itsachat Writers Ave

Pem arrived in the lobby just as an entourage of young divers was registering. It seems they were training for the Olympics and while lightly scanning the minds of the young teenagers along with their coaches and chaperones quickly realized he could not learn of anything interesting. Pem concluded the swimming crowd was boring and filed that little bit of information away for later. He took a seat on a comfortable lobby couch, picked up a magazine and pretended to read it while watching the lobby and waiting for his delivery.

His delivery arrived a short time later and once received Pemfro quickly headed out in search of this youth gang on drugs. He hated to be reminded that his duties were that of surveillance only and that he was not to be apprehending any Raze any time soon. Damn the Voice for always bringing that up. The whole fiasco with Jake was still being sorted out back on Almertrean and even though Pem felt badly for what had happened, he really didn’t think any of it was exactly his fault. Sometimes you just have to disobey your orders when there is a life at stake, e-mon or likewise.

Pemfro went back to the street where the parade was held. It was empty of people now and there were remnants of the parade that could be seen here and there, although Pem did note that it at least looked like someone had attempted to clean the street up. He lightly scanned the minds of any individuals he came across to see if anyone at all had any knowledge of the kids in this Painter group. He kept coming up blank. He continued wandering around the neighborhood and let his natural instincts lead him to where he found himself staring at a giant mural that had been painted on the side of deserted building. The image was a giant collage of what looked like turf wars. It was apparent there were several artists who had contributed to the piece. All in all Pemfro accounted the collage as a jumble of extreme emotions presented by a group of e-mons who most likely would have been better off had they left the paint cans alone. Sometimes you can say more if you just don’t say anything at all, which he believed was the case with this atrocious image.

He had a sudden thought that perhaps his painters had made mural. Could it really be that easy? He stepped up and touched one area of the wall that featured a stick woman person who had crazy red hair and sported a fetus crawling down her leg holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a crack pipe in another. The fetus looked wasted. He was immediately given a flash of the young painter who developed this portion of the mural. Sure as rain it was one of the boys Pemfro sought. Pem twisted time (so to speak) and could see the boy’s thoughts while he made the image. The young kid was so worried about running out of paint the entire time it appeared to be a severe compulsive disorder. Pem pushed aside those thoughts and was able to find out where the boys “crib” was. He let go of the wall and headed over there.

Beacon (the kids name) lived up in an area they called the jungle. His mother was a crack whore and he had no father. He liked to paint but he liked to sniff the paint even more and therefore half his brain was already fried at 14. Pem found him sitting in his back yard staring at the back of his broken up garage. He was day dreaming of apple trees and had the trees situated in a burnt down forest in his mind. Strange kid Pem thought. Pem took a spot near the other side of the garage and sent the kid an image of the communicator. Without even realizing it Beacon immediately began thinking about where the com was and Pem watched as he led him right to it.

Pemfro changed his out ward appearance to resemble that of someone who would look more like a computer geek and casually walked into the Pawndora’s Box Pawn Shop. Cute name he thought idly as he ventured inside and took in his surroundings. An older gentleman rested in a chair pretending to be napping, while a beefy Pawn broker was rummaging through a box of something or other behind his counter and refused to look up to see Pem. Rather than force his attention, Pemfro looked around the store in search of his com. He spotted it in a glass case with some gaming equipment and several other small pieces of electronics. Pem was surprised to see a galactic magnifier in the case and decided he was going to purchase that as well. Positioning himself in front of the glass case he waited for beef boy. After several minutes, several customers and a 4.8 degree rise in the temperature of the store Pem tired of waiting and sent beef boy a silent get your fucking ass over here and help me message. Beefy immediately responded and it wasn’t more than 10 minutes of haggling over a price before Pem left with his com as well as a galactic magnifier. Beefy boy had no problems telling Pemfro exactly where he got it and happy with his new information, Pemfro headed back to the hotel where he would file his report and continue his watch of his Raze. It was a good day and to celebrate, Pemfro stopped on his way back and picked up another pack of Marlboros.

Pemfro took another deep drag of his cigarette and wondered why he enjoyed the rush the nicotine gave him as it ran through his human biology. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this and with that thought grinned and took another drag. Pemfro assured himself that his superiors back on Almertrean would surely approve of Pem risking his human health in order to help make his disguise appear more human. Pem was still stuck on X-12 (Earth) and still wearing his non-descript human mask, puffing on a Marlboro outside the hotel his Raze had registered in. After several hours of just lurking out side the hotel while scanning the minds of e-mons to keep better than electronic surveillance on the Raze, Pem headed inside. He knew the Raze had settled into his hotel room for the night and that his bodyguard was outside the door and had just taken his pain pill. Poor bastard was addicted. He approached the front desk of the semi posh hotel and registered a room for himself under an alias, and made sure it was on the floor below the Raze. In fact as luck would have it, he got the room directly beneath; which only made his job easier. Pem loved his coincidences sometimes.

Pem entered his room with his swipe card and without turning on any lights made his call to get a replacement communicator. When the voice answered his call by asking if Pemfro had the number on speed dial; he knew the voice wasn’t going to be best pleased with Pem having to report yet another lost device. With a quick reassurance to himself that the Voice was always angry and not to take anything it said personally, Pem prepared to launch into his explanation. As far as Pem was concerned, this group had the worst possible job on earth. The Voices were responsible to answer calls from agents who are reporting missing equipment and devices, and that’s all they get to do, and no one else assists them. No one is really sure how many of them there are and it was rumored that it was only just this one voice. They have to get the devices replaced, and then they have to find the original lost piece, unless it can be confirmed the device is destroyed beyond recognition. Pem reported that the com was taken by a group of youth known as ‘painters’ and that miraculously he was unable to read their thoughts. He explained he had to choose between the communicator and the Raze he was following and proudly announced to the Voice he felt strongly he made the right decision and stayed with the Raze. He happily added that he was currently located directly beneath the atrocity now and would momentarily have him captured or destroyed, depending how everything panned out with his getting a replacement device. When Pemfro had finished his practiced explanation to the Voice he waited and got back a dead silence. Hello?

Finally after what seemed like an unhealthy pause the Voice responded by saying it was no miracle Pemfro could not read the thoughts of the young gang-bangers. It seemed that some of today’s youth were using a new drug that blocked their thoughts from Pem’s kind. An anti-dote had already been developed and Pemfro should have reported in for his inoculation. Since he didnt, the Voice announced that he wouldn’t be able to replace the device while citing some section from his manual that basically said, since Pem didn’t follow his orders to get his innoc; the voice was not obliged to replace nor find his item. Pem asked if it was possible to have the innoc couriered to him at the hotel due to the fact that he didn’t want to lose the Raze; the Voice said that could be arranged and then reminded Pemfro that his mission was surveillance and that there would be no capturing of any subject. Pem shot back with “that is exactly why i need my device replaced.” The Voice quickly ended the conversation. Pem hung up the phone and contemplated what to do next. He had no communicator and that meant he could not confront the Raze. He needed his com back. He had no intentions of dying on X-12 trapped in a time warp; he had his responsibility to Jake; he had many reasons. He firmly decided that once he received the inoculation he would make an attempt to find the painters; get his com back and then come back for the Raze. But what if the Raze left while he was out? He then decided that as soon as he was inoculated, he would call the Voice back to say he lost his communicator, and maybe add that he had retrieved it from the painters and lost it again to some e-mons with authority. That happened a lot these days ever since the N. W. O was making its moves. Only this time he wouldn’t be denied due to his not being inoculated and the Voice could replace the device for him. Pem really didn’t have time for this nonsense. His planet wasn’t suffering from some kind of economic crisis that put limits on equipment and devices. Why they were so stingy with them he never could understand.

Right then he heard the hotel manager outside his door in the hallway. He silently scanned his mind and found all sorts of goodies as the man entered the room across the hall from his. Although the manager’s office was located off the lobby on the main floor of the hotel, the room he had just entered was where he spent most of his hours while he was at the hotel. Pemfro never tired of all the secrets e-mons held. If anything, this race was never boring. As coincidence would have it this man had been having to deal with the Raze since its arrival and as with most e-mons who come in contact with Raze, felt an immediate distaste for the man. He was already planning a way to over-charge him for his room and bitterly reviewed everything the Raze has requested of him.’ It seemed the Raze planned on staying for several days and required a list of tasks be completed by the manager personally. Although the strange man would pay handsomely for his efforts the hotel manager was put off that he alone had to do the work. He was even more put off by the fact that although his mind was telling the strange man no, he will have a bell hop tend to him, he was the hotel manager and he had more important business to attend to. He was important. His voice was saying “yes sir, right away sir, I can’t get that done fast enough for you sir.’Who was that? The hotel manager was confused. His emotions were a mixture of revulsion and spite covered with a deep desire and adoration for the Raze. Pem knew exactly who and what that was. The Raze was using compulsion. He continued listening in on the thoughts of the manager. The Raze wanted 4 extra ice machines brought to its hotel suite and the manager was just thinking about calling a lobby runner to do just that when he found himself walking out of his love nest room and down the hall to the ice machine. Pem listened as he unlocked it and wheeled it to the elevator.

As Pem listened the manager began to devise a plan to get the chef of the hotel to actually taste the food he prepared, at the room the Raze resides in, before he serves it to him. This was going to perhaps prove to be difficult and he tried telling the strange man as much. With a solemn look the Raze assured the manager that once he brought the cook to his room, the cook would be happy to help. The manager believed him because it seemed he wanted nothing more than to please this wretched weird stranger, so why wouldn’t the cook want to please him too? So now how to get the cook to his room? With that thought Pem left the manager to his own dilemmas.  He had enough information. The Raze was staying for a few days which would give Pem time to retrieve his communicator, he was weak and needing ice, he was worried about being poisoned, and he was using compulsion openly. Pem left his room and went to the lobby to wait for his delivery package.