“I know it’s you!” Joshua, AKA T100, AKA, ‘old man’ was telling the ceiling of his kitchen. He was holding a box of Wheaties in his hand and shaking it at the ceiling a most threatening manner. The lights sometimes flickered when he had these conversations, but tonight it was a toss up whether anyone was listening. The house was not unquiet tonight… it was however unsettled in the sense that all his food stuff had been re-alphabatized and his soup cans stacked in the kitchen like a Campbell’s Tower of Pisa. The Wheaties rattled angrily. “I know its you, you little brat. You keep this up and I swear to God…” Rattle, rattle went the box.
It was probably a good thing that there was a knock at the door just then because he didn’t have a threat in mind that was proficiently scary to what he was rapidly suspecting was the ghost of some Dennis the Menace like child spook. Joshua put the box down and stormed to the front door in time to recognize the voices of Torque and Lux (AKA: tweedle dee and tweedle dum.) He considered not opening the door or opening the door with a shotgun (just to accomplish the cliché) but in the end ripped the door open and – because Lux was lounging on his door and not looking, grabbed the former demolitions expert and hauled him off the porch.
“And I’m busy!” He squinted at Lux like a mold he’d found on the bottom of his sink. “When the hell do you live in Scarlet Oak? Don’t tell me the rest of the damn unit is hiding in the bushes.” He wheeled around, releasing Lux and glaring at the were jaguar behind him. “This your idea?”