by Jaz Johnson
“Oh … When do they want those?”
“Well, honey, they went by the house so they could get them today. Where in town are you? They can come pick you up.”
“No. No … I’ll just go home. Tell them to go back to the house,” Saphora sighed, rolling her eyes.
“Okay. I’ll let them know. Hurry home, okay? Don’t keep them waiting!” Fran warned. Saphora nodded instinctively.
“Yeah, I know. I won’t,” she responded, hanging up the phone. Groaning, she stuffed her phone back into her pocket. “I have to go home.” Maverick frowned.
“What? Why?” he whined.
“The police want my fingerprints for the investigation.”
“Police?” Hydra asked.
“Our authorities,” Maverick clarified. Hydra’s eyes widened, her attention caught.
“What?”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Saphora explained, getting up from the sofa. She paused. “Well, in a way it does. The first time I saw Tebias again, a man was killed while I tried to get away. Since I took his car to get away, I was a suspect.”
“Why didn’t you fly? It’s to my knowledge that is one of the things you remember how to do.” Maverick’s mouth fell agape.
“You can fly?” he asked, leaning over the counter in shock. Saphora looked over at him, giving a slight shrug. “Oh my god. Why the hell are we driving? Wait, can you fly?” he asked, gesturing to Hydra. She shook her head.
“Not like this.”
“Oh. Well, good. At least I’m not the only one here.”
“So why didn’t you? Why aren’t you, for that matter,” Hydra asked again.
“I was afraid to. After hearing that noise – Arol, it made me fall. I don’t want to fall again.”
“But now that you know that that noise was not from something meant to harm you, but protect you, flying should easier now.”
“Yeah, can I see?” Maverick asked. Both Hydra and Saphora turn their heads to look at him. And like a child, his head lowered ever so slightly. “Sorry.” Saphora sighed, as her feet began to leave the safety of the floor. Noticing the difference in her height, Maverick’s eyes widened, looking down at her feet. He smiled, leaning on the counter in amazement.
“So cool,” he breathed, as Saphora lowered herself back onto the floor.
“I’ll fly again, just not now. Are you going to give me a ride home?” Saphora said to Maverick. He stayed staring at her feet for a moment longer before nodding and pulling his keys out of his pocket.
“You got it.”
“What are the chances that both of those fingerprints we picked up wouldn’t be in the database? I mean, how many people have gone through life without being fingerprinted?” Roland asked, his hands on his hips, with his blazer curving behind his elbows.
“I don’t know, but at least we’ll get one set out of the way,” answered Glover, who had his arms crossed.
“I mean, doesn’t she have healthcare or something?”
“I don’t know. But at least we’re getting them.”
“I guess. But what was up with that tree? She said she was climbing it or something, right? But there were no scrape marks or anything on the trunk. How the heck did she get on the branch with the prints? What’d she do, jump up the tree?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Come on, aren’t you a little curious?” he asked, gesturing his hand upwards with his question, his eyes squinting behind his sunglasses.
“Yes. But we’re not going to know anything until we talk to her,” Glover answered, peering around Roland to look down the street
“You don’t even seem excited.”
“Because I’m not. I just want to do my job and go home,” he said bluntly. “Without having to taze you.”
“Me?”
“If you don’t behave yourself, I might have to.”
“Have you tried talking to that girl? She’s like a … a … Like a steel trap or something.”
“Well if she’s innocent, she has the right to be defensive of us intruding on her life. Hell, she has that right even more so if she’s guilty.”
“Man, whatever. I just wanna see if-“
“Maybe that’s her,” Glover pointed out, eyeing the black Camaro coming up the street. The car slowed to a stop about a house away from hers, and Roland turned around to get a look at the car as well. It stayed there for a few minutes, and the two men looked at each other in curiosity. Their suspicions were confirmed when the passenger door opened and Saphora stepped out, closing the door behind her. She didn’t look back at the car as she started the walk up the remainder of the road. Maverick turned around in a nearby driveway as Saphora approached the two officers, a little less than thrilled. Roland set his hands back on his hips as the distance closed between then, and gave a smile, once they were close enough to speak without shouting.
“Well hello there,” he greeted enthusiastically.
“It’s nice to see you again, Saphora,” Glover added. Saphora turned her attention to the more sensible of the two, her eyes squinting from the sunlight.
“Fran said you wanted my fingerprints?” she asked him. Glover nodded.
“Yes. We’ll give you a ride to the station. It should only take a few minutes,” Glover assured, gesturing to the police cruiser. Saphora glanced over at the still smiling Roland skeptically.
“Something wrong with him?” she said before getting into the car, once Glover had opened the door for her. Roland’s smile slid off his face as Glover closed the door. His hand shot up in annoyance, his jacket swinging to the side.
“You see!”
“Don’t start,” Glove warned, walking over to the driver’s side of the car.
“Listen,” Roland started, as Glover drove down the roads of town to the police station. Glover sighed, as Saphora’s eyes reluctantly met Roland’s sunglasses. “I know, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. But what do you say you and me try to hash things out?” he asked with a smile, sticking his gum against his left cheek. Saphora stared with narrowed eyes in silence. About ten seconds went by before Roland spoke up again, with a bit of a shrug.
“Welp, so much for that. So you wanna tell me how you got up that tree?”
“What?” Saphora asked with squinted eyes.
“Roland,” Glover warned. Roland waved his hand to the side.
“Well, you know we just thought it was a little odd that there was no sign of anyone climbing that tree. No scratches … No scuffs … In fact, the prints, which we’re assuming are yours, were only found on one branch. Waaaay up in the tree,” Roland continued, pointing up with his index finger. “So you know, I was just wondering how that could be. Maybe you could tell me.” Saphora was silent. And although her face was blank, her heart had begun to race with anxiety.
“How am I supposed to know why it didn’t leave any marks?” Roland smiled.
“Because you’re the one that climbed the tree,” he said, chewing on his gum.
Rolling Saphora’s finger against the dark ink, Glover gently pressed her right pinky against the sheet of paper. Standing there, Saphora watched, her nose wrinkled upwards from the unfamiliar smell of the ink. When done with the pinky, he moved on to her ring finger, repeating the process.
“I’m sorry about my partner,” he said in a low voice. Roland, who was waiting outside the closed room, was on his cellphone.
“I’m the one that should be sorry for you,” Saphora scoffed. Glover chuckled, nodding as he rolled Saphora’s middle finger against the ink.
“Thanks.”
“He’s not all there, is he?” Glover sighed, giving a soft shrug.
“According to our psychologist, he’s just a prick.”
“Sounds about right,” Saphora concurred.
“Yeah well. Maybe he just needs a big hug,” Glover suggested, raising a brow at Saphora. “Care to give him one?” Saphora laughed mockingly.
“I’d rather be found guilty.” Glover la
ughed, moving on to her other hand.
“I don’t blame you.”
“So after this I can go home?” Saphora asked, glancing up at Glover.
“I’m not sure. My boss had said she wanted to ask you some questions.”
“Is there a reason I wasn’t told that before coming here?” Glover grinned, pressing her left index finger into the ink.
“You’re not the easiest person to get a hold of.”
Back at Maverick’s apartment, Maverick was pacing the floor of his living room while Hydra was trying to better organize her belongings. He had just gotten off the phone with Jared, telling him once again that he was too busy for him to come over and play video games. Finally stopping, her plopped down onto the sofa with a groaning sigh and a shake of his head. Hydra, noticing the stressed actions, turned her attention to him, watching him closely.
“Is everything alright?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just, uh – how long do you plan on staying here?”
“Is there a problem with me staying here?”
“No, it’s just that it’s only a matter of time before my friend starts wondering why he can’t come over.”
“Why can he not come over?” Maverick stared at her blankly.
“Well … Because … You’re here.” Hydra raised a brow, not following.
“And?” Maverick chuckled loosely, running his hand awkwardly through his hair and scratching the back of his head.
“Okay, uhm, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re a super human. Not even human. You’re a super powered alien.”
“Your friend is not going to know that.” Maverick laughed.
“You – okay, you don’t have pupils. People around here? Humans? We have pupils. That might freak some people out.” Hydra fell silent at the observation, staring into Maverick’s eyes. She spread her palm in front of her face, coating it in ice in order to see her reflection. She glanced from his eyes to hers, taking note of the comparison. The small black dot in the center of his light brown eyes, compared to her endless spheres of lavender.
“Oh … I suppose I should conceal my eyes when traveling with you.”
“Yes, you – wait, okay and that’s another thing. You’re going to be following me everywhere I go?” Hydra nodded. “That might not work.”
“What do you mean?”
“I work. You know, I have a job.”
“I just heard you say you would not go in until three days from this one, if my knowledge of your ‘week’ is accurate.”
“Yeah, but … I will be going back. What will you do for the six or eight hours that I will be there? Be a customer?”
“Yes.”
Maverick shook his head.
“That’s not going to work. They’re going to think you’re stalking me.”
“Stalking?” Hydra asked. Maverick sighed, leaning back on the sofa.
“Never mind. You know … You don’t need to follow me. I’m not going to tell anyone about who Saphora is.” Hydra was silent for a moment.
“It is no longer to protect her from you,” Hydra argued, before hearing her communicator start going off. She looked over to the book she had set it on, walking over to it. Maverick watched as she ran her finger along the side of the flat sphere. And within that instant, a hologram of Artemis appeared. Maverick stood in pure shock of the technology before him, as Hydra stared into the image. The distraught Artemis glitched before beginning to speak.
“Hydra?”
“Yes, Artemis. What is it?”
“Where is Saphora?”
“With the humans.”
“You need to go to her! Tebias is on the move,” Artemis urged.
“How long?”
“About forty minutes.” Hydra nodded, ending the transmission. She turned on her heel, heading for the front door.
“Come on,” Hydra ordered, looking back at the stunned Maverick. He was hovering over the communicator in amazement. Looking up at the impatient Hydra, his brows wrinkled.
“Saphora’s in trouble?”
“She will be if we don’t leave. Do you know where the police took her?”
“Uh, yeah, the police station,” Maverick answered, walking up behind Hydra.
“Take us there.”
“Geez, what were you guys doing in there, having a picnic?” Roland asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on when he saw Glover and Saphora come out of the room.
“Just having a conversation like normal people,” Glover responded, while Saphora refused to even acknowledge the question. She stared down the hallway with dread, waiting for them to take her to Officer Johnson, who had been said to have questions. Roland scoffed, crossing his arms.
“I bet there wasn’t nothing normal about it,” he challenged, giving a once over Saphora. “Johnson had to step out. So I guess you got lucky today.”
“So I can leave?” she asked.
“You seem eager to get out of here,” Roland pointed out.
“This isn’t exactly my favorite place to hang out. Not to mention the company sucks,” Saphora spat, glancing up at Glover in consideration before adding, “Most of it, anyway,” and looking back at Roland.
“What, you spend twenty minutes in a room together and suddenly you’re best friends? What’d you guys do, kiss?”
“Roland,” Glover groaned and Saphora rolled her eyes, looking away from him.
“Can I leave or not?” Saphora asked again.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll drop you off, your highness,” Roland sloppily offered, popping his gum. Glover shook his head and stepped forward.
“No, I’ll take her home.” Roland smiled, shrugging his shoulders.
“What, you jealous? You guys dating now?” Saphora scoffed, and started walking down the hallway towards the lobby of the station. Glover jabbed his hand at Roland’s shoulder warningly.
“I will taze you,” he warned in a low voice.
“Come on, you got her to talk? About what?” Roland asked in a voice that was almost as low. Glover shook his head, chuckling and putting his hands on his hips as he watched Saphora get closer to the lobby. “Well?” Roland stressed. Glover turned back to look at his anxious partner.
“You want to know what we talked about?” Glover asked, crossing his arms and leaning towards Roland. He chuckled, and started walking away. “We talked about our common distaste for you,” he called out as he laughed. Roland stood there, appalled.
“Well I’m glad you two found something in common,” he somewhat shouted.
Glover rushed over to catch up with Saphora before she could reach the front doors.
“So, are you going home or am I bringing you somewhere else?” Glover asked generously. Saphora looked up at him, before walking out of the lobby and onto the pavement.
“I really have no problem walking home,” Saphora insisted, not slowing down when he followed behind her.
“Nonsense. Please, let me bring you home. I insist,” Glover pressed. Saphora sighed, stopping in her path.
“What is it with you guys and needing to take me home? I’m a grown woman.”
“It’s a code,” answered Glover. Saphora tilted her head up, holding back the urge to scoff at the answer.
“Oh, right. It’s expected of police, right? Tell you what. You can not, and say you did. It’ll be our little secret,” Saphora offered, winking and starting to walk again. But Glover kept up with her, shaking his head in disagreement.
“Not a code of work. But a code of being a gentlemen,” Glover clarified. Saphora laughed harshly.
“Right, because Roland is the perfect gentleman.” Glover shrugged.
“Alright, maybe he was following a different code.”
“Or maybe he just wanted to get in Fran’s pants.”
“Alright. What’s it going to take for you to let me bring you home?” Saphora thought, her brows raising at the opportunity to gain something.
“Answers.”
“Answers. To what questions?
”
“Any that I have during the ride.” Glover grinned, tilting his head to the side in amusement, his hands on his hips.
“Alright, fine. Answers.” Saphora smirked.
“It’s the red one, right?” she asked, changing her path to walk towards the red Chevy that was parked a little ways away in the parking lot. Glover laughed, shaking his head as he followed.
“So what is your first question?” Glover asked, now that they were driving along the highway. With one hand comfortably on the top of the steering wheel, they were going a smooth 55 mph. Saphora folded her hands in her lap and nodded.
“What’s your name?” she asked, turning her head to look at him while he watched the road. “Your first name.” Glover grinned, exhaling a chuckle through his nose.
“Dani,” he answered honestly. Saphora nodded, poking her lip out.
“Huh. I half expected you to say something I couldn’t pronounce.” Glover laughed.
“Why, because I am Arabian?”
“Precisely because you’re Arabian.”
“Yes, well, my mother was very considerate when naming me, I suppose,” he said, as he switched lanes.
“And what about your last name? Glover doesn’t strike me as very Arabian.” Glover nodded.
“Yes. It is my father’s last name. He’s Scottish.”
“Oh, I see.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I know your first name, but not your last. Or do you take Fran’s last name?” Saphora shook her head.
“No, I don’t.”
“So what is it, then?” Saphora hesitated before answering.
“Kiran.”
“Kiran,” Glover repeated, searching his knowledge for what nationality that may have fallen under. “What is that?” Saphora grinned, shaking her head. Instead of even considering her answer, she merely said,
“Can’t remember.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It can’t be helped. Next question. Being an Arabian, you know what they go through here, right?” Glover paused.
“Yes …”
“Have you ever had to deport another Arabian?” Glover grimaced.