Johnson got some burns and had to buy a new suit, and they still hadn’t found out why that creature was there.
Not only that, but the team had to sell their Chrysler 300 to pay for the damages to the cabin. Now they just had the Vintage 1970s Sedan. And Frink had to clear out his side of the garage for the cars.
Oh well, he thought. He didn’t care what the team drove around in much, as long as he could stay behind and monitor them. Which he didn’t get to do very often, now that Bionic was gone.
The Professor sighed and lowered the screen of his Bureau-issue laptop. His days now seemed to be an endless erudition of all things supernatural. They were extremely fascinating to the scientist, but even he tired eventually. Especially since it was already a bit after dark.
He got up and went to the shower. Johnson required that every member of Team 13 take a cold shower nightly. Bionic didn’t like that much, but he dealt with it. Frink raised his eyebrow. Then again, he thought, Bionic did complain all the time. Frink missed him, despite his constant annoyances.
The Professor removed his labcoat for the first time that day and washed his face. After he wiped it off, he lifted his head and looked in the mirror. What he saw terrified him.
There was the face of Special Agent Bionic sticking partially though the glass.
***
Johnson concentrated on what he would do. When he was fully ready, he tossed the glass he had in his hands up into the air.
Then he let loose. His right hand punched forward and knocked into the central pile of boxes, easily sending an empty box flying into the wall.
His left elbow then shot back into the dorsal pile of boxes, and he raised his left fist backwards to knock into the top box. That pile flew backwards.
He glanced up and saw the glass already at its peak and beginning to fall. He focused his attention on the right-hand pile.
As he readied his fists for a series of jabs, he heard a scream from two floors above him. He hesitated for a few seconds, and leaped over the fallen boxes for the basement stairs.
By the time the glass hit the floor and shattered, Johnson was halfway up the stairway.
When the agent, always in his black suit, reached the second floor, he saw Frink clawing to get away from the far end of the hall. Away from the bathrooms.
“Which one?” Johnson asked. Frink pointed to the right-hand bathroom and uttered the name, “Bionic.”
Johnson pulled out his Berreta. The Professor wasn’t screaming about a spider this time.
When Johnson reached the bathroom, he froze. A figure was stuck half in the mirror and half out of it. The thing twisted its head slowly and looked at Johnson straight in the face. Then Johnson saw it voice the word, “Help.”
The black-suited agent backed out of the bathroom and pulled out his beeper. He didn’t know where Agent Andy was, but he’d need him. He typed in Bionic’s old access code and entered “911.” Andy wouldn’t delay.
***
Special Agent Andy stared down at the shorter office buildings and streets of downtown Milwaukee. He had been sitting, watching the traffic and lights in the windows for about a half of an hour now. He slapped lazily at a mosquito on his neck as fire truck sirens passed beneath him.
Andy liked to sit occasionally on the roof of the building with Team 13's office during the twilight hours. He had discovered that the owner never locked the roof entrance, and no one bothered to look up there for him (not even Johnson). It was a nice escape.
It seemed that he could only think of things in this place nowadays. Even so, he chose not to think of anything. This was time to clear his mind.
The sun just set over the horizon, and darkness would have poured in if not for the lovely light pollution. He stared up about ten blocks away at the hundred-storied Ensuringcare office building. There was one of these massive towers in every city over a million people these days, including the metropolis just south of Milwaukee.
Andy thought back to when the team was in Chicago and had to storm an Ensuringcare building to free their former comrades. Their biggest adventure yet. Back when Bionic couldn’t be stopped. Back when their former Bureau always had their back. Things were good then.
He slapped himself on the forehead. There he was, thinking again. A whole ten minutes that he could have been clearing his mind were wasted on mere whims of his mind.
He attempted to clear his mind again, only to feel his beeper vibrate. He picked it up and looked at the screen. His eyes widened in horror when he saw the letters “BIONIC - 911" on the mini-screen. Bionic was in a mental institution in Florida, or at least he was supposed to be.
Andy jumped back off of the ledge and ran toward the roof exit. The elevators were temporarily out, so he had 36 stories to run down. 72 flights of stairs.
Shit, Andy thought.
***
By the time Andy got there, Frink had contacted some Bureau 13 officials. They told him a team would be sent over to exorcize any spirit and put wards on the apartment. Until then, Team 13 should just evacuate the building.
Then Johnson discovered that the apparition didn’t leave its position. It actually seemed stuck and had knocked over the toothbrush container and soap bottle. Frink thought it might have been a poltergeist with ectoplasm, but then they heard it beginning to whisper curses.
As Andy examined the scene, he decided to ask the “spirit” (which they had supposed to be an extension of Bionic or something similar) what he could do to ease its pain.
“Andy! Thank God it’s you. These two idiots won’t do anything! I’m stuck,” it whispered.
Andy, completely unphased, asked, “Would shattering the mirror help?”
Bionic, or whatever it was, seemed to pale even further. “No! Even I know that’ll kill me. Just reach into my right pocket and finger your way around in there until you find a hole. I can’t reach it.”
Andy looked at the figure queerly. It responded by saying something vulgar involving fingers and other parts. Andy rolled his eyes and did what the thing wanted him to.
“I - hey, I feel something!” Andy exclaimed triumphantly. He pulled his hand out and opened it up. It was a strange green stone with unusual lighting. Andy felt that it was very cold.
Bionic smiled and said, “Gimme that,” before snatching it from Andy’s hand. The half-in-half-out man clenched it hard and closed his eyes. Soon, his body seemed to move forward and the rest of him slid though the glass. When he was out completely, the glass wasn’t even cracked.
Bionic’s lower half, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as pleasant. It looked as though the wind had buffeted it, and small stones or shards of glass had ripped his jeans to shreds. One of his shoes had even fallen off.
“Agent Bionic!” Frink yelped in joy. “Where were you?”
Bionic replied simply, “In Hell.”
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