Hunched over his workbench, the anthropomorphic hyena gritted his canine teeth and pushed the button. "It's been too long to go back now" he thought aloud. "I've been slaving over this infernal contraption for seven weeks; it HAS to work! I CANNOT FAIL NOW!" SpotWeld breathed heavily as he turned a knob and adjusted a wire on the strange mixture of circuitry, metal, and citrus fruit. For a few seconds all was silent, even the creature dared not breathe. All of a sudden, music from the Smashing Pumpkins could be heard. "Tonight Tonight" was the song.
The inventor threw off his goggles and whooped in triumph. "IT PLAYS!" SpotWeld yelled happily. "Behold! The Carmen Miranda Stereo!" He danced a couple of steps to the beat of the music before raising a victory sign. His ears drooped a little bit, however, when he realized that there was no one to celebrate with him. "Sometimes, it sucks not having a roommate" he reflected. "At least my worst one would give some sort of response, even if it was only a grunt." With the twisting of a wire, the mutant shut off his edible sound system and put it into a specially-rigged refrigerator. "Keep this puppy fresh and the sound will probably be more clear." The hyena-man's thoughts were interrupted by another growl issuing from deep in the pit of his stomach. His hunger had been mounting, for he had missed eating anything at all since he started on the project six hours ago. "That time of the month again" he chortled as he grabbed his trinket-laden overcoat. "Time to get a few choice cuts." He dumped several mostly-eaten containers of Ramen Noodles into the garbage pail and licked his chops. After going thirty days on the soup and pasta, he was ready to go to the meat packing plant to round out his diet. With a quick tug, SpotWeld pulled the heating grate from its frame and made his exit, ready to make the trek to the cannery district.
"Just another flight in the friendly skies" thought Abram as he flapped his wings to catch another updraft. Silently, the half-breed rode the wind toward the big lights and sounds of the concrete isle known as Manhattan. After his first day of work at Hallsey's Furniture Depot, he was ready to have a night of great fun. The margaritas at Oddballs were beckoning to him, and visions of popcorn shrimp danced about in his mind, having held his appetite especially for them. "God bless the Friday Night Unlimited Seafood Freakout" he chortled as he dove toward the rooftops of several abandoned buildings. "But I got to catch my breath first." After logging in over six tons of oak tables and desks, and dozens of chairs, even the half-gargoyle was feeling signs of being a little weary. With a dull thud, the half-breed landed hard on the worn, steel top of an old water treatment facility. He looked out at the highly industrialized landscape and a saddened look crossed his face. "Not like the good neighborhood that I remember" Abram sighed, thinking back to they days where he had silently watched children playing stickball in the streets and parents standing on the steps, trading the latest bit of juicy gossip. Although there would be times where he almost forgot his inhumanity and start his descent to the street level, he always managed to catch himself at the last moment, protecting his true nature.
Over the years, the Modernist viewed the dying of the light of happy homes as families moved to the suburbs of Long Island and he began to see the meat processing plants and canneries seize the place, transforming it into what it was today. Now the neighborhood buildings were occupied by the meat-packing plants, canneries, and other processing facilities. The smell of harsh preserving chemicals and smoke was so strong that even the half-gargoyle's eyes watered a bit. "Shame that the few people left couldn't save themselves from this fate" sighed Abram. "Now most of them haven't got a prayer."
He searched the inner reaches of his memory, and recalled that there were five families that still called Coldwater Commons their home. "Must be a way to bring this place back to life" he thought aloud. The Modernist began to ponder ways to solve the problem when he caught sight of a sudden movement at street level. Leaning over the railing, Abram strained his eyes to follow the movement, and saw a shadowy figure creeping about in the dim lights between two crumbling buildings. The half-breed watched with interest, noticing that he was completely covered by a large trench coat, with the collar pulled up high over his head. The dark figure looked around for a moment before throwing his shoulder against the heavy door of the Damsel Ham packaging facility. Flaring his wings, Abram groaned in exasperation. "Like this dead neighborhood needs more burglars" he sneered. "Better check it out. Looks like the Seafood Freakout will wait for a little while." Catching the wind, the creature made his way to the pot-holed street.
Cursing under his breath, SpotWeld rubbed his shoulder after the failed attempt to break the door down. "I never was one for brute force" he mumbled. "My hunger must really be getting to me." The creature stroked his chin for a moment, examining the lock holding the portal in place. He smiled slyly, recognizing the simple mechanism. "This should be a cinch to pick" SpotWeld crooned, reaching into one of the deeper pockets of his coat. He frowned and shook his head crossly. "Dammit, forgot my lockpicks." Just then, the hyena mutant heard a rushing of wind and a swooping sound. "I don't need this, not now" he thought to himself as he saw Abram land out of the corner of his eye.
"Hold it right there!" the half-gargoyle shouted, pointing at the dark figure. The person turned around slowly, and the Modernist was shocked to see a large furry muzzle protruding from its face. "Not another one of those mutated freaks" he thought to himself.
Twenty feet away, SpotWeld mulled the situation over. "Shit, don't want to give this thing any more information than he needs. Better try to scare it off." Raising his ears menacingly, the hyena-man growled the best he could.
Although Abram was a little frightened, he held his ground. He had no idea what he was dealing with, and that prospect excited him a little. Still, the half-breed needed to keep the strange creature from breaking into the meat-processing plant. "Step away from the door" he warned, using the best authoritative voice he could muster.
SpotWeld continued to growl fiercely, not about to skip a month's worth of meat.
"It's not working" the two combatants thought to themselves.
Growing impatient with the stand-off, Abram decided to make the first move. "The Hell with this" he mumbled before unleashing his spell. "HAMMERBALL!" The familiar silver globe of magically-created matter sprung into being and streaked toward the overcoat-laden mutant. With animalistic grace, SpotWeld just managed to dodge the speeding sphere and stared at it with amazement, watching it smash against a nearby brick wall. With ears perked up and a confounded smile on his face, the creature did a double take at the half-breed, the wall, and the silver ball. "COOOOOL!" he exclaimed. "How'd you do that?"
The mage jumped back, startled, surprised that the furry thing was intelligent. "You talk?!?" he squawked in disbelief.
The anthropomorphic hyena put his paws on his hips and shot back "Well so do you, but I'm not complaining, am I?"
Abram's jaw dropped, having not only been shocked at the creature's ability to speak, but insult him all in one measly sentence.
SpotWeld continued as the half-breed gawked. "Well, now that we have come to the conclusion that we are both intelligent life forms, may I please get my dinner now?" He turned away from the other creature and concentrated on fishing something out of his oversized trench coat.
Before the mutant could do much of anything, Abram put himself between the hyena-man and the door. "What do you think you're doing?" demanded the Modernist, not really expecting a straight answer.
Rolling his eyes, SpotWeld shook his head and groaned. "I thought you were only funny-looking, not stupid. I'm letting myself in so I can get some dinner. Mind you, I am not a crook and I do pay for the stuff I take. If you will excuse me, the munchies call."
He tried to continue looking for his alternate means of entry, but the half-breed continued to delay him. "In case you haven't noticed, breaking and entering IS a crime!" Abram began. "So, furball, if you are not a criminal, then why are you trying to bust into this meat packing plant?" He cloaked his wings and waited for a response.
Once again, the anthropomorphic hyena groaned and threw his hands up in the air. "Why do you think I've come here, for the breath mints?!?" chided SpotWeld. "I'm sure you go straight to the meat plant whenever you have a hunger for Breath Savers!" His tone took a more serious tone for the first time since he had started speaking. "Besides, if I went in during regular business hours, do you honestly think that I would be standing here talking to you?" He pointed to the Modernist's wings before adding "You of all people should be able to relate to this, considering your species." The mutant smiled as he pulled an expired Mastercard from one of the trench coat pockets, and slid it through the doorjamb. The sound of tumblers could be heard and the door softly creaked open. "Let's see what's on the menu tonight, shall we?" Adjusting his clothing, SpotWeld strolled into the main room of the Damsel Foods building and made his way to the cold storage rooms.
Stopping at the third door on the right, he tapped the stylized image of a bull. "Ah, beef, it's what's for dinner!" the mutant chuckled as he threw open the door and the pair was blasted by cold air. Hanging from hooks were sides of cattle, all frozen and waiting to be cut into smaller, more manageable pieces.
Abram wrinkled his nose in disguist and seriously considered becoming a vegetarian. The smell of raw meat and blood didn't faze the hyena-man in the least; he was even whistling as he picked up a small blood-encrusted axe. With the care of an experienced butcher, the trenchcoat-clad humanoid set to work on hacking out a piece of meat from one of the larger carcasses. Abram watched silently, unable to make head or tail of what he was seeing.
"Do you do this often?" were the only words that came to mind.
SpotWeld took one final swipe of the axe and held up a small piece of beef that looked to be about a pound and a half. "About once a month" he replied nonchalantly. "If they had hairnets my size, I could work in the meat department of the local grocery store, but I heard the pay stinks, and they don't have an anti-discrimination policy for hyena people." He set the axe down and slipped a twenty dollar bill beneath. "Let's dine al fresco," SpotWeld laughed, "unless you prefer the manager's office."
Abram followed the strange creature back outside, wondering why he even bothered gliding down to apprehend him. "He's more like an odd bum than anything else" he said under his breath.
The words of SpotWeld drifted back. "I've been called worse, but I do have a home, so don't call me a bum." He pulled a large Tupperware container from his jacket and placed the meat inside it. "Just a few more minutes before suppertime" he growled in a bad Western accent before beginning to fish around in his trench coat again.
The half-breed's eyes widened before he managed to cry out "Aren't you going to COOK it first?"
His eyes sparkling with slyness, the muzzle of the scavenger smiled. "And destroy the flavor?" he chortled through a grin. "Really, presentation is EVERYTHING!" Once again SpotWeld fished around in his garb, reaching into an inside pocket.
The Modernist caught a glimpse of the loudly-colored Bermuda shorts underneath the outerwear, but kept himself from laughing. "A physical and fashion misfit" he thought silently.
"HERE WE GO!" yelled the mutant, holding up a bottle of A-1 Steak Sauce, a canister of oregano, and a sprig of parsley. Flourishing wildly and imitating Julia Child, the anthropomorphic hyena began to recite what he was doing to prepare the meal. "First thing you do is dump the steak sauce into the preparation dish with the meat." SpotWeld emptied the bottle and threw it away before continuing. "Next step is to season the cut of beef with a popular spice such as oregano. You may use any other flavoring you like should oregano not suit your fancy, but it is my meal and that's what I'm using." He sprinkled the Italian herb all over the cut of beef in the Tupperware and picked up the final ingredient. "The third component is the charm" crooned the creature. "Gingerly place the sprig of parsley on the steak, for it will add not only flavor, but character to the meal that is also a work of ART!" SpotWeld then took the plastic lid and slammed it into place. Raising an eyebrow, he offered part of the fare to the half-breed, who was trying his best not to be revolted. "Are you sure you don't want some?" the mutant asked curiously.
Clutching his stomach uneasily, Abram distastefully refused. "Umm, I already ate."
The creature snarled. "Well I wasn't gonna share it with you anyway!" His expression warmed a little before adding "I think you may have gotten sick if you ate it raw, besides. Anyway, I got to shake and coat this stuff, so pardon me." Doing a dance that resembled the Cha Cha, SpotWeld began to shake the Tupperware like an oversized maraca. He decided to try out another impression; Charo. "You shake the tin for about five minutes until the steak is completely coated with sauce and spice" he cooed. "Then you serve and eat it with gusto!" The hyena creature slammed the tub onto a garbage can, opened it and withdrew the meat. Placing it carefully on the overturned lid, he kissed his fingers and proclaimed "Bon Appetite!" He sat down and began to enjoy his meal.
Abram watched with partial disgust and awe as he witnessed SpotWeld tearing at the raw, seasoned meat with his canines. The hyena-man looked up for a moment, troubled, like something was missmg. All of a sudden, a jingle of metal could be heard.
"Oh cool, I did remember the silverware" he said in delight, producing a bent fork and knife before continuing as if it were a part of everyday life.
"Tasty?" the half-breed asked.
SpotWeld's ears perked up before replying between bites "Needs a little salt; you wouldn't happen to have some would you?" He shrugged his shoulders when he heard the mage's negative reply. "It's bad for you anyway, never mind." The mutant quickly finished the rest of the meat and swallowed the parsley. After a satisfied belch and sigh, he looked straight into Abram's eyes. "So, you're a gargoyle, eh?" SpotWeld asked as he found an after-dinner mint and popped it into his mouth. "Seen a few of your kind in Manhattan airspace. Quite impressive creatures you are..."
Abram cut him off. "I'm not a gargoyle."
The humanoid stroked his chin and nodded with interest. "A genetic mishap? Mad scientist? How did you get the gargoyle wings and talons?"
The half-breed blushed a little bit, semi-embarrassed talking about his ancestry with a total stranger. "I'm only half" admitted Abram. "My father's a human being."
SpotWeld's eyes widened with great interest, replying "So it is true that humans and gargoyles can crossbreed." Anger played across the Modernist's face, and the hyena-man dropped the matter. "Pardon me for asking, I was just curious." Hearing Abram's guttural growl, he added "You seem to have the gargoyle voice box too."
"You ask a Hell of a lot of questions" grumbled Abram, wanting to just get out of the entire situation.
However, the mutant asked another. "How did you cause that big silver ball to appear?"
The half-breed shrugged his shoulders, trying to keep as much information from SpotWeld as he could. "It's a thing that I do" he replied, as if magic was a part of everyday life.
The inventor stared into Abram's eyes and smiled. "Could you possibly teach me to do that thing?"
The half-gargoyle choked on his own saliva at the request. "ME?!? Teach you?!?" he gasped. "I don't even know your name!"
SpotWeld thought a moment, not really wanting to give away his identity, but devised a plan to reveal it all and stay hidden if the being before wasn't intelligent enough. "Take a real good look at me," he explained, "and then do your research on the company called Enlightened Technologies. If you can put it all together, then you will have my name figured out by the time we next meet." He glanced down at the ground and concentrated a little before picking up a nametag that fell out of the half-breed's pocket. "It's nice to meet you, Abe" SpotWeld chortled as he handed it back to the mage.
"It's been, uh, interesting, to say the least" Abram admitted, taking the tag from the creature. "But when you say we will meet again, when and where are you talking about?" The anthropomorphic hyena chuckled mischievously. "You'll know soon enough, but nature calls, and unless you want to see a less savory side of me, I will take my leave of you now." Reaching into his Bermuda shorts pocket, he pulled out a silvery coin with a grinning hyena face stamped on it. "My calling card" he beamed before letting loose with another animalistic laugh and throwing it to the half-breed.
Abram caught the disk between his fingers as he watched the strange mix of man and beast bound off into the darkness. "I really got to watch what I get myself into" he said softly, shaking his head in confusion. Flexing his talons, he set upon scaling the Damsel Ham building and pondered on the encounter he just had.
SpotWeld kicked the entrance grate to his home and squirmed through the opening. "Have to admit that was fun" he grinned to himself. "He had no idea whether he was coming or going!" The muzzle then turned into a frown. "Hope he is smart enough to figure that puzzle out" he sighed. "Wouldn't mind getting to know that freak of nature a little better, and learning a thing or two about that thing he does." Just then, his main computer chimed and the little mailbox logo began to flash. "Hmmmm, mail call. Wonder who could have gotten my E-mail address." SpotWeld ambled over to the terminal, gasped, and then smiled with pleasure when he saw the header and sender's addie: Nice to Meet You, SPOTWELD, from WindGuyl4@COL.Com. "This is going to be one fun friendship" he laughed loudly as he opened the mail and read...
Spotweld, I've figured out your little puzzle, and jumped through your hoops. Can't say that I didn't enjoy myself, but why did you have to be so paranoid? Probably the same reason why I am to an extent. Anyway, tell me when you want to meet and where, and next time, let's cook the food before we eat it. I look forward to it. Now it is my turn to ask the questions. Tell me a little about yourself.
With Regards,
Abram Wintersmith
P.S. You are not ready to learn that thing I do, but give it time, and you will."
The mutant clapped his hands together and laughed once more. "Cool, cool, cool-cool-cool!" He cracked his knuckles and began typing.