V is for Victim

Chapter 3
Chapter Three

Chapter Three

#13

That was the only title or marking the homey little building was adorned with, but everyone knew by the arrow symbol underneath the number that this was a ?slider spot’. Made up like an old French coffee house, #13 was one of Addison’s favorite places to come and unwind with a cup of java, whether he was sliding that day or not. He grinned as the regulars welcomed him in, and he waved to each of them. It felt good to be somewhere where everyone knew his name, as the old song went. Pushing past the coffee tables, he waved his visa at the porter behind the bar, who nodded and let him into the Transition Hold.

The Hold was white, more white then it could possibly be, and completely left behind the trappings of 1900’s France back outside. Sterile and a little uncomfortable to be in, Addison wiped his brow and began to strip his jacket and shirt off. A box was set next to the Transition circle, and he began piling his things into it. If he were to try and slide wearing them or carrying them on his person, they wouldn’t make the trip, or worse, end up fused to him in some horrible way.

It was hard to get used to standing naked in front of the Transmitter, but after a few months, he had finally settled into routine. He just matched it in his head with showering in a gym. No one really cared who was naked there, so why not here?

“Business or pleasure today, Mr. Wolf?” the question shot over the intercom, and Addison turned to wave at the one-way glass. Judging by the voice, Bryan was working today.

“Hopefully a little of both, as always, y’know?”

A chuckle sounded. “I do. Get ready, secure your items, Transmission begins in 5...4...”

A low humming sound began to resonate beneath his feet, and Addison shuddered. Even after doing this so often, the process still made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

It would begin with a horrible suction, beginning in his stomach and pulling downward. You needed to close your eyes during this part, because the image of your body transmitting was one of most horrible you could imagine. Just get into your head one of those old Stretch Armstrong dolls, and you’ll have a pretty good picture. After the pulling, there was falling. The sensation was very comparable to falling into a frigid ocean...when you hit the water and it enveloped you, that was when the changes on your body occurred, and your ?other form’ would come forth.

Addison wasn’t too happy with the Theran who had decided to hide within his genomes; he wasn’t a very vain individual, but he did have a certain amount of pride in his Italian heritage. The animal form he took on in Thera was that of a mountain hyrax, a rather ugly rodent-like creature that was distantly related to elephants. Still, form had no effect on his photographic tendencies, and he was at least lucky that he didn’t have to put up with the oddities of owning a tail. He had heard some horror stories from the guys at work that’d shiver your skin. Again, use your imagination.

“2...1...have a good life, Mr. Wolf.”

Bryan’s usual farewell always struck Addison as a little odd. What did he think, that he was going to go live on Thera? Not likely. Permanent Immigration visas were like gold, and something far beyond the reach of a personage of such modest salaries. Taking in a deep breath as the pulling began, Addison Wolf closed his eyes, and trying to keep positive. A date, some good photos, lunch on Thera, these were all things to look forward to.

The trip went far quicker then he’d ever known it to, and arriving with a flash and a bang, Addison stood still for a moment, disoriented. Since when did it move to fast? The trip had been like a bullet shot...and his stomach had been left back at the Transmission station. Oh well.

He knew that Theresa would probably be one of the receivers watching his arrival, and so, blinking out the fuzzy whiteness behind his eyes, he reached out quickly for one of the complimentary towels the Center provided for shy travelers who just couldn’t get back into their own clothes fast enough. He reached for the familiar hook...and found it out of reach.

“Where...?” He muttered, then reached a little higher, and finally, his paw hit the bottom of the towel. Pulling it down, he figured they must have raised the hooks for whatever reason. Oh well. All these little changes...well, change was good.

Little did he know...