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Uno and Fog: Just Because You’re Paranoid . . .

April 28, 2019

“What are you doing?”  The Fog looked at me curiously.

Saint Bruce Campbell deliver me, I was hoping we didn’t have to fight versions of ourselves. I don’t say that out loud.  The reflection looks normal again and I wonder if its my mind playing tricks on me.  I am tired.

“You remember that guy that was killing people by offing their reflections?”

The Fog  grunted, “Dark Reflection?”

“Yeah, him.”

“He wasn’t actually doing that.  He was using invisibility and light illusions to mess with people’s minds. The Fog considered the mirror for a moment.  “He was killing people though.”

“To his victims, and anyone that saw it, it looked like he was.”

“You seeing something?”  The Fog looked around the room carefully.  I know he was already gearing up in his mind for a sneak attack, getting ready to roll with a hit if he had to.

I shrugged, “probably my mind playing tricks on me.”  The Fog glanced at me but didn’t saying anything.  “Let’s go.  We can tell Teri about this place, she’s better equipped for dealing with eldritch powers, and afterward we can give the cops an anonymous tip regarding who the LMSK really is.”

The Fog didn’t argue.  We hadn’t found much and he had learned to trust my instincts as much as I trusted his.

We headed out without incident.  The Fog ziplines away to his motorcycle.  I run and leaped between several buildings before making my way down to ground level.  I walked several blocks to the crossroads of the universe in midtown, with all its lights, advertisements, marquees protecting the latest shows of the theater district, perfumes, clothing and consumer goods.

Occasionally I would catch my reflection, rippled and distorted in the dark glass of the buildings.  There was something unsetting by the way I looked back at myself.  I had the feeling I was being stalked, but I couldn’t sense anyone following me.

I grabbed a taxi the rest of the way.  The driver was cheerful and spoke mostly about himself and his love of the city.  I let him talk, but my disquiet only grew as we traveled.  Now and then, I would see our taxi reflected somewhere and I would again feel eyes upon me, watching, waiting.

When I got out at my place, and looked up, I couldn’t see any stars in the sky.  Whether from light pollution, or merely from cloud cover and pollution, I couldn’t tell.

I took the stairs up.  The polished steel of the elevator made me nervous. Stepping into the penthouse,  I called Ms. Teri and left a message for her.  I thought about waiting to call law enforcement, but then decided against it.  I called the police on the burner phone as well, used a little power to distort the microphone so my voice sounded different and told them about the LMSK’s last know name and address then crushed the phone, and threw the pieces down the garbage shoot.

I clicked on the blinds to shut out the windows and I swear I could feel something’s frustration as I closed off the windows.  I closed the door to bathroom and placed a bottle of wine, that I had been given but didn’t care for, against the door.  The bottle would make a racket if the door was opened.  I knew I was being paranoid, but so what?  If nothing happened, well no one would know but me.

I covered anything that had a reflective surface with cloth napkins or shirts, when I was satisfied, I then stuffed a bunch of pillows under the comforter to make it look like I was sleeping in my bed.  Old tricks are often the best ones.

I then went to the living room with a blanket and pillow and tried to get some sleep on the overstuffed couch.



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