Out of the Shadows Book 2: From Darkness into Light - Chapter 2 Over the next few months, Justin was glad of the relationship that Leon offered him. The young Canadian was uncomplicated and easy to talk to and Justin always knew where he stood with him, which in many ways was a relief after his relationship with Brian. Brian. He still thought of him often and he knew deep down, he was still in love with him and so did Leon. But the young man continued to offer his support and showed no signs of jealousy when Justin slipped up and spoke of his former love in Leon’s presence. It was tough, being so far from home and not even being able to go back and visit his family and friends during the term breaks, but at Christmas, he went skiing with his surrogate family and by then had settled well into his new life. Summer break came around and taking Molly with her, Jennifer took a two-week trip to Geneva. When she told Craig of her plans, he responded by saying he was looking forward to having Justin working with him after he’d graduated, but then had returned to the financial report he was reading. Jennifer was glad her husband didn’t want any hard evidence of Justin’s education; she didn’t want to tell too many lies: Craig had quite a temper on him these days. Jennifer could see quite a change in Justin; he was a confident and accomplished young man who’s first year at the art institute had earned him honours; gone was the kid she’d said goodbye to all that time ago and though it was tough when the time came to go home, she was more sure than ever that getting her son to Switzerland had been the very best thing for him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The letters etched into the glass doors spelled, “Kinnetik”. Brian had used the name Justin had suggested for his own agency and the work to convert the bathhouse had been completed without a hitch and, in fact, ahead of schedule. Ted was working as his accountant and Cynthia had come on board as Brian’s PA: her knowledge of the industry invaluable to him and with Craig Taylor having agreed to transfer his business, Brian was confident of the success of his new venture. Marty Ryder had tried to convince Brian to stay with him: offering him a partnership there and then. But Brian had refused; he’d made up his mind: he was going it alone. And as he stood in his new office and breaking open a bottle of champagne to launch the agency, deep down, Brian unexpectedly realised that he wished there’d been someone special there to stand beside him and share this experience with him: someone like Justin. But he knew that the effort he’d put into ignoring the blond had probably paid off as Justin rarely emailed him now: that he would no doubt have someone new. For Justin was someone who wanted to love and be loved in return: something Brian had found almost impossible to do. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After more than a year of relative calm, things suddenly started to escalate on Liberty Avenue with renewed threats to taxi drivers and attacks on property. The dumpsters behind several premises had been set alight: spreading the Fire Department thinly over the neighbourhood for a few nights and then on several occasions, men, foolishly making their way home alone after a night at the clubs had been followed, but so far no one had been attacked. Usually, two men would follow a potential victim, with the intention of attacking and inducing an element of fear back into the neighbourhood. But suddenly, the men stalking became aware they too were being followed, but on turning around, no one would be there. But they had an overriding impression; a feeling that made them sweat: that someone was watching them: watching and waiting for them to make their move. And now two men became three and filled with more confidence, headed out into the night to find their victim and it didn’t take them long. But even three men were no match and their attempts to injure and scare were to no avail. A masked and fleeting figure would abruptly appear out of the shadows: putting himself between victim and attackers: demonstrating super human strength in defending the weak and helpless. Sometimes he didn’t even need to touch these men who’d use fists or carry baseball bats to inflict injury. This defender, who could create a protective force field around himself and the victim and using just a stare; with forces powerful enough to scramble someone’s brains and leave them screaming with pain as they fled, was all it took. And then, with just a touch of the hand, any injury the victim had suffered was healed. But before a word could be uttered in thanks, the mysterious figure would disappear again. Word soon got around Liberty Avenue that there would appear to be someone in their midst who was watching over them: a man with unexplained powers who fearlessly faced those threatening the community. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Is there a Gay Crusader?” asked the headline in the local paper, the morning following one such foiled attack: a headline that was repeated by Michael as he sat at the counter eating his breakfast. “It says here that a masked man stepped out of the shadows and single-handedly defended some guy against three men … without even touching them … and then used some sort of healing powers on the guy they’d attacked … who came out of it without so much as a scratch … and then this … this avenger just disappeared into the night …” Ben chuckled and shook his head. “That’s sounds a bit too fanciful if you ask me, Michael … like the product of someone who’d had just a little too much to drink …” but now it was Michael’s turn to disagree. “Then how do you explain that apparently at least two other attacks have been prevented in recent weeks …” and he looked over at his partner, who shrugged and returned to his cereal. “Sounds like something out of one of your comic books, Mikey,” said Brian, smiling and overhearing the conversation as he came in for coffee on his way to the office and he sat down at the end of the counter. “You can scoff all you like …” replied his friend. “But I happen to think its true … that there is someone watching over us … who knows what forces are out there …” “Someone like Captain Astro?” chuckled Brian and his friend frowned at him. “You’ve been reading too much of the stock, Michael,” said his Mother, placing the coffee cup down in front of Brian and then she leaned across and patted her son’s face. Michael fell silent. He didn’t care what they all thought; he was convinced the reports were true and he swallowed the last of his coffee before kissing Ben and heading off to open up the comic book store. Shit: it had hit the papers. Brian picked up the discarded newspaper and drank down his coffee; accepting a refill as he mulled over the report: he was going to have to be more careful. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jim O’Brien at the Tribune was reading the same article over his morning cup of coffee and donut: he knew the reporter on the local paper and put in a call. His friend swore the guy in question was absolutely sure about what he’d witnessed; that he’d been saved by some sort of avenging angel and putting down the phone, Jim read the article again. “DAPHNE!” he yelled to the intern who had now been assigned to him as part of her training and Daph thought the man probably just wanted another cup of coffee, but she was pleasantly surprised when she approached him. “How would you like to do some real investigative reporting?” he asked her and Daph grinned. “Sure … what’s up?” and he tossed the paper to her and she unfolded it and read the headline. “What say we go out tonight and see what we can find?” asked Jim. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bundled up against the chill of the night air, Daphne and Jim ventured out onto Liberty Avenue. It was late, but the clubs were busy and it would be hours yet until they closed. They hugged the buildings to stay out of the light and waited, but other then the usual noise of people making their way home after a night out, nothing appeared to be happening. Jim wasn’t about to give up, however. He had a strange feeling about the story and the following day even managed to track down the victim. But the man refused to be interviewed, realising if there was someone out there looking out for them, then the last thing needed was publicity hindering him. This confirmed for Jim that the man truly believed what he’d seen and wasn’t just after his own 15 minutes of fame; that someone had defended him and fought off several attackers before quietly disappearing from where he’d come: into the shadows. For almost two weeks, Daphne and Jim went out every night around midnight and stayed out until around 4:00am; quietly moving around the neighbourhood: keeping an eye out for trouble and eventually their patience was rewarded. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I’ll be okay … don’t worry about me …” and the man had kissed his friends goodnight and then while two of them headed off down Liberty Avenue, the lone mad decided to take a short cut down one of the back alleys. Exiting the alley and walking out on to the wider street, the man suddenly became aware of the soft purring of the car engine that was keeping up with him; stopping when he stopped to look behind him. He shielded his eyes, but the brightness of the headlights made it impossible for him to make out what sort of car it was or how many people were inside. As he turned to continue his route, the man quickened his pace, wishing now he’d gone with his friends or had called a taxi; not that many would venture down Liberty any more, but then the car drew level with him and the window was wound down. “Hey fag … wanna suck my dick?” yelled the man out of the window and then he laughed and looked back at his companions. “Let’s get the fucker …” the words could be clearly heard and the potential victim; his heart beating with fear, stepped back and looked around him; seeking safety as the car halted. The passenger door started to open, but before it could be opened far, a foot suddenly kicked it hard; hitting the man’s leg and forcing him back inside: screaming with agony. “Fuck … Christ … what was that?” but before anyone could react, the vehicle was picked up; the occupants falling towards the driver’s side and slowly, the car was rolled onto its roof and then suddenly, with a huge shove, it went sliding down the street: sparks flying up from the contact with metal on blacktop, until it came to rest with a crash against a dumpster situated in the kerb. After a few moments and filled with panic, the three would-be assailants managed to kick open the car doors and crawl out and hobbling and stumbling, they took off down the street as fast as they could: the vehicle owner soon reporting the car stolen. Jim and Daphne had heard the commotion and running hard, they came out of the alley just in time to see the car hit the dumpster. They could see a man standing under the street light just a few yards ahead of them, looking pale and shit scared, but could barely see the second man; standing back from the light, but they did hear his voice. “You’re safe now … but go quickly …” he informed the shaking man, who’d witness this incredible feat of strength and who could barely nod in acknowledgement. And then realising there were others present, the rescuer turned quickly: disappearing into the night. “What the hell happened?” asked Jim, trotting up to the man who was still trying to take in what he’d seen, but the man shook is head. “Fucked if I know … these guys in … that car …” and he turned to point out the vehicle on its roof a few hundred yards away; its occupants fleeing. “They were going to attack me … and then … all of a sudden … this guy appears … and … and …” the man’s voice faltered; he just couldn’t get out the words to describe what had happened and, unfortunately, he wasn’t able to describe either, the man who’d been his saviour. But as Daphne stood there, not really listening to the conversation, she was playing the words back over and over in her head; “You’re safe now … but go quickly …” She was sure she knew that voice from somewhere. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The glass barely missed their heads before it smashed into the wall above them: shattering into dozens of tiny pieces and making them flinch. Craig Taylor stood behind his desk; his face contorted with anger; anger which had been directed at the three men standing before him. “What the fuck is going on?” he demanded. “Who the fuck is this guy and why couldn’t the three of you handle just the one of him?” and Craig had picked up the paper which was now running the story about some sort of crusader supposedly patrolling the streets and protecting the inhabitants of the gay community. “We didn’t really get a look at him boss …” offered the man in the middle; acting as spokesperson. “It all happened so quickly … and then all of a sudden the car was tipped over and …” “Are you telling me one man managed to do that?” demanded Craig and the three men looked at each other and all nodded in agreement. “Well, I don’t fucking believe it … it’s not possible … now get out of my sight before I arrange a little accident of my own …” he shouted and throwing the paper back onto his desk. The three men: one of them limping badly, left the office as quickly as they could and thankful the man’s temper hadn’t degenerated further. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jim and Daphne continued to go out late at night; scouring the streets for any evidence of the man the whole neighbourhood was now whispering about: whispering about but refusing to talk openly. Daphne had been pondering for days and she was convinced she recognised the man’s voice and kept trying to recall the face that matched it, but to no avail. And then suddenly, the story was pulled. With no new leads in several days and now the rumour of political shenanigans and the possibility of fraudulent goings on in City Hall and the mayor’s office in particular, took precedence and Jim’s attention was diverted. Daphne however, was more intrigued than ever in the notion of a gay protector, thinking how wonderful it would have been if he’d been around when Justin was beaten up and deciding on a different approach, she headed for the diner. Justin had spoken of Debbie and the diner frequently, and Daphne had a good idea that the establishment was pretty much at the heart of the gay community: frequented by all ages and a pretty good place to start her inquiries, reasoning that if she could get a lead on the story, it would do her a lot of good at the paper. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lunch time and the diner was heaving and Debbie was pretty much rushed off her feet, so when the pretty young African American asked to speak to her, she naturally assumed she was answering the ad. in the window. “You waited tables before?” asked Debbie, moving quickly from one booth to another: delivering meals. “’Scuse me?” replied Daphne. “I said … have you waited on tables before … it’ll save me having to train you up if you have … yes honey … what’ll it be?” and virtually without taking a breath, Debbie then moved on to take another order. Daphne quickly realised what Debbie had meant and thinking on her feet, she answered: “Sure … plenty of times …” and hoped the woman didn’t see her crossing her fingers behind her back. This was an ideal opportunity: if something was going on in the gay community then being part of it might just take her to where she was hoping to go. Debbie turned around to look at her: “Okay … if you can start now … I’ll give you a couple of trial shifts … how does that sound?” “Great … thanks,” replied Daphne and she was instructed to go and wash up and find herself an apron. Daphne hadn’t lied; she had waited on tables before, but had hated the experience and it didn’t last for long. But now it was part of her job; she was doing what she realised she’d always wanted to do and that was to be an investigative reporter: working undercover on assignment and, listening to people’s conversation around the diner, the main topic seemed to be who the mysterious man in their midst could be, but with no one able to offer any suggestions as to his identity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The lunchtime shift ended and Daphne worked on into the afternoon: surprising herself by actually enjoying the experience this time around. The clientele were friendly and lively and even though no one had actually asked her, it seemed to Daphne that they assumed she was a lesbian and she didn’t say anything to correct them. “Well, you did okay there, kiddo,” smiled Debbie and paying Daphne for her time. “If you want some shifts you’re hired.” “Thanks Debbie … I appreciate it,” came the reply. Daphne arranged to come in for the evening shifts; reasoning that if anything was going to happen, than that was the time to be on Liberty Avenue and several days later, she was rewarded for her patience and ingenuity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Daphne had her back to the counter. Michael, Ben, Ted and Emmett had all gathered there for a bite to eat before going on to Woody’s and were sitting at a booth waiting for Brian to join them before ordering their meals. Brian had been busy with his new business and it was several days since he’d been in the diner; and besides, it never had the same allure once Justin stopped working there. “Hi guys … Debs …” Brian entered and greeted the gang and then addressed the young waiter who had her back to him. “And … can I grab a coffee …” and he turned back to the group. “Sorry guys … I can’t make it tonight … I’ve got a presentation to complete and these days I have to do it all on my own …” and he sat down at the counter to wait for his drink. Daphne had frozen on the spot. It was him: she was sure it was and turning slowly, she met the gaze of those beautiful hazel eyes looking straight back at her. “Hello, Daphne,” said Brian, the question in his voice. “Hi Mr. Kinney,” Daphne’s mouth had gone dry and she was barely able to get out the words and she picked up the coffee pot and poured out his drink: her hand shaking slightly as she did so. “You two know each other?” asked Debbie: hearing their conversation, but before Brian could answer, Daphne jumped right in. “I’m a friend of Justin’s … we were at school together … before he left”. Brian blinked at the mention of Justin’s name and hoped Daphne wouldn’t continue to talk about him and swallowing his coffee down as quickly as he could, Brian got up, paid for his drink and then left; saying he’d catch up with the guys again soon. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Craig Taylor had decided to up the ante: he was beginning to run out of patience and if he was going to force the establishments along Liberty Avenue out of business, then he was going to have to exert more pressure. Daphne completed her shift at the diner and then wrapped up against the cold, she went out into the night: keeping in the shadows so as not to be seen. She’d talked to her boss at the paper; he’d been reluctant at first, but eventually agreed that Daphne could continue at the diner in order to follow up the story and had given her a week to come up with something; but after that, to call it a day. But about thirty minutes after venturing out, she heard the squeal of tyres further down the street as the car came to a sudden halt and curious, she went to investigate. From the safety of the doorway, Daphne saw the man raise his arm to throw the gasoline-filled bottle with the cloth already lit: ‘Torso’, the men’s wear store, being the intended target. But before he was able to launch the missile; the bottle suddenly flew from his hand; heading straight up into the sky before coming down and smashing on the ground immediately in front of him: producing a flaming fireball which engulfed him and Daphne heard the man scream; his clothing now alight. She gasped in horror as a figure appeared from the darkness and, without a thought of his own safety, reached into the flames and pulled the man clear. Clothing that had been splashed with gasoline and caught fire now appeared undamaged and restored and the man unharmed, but the stranger roughly drew the man towards him and through the mask, glared at him. “Tell your boss … he’ll never win …” he growled and with a shove the man flew back against his car. Quickly gathering his senses, the fire-bomber scrambled back into his car and roared away, leaving the stranger in the street: he passed his hand over the flaming pool of gas and the flame extinguished. From her vantage point, Daphne could make out a tall, slim man; masked and in figure-hugging clothing, presumably for speed and in order for there to be nothing someone could hold on to. Quickly, she slipped out of the doorway and into the alley: the nearest exit point. Looking around him and seeing no one on the street, the man turned swiftly and headed for the safety of the alleyway. “Good evening … Mr. Kinney …” the voice stopped him in his tracks and he stared into the darkness as Daphne stepped forward into the low light. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Brian … you have a visitor …” Cynthia, buzzed him and when she announced who was waiting to see him, Brian quietly asked Cynthia to send her through. Between the time he’d quelled the flame and stepped into the alleyway, Brian’s clothing had changed from the figure hugging apparel she’d seen him in, into his usual smart casual, but Daphne was in no doubt about what she’d witnessed. The mysterious man protecting and defending the gay community was no other than Mr. Brian Kinney. “Daphne … I don’t know what you think you saw last night …” Brian got up and went around to the front of his desk and he sat down on its edge. After Daphne had stepped out of the shadows, Brian had stared at her, but said nothing and had just turned and hurried away. “Oh I know what I saw Mr. Kinney,” continued Daphne. “And I heard you … a few nights ago. I couldn’t place the voice until you came into the diner … but then I was sure it was you … and after last night … I’m even more convinced … and I think the Trib will be very interested …” Brian put his hand up to stop her. “Daphne, you do realise … don’t you … that if the papers make a big thing out of this … it could mean compromising … whoever it is stepping in to protect the community on Liberty Avenue … it could make it impossible for him to continue …” “I’m just doing my job … Mr. Kinney …” stated Daphne and without a further word, she turned and left. Daphne went back home to grab a few hours sleep before turning in for her shift at the diner. Despite what she said to Brian, in actual fact, she had no intention of revealing what she knew: at least not yet. Since Justin’s attack, the very thought that someone could help the gay community gladdened her: if only he’d been able to save Justin. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin and Leon had continued to see each other, but both of them knew there was really no commitment there and felt free to see other guys, which they did quite regularly. But lately, Justin had been feeling a little more homesick than usual and had kept up regular emails with Daphne as a means to keep in touch with everyone back home. He asked if she’d seen anything more of Brian and Daphne’s response seemed a little stilted, which bothered him. Had something happened? Had she heard that Brian was with someone and didn’t like to tell him? After a succession of emails, Daphne could see Justin was getting a little concerned and she did wonder whether he could throw some light on what she was sure had to be true. From: Daphne.Chanders@Tribune.com To: JT@hotmail.com Hi Justin, I’m sorry if you think I’m being secretive – I didn’t mean to be. There is something I’d like your opinion on and I’m sending you some articles that have been in the papers recently and also some notes that I’ve written up but not submitted yet. Perhaps you could tell me what you think. Love. Daph - O - Justin opened the attachments and read the articles about the Gay Crusader and wondered what on earth was Daphne talking about. But then he read the account of what Daphne had herself witnessed. To: Daphne.Changers@Tribune.com From: JT@hotmail.com Hi Daph, I’m not sure what you want me to say – it all seems pretty farfetched to me – not that I doubt what you say you saw, but I just can’t explain it. Wouldn’t it have been great though, if there’d been someone around like this when I got bashed? Love. Justin - O - Daphne had to admit, that was something that had bothered her; if this was Brian, why wasn’t he able to save Justin? To: JT@hotmail.com From: Daphne.Chanders@Tribune.com Hi Justin, I think he was around when you got bashed – I think you know him – I think we both do. Have another read and come back to me. Love. Daphne - O - What the fuck was she talking about? How the hell was this person for real; let alone someone they both knew. Slowly, realisation dawned. Daphne said he was around when Justin was bashed. Did she mean that quite literally and if so, the person who came to his aid; not that Justin really remembered much of it; was Brian. Justin read through everything again; it all sounded pretty fanciful of course; someone with tremendous strength, speed and the ability to turn over a car single-handed, scare off attackers; without even actually having to touch them or suffering any sort of injury and able to help those that had been injured. And to reach into the flames without fear of getting hurt …. Wait a minute. Just before the bashing, Justin remembered that he’d been in the diner when Brian had prevented the coffee pot from spilling its contents over Debbie: that he’d put his hand on the hot bowl to push it back out of the way and hadn’t been marked or complained that it had hurt at all. To: Daphne.Chanders@Tribune.com From: JT@hotmail.com Hi Daph, you may have something, but I’m not sure yet. Is there anything else you can send me? Love. Justin - O - From: Daphne.Chanders@Tribune.com To: JT@hotmail.com Hi Justin – I’m working on that. Will get back to you soon. Love. Daph - O - In the end, Daphne never submitted her story to the paper and even discouraged the idea there was ever really something there to follow up on. Brian was right; too much publicity would probably do more harm than good. But, she did enjoy working at the diner; the money was useful and Daphne managed to squeeze in a few shifts whenever she could. Brian never said anything more about that night and neither did she. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The murder of the taxi driver was still an open case and Carl Horvath would go down to the diner from time to time and try his best to encourage people to tell what they knew and he would look at Debbie in disbelief when even the simplest of questions was ignored. Debbie shrugged. “What the fuck do you expect, Carl?” she asked him. “There’s been robberies … where the cops didn’t bother showing up for hours … Margarita Lopez … a lesbian … was murdered five years ago while out walking her dog … and her killer has never been caught,” and Debbie was starting to count them off on her fingers. “There was a kid who got bashed a couple of years ago ‘cos his boyfriend showed up at his prom and danced with him … but his attacker went free … the judge only sentenced him to fucking community service …” “And don’t forget Justin … the kid who worked here … have you caught his attackers yet?” and Carl shook his head. “Then why the fuck should these people help you … what’s the law ever done for them?” and Carl frowned: taking in her words. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The months passed and Brian’s responsibilities were weighing heavily and his need to retreat to the loft was growing and he moved most of his possessions from the apartment into the converted warehouse. On top of the chest in the bedroom now sat the items that made up his altar and every night he took off the cowry shell bracelet and placed it alongside the picture of himself with Michael and the one of his parents; and now there was another one. Brian had downloaded and cropped the photograph of Justin from the Swiss newspaper; the blond’s smiling face looking at him from within the silver picture frame: the other young man removed from the photograph. But though the loft was his sanctuary, Brian continued to take tricks back to the apartment: not for them was the bed he’d shared with Justin. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Christ,” moaned Debbie. “What a racket … those jackhammers were going all day yesterday … I can hardly hear myself fucking think …” For the last few days, work had been going on outside the diner; contractors for the Utilities Department were tearing up the street. “Carrying out improvements,” Debbie had been told when she’d gone outside to ask what was going on and to complain that they were chasing away her trade and she frowned at the man’s reply: there didn’t seem to be anything wrong the way it was before and now, even at this early breakfast time, the contractors were already working away: seemingly intent on causing as much noise and disruption as they could. The noise outside had put everyone off breakfast except, as it happened, the gang. Ben had run into Lindsay at college; she was teaching art history and they realised they hadn’t caught up properly for months. And so, along with Mel: the two of them having agreed to join the gang before work, they’d all met up, with even Brian managing to find time to drop by. “I’ll have … a Swiss Cheese omelette, please Debbie … and some earplugs,” requested Ted and Debbie glared at him. Ted glanced quickly at Brian, immediately wishing he hadn’t mentioned the word Swiss, but his boss had either not heard the slip or had chosen to ignore it. Ben, Michael, Ted and Emmett occupied one booth, with Mel, Lindz and Brian adjacent to them and nearer to the windows. They had all now ordered breakfasts and Debbie had started to deliver them: serving the girls first. And then the door opened and in walked Daphne on her way to the paper. “You’re a little early, honey,” smiled Debbie, as she placed the Mel and Lindz’ plates before them. “Well, Debs,” replied Daphne. “I was going to ask if I could swap a shift … work tomorrow night instead of tonight? Only my Mom’s got tickets for ‘The Children of Eden’ … but my Dad now has to work … so she asked me if I’d go with her …” “That’s fine, sweetie … no problem … you wanna have breakfast while you’re here?” “No thanks Debbie … I’ve already eaten …” replied Daphne. Suddenly, Brian felt nauseous and it wasn’t anything to do with the menu; it couldn’t be: he hadn’t eaten yet. But his head had started to pound and then he thought he heard a roaring noise and detected a strange odour in the air. “Do you smell anything?” he asked; having to raise his voice over the noise of the work going on outside. “Only my breakfast burning …” quipped Michael and Debbie gave her son one of her Mom slaps and then made her way behind the counter to pour their coffees, while she waited for the bell from the kitchen to signify the rest of the breakfasts were ready. Quickly, Brian got to his feet: the overriding sense of danger prompting swift action. “GET UNDER THE TABLES” he yelled, but everyone looked at him blankly. “Brian, honey … what the fuck …” But before Debbie could finish her question, there was a roaring noise and a huge blast blew in the front of the diner. “For Chrissakes Brian … get down here …” Michael had yelled to him, but Brian had remained standing. As soon as the roar had started; the gang, realising there was some sort of danger after all, had dived under the cover of the tables: Ben grabbing hold of Daphne’s arm and pulling her down to safety with them. With debris starting to rain down on them, Brian closed his eyes and summoned up all his strength; creating a protective force field over them; shards of glass and pieces of plaster and wood harmless bouncing off the invisible shield and onto the floor. The roar ceased, but the air was filled with dust: making it difficult to see. “Where’s Mom?” asked Mikey; beginning to panic and despite the danger, he stood up to look for her. Unfortunately, a beam supporting the ceiling had already been split by the force of the explosion and had crashed down onto the counter: knocking it over and trapping Debbie underneath. Breaking out of the protective shield, Brian climbed up onto the counter, which was lying at an angle and effortlessly picked up the end of the heavy timber and pushed it to one side, before jumping down to the floor. He put his shoulder to the counter and with one heave, managed to bring it back to an upright position. With the dust settling, Michael and Ben, realising what had happened, made to go to Brian’s aid, but they were halted abruptly; the force field not only keeping danger out, but keeping them safely in. Debbie was lying on the floor; she was bruised and her arm looked to be broken where the counter had toppled over on to her and her shoulder scalded by hot coffee as everything had collapsed around her. “Take it easy Debbie,” said Brian quietly and he passed his hand over her: a couple of inches above her body. The bruises, together with the redness and damage caused by the scalding coffee, disappeared and her arm was no longer injured. Slowly, he helped her up to her feet. Men were shouting out in the street and in the distance they could now hear the sirens of the emergency services heading for them. Brian looked over at the gang: all now standing and watching him, but unable to move outside of their protection; their faces a deathly shade of white, scared to death and obviously suffering from shock. “Is everyone okay in here?” A city surveyor had been making his way down Liberty Avenue to come and check on the progress made by the road crew and had been practically blown off his feet by the blast as he approached the diner and he now picked his way through the debris: he’d called into the city’s emergency control centre and everything had swung in to action. Using the same power that had created the force field, Brian now dispensed with it and the surveyor looked around the diner. Dust was covering everything except the group of people standing before him and though his first reaction was curiosity as to how that might have happened, the thought quickly left him; any injuries incurred and the damage to the structure of the building his uppermost concern. Up until now the gang had stood in silence; Lindsay, Mel and Daphne clinging to each other and Emmett to Ted and it was Michael who approached Brian first. “How the fuck did you do that?” he asked him, referring to the enormous strength Brian suddenly developed in order to release Debbie from underneath the counter and beam. “And why couldn’t we move … we tried to come and help you … but there seemed to be some … some invisible wall holding us back …” asked Ben, looking over his shoulder to the area where they had been sheltering under the tables: unable to really take in exactly what had happened in such a short space of time. Brian blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but unable to offer any believable explanation as the gang surrounded him and it was Debbie who spoke next. “What about Joe … in the kitchen?” Quickly, Ted and Emmett made their way through the dust and debris to try and find the cook and thankfully, the man was okay; the damage to the building not reaching back as far as the kitchen and they helped him out into the dining area. “Folks … I think we all better get out of here and let the Fire Department determine if this place is going to cave in on us …” instructed the surveyor and with Brian in the lead, they all filed outside and were ushered to the waiting paramedics in order to be checked over and make sure no one was hurt. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “It was gas,” confirmed Michael, putting down the phone. After everyone had been checked out and it was confirmed that none of them needed any medical treatment, they let the Fire Department get on with their job of securing the building: Joe had been collected by his boyfriend who had taken him home and Daphne and the gang had retreated back to Debbie’s. While no one inside the diner had been injured; other than Debbie, whose injuries had apparently disappeared, a couple of members of the public had been hit by flying glass and debris out in the street; though not seriously. But one of the road crew; the one nearest the seat of the explosion, had been killed outright: It was lucky there were no more fatalities. Michael had put in a call into the Fire Department’s Headquarters where their investigation team’s preliminary findings had indicated that the road crew had hit the gas supply to the diner, which is what had caused the blast: official confirmation of which would come later. Brian had been sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee while Michael was talking on the ‘phone, but now he put down his empty cup and stood up. “I better get in to the office … Cynthia’ll be chewing me out about the Brown Athletics presentation … but you needn’t bother Ted …” he said, addressing Teddy. Brian had managed to get Brown’s interested in a possible new campaign and was part way through preparing the presentation he was due to deliver in a few days time. “Hold it.” Brian was halfway across the living room before Debbie’s words brought him to a halt and he briefly closed his eyes and put his hand up and rubbed the bridge of his nose before turning around to face her. “Don’t think you’re getting out of here before we get some sort of explanation …” and she wagged her finger at him. “I don’t know what you mean Debs …” answered Brian: a look of total innocence on his face. “I know that look … Brian Kinney … you’ve used it practically every day since I first met you … whenever you and Michael got up to something as kids … you’d give me that wide-eyed innocent look.” “But you’re not 15 any more … and you’re sure as hell no innocent … so what the fuck is going on?” and Debbie stood in front of him; her hands on her hips as he looked around; the gang staring at him: waiting for an answer. To be continued.