Wish You Were Here

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Tick-tock Tick-tock Tick-tock

Each passing second seemed to take an eternity through Steven Sinclare's eyes and mind. There were three minutes left, three minutes until he could drag himself to the bus, try to stay awake on the ride, and then throw himself down on the couch in his miserable apartment. For him, life was the rut he had dug himself into. His dead end job. His long commute. His night of sleep above a bowling ally. There was no point to his life, and all he wanted was escape. He lifted his back up in his fifteen dollar office chair, and began to read through his spam email. Every one another lie that was flung into his inbox by some slick, smooth-talking genius who was getting rich off of the lot of it.

As he shuffled through page after page of free cars, free medicine, trapped princesses and surveys, something piqued his interest.

Free Vacation, the advertisement seemed to scream, A trip to this beautiful island dream home. Isolated for hundreds of years...

The message went on, but Steve stared at the image. A beautiful little island on a tropical atoll. Where the water was clear and warm, the fruit fresh and the land clean. Somewhere where he could be free, someone he could live. Somewhere he could really be.

His dreams were pushed away with the five o-clock chime, and he hurried his papers away, and waked from the office. He could not quite get that island out of his head. As he walked down the long hall, and into the plaza, the image still stuck in his head.

Wouldn't it be great to go there, he though, not realizing he said it under his breath.

"Go where?" Some Coworker said to him with a smile, "There's a lot of great places to go right now, I hear a lot of places in the pacific are really nice this time of year."

"Hmm," Steve muttered back, "I only get a few days of vacation a year, not enough to make any use of."

"Well, I went to a little resort last spring that w..."

"Dammit!" Steve said, trying not to yell, as he looked down at his soaked foot "Where the hell is this water coming from!"

"What water? It's dry in here, except for you."

"What do you mean? How the hell did I get my leg wet then?"

"I don't know. My uncle Arty had something like that before he died. He would just start sweating this really putrid liquid from his armpits. It was non-stop, we had to tape sponges there to get the stuff off and..."

"Shut up! Where the hell is this water coming from, it's not wet in here! Seriously, whoever's doing this, just stop!"

"Steve?"

"WHAT!"

"What's happening to your legs?"

"What do you..." Steve trailed off as he looked down, and saw his legs, they were vanishing. Before his own eyes, his legs, and now his stomach was dissolving into nothingness.

"Help!" He yelled, but only the slightest bit of sound shot out before he was gone.

OOC: Though I would give this a try. Always liked superheroes

Edited August 6, 2009 by Il Terra Di Agea

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Hundreds of miles away, on a tiny island, a bright light began to shoot from the shallow waters. With amazing speed, and with a loud crack, Steve Sinclare materialized. He stood for only a moment before he collapsed face first into the water and tried to hold in the quell of vomit that began to rise up his throat.

"What the hell?" He muttered as he rolled over onto his back and blocked the bright sun from his eyes, "Wait..."

He pulled himself up, and, through blurred vision made out palm trees and white sand. He walked forward on his soaked feet, and leaned up agaisnt a tree.

"That's it," He muttered, "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead, in the middle of nowhere. GODDAMMIT! I wanted to go away, not die! NOT DIE! Dammit, I wish I were home. Home..."

Again, he felt a loose, hollow sensation in his feet. He looked down and, much like in the office, his body began to dissolve into nothingness.

In an instant, he shot back into his office chair and trough three cubicles as he materialized.

The janitor gawked from across the building as papers and warm sand shot into the air.

A Small, Dark Room

"Sir!" A mechanical voice chirped out, "There are signs of a manipulator in an office in Downtown Oslo. Two materialization from the location within fifteen minutes."

"There goes the weekend..."

[Il Terra Di Agea]

"What the hell was that?" Steve muttered to himself as he slumped down at the bus stop, "One second, I'm in the office, the next, I'm on some island, the next, back home... What's happening to me? How is this even possible!? How is this..."

He paused for a moment as he felt the hollow sensation once more. "DAMMIT. I JUST WANT TO STAY HERE!"

With a crack, he fell to the ground in a dark room. He struggled to hold down the rising in his throat as he slowly sat on the ground. "Where am I?" He muttered, queasy and tired.

"No where. Here. It really doesn't matter," A man said from a chair in the corner, "So, you teleported, eh?"

"What? No, no one can do that. I'm just a guy, I work in an office. Why is this happening?"

"It's been happening your whole life, you just held it in. It's a pretty abnormal thing, really, but not unheard of."

"Yes it is. No one can do this... THAT! Teleportation is impossible. Why am I here again?"

"You're here, now, so I can teach you. You are, pardon the cliche, special. Your powers aren't limited to going from point A to point B instantly, they are literally limited to what you want to do with them."

"I don't follow..."

"Let me show you," The man said, the glisten of his smiling teeth visible in the small bit of light. He reached down, into his coat pocket, and pulled out a fresh, green apple. "You see this apple here? A normal, every day apple. Nothing special, right?"

"Yah, I guess."

"Now, guess what it will look like in a month. You come up with it yet? Good, it looks like this, right?" With a small crack of light, the apple became rotten and moldy.

Steve stared at the man's hand, and raised an eyebrow, "No. That's impossible, that's a trick, or something."

"No tricks. Now, if you don't mind," The man paused and, in another crack of light, the apple returned to it's previous form, and he took a deep bite into the side, "Impossible my $@!."