Chapter 4: False Identities

Nicholas tried his best to break from this guy's grasp, but it was far beyond his power to do so. He had lost so much muscle mass from being dead for so long, that just the act of pulling himself was almost impossible.

“Aww, quit struggling! You're too cute to get your arms hurt!”

“You don't even know what I look like!” Nicholas's words were obviously just a whole bunch of groaning.

“Hey, don't get smart with me!” The man pulled Nicholas close, allowing his breath to breath down Nicholas's neck. “I can overpower you any day.”

Nicholas tried again, in vain, to pull his arm away.

“You ain't going anywhere!” The man gave a chuckle. “At least... not without...” the man bent his head forward to whisper into Nicholas's ear, “... a kiss.”

Nicholas opened his eyes wide. Out of all the disturbingly disgusting things he could think of, this was one of them. How on Earth could this guy be so dense?

“Just one nice peck on the lips. All you gotta do is take off that big coat o' yours, turn around, and give me a kiss!”

Nicholas tried to pull away again. He didn't know why he kept doing it, given he couldn't get away.

“That a no, then? Geez, youz hurt me! To make up for it, how about I'z hurt you!” He gave a very devilish grin as he yanked hard on Nicholas's arm, pulling Nicholas in close. Moments before his face crashed into the guy's chest, he saw the man pull out something metal and shiny. A knife.

“You've gone and hurt me!” The man bellowed, raising the knife up. “I just wanted love!”

Nicholas felt a shift in the man's movement. Based on how the man moved, he had begun his thrust down to Nicholas's chest. Being undead, Nicholas didn't know if this would kill him, but it still scared him a lot!

The man's movement suddenly stopped. At first, Nicholas thought the man had already thrust the knife into Nicholas, but there was no pain, no sound, and no sight, that a knife had penetrated his body.

“Hey. Where'd you come from?” The man asked after a few seconds.

“Drop the knife.” The voice rang as familiar to Nicholas, filling him with relief. If his ears didn't fail him, that voice belonged to Stanley.

“Ha! Drop the knife? You're asking a lot there, suited guy!” The man grabbed Nicholas's shoulder and shoved him away, making Nicholas back into a wall and slump to the ground.

Now that he was no longer blinded by the guy's chest, he could see what Stanley was doing. The fear from before came back full force when Nicholas saw Stanley grasping the knife-equipped arm of the man in mid air. With his right arm held firm to the square, Stanley glared at the man. “It's people like you that make my job dangerous.”

“Get out of the business, then.” The man frowned, spitting in Stanley's face.

“I'll get out of the business when you and your fellow dolts stop getting drunk and try to pick up girls in alleyways.” Stanley used his left hand to wipe the spit from his face. “You've got nothing to gain but a good chunk of your life in the jail-house!”

“Not if I can hurt you first!” The man struggled with his knife a little, trying to reach Stanley's face with it. Since the knife couldn't get anywhere near his face, the man resorted to using his free hand to punch Stanley. With very fast reflexes, Stanley threw his left arm from his face to the pathway of the man's fist, blocking and causing a huge thudding noise.

“So be it.” Stanley said sternly. Nicholas didn't know if Stanley was trying to look cool at all by saying that, but he was just grateful that Stanley had showed up when he did.

The air grew tense as Stanley and the man glared at each other for seconds that seemed to last for minutes. The atmosphere only vanished when Stanley made a move. He thrust his left arm up to the man's hand that was holding the knife, grabbing it, and twisting it to the point of hearing it crack.

With a scream of pain, the man dropped the knife onto the ground, giving Stanley a safer way to get closer to the man. Releasing the man's now crippled hand from Stanley's grasp, Stanley stooped to the ground, turning in a good circle as his knees approached the concrete floor. His shoes scraped against the floor as they pivoted to allow Stanley to face the man again. With the blink of an eye, Stanley launched himself upward, with a fist aimed at the man's chin. His fist made contact with a very loud thud, causing the man's head to crane backwards.

Not missing a beat, Stanley grabbed the man's shirt, using it as leverage as he pushed the man's chest forward, causing the man's head to start turning in the opposite direction it had been thrust in moments before.  Stanley then pulled back on the man's shirt, making the man's entire body fly toward Stanley. Stanley then tilted his head forward and made contact with the man's nose with his forehead, giving a sickening crack as he did.

A few seconds later, Stanley let go of the man's shirt, allowing the man to collapse onto the ground in front of Stanley. The man didn't look conscious.

Stanley looked down at his coat, wiping off the invisible dust that must have appeared on it when he fought the man. He then turned to the knocked out man, scowling at his limp body. “You messed with the wrong man.”

Nicholas couldn't believe what had just happened. In less than ten seconds, Stanley had disarmed and knocked-out a burly man!

“I'm so sorry, Nicholas! When you didn't reply at all to my questions, I realized you weren't with me.” Stanley walked over to Nicholas, holding out a hand to help him up. “Sorry that you had to see that.” He turned to the unconscious man. “People like him make me sick.”

Nicholas tapped Stanley on the shoulder to get his attention. Once he got it, Nicholas started furiously signing for a pen and paper. When Stanley gave him the paper, Nicholas wrote quickly, then he thrust the paper back into Stanley's hands.

Stanley read the paper. “What was that? Exclamation mark... exclamation mark... exclamation mark?” Stanley looked up at Nicholas. “Well, I thought it was a man trying to mug you! It looked like you needed help!”

Nicholas snatched the paper away and wrote again, giving it back to Stanley after a bit of scribbling.

“Oh! Oh! Okay! Yeah, um.... That was my fighting style!” Stanley laughed. “Well, not exactly. That was just a disarm and knock-out technique! As a detective, you've gotta know that sort of stuff!”

Detective? I thought he was a businessman. Nicholas wrote down his thoughts on the paper.

“Did I say detective? Oh, I meant businessman! Yeah! Hahaha....” Stanley gave Nicholas an awkward smile, but immediately frowned when Nicholas scowled at him. “Okay! Fine! You got me. I'm a detective!”

With the clarification from Stanley, Nicholas's mind started to race with even more questions, one of the biggest ones being “Why did you lie to me?”

“I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, Nicholas! I didn't want you to be afraid of me because of a detective's demeanor!” Stanley put a hand on Nicholas's shoulder. “Please don't be mad.”

Nicholas scowled, grabbing the paper and writing the words: Who are you?

When Stanley read it, he looked up at Nicholas with somewhat pained eyes, as if he could not believe one of his new friends would question who he was.

“I'm... sorry, Nicholas.... I....”

Nicholas pointed at the paper, glaring into Stanley's eyes.

“I....” Stanley groaned, looking down at the paper, then at his wrist. “Does it matter?” He seemed reluctant to tell Nicholas who he really was, which surprised Nicholas.

Nicholas nodded, groaning a “yes”.

Stanley made a big gulp, looking up at Nicholas. “Please... promise you won't be scared... or run.”

Nicholas arched a brow, confused as to why Stanley would say something like that. He wrote “I've got nowhere to go, anyway.” on the paper and handed it to Stanley, who read it.

“Okay....” Stanley looked up at Nicholas, then back at his wrist. “I...” Stanley pushed back one of the sleeves of his shirt to reveal a small silver looking wristwatch. It had a greenish screen on it that gave a very faint glow. Stanley pushed a small blue button near the screen.

His body suddenly enveloped its self in a small moving line of blue light, starting at the wrist. Wherever this blue line went on Stanley's body, his features changed. It first started with his hand, which had become a dark shade of purple, and lost two of its fingers, making the hand become three digits instead of five. The ends of his fingers were pointy, almost like they had claws at the end.

The blue line passed over his face, which immediately changed from a pail pink color to the same dark purple as his hand had changed. His eyes turned a dandelion yellow, and his mouth and nose disappeared and were replaced by a snout-like bump with four slits able to be noticed on the ends of it. Two cream colored horns appeared at the bottom of this snout, facing in a downward direction. Lastly, the dark colored hair he once had vanished, giving way to two antennae that appeared behind his head, seeming to come from underneath the hat that lay atop his head.

Stanley's appearance had shifted completely... other than his clothes. All of the human characteristics were replaced with... strange... bug-like... things.... Nicholas didn't know how to describe them, really, but he looked like a bug now... and it was very startling to see him suddenly change like that.

“I'm Xenon.... Xenon Morphix.... The alien detective.”

Nicholas was so confused by what just happened. The man just completely changed! He was no longer a human face that Nicholas was familiar with! He was a... a thing! He didn't know what to call Stanley... er... Xenon... anymore! He closed his eyes for what he thought was a moment, hoping that his eyes had deceived him. When he opened his eyes again, everything around him seemed to be shaking. This was very confusing to him, since he didn't seem to be in the alleyway anymore. In fact, he seemed to be moving on the streets now. He realized that his legs were moving rapidly, running away from the alleyway which he had been in moments ago. He didn't tell his legs to do that! They did it on their own!

Of all this chaos that ensued, Nicholas had realized one thing: He had left the man who had saved his life, not once, but twice, in the alleyway. He had broken a promise he had just received from this man.... He had run away.