Wincing in pain not fro my wound, but from the massive migraine headache that had formed during my trek accross the small hotel room, i switched on the light in the small bathroom and leaned against the vanity sink. I could smell the stillness of the air mixed with various bathroom cleaners, all producing what might have been pleseant spring and summer scents if they had not been mixed with the acrid stench of chloroform. Trances still remained on my clothes, and i wondered if they might still be potent enough to drop me again. I laughed softly despite my pain. It sure had taken alot of the stuff, or they had been over zealous, but the smell would remain for a long time.

Looking into the mirror i saw the face of what previously was a rather handsome computer analyst. My usualy well kept dark, almost black hair was mopped on my head with traces of blood at the left temple. My hunched form as portayed in the mirror did not at all resemble my six foot frame, which was not the most in-shape specimen but certainly did not look like it did then on a regular basis. I may not have been an athlete, but i never appeared anything but confident and purposeful. At least i had tried to until now. Now, i more resembled a herion addict in detox then a top ranked computer analyst for Becoly Enterprises. I laughed again, and immediately shot my hand to my side, deciding against any further comedy.

Reaching for the medicine cabinet, i heard a soft roll outside. I turned.

The lights died.

Darkness took its turn to laugh.


PART 2 WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT.