The Main Stretch

	East Main runs east to west, a long flat ribbon of street that 
follows an almost perfectly straight course. Nicknamed The Main 
Stretch, the sides of the street are lined with all manner of apartment 
buildings, shops, restaurants and the occasional theater or other 
entertainment spot. The sidewalks are wide, if not a little worn, with 
pedestrian traffic late into the night, attracted by the shopping and 
entertainment. While buildings stretch up into the sky on all sides, 
and nearly any business can be found here with ease, parking is another 
matter entirely. The few parking lots are always filled near to 
capacity, and the metered parking along the street is heavily 
patrolled. The city supports a number of projects on parking fees and 
tickets alone.


Cassiopeia can be seen ducking into a small ATM booth of sorts.. well, 
okay, *she* can't be seen ducking into it.  Well, she *can*, but it's 
not *her*... sorta.  Okay, let's start over.  Someone who *is* Cass, 
but doesn't *look* like Cass, can be seen ducking in.  In other words, 
she's in holographic disguise as some large burly guy.  It's the sort 
of ATM that resides as a small sorta hut outside the bank, with the 
tinted windows and all that.  The idea place to rip off when you need 
cash and have the technology to do it.  Once inside, she does a quick 
camera-check once more... sure she's done this ATM a lot before, but it 
never hurts to check again.  In fact, it's a good idea, given that the 
bank must be noticing their loss of funds by now.  So, having 
determined that she's not on video, now safely in the sanctity of the 
shaded glass, she shrugs off her disguise and becomes her usual, normal 
self.  (There's something mildly discomforting to her about being in 
that sort of disguise.)

Mike heads down the street, as usual - but not at his usual going-
nowhere-much amble. This time he's actually going somewhere! He's going 
to Try And Get The ATM To Give Him Some Money. As might be expected, he 
looks a little apprehensive as he approaches the ATM booth and goes 
inside, digging in the back pocket of his jeans for his card. Please 
give me cash, please please please...

Blake comes strolling down the street, a 3-foot-by-5-foot framed canvas 
held over his head. As pedestrians get nearly beaned and/or 
decapitated, he seems to amuse himself by shouting about low bridges 
and wide loads.

Cassiopeia blinks, looking up from the ATM she's working on as Mike 
enters.  Her hand is on the card-slot -- very strange for someone using 
an ATM.  And knowing that she should hurry, given that she's being 
watched, her hand is travelling across the buttons almost to the point 
of being blurred, even as she smiles innocently, looking at Mike rather 
than at what she's doing, and trying to make conversation.  "Uhh, hi 
Mike.. what's up?" she asks, punching digits rapidly.  (She's got a lot 
to push -- logic bugs in the card-reader only take you so far if you 
want to do a deposit from no-account-in-particular, which is less 
tracable than any given account, and doesn't hurt anyone either.)

Mike gives Cass an odd look. Even he's alert enough to notice that 
she's not just checking her account balance. "Hi, Cass." He pauses, 
unwilling to give the other ATM his card in case it refuses to give it 
back, and says, "Um - what are you doing?"

Cancer is in the Kyklos. He's sitting, silent and motionless, watching 
a dozen data screens and listening to several audio outputs. One of the 
screens is set to Cass' POV, having been linked up to the transmission 
of Cassiopeia's light bee. As he notices the difficulty Cass is facing, 
he turns some of his attention to that screen, but continues to process 
averages of metahuman activity, collect data on stock market trends, 
and reconfigure the few small maintenance robots which help with upkeep 
on the non-Kyklos systems.

Cassiopeia continues to smile innocently, even though it's obvious it's 
not working.  "Oh, nothing much, just getting some money, how about 
you?"  And with that, the machine beeps as it normally would when 
giving out money, the slot for the cash opening.  She grabs the large 
wad of twenties, stuffing it in her pocket quickly (which strangely 
holds it all without bulging very much) and grabs her card, slipping it 
into her other pocket.  "So, how's it going?" she asks, continuing her 
act.

Mike raises his eyebrows. "Cass. What are you doing? Is that your 
money?" Not that he's got a clue what he's going to do about it if it 
isn't hers. It's just the sort of thing you say at this point.

Blake yells "Comin' thru!" a bit too late as he clips a big, scary-
loking guy in a stained shirt, stained hat--um, stained everything--on 
the shoulder with the canvas. "Hey, you moron!" yells the guy, dodging 
the rest of the canvas and making a shove at Blake, who is well turtled 
under the frame. "Schcuse me," says Blake politely, not even pausing. 
But Stain isn't about to give up. "Come out from under that thing, ya 
weirdo!" he yells.

Cassiopeia pauses, caught.  But hoping to brush things off with humour, 
she smiles, hopping up onto the table-ledge that runs across the back 
side of the kiosk, and shrugging.  "It is now, I guess."

Cancer continues to observe, waiting to see how Cassiopeia handles the 
situation. He'll step in if he really needs to.

Mike, his own transaction forgotten, stares at Cassiopeia. "You're 
kidding," he says eventually. "You can't do that." Well, she *can*, 
but... "You have to give it back."

Cassiopeia goes blank for a moment, then pouts, going for the 
sympathetic way out of this.  Sure she could just run off, but she'd 
like to keep her friendship, and that wouldn't do it.  And so she just 
pouts reluctantly, saying nothing for the moment.

Mike just looks back at her. "That's not gonna work on me, Cass, I used 
to have a very cute dog. C'mon, you know this isn't right." Aw, but 
look at her...no, no, be strong.

Meanwhile, Stain takes ahold of the edge of the frame and pulls on it. 
"Come on, right now!" he yells. Blake slips to the other side and pulls 
in the other direction. "Hey, thesche aren't cheap you know!" he yells 
back.

Cassiopeia continues to pout for a moment longer, then hmmphs and 
crosses her arms, pulling her legs up onto the ledge as well.  "But 
what does it matter?  They make billions every year, tax-free.. the 
banks, I mean.  It's not like I'm taking the money from anyone in 
particular.. they shouldn't have it anyway."

Mike senses a huge long avenue of philosophy opening up. Oh, boy. "But 
- the banks pass on the money you cost 'em. That's why I end up having 
to pay twenty dollars so they can write to me and tell me I have no 
money. And it's not the point, Cass, stealing isn't okay just because 
you're stealing from someone who can afford it. Now give it back."

Cancer watches for another moment and listens to Cassiopeia's 
statement, then activates a private communication channel to Cass, so 
only she can hear it. "Cassiopeia. This is Cancer. Perhaps an approach 
of socio-political debate is not ideal for this particular situation. I 
would suggest a swift kick to the groin and an expedient escape. Do you 
agree?"

Blake loses his grip on his end of the frame and has to watch as Stain 
flings it into the street behind him. "Now come here, you," he growls, 
lunging forward and seizing Blake by the lapels (obviously this guy 
really can't stand to be bumped by pre-art). "Geeschz, I schaid I was 
schorry!" Blake tells him.

Cassiopeia gives another hmmph, louder this time, curling in on herself 
a little as a sort of defensive-and-cross gesture.  "But that's like 
telling the lumberjack to go take this first-aid kit to the Big Bad 
Wolf, and apologise, too."  And over the private channel, she replies, 
somewhat curtly (as her annoyance flows from one medium to the next), 
"No, I don't."

Mike shakes his head. "No, Cass, look, the point is, you're the thief 
here. Not the good guy. Give it back, or I'll, uh," heck, what WILL I 
do? "I'll call the police. You can't do this." He obviously isn't at 
all happy with making this threat.

Cancer tilts his head and devotes more of his attention to the screen, 
now only doing four other things at the same time. "What alternative 
course of action do you plan on pursuing, then?" Had he eyes, he would 
narrow them at Mike's words. "He is threatening to contact the local 
authorities. That would be inconvenient. Perhaps a mild concussion 
would suffice to incapacitate him so you might escape."

Stain yanks Blake close in order to glower scarily at him, and frowns. 
"Geez, buddy, what the hell," he remarks. "You are one ugly bastard--
and what's with the jacket?" He snorts with laughter. "Who the hell you 
supposed to be? The Top Freak?" Blake narrows his eyes (further, 
anyways). "I'll have you know asschault is a crime in thisch town," he 
points out. "I oughta call a cop."

Cassiopeia gahs and rolls her eyes, then pauses, realising that gesture 
wasn't entirely appropriate for the situation.  But hey, maybe if she 
seems to be just a little crazy, and a little bit snarky to Cancer at 
the same time, she'll kill two birds with one stone.  And so she 
explains, "Sorry, this annoying voice in my head is telling me to knock 
you out and escape.  No, wait, not entirely true.  He wanted me to knee 
you in the groin first-off.  You see what I gotta deal with?"  She 
sighs, shaking her head slowly, then pauses again, her voice becoming 
firm.  "I can't do that, in any case.  I need the money, and besides, 
how could I return it to them?"

Mike blinks at the first bit and decides to ignore it. "Well...you 
could just post it to em. Put it in an envelope and mail it or 
something. You can't keep it. It's not yours." He really means it.

Cancer tilts his head at Cassiopeia's words and references back to the 
parenting books he processed in order to help with his dealing with 
Cassiopeia. Cross reference failure to accept advice with a flippant 
attitude .. ah. Chapter four. Tough Love. He focuses his attention on 
the communication to Cassiopeia. "If my aid is such an annoyance, 
perhaps such trivialities as perpetual hardware maintenance and power 
supply are unworthy of your attention as well. It will take a few 
moments to sever the link to your emitter. Stand by." He is, indeed, 
bluffing, but it's meant more as a threat of what he could do than what 
he intends to.

Stain pauses, then releases Blake, shoving him away. "Don't bother, 
mush-mouth," he says. "I got better things to do than hang 
around...guys--like...you." Having apparently run out of insults, Stain 
turns and walks away.

Cassiopeia starts and blinks rapidly, suddenly looking very panicked.  
"No!" she says aloud, quickly regretting her words.  "No, please!" she 
repeats, then sorta cowers, huddling on the ledge in the corner of the 
kiosk.  "I don't wanna go!  I'm sorry, really.."

Mike blinks, startled. "Hey, Cass, what's wrong? Calm down, it's 
okay..." He goes over to her and puts a hand on her arm, utterly 
confused.

Had he emotions, Cancer would be suffering that terrible mix of smug 
satisfaction and unhappy guilt that a parent feels when a threat is 
successful. Fortunately, he doesn't. "Then I would appreciate a more 
respectful tone. I was merely offering suggestions as to a course of 
action you might take, and you became flippant and snide." He isn't 
being imperious, his tone isn't domineering, it's simply matter-of-
fact, as it usually is.

Blake looks forlornly out into the street at his canvas, which has been 
run over once by this time. Cars are honking in irritation at it. Blake 
stands there a minute or two, trying to decide whether to claim 
ownership of it and pull it out of the street or just leave it.

Cassiopeia hugs her legs tightly to herself, not seeming affected by 
the touch.  "I'm sorry," she whimpers quietly, "I just .. well, with 
the money and all, I was just a bit upset, and .. I didn't mean to say 
all that.. please, don't cut me off.."  It thusly becomes increasingly 
obvious that she's being threatened by the same voice that she talked 
about.  (Duh.)

Mike can't keep up with this at all, getting only one end of the 
conversation as he is. "Cass, please, c'mon, calm down. Who are you 
talking to?"

Cancer realises Cassiopeia's reaction might be becoming too severe, and 
alters his vocal emulator to the tone he developed specifically for 
Cassiopeia. It's warm, comforting, and sympathetic. Or a reasonable 
facsimile thereof. "Cassiopeia, please calm down. I will not disconnect 
you. I am.. sorry that I had to resort to that threat. I simply 
employed it to bring you back to a more sensible state of mind." 
Believe it or not, that's gushingly sympathetic for Cancer.

"Come on!" HONK! BEEP! "Get that thing outta the road!!" BEEP!! BOOP!! 
"Oh fer Chrissake!" HONK! HONK! HONK!!

Blake figures it would be the right thing to do, so he makes his way 
out into the street and starts tugging at the mangled framed canvas. 
People boo and honk some more.

Kenneth walks slowly into the area, a grin on his face so wide that 
it's obvious that this day has brought good news for him. A letter is 
in his hands, and he was almost finished folding it up and placing it 
in his pocket when he rounded the corner of the block. He blinks 
slightly, shocked out of his reverie, as he notices the agitated state 
of the motorists...

Kenneth calls out to the man dragging the canvas, "Hey! Need some 
help?" His voice has a slight drawl to it... a deeply-rooted drawl that 
seems almost taking directly from the heart of the Midwest itself. He 
walks over to the struggling man, rolling up his sleeves.

Cassiopeia's whimpers fade off to a sniffle, then a sigh as she uncurls 
and sorta falls back against the side-wall of the kiosk.  "It's .. 
alright," she murmurs to Ed, "it's just .. a threat.  I thought .. I 
thought he meant it.  That he was going to cut me off."  She sighs once 
again, then slams a fist into the tinted glass, making the large sheet 
rattle discomfortingly.  "And I *fell* for it," she growls, then lapses 
back into a quiet state.

Mike hovers uncertainly. Okay, this isn't weird at all. "Um, okay." 
Let's leave that part for now. Where were we? "Um, Cass, the money. You 
still can't keep it."

The canvas isn't heavy or anything, it's just that the frame is broken 
and making it difficult to drag the thing along the asphalt. Blake is 
attempting to do this as fast as possible, considering the numerous 
automobiles bearing down on him. "Schtay back!" he shouts over his 
shoulder at Kenneth. "They're commutersch! There'sch murder in their 
eyesch!"

Kenneth chuckles, and, ignoring Blake's warning, runs to the other 
side, lifting it... and hopefully at least making it easier to manage. 
"I think they'll survive the inconvienience."

Cancer would blink, had he the capability. He's just hit the eternal 
'huh?' point all guys reach in a relationship with a female, be it 
boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, or alien-warrior-crystalline-
entity-acting-in-a-fatherly-role/electronically-preserved-psyche-of-a-
prepubescent-child-manifested-in-the-form-of-a-solid-hologram. 
Cassiopeia was disrespectful, he attempted to bring discipline into it, 
and he's suddenly become the Bad Person. He turns off the other 
monitors at his workstation and stops, motionless, trying to process 
what to do now. "Cassiopeia, I did not intend to 'trick' you. I was 
attempting to remind you that my suggestions are meant to aid you in 
your predicament, and that you should refrain from applying sarcasm in 
your responses."

Cassiopeia sighs once more, taking the conversation to her head now. . 
o O (Yeah.. I just .. well, it scared me.  I shoulda said.. I don't 
want to hurt him, okay?)  She then shakes her head at Mike.  "Okay, you 
win," she reluctantly replies, reaching into her pocket to pull it out, 
holding it out.  "I'll just hafta find some somewhere else.  And before 
you say anything.. it's not like I've got much of a choice.  It's what 
I do."

Mike looks at the money for a second, before putting his hands in his 
pockets and stepping back a pace. "No, uh, don't give it to me. Give it 
back to them yourself. They'll never believe you were the one who took 
it anyway. And of course you have a choice, don't be so defeatist."

Cancer tilts his head curiously. "That is acceptable, Cassiopeia. Is it 
simply your intention to avoid violence in general, or do you know 
him?" He listens to the verbal exchange between Cass and Mike, and 
wonders why Cassiopeia obtains money in such a blatantly illegal manner 
instead of something more subtly criminal, like automotive repair.

Blake finishes hauling the canavas out of the street with Kenneth's 
help, and the people waiting in their cars jam on the gas and screech 
away as if doing that will make up for anything. "Thanksch," Blake says 
to Kenneth, then gives the broken ex-canvas a little kick. "There 
goesch *that* project. Oh well."

Kenneth chuckles down at the ruined 'project'. "So... what happened, 
then?"

Cassiopeia shakes her head slowly.  "What else is there to do?  I'm not 
comfortable showing myself out there in the world in any sort of 
database.. that leaves bank accounts, social security numbers, and a 
lot of other things out.. I'm supposed to be dead.  I died two years 
ago.  Was hit by a car.  And I have no idea who may be looking for me.  
Tell me how I can get money legally, hmm?  At least the banks are a 
reasonable target -- I get so mad at them, reading about how they rip 
people off all the time, with service charges, high loan interest, all 
in the name of holding on to their kickbacks."

Cassiopeia mentally replies to Cancer even as she speaks, though.  (Two 
lines of thought is nothing for her.) . o O (A friend.. well, an 
acquaintance, really.. but one who cares about me, so yeah, a friend.)

Mike doesn't understand all of that, but he gets the important part. 
"Wait, wait, you're meant to be *dead*? Why - I mean - shouldn't you be 
in care or with relatives or something? You don't have to steal, Cass, 
there are people who'd look after you."

Cancer nods. "Understandable. An ally, thus requiring a more democratic 
approach than violent confrontation. It may help persuade him if I join 
in the conversation." That's the closest he'll generally come to 'want 
me to come help?'

Blake just shrugs at Kenneth. "Oh, schome schauschage factory threw it 
out in the schtreet." He idly points out the stained guy, who has 
paused at a newspaper vending machine to buy a paper. "Schome people 
jusct don't appresciate pretty picturesch, I guessch."

Cassiopeia shakes her head, sighing deeply.  "Nobody left to turn to," 
she replies cryptically, then turns her attention to Cancer, pausing in 
consideration before nodding just a bit. . o O (Yeah.. you're right.. 
please.)

Kenneth quirks an eyebrow, slowly translating that muddled 
explaination. "So.. you're an artist, then?" He points to the canvas. 
"Would that be yours, then?"

Mike blinks. "There's always somebody. Always." And he really believes 
that, too. Bless.

Cancer transmits a final "Confirmed." before he chimes an encrypted 
communication to the Kyklos transporters. Within seconds a golden glow 
outside the doorway of the ATM booth heralds the arrival of the 
Zodiac's most stoic member: Cancer the Crab. He reaches forward and, in 
an attempt to conduct himself in a 'normal' way, taps Mike on the 
shoulder with the tip of his claw, his vocal synthesizer droning in a 
monotone, "Excuse me, sir."

Mike jumps and spins round, remarkably fast for someone who's not the 
quickest person on earth at the best of times. "Wh - uh - y-yes?" Eep.

Cassiopeia pulls her legs back against her, watching silently to see 
where Cancer takes this, staring blankly at him.  The mix of emotions 
has been fairly strong these past few minutes, and now she's making up 
for it by just letting her mind go flat, so to speak.

Blake shrugs and doesn't even look down at the dead canvas. "Yeah it 
wasch mine," he says. "Yeah I'm an artischt kinda. I *wasch* gonna make 
a multimedia portrait for schomeone but now I might have to do 
schomething elsche..."

Kenneth chuckles over in Blake's general direction. "Well... you ever 
done book covers?" He bends over, taking in what remains of the 
artwork. "I really didn't like the work of the guy the publishers 
picked up for my recent book... and need someone who can do decent 
metahuman scetches..." He suddenly tightens visibly as he hears the 
nearly-inaudible sound of Cancer's transport... knowing that this 
arrival means anotehr Zodiac minion has entered the area. No need to 
bring attention to himself, though... they have never placed Kenneth 
with Superman... yet.

Cancer attempts to employ human vernacular in order to appear less 
threatening. That's rather difficult for a living column of jagged 
crystal with glowing red 'eyes'. "What seems to be the problem?" He 
glances at Cass and gives her a vague nod, intended to reassure her. He 
doesn't notice Kenneth, of course, because there's not much to notice. 
Just a guy talking to.. something vaguely resembling a human being.

Mike would back up if there was anywhere to go. "There, there isn't a 
problem. Not one concerning you, anyway. Uh. Is there?" He looks at 
Cass, and might as well have 'help!' tattooed on his forehead.

Blake finally leans down to start gathering up the ruined canvas--
mustn't litter, you know. "Well I've done coversch for music albums--
those thingsch they schell at the Rennaisschansche Faire, moschtly--and 
a couple of magazine thingsch but they were for rotten fantaschy game 
publischers scho I don't think they count..." He hasn't noticed a 
thing.

Cassiopeia just continues to stare blankly, though, silent.  No, that's 
not quite right.. she does speak, but only briefly.  "He's a friend, 
don't worry," she says, then lapses into silence once more as she 
watches with interest.

Kenneth grins. "I'd love to see some of your stuff... I always thought 
it best to work with fellow locals anyhow..."

StarDancer flits down and perches on a near-by lamp-standard. She's 
encountered Cancer 1ce before, and seen him reduced to a pile of 
gravel, and is understandably hesitant to intrude on a situation that 
could turn suddenly violent.

Cancer tilts his head slightly as he rests his claw in the palm of his 
hand behind his back, trying to look more casual as he leans forward, 
both crowding Mike a bit more and gazing into the booth at Cassiopeia. 
"I am Cassiopeia's benefactor. You appeared to be having an altercation 
of sorts." He turns his unblinking crimson gaze back to Mike. "Thus I 
ask, what seems to be the problem?"

Mike shrinks back, desperately wanting to be somewhere else. Anywhere. 
"There isn't a problem," he insists,keeping his voice steady. "Really. 
I was just leaving anyway."

Blake kinda sloppily stuffs most of the canvas in a traschcan. "Schure, 
maybe," he nods to Kenneth. "Well...Now I guessch I need to buy 
schomething elsche..." He pulls a bundle of receipts, ID cards of some 
sort, and a bit of cash from his pocket, all bound together with a 
stylish rubber band. "I think I need schome more casch, firscht."

Kenneth laughs. "Well... keep me in mind. I'd of course get you paid 
for the job."

StarDancer relaxes slightly, seeing that the gigantic stone crab 
doesn't seem inclined to reduce all and sundry to sashimi.

Cancer brings his head back up to vertical and gazes scrutinously at 
Mike, then glances to Cassiopeia, chiming in a musical, alien language, 
which is picked up by his communicator and relayed to a transmission on 
a private band to Cassiopeia. ##I fear I may never understand these 
humans? Why is he so eager to depart? He appeared to be extremely 
adamant in his attempt to explain your 'guilt' to you. I do not see why 
he has suddenly changed his mind.## He resumes staring curiously at 
Mike, still not moving out of the way.

Mike clears his throat. "Um. Excuse me?" Oh, yeah, that'll work, nice 
one, Nelson.

Cassiopeia can't help but giggle quietly at the exchange, shaking her 
head slowly. . o O (Oh, dear.  But hey, it's working, at least..)

Blake nods to Kenneth. "That'sch alwaysch a plusch," he remarks. He 
turns to approach the ATM but stops short. "Um," he says. "Maybe I 
won't, juscht now. Maybe I'll take a little break, and get a new hobby. 
For now."

Kenneth blinks. "You know them... um... I don't think I caught your 
name..." He shakes his head, and seems to starte THROUGH hat little 
crowd, seeing Mike in quite a bit of distress... but fears walking up 
to give him a hand, since Mike usually runs in fear of *him*... "Oh 
GOD, Mike... what have you gotten yourself into now?"

(Holo) A camel comes walking around a corner and blinks dewy, long-
lashed eyes at the little crowd around Mike.

(Holo) The camel spits in Cancer's general direction but misses.

Cancer tilts his head again, the peak of his expressive capability. "It 
is impossible for me to grant you an excuse if I am unaware of your 
offense. What is it that you seek a pardon for?" Okay, so sometimes he 
takes human vernacular a bit literally at times. The camel goes 
entirely unnoticed, simply because it's outside of Cancer's peripheral 
vision.

Mike looks at Kenneth like a drowning man looks at a life-preserver. 
"Kenneth! Hi!" He looks back down at Cancer again. "I mean, would you 
get out of my way, please, I want to leave." He either ignores the 
camel or doesn't see it. Some things are TOO weird.

(Holo) The camel "hwanks" and pads up a bit closer to the assembly.

Blake frowns when he spots a camel (one hump or two?) going up to the 
ATM. "I didn't know they let camelsch have ATM cardsch," he finds 
himself remarking. Then he blinks. "Hey, Mike'sch in there," he points 
out to noone in particular.

Kenneth nods. "Think we should go say hi, sir? I think our apparently 
mutual friend could use a good exit route right now..."

(Holo) The camel turns in Blakes direction and blinks its long-lashed 
eyes at him, and clearly seems to have only one hump.

Cancer does his best to approximate a blink, his visor flickering. "I 
apologise, sir. I had not intended to threaten you. I merely wished to 
know what caused your altercation with my ward. If you would rather act 
as a typically narrow-minded human and be intimidated by my appearance, 
then so be it." He looks to Cassiopeia. "I believe it would be best if 
you went home now." He looks to Mike. "Good day, sir." He attempts to 
make the goodbye sound curt and righteous, like he heard Willy Wonka 
say it, though it comes across as its typical monotone. With that, he 
vanishes in the typical golden flare of the Kyklos teleporters.

Cassiopeia needn't be told twice, perfectly happy to depart from this 
tricky situation once she's got an excuse to do so.  And so, with a 
similar flare, she disappears also, without a word, for parts unknown.

Mike blinks. Um. Okay. He just kinda stands there, waiting for 
normality to return.

(Holo) The camel sprouts beautiful butterfly wings and takes off.

Kenneth chuckles, and motions his head to Mike. "They have a bad habit 
of doing that. After a while, you get used to it."

Blake shakes his head. "I had never scheen this ATM maschine scho 
popular," he says.
From out of nowhere a voice says, "wellll, not evry ATM gets flyin 
camels."

Mike continues to just stand there. After a few seconds he looks at 
Kenneth and says, "Huh?" That's about as intelligent as it's going to 
get for now.

Blake nods. "That'sch about it." He approaches Mike. "Guessch this 
maschine wasch giving you a hard time, then? What with the black 
schtone people and the camelsch? And I thought it hated *me*."

Mike looks at Blake, who isn't helping. "What?"

The voice replies to Blake, "I don hate anybody, I think."

Kenneth looks upward, seeking the souce of the voice. He then grins 
over at Mike. "You seem to attract a lot of undue attention toward 
yourself. Did you gain that shiner doing so?"

Blake is looking around, too. "Hey, it never doesch that for me! Lemme 
schee your card!" he says to Mike.

Mike blinks. And blinks again. And latches onto something that made 
some kind of sense. "Oh - no. I was in a fight. Kinda. Was one-sided." 
He doesn't give Blake his card, though.

The voice appears to come from Kenneth's left saying, "I'm not like the 
ATM or anythin so maybe it does hate you."

Kenneth chuckles over at Mike. "What... beat yourself silly over 
something?"

Blake decides that even if there really is a disembodied voice here, it 
isn't being too friendly, so he attempts to focus his attention on 
Mike, waiting for his reply.

Mike is ignoring the voice as probably not real. "N-no...he was bigger 
than me...I don't feel so good here." He leans on the wall of the ATM 
booth, and he doesn't *look* so great either, white-faced.

With a clearly audible pout the voice says, "hey, I'm rilly here, 
aren't I, Mike?"

Kenneth sighs, "If you're going to talk to us, having a body join the 
voice always help..."

The voice sighs then says, "you guys better take care a him."

Blake looks at Mike. "Maybe you schould conschider a flu schot," he 
says helpfully, and moves forward. "You need to lie down or 
schomething."

(Holo) A blue arrow appears and points at Mike, blinking on and off.

Kenneth kneels next to Mike, assuming that he really has nothing more 
he can do about the voice. So... instead, he begins to listen... 
isolating Mike... heartbeat... breathing...He smiles. "How're you 
feeling, Mike?"

The voice sighs and says, "if I show up he'll get even worse."

Mike whimpers quietly when the voice (which is NOT real, so there) says 
his name. This isn't just a reaction to today, this is several days of 
not eating right, not sleeping right and incidentally nearly being 
killed every few hours. He says, very very quietly, "Been better..."

Kenneth nods to Blake. "I think we need to get this boy inside... and 
fed..."

Blake nods. "Where?"

Kenneth nods. "We can take him to my place for now... until we can 
figure out if he really needs a doctor."

Mike opens his eyes again. "No, I'm okay...I'll go home."

Blake hesitates. "Yeah...okay," he says. "But uh...then I'd better go. 
Have to get schome schtuff done."

Kenneth shrugs. "Even at the cost of a free meal?" He chuckles. "I 
still haven't made up for our horrible first meeting."

Mike gives up. Whatever. Sleep looks good right now...yeah...

Kenneth grins. "Well, then... my place isn't too far from here... if 
you folks don't mind some sparse furbishing."

Kenneth grins, "Come on, then..." He offers to aid Mike to a standing 
position...

(Holo) The arrow is replaced with a cartoonish hand waving bye-bye.

Mike makes a noise of protest. No, wanna go to sleep...

Blake forgoes offering and hauls Mike out of the ATM kiosk. "C'mon, 
Mike..."

Kenneth grins at Mike, and then chuckles at the oddish hologram. "Come 
on... no sleeping until at least you have a full stomach, or you're 
going to do yourself more bad than good." He snakes a hand to Mie's 
back, forcing him into a standing position with what seems like no 
effort at all.

Mike aghs and wakes up a bit. "No...I'm okay..." Nasty people. Making 
me be all awake and things.

Kenneth shakes his head. "No you're not, Mike... and Meg would kill me 
if she thought I'd even _consider_ letting you off that easy."

Blake pauses, looking at Kenneth. "Well I guessch you got him...I 
schould get going anywaysch." He starts to move off, and waves. "Schee 
you both around."

Kenneth nods toward Blake. "And consider my offer, okay? At least send 
me a portfolio..."