I awoke from the rumblings of loose gravel underneath the truck, I wanted to break free on the radio, Pudge snuggled deep within my arms, and my dad at the wheel.

I can’t recall what time of year it is but the chill in the air leads me to believe early or late summer. 

My left arm is wrapped around a life preserver serving as a makeshift pillow. Its still early enough that the sun hasn’t broken over the horizon yet and the dew from outside still clings to everything.

“I don’t care how embarrassed it makes you. If he wants to wear it, let him. He’s the only one who knows what he wants out of life.” My father says into the phone, his voice drenched in loathing. 

The very idea that he could be this angry scares me. The man never raises his voice and yet how intimidating he was right now; and how utterly terrified it made me.

“You’d leave? If this isn’t a phase you’d actually consider abandoning him, us? Wow, worst mother award goes to you. No. I’m so done talking to you right now. I can’t keep my voice down and I might wake the little guy up. No, I don’t see your point because it's nonsense. Look, we’ll have this talk when I get home. Bye.” Dad instantly flips the phone shut and lets out a big sigh. Turning towards me I immediately close my eyes and “play” sleep.

His hand lands on my head, patting it ever so gently. “I’m sorry little one, your mother is just having a hard time right now. You’ll see, she’ll come around.” 

His tone sounds exhausted, but quickly attention shifts to the little creature in my arms. Pudge seems to be stirring a bit and has grabbed everyone’s attention. 

My stomach sinks as I tense up, please don’t let him notice I’m not really asleep. Please don’t let him notice.

“Shhh Pudge, our little... Girl, is sleeping.”

My heart flutters in two very different directions. One of untold pleasure, of recognition, of freedom, and the other a sensation of dread. Even at this young age I know what has to be done. Forcing myself to acknowledge the truth, I repeatedly intone my reality, as the tears stream down my cheeks. I have to stop. I have to stop. I have to stop...

… I don’t want mommy to leave us...

Brent-

The slamming of the front door a-jars my mind into reality. As the cogs begin to turn it’s to the melody of the central air echoing through the vents and drumming into my ears. 

The atmosphere here is stagnant and the air is filled with mold and mildew. I groan and shift myself to the ground below, planting my feet firmly on the hardwood floor. An alarm goes off as I lift myself to full height and I initially brace for impact. 

Yet it doesn’t come and I am reminded why we picked this apartment over all the others.

It’s a tough life, being a giant. Things aren’t designed for people who aren’t considered of average height. Things aren’t ever designed for the person bordering on tallest in the world. 

My life is an oddity, I am gawked at and whispered about by those beneath me, looked down upon as if they could judge without having to look up to me. So I have taken a solemn vow, I will not entertain a conversation or give to those the gift of my thoughts if I don’t think they’re worth it.

It resulted in my continual silence. I admit I was never a man of many words to begin with. You don’t need to respond when they only judge amongst themselves. However, after the vow I’ve nearly forgotten what my voice sounds like. 

After years of this I don’t even think to talk anymore, grunts and groans are enough to communicate with most. Sign language is better but nobody just knows sign language. It’s not often I run into someone who does and inevitably a conversation is struck. 

I don’t bother putting a shirt on and the pajama pants I wore to bed, more like shorts, are enough to permit entry into the kitchen. Well to be perfectly honest I could go without them but then I’d have to deal with the rule of “upping the ante” to an extreme. 

Tye Lancaster is many things, but a man who refuses a challenge has never been one of them. 

One. Two. Two steps to the door, 

One. Two... I’ve found it's the same everywhere. 

Three. Traveling around the globe can cause some to get restless. 

Four. However, I never get that way. There is a good reason for it. Five. 

I open the refrigerator and grab the carton of milk. 

One. I always do things the same no matter where I am. A daily routine, it’s direly important especially when everyone else around you is a worshiper of chaos.

Taking my seat at the table with my cereal in hand I find a present for me. Today's Newspaper with a note laying atop of it. A yellow post-it with awful handwriting. 

“To the love of my life, and intimate partner. Forever yours, Tye Lancaster.”

It ends with a rough sketch of something lewd. Tye is a sweet sarcastic man wrapped in the volatility of a four year old child who knows far too much of the obscene world... A good man...

I take a bite of my breakfast and attempt at reading the newspaper. My eyes lock onto the image on the front page. Ah, the colors are amazing when they blur together. Maybe I should have grabbed my reading glasses…

______________________________________________________________________________

Locke-

He watches himself in the reflection of the floor to ceiling windows. Tall at six foot two and well built. Lean but not buff, the sort of athletic you’d see in cardio focused athletes. One’s who use finesse rather than brute strength and why not? Locke Adler is an athlete who focused on the fitness and cardio side of things over brute strength and overwhelming power.

Being a world renown martial arts genius had many perks.One of them being no one actually knew or recognized a world renown martial arts genius when they ran into one. So Locke could enjoy a life of peace and quiet no matter where in the world he’d found himself…

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. You see, like most situations in life, it's not so much where you are as much as who you’re with. Traveling around the world proved this theory time and time again.

It is to be remembered that when with a Lancaster one is always on the precipice of disaster.

Which, to one so dedicated to finding inner peace, might seem as though it’d be the exact opposite of what he’d want to surround himself with. Locke would then argue that the smoothest of stones are found in the fastest of streams.

Yeah, he really does think like this.

Born to the wrong era and in the wrong culture. He was a man governed by ideas that seemed long left in the past.

Walking into a store with automatic doors seemed like a novelty to him three years ago but during their travels to the lost places of the world he’d found not everyone even knew what electricity was. Much less utilize it in mundane ways as to open a door for themselves.

If thought upon there was a romance to the idea. Of not being so overly catered to. Of being capable and willing to open one’s own door for themselves.

Locke’s brooding is legendary amongst the group. Able to keep his scowl during the most trying of times to make seemingly out of the blue social commentary. 

For example, the young lady to his left standing at the open bin of apples on sale. Her bright yellow dress, cut oh so close to perfection, just Locke’s favorite kind of revealing. Mid thigh and wow was this thigh beautiful.

All of this being observed out of the corner of his eye, from his peripheral’s. Not missing her looking him from his feet up his legs, to his chest, arms, biceps, neck, and then face.

He’s already prepared for the reaction, the apple plummets to the ground as the woman gasps.

Traditional beauty isn’t truly traditional beauty. This new world is as manufactured as it is possible. Even the apple within his hand is a product of it’s mass production. It’s synthesized perfection and regulated life.

Truly, is such a perfect looking apple really the apex of taste?

The young lady regains herself as she reaches down for the apple in his hand.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how it fell out of my hand!” She claims as she nearly grabs the apple back out of his hand. However, stopping just short and recoiling when looking back at Locke's face.

Sigh.

“It’s fine, sometimes an apple falls and no one is there to catch it. This time has only proved to be the other occurrence.”

The girl stares at him perplexed. The usual reaction. It’s as if they speak a different language. always has been like this. Only Tye, Corin, and Brent truly understand and accept his ways. She’s just like everyone else…

She starts giggling. Locke prepares himself for the back hand.

“I suppose it is. Really, thank you for saving my apples.” She continues to giggle as she reaches forward and grabs the apple from his hand with a new smile on her face. A wonderful smile from what Locke now suspects to be a wonderful person.

Locke glances at his reflection again in one of the larger mirrors. A taller than average man with an enviable build. Proper posture and clean clothes. His hair, short and light brown, with hazel eyes. His naturally pale skin still completely tan from his recent travels. 

It’s never enough to take away from the large and crinkled nose, the overbite and jagged teeth or the glasses he’s taken to wearing. Thicker than normal, sought out for their ability to survive nuclear holocaust and maybe a month’s interaction with Tye and Corin. 

Even if his body were that of a Greek god his face is not. It never has been. A face of a fighter and only one his best friends and mother could love. Maybe when loneliness finally overtook him he’d get a dog or cat for company. 

This girl before him was kind. She had to have been. For now, to get him to leave she’d be kind.

“My name is Elise.” She calls out with her hand outstretched.

Well this is different, Locke thought to himself. Well why not?

“Locke, Locke Adler.”

“It’s a pleasure Locke.”

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Brent-

The front door opens with the last bite of my cereal. Looking up from the paper is pointless. The front door is out of my view being at the far end of the main hallway. The rustling of plastic bags gives away the person’s identity anyway.

Locke Adler has been my friend well before I became taller than 99.9999999 percent of the world. In fact when we first met he was taller than me. It’s something he takes great pleasure in pointing out at social gatherings and it always seems to draw out a laugh or two.

Which is probably the only socially adept thing the man has in his arsenal. He’s a bit of an old fashioned sort. Completely submerged in his studies and trade. His trade being martial arts. He is in the end the second most pronounced martial artist Brent has ever been privy to see.

His self control, coordination, and knowledge of nearly every known form of combat leaves little ability to doubt. To someone with a less attuned eye he’d seem the very pinnacle of combat abilities. However, someone in this very group surpasses him. Not in refined form. Dear lord, no. 

It would best be described as pure luck? Chance maybe? Whatever it was, it had proven time and time again to be beyond overcoming. I think it’s the reason Locke had chosen to stay with us rather than apprenticing at some dojo or martial arts academy on our travels.

I think he wants to keep them close. Though it has been a while since he’s last formally challenged him… I truly, can’t wait to watch their next match. It’s going to be just epic.

The rustle of the bags draws closer and so I drop my newspaper and look to the hallway. Locke enters the room with a glow about him. His constantly scowling face has a smile on it. Which is out of the ordinary. 

“I picked up some essentials for groceries.” He says as he places some of the bags on the table.

I nod.

“It’s not much, I think I’ll be making Corin and Tye pick up the rest in Tye’s pickup truck.”

I raise my eyebrow.

Locke laughs, even with his head nearly completely turned away he’s still noticed. Not that he’d have to. Merely saying such a risky idea aloud should be enough to bring forth the laughter of it.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Tye’s right now. He won the last fight. Anyways, they can handle getting groceries. They’ve managed before… Somehow…” He’s turned back to face me with everything already thrown into the fridge. He really didn’t get much. A box of butter, eggs, bacon, and bread.

If given the option I think Locke would gladly live off of eggs and eggs alone for the rest of his life.

“I’ll be in my room organizing some things. Tye’s expecting the movers to be here within the hour so keep an ear open for them.” Locke says as he leaves the kitchen and heads to his room down the hall.

We’ve all been traveling for so long I’d forgotten one of us might even have material possessions that needed professional movers. To be fair though, me, Corin, and Locke aren’t exactly rich nor the material possession types. Tye is another story.

I’m not sure I want to see what they’ll be hauling in. Lord knows, with it being a Lancaster haul, something unwanted is due to occur…

SIgh…

Maybe another bowl of cereal… To calm my nerves…

______________________________________________________________________________

Tye-

You know when I had my dad fork over this house to us it wasn’t only because it was two blocks off campus, or that it had a really cool mafia history. It was because the ceilings on the first floor were vaulted and because of the secret passage system said mobsters had installed during the prohibition era.

Yeah I know, that made this house old as shit but who really cares? Secret passageways!? That is awesome! 

I mean, I’d already put it to use today. Corin thought he had one up on me. I know I didn’t throw up everywhere in that bathroom. He basically gave it away. It was him.

I mean, my head still sort of hurts from my hangover and I had that really really weird dream… Shivers run up my spine, ugh… let's forget about that dream… Gross.

With the bathroom bolted I know the loser never saw it coming. He’s going to think the house is haunted or something!

I can’t help but burst out laughing at this. Though admittedly it does sort of make my skin crawl. Those secret passageways are really really cool but they're really kind of scary as well.

But, I’m a real man, and real men aren’t afraid of the dark. Besides, I ain't afraid of no ghosts.

I lift my head from my bed to look for my clock. Oh yeah, that’s right. I don’t have one yet. It’s with all my other shit with the movers. They’ve got to be drawing close. I mean come on! It’s been like hours since I got up.

I just want to play my system and kill things… Is that so much for a man to ask for?

______________________________________________________________________________

Brent-

I don’t see them but I can definitely hear the racket they make flying down the stairs and directly into the shut door. It makes me cringe a little. The damage those two dish out upon one another is inhuman. To do so to one’s self is just satanic.

I do my best to ignore it all. If I can avoid making eye contact or acknowledging just which of the chaos priests it is I might be able to avoid the insanity all together. Honestly, it’s only our first full day in this place. They really can’t be starting hostilities this early… Can they?

That’s when the wrapping on the front door catches my attention. I listen for a moment and nothing. Then again another set of knocks. I’m torn, to pull down the paper and answer the door is to risk losing my neutrality in the affairs for today.

With hesitation I pull down the paper to peer over towards the blurry hallway. The sun is up now and it’s rays are messing with my eyes as always.

So when the jug of milk explodes upon my face it truly is a surprise. Well, not really, but sort of yeah. I mean common. It’s the first day. Are they really starting hostilities on the first day?

I don’t have time to figure out the culprit just yet as they escape through the backdoor. I’d given up on catching them until I heard the commotion outside. It sounded like Gwen and she sounded pissed. Today might prove to be a very long day indeed.

Making my way to the back door, Two, Three.

I bring open the door and peer down at the two women sitting on the ground before me. Well the outlines of blurred women. They could very well be very girly men but I have a feeling they are in fact just two women.

Which raises the question who is the other girl and why was she on the ground with Gwen? Had Tye or Corin just launched them out of their way as they left the crime scene? Doubtful. Chaotic yes, but gentlemen nonetheless when it came to the fairer sex.

Well, not that it matters. The random blur of a girl I don’t recognize is up and gone before I can get a real glimpse of her. She shouts back some nonsense about Corin being out for a jog? Like Corin has ever jogged in all his life. Ran desperately for his life but never jog recreationally.

I reach out my hand to help Gwen up. I haven't seen her since we left over three years ago. She’s changed, grown up. Well, no were near as up as I have but I mean in a more feminine and mature way. She’s so obviously a woman now.

“What was that all about!?” She vents patting herself down. “Stupid girl, I’m going to kick her ass the next time I see her. No questions asked.”

I grunt.

“Oh my god Brent! You’ve gotten so tall!” Gwen cranes her neck up to stare at me in wonder.

I just shrug. Milk, still dripping from my beard.

“What the hell hap-” Gwen begins but just shakes her head before finishing “Never mind, I don’t even want to know.”

I just nod my agreement and motion for her to follow me in.

“I’m here to see Corin, he’s been avoiding me. I think he thinks I’m mad at him for missing mom and dad’s wedding.” Gwen confides in me when we get into the kitchen.

I could definitely see her being a little peeved over the fact. I just nod.

“Well I am really peeved. What sort of ungrateful son just leaves his mother behind and all alone!?” She folds her arms as she looks up at me with an annoyed look.

I clear my throat.

“Woa, you’re not thinking about actually saying something are you Brent?”

I raise my brow, I mean yeah I was sort of thinking about it.

“No, save it for something more important than agreeing with my point of view right now.” 

Yeah, I respect this woman. Respect the fact that one does not cross Gwen and walk away with everything intact. I’m starting to feel a little sorry for that stranger we just met. She’s really dug herself into a deep hole.

I motion to the staircase and wave goodbye, making my way back to my own room.

“Thanks Brent, I’ll talk to you later, hopefully next time I can give you a proper hug!”

I hear her footsteps race up the stairs as Locke’s door opens. He’s on the phone with someone and looks a bit annoyed.

“Brent, I thought I told you to listen for the movers!” he complains as he makes his way past me and to the front door.

Sigh.

Closing the door behind me I’m met with a nearly empty room. The only thing in here at the moment is a bed specially designed for me. A gift from not Money Lancaster nor Tye Lancaster but Money’s grandmother Miss Bell Money Lancatser. If all men in the Lancaster line are cursed with insanity then the women are blessed with strength and grace. Oh yeah, and wealth.

I’m afraid to even imagine the cost of a costume made luxury bed. I’d not even bothered to read the brand name. It’d make me do nothing but turn in my sleep which I’m told is unhealthy.

Pulling off my still very milky shirt I toss it to the side and grab absently at the stack of towels in the corner of my room. Drying off as best I can I let out a sigh. I’m going to have to shower otherwise I’ll smell like curdled milk soon enough. 

I mean, I do appreciate cleanliness and the idea of being clean and I shower regularly. Just showering is a pain in the ass when you’re my size. Even with the larger shower it’s still cramp as all hell. I feel like I’m Tuna Fish being forced into a sardine can.

A shiver runs down my spine as the air around me grows cold. I look at the door but it’s still closed. I turn my gaze to the window but it stops short. Falling onto a child standing on my bed. It’s strange, with my poor sight I never am able to make people out initially. They’re always a blur until my eyes have had time to focus.

This little girl however is clear as day. Illuminated in fact. But not in a white light sort of way. In a dark spector sort of way. In fact, now that I think about it my heart is racing and I think I might have just wet my pants.

I can feel my eyes widen and then insist they can widen even more.

My mouth runs dry and my throat closes.

All the while this little girl standing on my bed stares directly at me.

She begins to lift her arm and I nearly scream. Except I’ve forgotten how too. I backed frantically away towards the door. Pulling on it with all my might to no avail. I do this never breaking eye contact with this girl. This thing.

Her face is a contorted mess of a smile mixed with agony and pure rage. Her body is thin and taught as if she’d starved to death. The circles around her eyes as if she’d not slept for years. The jagged teeth, some missing, and her dirty and broken nails a sign of something. 

I can’t think anymore. I’m too frightened and this creature is suddenly making it’s way towards me.

I’m pulling and pulling at the door, begging the god above to release me from this hell.

When her attention is pulled away from me as her head and only her head spins around. Catching sight of something seemingly through the wall and shooting from my bed and through the wall.

The door finally gives weight and I fall out into the hallway as the movers are bringing in some sort of large furniture. They all stare at me as if I’m mad. I think I might be. What the hell just happened? My heart is still racing when Tye looks down at me, his cat Sir Merlin Ichabod Vladimir Sebastian Crane tucked within his arms.

“Dude? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

“Oh my god Tye is that Icky!?” Gwen calls out. 

“Oh, hey Gwen. Yeah, do you wanna show Mr. Icky some love?”

“Of course!” Gwen calls back, engaging the cat.

“Hey Locke, look, Gwen’s petting my kitty!”

“...” Locke observes unamused. 

“Hey, don’t you still wann-”

Smack.

In this moment I make a vow, like the one of silence, to never enter that room again.

Obstacle Five. Hide