Richie Ryan was worried about his friend. The young Immortal stepped astride his red motorcycle and pulled on his helmet, which covered the expression of guilt and concern that was stamped on his youthful visage.
"See ya in the morning, Mac," Richie called to his mentor, who was opening the door on his '65 black Thunderbird.
Duncan cast his friend a tight smile, "Bye, Rich."
Richie stepped down hard and gunned the engine on his bike. With a roar from the bike he took off into the night. Richie decided to take the long way home, as he needed some time to think.
The stars shone brilliantly against the black backdrop of the night sky. A near-full moon hung off in the west, but was occasionally blocked off by some of the taller buildings. Richie sped down the near empty downtown street, which was slowly become more populated as he headed further into town. A rumbling in Richie's stomach alerted him to the fact that he was hungry, and the glass of scotch at Joe's hadn't helped any. Seeing a small diner at the side of the road, nestled in between some tall, if rundown, buildings, Richie pulled his motorcycle up alongside it.
Richie noted the police squad car which was also parked outside the small diner, which had a large coffee cup and the neon words 'Blue Plate Cafe' emblazoned on a curving movie-theater style projection over the door. Through the large glass window Richie could see that two cops were the restaurant's only occupants. Richie pulled his helmet off and walked in, the door making a small tinkling noise as he opened it, his helmet tucked under his arm.
Richie walked though the diner, which looked larger from the inside than it did from the outside, past some booths and up to the counter where he took the seat farthest away from the cops. He had never felt comfortable around policemen... probably stemmed from his days in juvie.
The cops glanced at him and he offered what he thought to be a sincere smile back at them as he sat down on a cushioned stool. A red haired, nice looking waitress smiled at him, silently handed Richie a menu, and placed a cup of coffee in front for him. Richie opened the menu and promptly began studding it.
He was about to make an order when he felt a tingly sensation pass over him. It was similar to the buzzing sensation he got when sensing other Immortals... but this was subtler and it just didn't feel the same. /A Pre-Immortal?/ Richie thought.
Turning around, Richie saw a nondescript looking man in a trenchcoat enter the diner. The man paused in the doorway and shook his head... apparently he had felt it too. And that meant he wasn't a Pre-Immortal, if he was he wouldn't have felt anything.
"Chance!" the waitress called over to the man wearing the trenchcoat. "You okay?"
"Yea, Ang, I'm fine," he said, shaking his head again, "I just got a bit dizzy there for a minute. I don't know what came over me."
"Well, sit down, I'll get you some coffee."
Chance sat down next to Richie, and offered him a small smile, which Richie returned before he went back to pretending to study the menu. There was something strange about this guy and Richie wanted to know what it was.
"Thanks Ang," Chance said, grasping the white styrofoam cup which the red haired waitress had placed in front of him.
"So, Chance," Angie asked. "What happened to you today? I hear that the paper assigned you to get a picture of one of those freak blue storms or something."
Richie snapped to attention... 'freak blue storms' sounded a lot like Quickenings.
"Yea, and I got one too," Chance said, patting the side of his trenchcoat where his camera was. "It was the weirdest thing, there was some sort of swordfight, and then once guy said something like "There can be only--" Chance was cut off abruptly as Richie "accidentally" knocked his cup of coffee over.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Richie began as Angie hurried over toward him with a towel and began mopping up the mess.
"Well, I'll, um, I'll see ya later, Ang," Chance said, as he got up and headed for the door. "I'll pay for the coffee in the morning. I want to get these developed."
Richie jumped to his feet -- he *had* to stop Chance. Leaving Angie to mop up the spilt coffee Richie rushed out the door and into the chilling night air. Richie got outside just in time to see a chop-job car roar to life and speed off into the night.
Leaping on his bike, Richie gunned the engine and sped off into the dark night after the patchwork car.