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An elderly man sits at an antique rolltop desk. The only light in the room comes from a dim mushroom shaped lamp sitting on top of the desk. The man sighs heavily and opens a notebook sitting in front of him. The pages are blank. He closes the book, sits back in his chair, then reaches into a lower drawer and pulls out a silver pocket watch.
Shaking his head, the man allows himself to speak, "Damn."
The sound of scraping footsteps outside the room causes the man to go stone still. Not even a breath escapes his lips. The footsteps fade. A second or two passes before the man allows himself to move.
He looks at the watch and frantically opens the notebook. Instead of a blank page, the words "I understand." have appeared. The man turns the page and begins writing furiously. As he writes a shadow emerges from a far corner of the room. No distinct shape can be discerned, but whatever it is, the man pays it no heed. Making no sound, the shadow shifts along the floor, and stops a foot or two away from the desk.
The man suddenly stops writing. He looks up at nobody in particular, then jots a few remaining words on the page. He places his hand on the page, then slams the notebook shut. Suddenly, the shadow takes form and another man is now standing by the desk, fists clenched. He looks somewhat similar to the writer, the only difference being that he has no eyes.
The figure opens his mouth, a raspy metallic voice escapes, "What have you done?"
Gordon Parlonski III does not immediately respond. Finally, he opens the notebook, "See for yourself."
The eyeless man reaches his arms out and opens his hands revealing black lidless eyes on each palm.
The man hisses, "What is this? What were you writing"
Gordon points to the notebook, "Nothing. There is nothing there Watcher."
"But I saw you . . "
"You saw nothing." Gordon slams the notebook shut.
"You're scared and you are lying." The Watcher closes his fists.
Gordon clenches the pen, obviously thinking of attacking his unwanted visitor. He then relaxes, knowing such a move could jeapordize everything he'd worked for up to this point. It wasn't worth it, at least not yet. Instead, he slowly turns around.
However, he finds nothing, the Watcher has left.
Scraping footsteps return outside the room's door, pause, and then continue past.
Gordon hurls the pen across the room and suppresses a sob. Dejectedly, he walks over to the pen to pick it up. As he returns to the desk, an impromptu thought crosses his mind. Putting the pen to rest on the desktop, Gordon purposefully strides to the door. He reaches for the handle.
Startled, Gordon freezes.
"Who's there?" Gordon looks to the darkened corners. Silence. The lamp dims.
Gordon reaches again for the door.
"Do not pass through there Gordon." A feminine voice cautions.
"Show yourself." Again, no reply.
Gordon steps cautiously to the corner of the room closest to his desk, "You must show yourself, it is the rule."
The lamp has almost completely gone black. Gordon puts his hands on the wall and begins to slowly walk to another corner of the room.
"What trick is this? Why aren't you showing yourself." Gordon's voice begins to crack.
"Sit down," the voice gently commands.
Gordon stops heading towards the corner and goes back to the desk. Sitting down, he again questions, "Where are you? I know the rule, you must show, you must."
"Here." This time, there is no mistaking where the voice is located. Gordon looks up at the ceiling and gasps.
The remaining light in the room illuminates a figure that can only be described as heavenly. Flowing yellow robes hold a young woman from falling to the floor. Her head is adorned in some sort of red flower crown. She smiles at Gordon and nods her head. The robes that had been holding her up, now dance across her body and slowly lower her to the ground. When her feet touch, the robes quickly draw tight around her. She raises a finger to the lamp, and the room brightens.
"Why. . . . " Gordon can't speak.
"You know what I am?"
"I've been here long enough, yes, I know what you are." Gordon whispers.
"Then you know why I am here." The woman walks towards Gordon.
"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I fully understand exactly what you are and what you do. You are an Assistente . . . " Gordon pauses, staring at her.
"Yes, Assistente, that is one of my names. "
"Why are you here?" Gordon questions.
"You are in need of my help."
"I don't understand, why now? What help could you possibly offer now?" Anger laces Gordon's words.
Just as he finishes speaking, the scraping sound returns outside the door. Gordon's eyes grow wide.
"A Watcher! You must leave." Gordon cautions.
The Assistente looks towards the door and yawns. She looks back at Gordon.
"As you wish. But know that I'll be back, we have much to discuss." She starts receding towards the back of the room. She turns her head with one last comment for Gordon, "Good, I'm glad you found that."
He looks to where she points - the notebook. Gordon raises his head back up, but she has vanished. Gordon quickly dashes to the notebook expecting to find some answer to this curious visit. However, when he opens it, the pages are still blank.
Continue forward to: Chapter Three.
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