Aeon Paradox

Chapter Eleven: Ghosts

Booker Augustus Joyce, the third, lived up to his namesake. Awkwardly tall, well dressed and bespectacled, he leaned over his cereal bowl, spoon hovering in suspension in front of his mouth as wide blue eyes gazed, frozen, on the television as it played the morning news cycle.

His grip slipped as the name of the reported person responsible for the explosion that blacked out half of Orcrest the night before flashed across the screen. Milk droplets dribbled and splashed, his trance temporarily broken as he looked down, grimacing at the stains on his waistcoat as he hastily wiped it away, eyes snapping back to the screen as a lump formed in his throat.

There was no way! Ruby Fox? Of all the ghosts of his past. He ran his hands through his long blond hair, yet to be styled in its usual bun atop his head. It was not a name he had thought of in some time and certainly not what he expected to wake up to on the morning news cycle before work.

He turned up the volume, watching the scenes of the destroyed apartment building rolling across the screen before flashing to a different location at the front of a shitty looking house and a bloodied, dark-haired woman being led into the back of a Sentinel armoured van in cuffs.

"Yo, Book! You seeing all this shit all over the feeds?"

Booker sighed. He hated when his roommate James called him that. "It's Booker." he called over his shoulder.

"No seriously. You're seeing this, right?" A flush sounded as James exited the bathroom, pulling up his pants as he went, his hairy gorilla chest exposed for all to see while holding out his phone to show a mugshot of Ruby.

"Dammit, James, would you put on a shirt? No one needs to see that first thing in the morning," Booker grumbled as he rose from the couch and took his cereal bowl to the sink in the kitchen.

James chuckled goofily as he followed and opened the fridge. "She's pretty cute for an older chick. Didn't you used to date an electrokinetic when you worked at that community centre with your dad? I heard those kinetic types are a little — " he swirled his finger beside his head and whistled.

Booker gave him a resigned look. "Don't talk about people that way."

James shrugged as he continued, "but really, dude, taking out half an apartment complex in one big bang like that? That's some power. Have you ever seen anything like that from a sensitive? You work with them quite a bit at the office, don't ya? The media are going apeshit — should see the conspiracies and memes already! They are hilarious. Hey, reckon your ex-girl was capable of anything like that?"

"I don't know James, it was over a decade ago — Hey, don't you have that anniversary date with Luna tonight?" he tried to weave around the conversation, the idiot hadn't clicked yet they were the same person and he was not about to inform him. That relationship had not ended well, and he was in no mood.

James reappeared from the fridge with a wedge of cheese in hand which he tossed nonchalantly onto the nearby cutting board, making silly sounds as he slid a knife from the block and made an extravagant slice downwards into the yellow brick.

"Nope! No changing the subject. This is too juicy not to talk about. Not every day this happens. You're used to seeing that kinda destruction over the Pacific, but here? Won't be surprised if this one makes international headlines. C'mon, give me some professional insight here, you're an expert in sensitives. Bet those Sentinel dudes are having a field day! Do ya reckon it's some foreign high profile fugitive or just a pissed off bitch with a vendetta like they are portraying it on the news?"

Booker sighed, shaking his head. He would not answer that. "I'm a professional counsellor for burgeoning sensitive teens, I don't think that qualifies me as an expert."