcomer finished replying to the Asian, the pretty young blond in the hello kitty sweats, stepped forward and presented him with a plate.  The smell was enticing as was the pretty smile with which she offered it.  "Yummo?"  She asked politely as she pushed the plate towards him.

"Ok, hold on a moment," Tom said to the not-so-simple girl gently, stepping in and trying to take the plate, her hold though was unrelenting as she pulled it back towards her.

"No."  Her tone was clear and serious as she looked back at the new comer with regret in her eyes. 

"Before we feed the nice man a plate of your eggs, let's find out a bit more about him, yes?" He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly way at the girl. Things were picking up speed and going in directions that concerned him greatly. "Why do you think he's lying?" he asked the Asian. 

The Asian shrugged without taking his eyes off the man. "Because he is."

"Oh, well, who can argue with that reasoning," Bob sarcasmed.  "You know, I think we need to have the police here to starighten this out."

He fished in his pocket and grew even more confused.  "Where the hell is my phone?"

"For once, I agree with him.  Now.  Your phone is safe.  For now."  Al walked round behind Bob and placed a heavy hand on each shoulder, pinning the man into the chair.  "Tom, see if you can rustle up some restraints for our guest."  Al looked across to the Asian.  "Would you be so kind as to empty his pockets completely.  Start with the jacket.  You know he's lying, I do not trust him.  Bob.  We are not violent people.  However, some of us do not seem to know our own strength.  I would hate to have another accident.  I believe you know more about us that you are letting on.  I believe that you do not have our interests at heart.  And I can hear your heart very, very clearly.  So.  Where would you like to begin?"

Bob began by lashing out with his foot.  It caught the Asian square in the gut and sent him up against the nearby wall - surprised but unharmed.  He smashed at Al's elbows with both hands to no effect, and he wasn't nearly strong enough to get off the chair or out of the grasp of the much larger man.

The quiet twin gasped in sudden alarm and the plate she was holding crashed loudly on the floor.  Up until just then she had been struggling between concern and confusion for the stranger, but when he kicked her friend, it helped her.  She still didn't understand and was opposed to her companions treating him so harshly, but at least for now, the Asian was her priority.  Betty continued to watch intently from her perch in the kitchen, waiting to see how this would all unfold.

"Get off of me!" he shouted as he struggled.  "I haven't done anything!  You can't do this!" 

"Check him," Tom said automatically to not-Betty, pointing at the Asian. "It's not that we can't, it's that we shouldn't," he continued, taking a chair across from the stranger and locking eyes with Al. "There will be no more violence, is that understood?"

The quiet twin nodded emphatically towards Tom, as she closed the short distance to her anchor's side.  There was worry in her eyes as she reached out to touch his arm.  The Asian held up a hand and nodded, a clear sign that he didn't want to be touched and, while physically fine, was quite angry.  She withdrew her hand quickly and crossed both of her arms over her chest, very unsure about what was causing all of the negative energy in the room.

"We know he can't hurt you, and any information we got out of him through coercion would be meaningless. This is not the way." He dropped his gaze to Bob. "You have skills, but we have more. Do you understand? It's best that you tell us who sent you and why before this gets any worse." 

The Asian took up a position just to the side of Tom and remained standing. He watched Bob carefully for any tells or signs of dissembling, prevarication or outright falsehoods.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bob replied angrily.  "I'm here to borrow my friend's leaf blower.  That's it.  Whatever you want just take it and go."

"Well then," Tom replied with a thin smile. "Since we all are such good friends of John, why don't we just wait for him to come home. Then we can straighten this whole mess out." He wondered what a leaf blower was, but decided now was not the time to ask.

At that, Bob crossed his arms and said, "He won't be home until after work and he works in the city, so that's another seven hours.  If you knew the Scaleras at all you'd know that.  So is your plan to kidnap me until then?"

He looked around at the strange group and added, "If you tell me what the hell you're doing here, maybe I could help.  Or give me my phone and let me call John right now."

Tom shook his head. "No. No phones. We'll wait... would you like some breakfast? The charming lady is a wonderful cook."

"No thanks," Bob replied testily.  He looked over at the blonde and asked, "What's your name, kid?"

The quiet woman met and held his gaze, her eyes still full of concern and confusion.  Finally she shrugged her shoulders as she came forward to stand with the rest of her companions. 

"this is going to be a long day," Bob mumbled.  "How about you?  You got a name?" he asked Tom.

"You can call me... Tom," replied Tom. "And are you really Bob?"

"That's what it says on my underwear," he glibly replied.  "How about you two?" He asked Al and the Asian.

The Asian simply stared at Bob and gave no reply.

"Al."  Al didn't relax his pressure on Bob's shoulders.  "Seven hours is going to be a long time.  Tom, see if you can find something to keep our guest restrained but comfortable.  Tape.  Cable ties.  Something like that."  Seven hours.  Seven hours until John returned and yet this man was here now expecting to borrow something.  Inconsistency.  The house was secured and yet here he was.  "Bob.  Bob, Bob, Bob.  So.  Your name's 'Bob'.  Apparently it says so on your underwear.  If you lie to us any more, we may just have to check that.  If John isn't going to be home for another seven hours, how were you going to ask him for his leaf blower?"  He lowered his voice a little.  "And if you attack me or any of my associates again it will not go well for you."

"Says the guy who just put me through a door," Bob shot back.  "In any court that's self defense.  And if you must know, Christine's a stay-at-home mom.  She's usually around this time of day, and I'd already talked to John about the leaf blower."

He sighed.  "Look, if you are in some kind of trouble, assaulting me isn't going to help.  Tell me what you want."

"I'll admit that the door was a mistake.  It appears I don't know my own strength.  I shall endeavor to be more careful in the future.  As to what we want, that's simple.  Information." 

Bob looked confused.  "I'm a CPA from Montclair.  What do you want to know?  How to reduce your taxes?"

Tom hadn't moved to honor Al's request for binding materials yet. Instead, the old man had sat there, chin resting in one hand, eyes trained on Bob. "If you'd already talked to John about this leafblower, and if Christine is normally home at this time of day but somehow she's not right now..." he let the words draw out. "No," he finally said, shaking his head. "You continue to lie. Your story adapts well enough, but doesn't fit the facts." He leaned back in the chair and stretched, resting his hands against the edge of the table as he did so. "Will ropes hold him?" he said, directing the question at Al and the Asian. 

Not Betty was silent but didn't like the feeling of animosity in the room, especially since she didn't understand what the stranger had done wrong.

"Neither one of us is supposed to be here," the Asian said, still staring at Bob. "We are naturally on the defensive, but more so since neither of us expected the other. Believe it or not we really do not have a desire to hurt you." He gave a slight shrug. "If we must, we must, but that's not our desire." The Asian ensured eye contact before he spoke again. "We can help each other and go our respective ways, or we can continue fencing until we get what we want and you lose everything." He cocked his head to the side. "Do you wish to cooperate, or shall we assume you are going to remain hostile and uncooperative?"

Bob looked helplessly at Tom and shook his head in wonder.  "Its like arguing with my wife."

To the Asian he said in slow, measured tones, "I have asked you more than once to tell me what you want.  I simply can't help you if you don't tell me what the hell you want."
 
"Enough," Tom said, rising. "We secure him tightly and take him with us. It's past time to go. If he found us, others may follow." As he moved past Bob he added "We told you what we wanted. The truth. What happens next is on your head as much as ours." He headed out into the garage area, as he was sure he'd seen some materials there that could bind their new captive. This is not what I want. Gods above help whoever did this to us when I find them...

"Are you people insane?" he heard Bob call loudly after him.  "The truth about what?"

He looked at the Asian, the orang, and Not Betty in turn.  "This is so illegal.  When my lawyer gets through with you, you'll be spending the rest of your life at Guantanamo!  I swear it!"

The orang had sat quietly on his haunches after following the group into the room. He judged the man may have  a minor concussion at worst, some serious bruising at best. He updated his internal file on 'Al' to include the probable strength to accomplish the damage he'd done to the door, in such a short distance. The orang realized he may be seriously over estimating the tensile strength of the door material, without precise tools it was so hard to gather relavant data, but it never hurt to be aware of the abilities of your subjects, err.... your companions.

The new arrival, Bob, was certainly convincing, at least to the orang. The device he kept mentioning, this leafblower, was more than likely the portable air cannon he'd seen in the small side cubicle in the vehicle bay. The term 'leaf blower' seemed to indicate a portable unit designed to circulate air with the purpose of moving light objects along the ground, possibly in some sort of gardening ritual. the air cannon had appropriate straps, and a quick estimation of the volume of air capable of being moved by the engine size, turbine fans, length and circumference of the barrel supported  his theory.

Judging by the layout of the house, it's contents, including pictures, toys, and acouterments, the facts 'Bob' was giving about the probable occupants of the home seemed to fit as well. All in all a very convincing story.

Innocent bystander, or agent of whoever placed them in this predicament, it didn't matter. The man had information they sorely needed, whether he realized it or not. Several possible scenarios presented themselves, each with their own risks and probability of reward. 

"A moment, if I may, friends." The orang spoke into the silence following Bob's recent exclamation. "His tale is thimple enough to dithcount or prove likely, with the application of a little logic, and thome bathic probing." The Orang knuckled into a position in front of their restrained visitor and met his gaze. "By now, you're aware that my companions are not the motht truthting of individuals, and are quite capable of determining if you are thpeaking truth or falthehood. Repercuthions for falthehood are fairly apparent, no? Tho, I believe that with a few thimple quethtions, I may be able to determine if the bathic premithe of your appearanthe here is truth or lie."

"This is so fucked up," Bob said as he watched the talking animal with a mixture of awe and fear.

The orang started to pace as spoke, his voice becoming pendantic, the tone of a professor lecturing his styudents on simple logic puzzles. "You thay that you came to borrow the Thcalera's 'leaf blower', no doubt for thome gardening or landthcape maintenanthe, yeth?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"In your long athothiation with John and Chrithtine, have you ever borrowed it before?" 

"N-No, he just got it."

"Then, please Bob, tell me, how did you come to know that your friend John had one?"

Bob thought for a second and then said, "We were playing golf over at Colt's Neck and got to talking about yard work.  He mentioned he bought a leaf blower.  That's it."

The orang's voice was calm and neutral as he spoke, showing no sign of pre-judgment. He seemed to be simply gathering data.
He nodded sagely as Bob answered his questions. He seemed briefly puzzled at the mention of golf, unsure of what kind of game that was. The device in the cubicle had been in good condition, as if it had not been used much. However the vehicle bay door was still open, something they'd have to remedy before vacating, and he hadn't re-secured the storage area before the nonverbal female had entered the premises. It was quite possible their visitor had noticed it, and seized on it as a reason to come calling. He wasn't quite through with this line of questioning, however.

"I thee, and being clothe friends, tharing a friendly game and dithcuthing a mutual hobby, or thould I thay chore, he mentioned the purchathe. Fair enough, quite paluthible, and I'll athume, being proud of his purchathe he dethcribed it in great detail, yeth? Of courthe, motht men would, it's only natural. Bragging about power toolth and gadgetth. I do it all the time. Tho what brand did he happen to purchathe?"

"Black and Decker,," Bob answered.  He looked at the blonde and shrugged.  "They're the best."

The Asian had been growing more agitated with each question, though outwardly he had simply stood and bided his time. He'd finally had enough.

"This is getting us nowhere," he said aloud. "If we knew more about what we were talking about this might make sense but I for one have no idea about black deckers or anything of the kind." He gestured at Bob Taylor.  "We learn nothing, he gives nothing away. Either kill him or let him go. This is a waste of time."

"What?!" Bob exclaimed.

"No!"  The normally quiet twin said in alarm as she stepped up to the stranger.  She looked at the Asian with a startled expression and repeated herself firmly.  "No."  Then she looked towards the large back man, clearly the biggest threat and said it one more time.  "No."
 
"Thank you," Bob told her with sincerity.

Betty groaned and jumped off her countertop perch.  She had grown annoyed with the line of useless questioning from the Orang but killing the stranger didn't seem to be long term solution to shutting the beast up.  She made her way to the group, "What happened to going somewhere for answers?  Maybe this guy has some clues as to where we can go to figure out what is going on."  She turned to the Bob, "You gotta way to get us where we need to go?.....and do you happen to know where we should go," she gave him her winning smile that had seem to win over her twin's trust not too long ago.

Bob started to talk and then realized that the new arrival was an identical twin of the other one who'd stepped in to help him.  He processed that and started to talk again but was once more stymied when he realized that she wasn't wearing a really short skirt.  Her legs went all the way up to the light, trim patch between her legs. 

"I'll take you anywhere you want," he finally said, avoiding staring at her nudity, maintaining eye contact.  "Just, please, don't kill me."

Betty grinned at the new comer,  "Kill you?  I think that's a crazy idea, what ever this leaf blower thing is it really doesn't seem like life or death to me."  she glanced over to the monkey and rolled her eyes, dropping her voice she confided in Bob, "He likes to compile data, no matter how useless it may be."

The orang turned to his companions. "The devithe he is talking about is in the thmall thtorage area in the vehicle bay. While I did not know it's purpothe at the time I dithcovered it, I was able to put determine it's likely function upon hearing our friend here mention it's common name, leaf blower. By having him anthwer these questions, having inthpected the devithe mythelf, I was thimply attempting to determine if his mention of wanting to borrow the device from the houthe's occupants was artifithe or not." The orang's voice had a tinge of bored annoyance, as if his actions should have been obvious.

"He has dethcribed the devithe accurately enough to at leatht make his thtatement of purpothe plausible. Whether he is an extremely lucky liar, extheedingly observant, or telling the truth, I am unable to determine. His thtory is plausible, his dethcription of the houthe's occupants is altho entirely plausible. Unleth any of you, who have explored the houthe further, have anything elthe with which to find fault in his thtory, or have any other reason to not believe him, I advise taking him at his word for the moment. Thince we have unwittingly harmed him, I altho advise we give him a thmall measure of trust by explaining our own presence and thituation, and athking for his assistance. Either that, or we confine him, leave him for his friends to find, and vacate immediately."

"We confine him here after tying him up with this," Tom said, returning to the kitchen with two rolls of silvery tape. "He's lying. I feel it in my gut, friends." He placed the tape on the table, along with a small cutting device he'd found atop a cluttered workbench. "The counter-attack he attempted on Al here would have worked on anyone without Al's... physique. He's a trained warrior in a world that looks to me, so far, to have little need for them. Leaf blower indeed," he snorted. "You arrived her in a transport of some kind, yes?" he asked Bob. 

"No, I flew in on my magic carpet," Bob deadpanned. 

"You have no reference point," the Asian said to the Orang. "What is plausible here has yet to be determined. What is common or uncommon, known or unknown--we have no reference. Talking to him does little but show our own ignorance. Having three people question him accomplishes even less. You wish to give him the benefit of the doubt but ignore the fact that at least two of us are convinced he is lying." The Asian almost--not quite, but almost--scowled. "Do as you will."

The orang paused, visibly affronted by the Asian's manner. His explanation had been succint, and rather obvious to his own thinking. Tom, was the only one of their group who had given solid evidence that Bob was not what he appeared and was protesting to be. He started to stammer out an explanation, but the Asian turned away.

With that the Asian calmly turned and walked back up the short stairs to the loft area. The quiet twin looked flustered for a moment and then followed him, but stopped before going up the stairs.  Her fingers twirled at her hair as she fretted between the stranger and following her companion.

Bob watched him go and then turned impassioned eyes on the orangutan.  "Look, ah, you... You guys are in some kind of trouble, right?  Tell me your situation and maybe I can help you out?  Did you escape from somewhere?  Is someone chasing you?"

Tom picked up the tape and the silver handle-thing he'd brought in, pressed a button on the side of the handle-thing to reveal a thin sharp blade, then cut a piece of tape. "You are, quite possibly," he said calmly, firmly affixing the tape over Bob's mouth.

The orang watched as Tom started to silence and secure 'Bob'. He was quite agitated and could not find any flaw in his reasoning, or his questioning. He decided to see if the older male would enlighten him further. "Tom, if I may have a word?" The orang nodded back towards the den, his eyes looking questioningly at Al. "Would you ensure he doesn't leave?" he asked quietly.

"He's not going anywhere."   Al admired Tom's efficient handiwork.  Tom had taken care when taping Bob's wrists and ankles, taping skin to skin, allowing no room to move underneath loose clothes.  That's going to hurt later.  More loops of tape secured Bob to the chair.  Thorough.  Very thorough.

The orang nodded at Al, and again gestured to Tom, hoping the elderly man would deign to interrupt his actions and enlighten the orang on where he'd gone wrong in his questioning.

-?-

* * * * *

Once back upstairs the Asian stood in front of the desk, his eyes roaming over everything. He removed the paper clips he'd used to unlock and relock the case and put them in his pocket. After a moment's hesitation he retrieved the small key on the lanyard and placed it into his messenger bag along with the clam-like computer.

After ensuring that he'd missing nothing of import--assuming he'd recognize something of import if he saw it--he made sure all was as he'd found it (minus the computer) and pulled the rolltop down. He paused for one last perusal, then turned and started for the stairs.  Halfway there he froze.

Leaning into the far corner of the room was something  he hadn't noticed before.  It was a sword, long and straight with a thin, double-edged blade and a golden crossguard.  The grip was wrapped in black leather and gold wire, and the pommel was a thick circle of gold, stamped with an eagle.

The Asian stepped across the room to the corner, eyes on the sword. He grasped it by the hilt and held it aloft. It was decently balanced, seemingly well-crafted, single-handed, and could use a better edge. All in all, though, it felt comfortable in his hands. He turned suddenly, slashing the sword through the air. He danced a light step forward on the balls of his feet, then back, his hand and arm turning and twisting, the sword dancing in front of him. He stopped as quickly as he'd started, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

'Good enough,' he thought, then set about looking for something in which to sheath it, or at least wrap it. Naturally there wasn't anything, so he tucked it through the back of his messenger bag, ensuring that the pommel and quillons were arranged just so in order to prevent it from falling out. He'd have to get a rope or a belt or something to fix it. Maybe back where Tom found the clothes...

With a mental shrug he decided his business in this room was finished, and he headed back downstairs. The quiet twin was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, upon his return, and fell into step behind him as he made his way through the house.

* * * * *

When the Asian returned, he saw Tom pulling at a long roll of silvery-gray material. A smaller piece of this was already firmly affixed to the mouth of the man named Bob.  More silver tape looped around the man's wrists, ankles, knees and elbows. Tom looked up, said "Oh, good. Did you..." and then he froze, eyes locked just over the younger man's shoulder. "Uh..." he said, then licked his lips. "Would you... would you mind if I took a look at that?" Tom set the tape down and pointed at the sword. His eyes were bright with recognition.

The Asian paused only briefly before swinging the bag around to remove the sword. He reversed it and held it pommel-first towards Tom. The older man took it, holding it before him, blade tip pointing towards the ceiling, pommel to the floor. His eyes ran up and down the blade, drinking it in, feeling things deep inside his mind click into place around the weapon.

He knew this. He knew this!!!

He spun the sword, caught it, whipped it through the air from side to side and hand to hand in a whirring blade of silvered steel, the air humming around him, the blade flashing. He moved, cut, thrust, parried, spun and flipped the blade spinning up just above his head, catching it easily, gracefully. "I know this," he said simply, smiling in wonder.

The simple twin watched in awe as Tom danced with the sword.  Her head fell to the side as she took it all in and her eyes were alive at the sight.  When he was finished, she held her hand out towards the bald man and gave an insistent hum of want.  "Mmmm?"

His hand tightened possesively around the hilt of the weapon, eyes darkening, jaw clenching. For a moment he looked like he would refuse her. Then the moment passed. "Of course. Everyone should try their hand with the blade. It's only that I *know* this. This blade, I know it, for some reason." He looked again at the Asian. "Thank you. May I... keep it?" 

The Asian shrugged. If he was impressed by Tom's proficiency--which he was--he didn't show it. "It's yours," he said succinctly.

Tom handed the blade to the quiet twin, pommel first, waiting to see how she did.

The Asian, not expecting that, stopped to see what Not Betty would do with apparent curiosity.

A hint of a smile played at her lips as she took hold of the sword, hefting it a couple of times to get a feel for it in her hands.  Then, in a beautiful display she mirrored Tom's show of skill.  She spun the sword, caught it, whipped it through the air from side to side and hand to hand in a whirring blade of silvered steel, the air humming around her, the blade flashing. She moved, cut, thrust, parried, spun and flipped the blade spinning up just above her head, catching it easily, gracefully.  When she was done she murmured in approval and offered it back to the bald man.

"As I suspected," Tom said. "You next," he said to Betty.

? 

The orang watched the group handle the bladed weapon, while quite impressed with Tom's apparent skill, and the quiet twin's ability to adapt and mimic, the objec titself held no interest to him. He could tell it was crafted fairly well, and he was interested in a purely scientific way in the metallurgic process, but weilding the weapon held no interest to him, and he assumed his disinterest would translate into an ineptitude with that that would probably border on self endangering. Instead he caught the Asian's eye, and drew him apart from the group a short ways.