Trickster of the Butterfly

Chapter 27- Still Exiled

In the light blue pastel walls of the hospital hallway, Alora's parents were sitting in the waiting area right outside the intensive care unit. Her father was reading the news headlines off his phone while Mrs. Kaye's head was resting on his shoulder, fast asleep.

Janus: Masked Terrorist Still a Fugitive
That was the title of the news article Mr. Kaye was reading. The screen read:

March 31, 2015
Article Updated 3:19am

The culprit of the bizarre incident in San Andres Sports Complex back in January is still wanted. He is charged for assault of police officers and the attempted homicide of 17-year old Alora Kaye, who is currently on life support ever since the incident. Michael Randelo, the young man who fought with the mysterious terrorist, is still missing.

The fugitive has been named "Janus", after the embroidered letters on the man's jacket which he left on the scene...

Mr. Kaye turned off his phone.

"Anak..." he weeped. "Lord... yung anak ko..."

Mrs. Kaye woke up from the tears from her husband that trickled over her hair.

"Hon, gagaling din siya..." she began to cry as well. "Mahal siya ng Diyos, hindi Niya siya pababayaan!" she shouted to reassure him. "Sinabi na nga ng doctor diba? Mga April magrerecover na siya. Wag ka nang umiyak, hon..."

Michael woke up from his dream vision. It was now March 30, 6:24am, he was sleeping with his back leaning on a side wall of a funeral parlor in Aurora Avenue. It was far too early for anybody to be around to ask him to leave so he took his sweet time chilling there.

The vision is supposed to happen early morning the next day but Michael didn't want to start his day with a depressing thought, so he set it aside for now. He rubbed his eyes and stretched.

"Good morning Lord," he said. The morning was getting warm so he took off his jacket.

For a guy who's been living like a hermit for the past weeks, he's still pretty much living in luxury. He's been living off of KFC barbecue rods, Footlongs with Egg Wrapped Around (FEWA), chicken chops, smoked bangus, all sorts of food pulled from time portals opening the past. Ivory brand soap from the 1980's kept him smelling really good, so long as he found a faucet and a sink. Mr. Clean laundry soap was helpful too, you couldn't find much of those in stores anymore but Michael could just pull them from thin air. He hasn't been skimping on working out either. He was a health buff hobo if there ever was one.

The Bible he brought along with him was also a big help in his travels. If there was any hope or comfort he needed during his time of mourning, he'd get it from the good 'ol book.

His problems with his light tentacles were far less often now. It took concentration but accidents with chicken skin sidewalk vendors were no longer struggles.

Hoodlums (not of the parkour/martial artist variety, thankfully) would try to mess with him every once in awhile but he easily slipped away from unnecessary fights by freezing. Muggings would come up every once in awhile and he'd play the unseen hero by fighting with his baseball bat or carrying the goons or the victim away from danger.

He decided just sometime ago in his wandering to not go back to Manila but atleast stay near it. Right now, at the border of Quezon City and Manila, he's skirting the very edges of the home he knew but hopefully, never to come back to.

"Janus..." he couldn't help it, Michael recalled the article's title in his vision. He took a thoughtful bite out of an asado siopao with a wrapper with the 7-Eleven logo printed and a receipt was even attached to it reading that it was issued in 1973.

The vision made him shiver and reminded him of the traceur gang and their superpowered leader who, thankfully, hasn't laid a finger on him ever since their attack on him by the park last month. He's always had to look behind him anywhere he goes ever since. He doesn't even have a clue what this Janus dude wants with him and how he got those time powers.

Michael finished his siopao. He checked his watch and it was already 7:17am. He got up, put on his jacket, picked up his backpack, and went on his way to... wherever.

Aurora Avenue had a lot of funeral parlors, Michael noticed. One parlor he passed by had a tree with magenta colored flowers in bloom. Michael stared at them.

"April..." the flowers reminded him of what Mrs. Kaye said in the vision about Alora recovering by April. He began to see a silver lining in his situation. Finally, he had a clear assurance that his friend was still alive. But then he winced at the thought of what the article said about her condition being Janus' fault. "Attempted homicide"... Michael thought that he deserved to share that accusation with the terrorist. Neither his friends nor his family would want such a disgrace being so close to them.

He picked a flower from the tree and stared at it wistfully.

"It doesn't take overnight to get over this. Lord, You're all I need now... help me." he said sadly then let the magenta flower fall from his hand. The flower disappeared as soon as it touched the floor.

"Huh? AHHHH!!!" Michael fell straight through the concrete pavement like an invisible trap door suddenly flew open underneath him.

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Note: *Tun-dun-dun* (that's epic music)

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