Date: Wed, 4 Jun 2008 22:42:46 +0000 From: Guy Cornelius Subject: The Elemental 4- gay sci/fi Hi guys, sorry for the wait. Here is chapter four of the story. I hope you enjoy it. All the usual disclaimers apply. If you are two young or it is against the law in your area blah blah blah. I retain the full rights to this story and you may not duplicate or distribute it without the express permission of the writer. Thanks again go to Kane for all his help in making this story readable! Oliver was still in a slight state of shock as he climbed the stairs towards his room. He was going to have a shower, change, and then wait for his guests down in the kitchen. As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard an odd noise coming from the spare room. He paused, making as little noise as possible, and was about to pass it off as his imagination when he heard it again. "Mmm." This time he recognised the sound straight away. As quietly as he could, he crept over to the closed door and pressed his ear to it. The sounds from within were all he needed to confirm what he thought was occurring. He got down on his knees and looked through the key hole, moving his head this way and that. His view of the room was quite limited, but what he could see was enough to make his cock stiffen immediately. As he drank in the whole scene, he slowly undid the fly of his uniform. One of the two young men from the compound, he couldn't tell which, was sitting on the cock of the other, his knees on either side of his lover's waist. The view was made all the better because the man on top was leaning forward and down to kiss the man beneath him. As the thick, hard cock slowly plunged in and out of the quivering hole, Oliver put his hand into his trousers and drew out his own throbbing dick. As he watched the two men having sex on his spare bed, he grasped his uncut cock and slowly started moving his hand up and down, drawing the foreskin back over the sensitive head. He started leaking pre-cum almost straight away, beads of it forming at the tip. Using his thumb, he spread it all over the dark pink head, relishing the near painful pleasure the friction created. With his other hand, he reached back into his trousers and pulled out his balls, slowly rolling them around in his palm whilst continuing to stroke his hard shaft. As the moans of the two lovers increased in volume, Oliver had to bite his lip to prevent his own from escaping. He wanted more than anything to join the two men, but he dare not allow himself to be discovered, especially after what the attractive one had done to the bastards in his squad. It wasn't long before he felt his balls tighten and his breathing became shallow gasps. Within moments of realising this, he was shooting spurts and spurts of cum all over the door, carpet and door-frame in front of him. He just about managed to muffle his moans by stuffing his fist in his mouth, and was pleased to hear that the moans and groans from within the bedroom continued as before. He quickly got up and went to his room to shower and change, as he had originally intended, before getting so pleasantly distracted. About twenty minutes later, a slightly flustered Marcus and Tommy came back down the stairs and found Oliver in the kitchen. "Oliver, would you mind if I borrowed your telephone? I have a phone-call I need to make." "Er, yeah. Of course. It's just over there." Oliver pointed towards his phone, avoiding any eye-contact with Marcus. He was still petrified that if he actually made eye contact with him, he would burst into flames. "It doesn't work like that," said Tommy, seeing the fear etched on Oliver's face. "Huh?" "He has to want you to burn for it to happen," Tommy smiled at Oliver to reassure him. "Oh, right. Wait...how did...oh never mind." "Hello? Oh, yes, can you get me the number for the Coutts central branch in London, please," came Marcus' voice from the other room. "Coutts?" exclaimed Oliver, looking over to Tommy, who simply shrugged. "News to me too." "Er, yes, connect me please." There was a slight pause before Marcus continued. "Hello, this is Marcus Reybold, account number 90953343. I need to speak to Matthew." He pressed the speaker-phone button and then replaced the receiver on the cradle, slumping down into a nearby chair with his head in his hands. Tommy came up behind him and massaged his shoulders while the finale to the 1812 overture played out of the phone. "They even have classy hold music," he joked. Oliver moved to the door between the two rooms, to a position where he couldn't be seen, but he could easily hear every word that was said. "You didn't tell me you banked at Coutts. Isn't that where the Queen banks?" said Tommy. "I am a member of the British Aristocracy. Where else would I bank? I might be in hiding, but I gotta put our money somewhere." "Our money?" Luckily Marcus didn't have to answer for his slip of the tongue as Matthew chose that moment to answer the call. "Marcus, its a pleasure to hear from you. How can I help?" he crooned. "Matthew, glad I have got you. I am in a spot of bother. I'm well and truly up shit creek and someone has stolen my paddle, burnt it and then pissed on the ashes," Matthew burst out laughing and then quickly controlled himself. "I am sorry about that, but that is quite a colourful image you paint there." "Yes, well. Anyway, my apartment was broken into and all my cards have been stolen. I need to freeze all my accounts and have new cards sent to my drop box. Actually, scrap that. I will come and pick them up myself." "Okay, that shouldn't be a problem. One moment, I just need to check a few details on the system," said Matthew. Marcus and Tommy heard the clicking of keys on a keyboard and then Matthew continued. "Alrighty. Well, I can see that the gold account has hit the four mil-" "Matthew," Marcus interrupted curtly, "now really isn't the best time to be talking about this. I'm fully aware of my financial situation, and I'll discuss it with you when I come to see you." "Of course, I completely understand. Is there anything else I can do for you?" asked Matthew. "Well, actually, yes, there is. You see, I find myself stranded in Glasgow without a bean on me. Would you be able to arrange for a car to be sent to, just a moment...Oliver," he called, "what is the address here?" "97 Penbutton Street, Glasgow," called back Oliver. "Did you get that Matthew?" "I certainly did," replied Matthew, having the sense not to ask about the situation. "I will see what I can do." "With all due respect, Matthew, 'I will see what I can do' isn't really good enough right now. I need to know whether you can help or not," Marcus growled softly. "Well, er, of course. Can you hold the line for one moment?" asked a clearly flustered Matthew. "Of course Matthew, thank you for your help," replied Marcus in a slightly calmed tone. With the 1812 overture once again playing, Marcus leaned back into Tommy's arms and sighed. "How did we get into this mess?" "Hmm, lets see. Oh, yes. We were kidnapped, held prisoner, and then you turned into a walking flame and busted us out. Did I forget anything?" quipped Tommy. "No, I think that just about covers it," chuckled Marcus. "You are taking this very well. I was expecting you to run the first chance you got." "What, and miss all this excitement?" "Hello Marcus?" "Yes Matthew?" "There is a helicopter on its way up to you as we speak. I am told there is a playing field just down the road from that address. They will meet you there in three hours and bring you back here." "Thank you Matthew, you have been most helpful. I will see you in a few hours." "You are more than welcome. You are one of our most valued customers, and we will do all in our power to help you out of a tight spot. Goodbye." "Goodbye, Matthew." He replaced the receiver and turned to Tommy, who still had his arms around his neck, and kissed him gently. He could feel the stress of the whole situation abating...just a little. Just then a familiar voice filled his ears. "Seek the one who doesn't belong. He will have the answers you seek." Marcus' body stiffened and he looked around suspiciously. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" Tommy looked at him quizically. "That voice. Ever since we me the other night I have been hearing this voice, giving me directions, or advice. At first I thought it was Balkan, but now that he is dead, I'm not so sure." "I didn't hear anything, what did it say?" Marcus looked distracted and rubbed the back of his neck as he recalled what the voice had said. "It said to seek the one that doesn't belong because he would have the answers we need." "What does that mean?" "I have no idea. Hopefully we will find out soon, because wherever this voice is coming from, it has been pretty accurate so far!" "Can I, um, get you guys a drink, or anything?" Oliver asked with a timid voice as he stood in the doorway, watching them both nervously. "You know what? I would love a cup or tea," Tommy looked up at Oliver, a grateful expression on his face.. "Make that two," called Marcus, as Oliver turned back towards the kitchen. "So. What's the plan now?" Tommy walked around the chair and sat on the arm, absent-mindedly twirling some of Marcus hair around his finger. "Well, we wait for the helicopter, go back to London, and I'll sort out a few things with Matthew. Then we take it from there." Shaking his head, Tommy didn't look particularly convinced. "That's it? That's the plan?" "You got any better ideas?" asked Marcus, staring into Tommy's eyes, his right eyebrow raised questioningly. "Well no, I guess not. I suppose there isn't really a whole lot more we can do. I mean it is not everyday you realise that your boyfriend can turn into a walking ball of flame and talk about himself in the third person." Tommy shrugged. "I was talking about myself in the third...wait - boyfriend? Really?" wide-eyed, Marcus stared at his lover. "If you want," Tommy blushed furiously. "Of course I want," said Marcus, leaning over to kiss him. "I didn't want to push you given what you learnt today, otherwise I would have asked you ages ago!" Tommy grinned like the Cheshire Cat and was about to lean in for another kiss when Oliver brought in their tea. "Thanks," they chimed in unison. "Er, your welcome," said Oliver, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "So, like, what happens now? I mean, what happens to me?" "Well, lets see, I was thinking that you could drive us down to the field where we are being picked up. Then I would turn you into a pile of ash. How does that sound?" There was an odd twinkle in Marcus' eye which Tommy recognised immediately but Oliver didn't even notice. He went white as a sheet and his knees began to give way. Marcus quickly jumped to his feet and helped him into a chair. "Oliver, relax. It was a joke. You have been more than helpful to us and I am very grateful." "So...you aren't going to kill me?" asked Oliver, looking up into Marcus' eyes. He wasn't sure if he believed him, but then Tommy seemed like a nice enough guy. Perhaps they really were going to let him go. "Of course not," said Tommy. "But, and this is very important, you have to swear never, ever, to discuss any of the things that you have seen or heard today." "Of course. Not a w-word," said Oliver, still stuttering slightly. "Do I have to make some kind of oath?" "Oh, no. We will take your word for it," said Marcus. "But know this; we will be monitoring you, and we WILL know if you talk. And I think we both know what would happen then, yes?" Oliver swallowed hard and nodded his head meekly. He knew full well what Marcus was capable of, having witnessed it first hand. There was no way that he wanted to risk evoking his wrath, again. "Good. Now, I wonder if I could ask one last favour before we go down to the field?" "Of course," whispered Oliver. "Do you happen to have some spare clothes that we can borrow? It wouldn't go down very well to be walking around London in my underwear...besides the fact that it would be bloody freezing!" Marcus chuckled slightly as he smiling across at Oliver from the seat he had gone back to. "I will see what I can find," said Oliver, leaping out of his seat, thanking his lucky stars for the opportunity to leave the room. Once he was out of the room, and they heard his footsteps going up the stairs Tommy turned to Marcus. "What was all that about monitoring him? How do you intend to do that?" "Hmm? Oh, I don't. I just figured that if I scared the crap out of him, he would be less inclined to talk to anyone. I mean, he doesn't know that I have no way of keeping track of his every word. So as far as he is concerned, I am going to know everything that passes his lips." Marcus smirked as the penny dropped and Tommy understood his idea. "You know, there is something about him," said Tommy. "I don't know what it is, I just get the feeling that we will be seeing him again in the not too distant future." As he said this, they heard Oliver stomping back down the stairs, and a few seconds later he came into the room with arms full of assorted clothes. "I wasn't sure of your sizes, so I just grabbed an assortment of stuff." "Thank you very much. That's very kind of you," said Marcus. Once they were all suitably attired, Tommy suggested that they make their way down to the field to wait for the helicopter. When they arrived, Oliver pulled up across the road and indicated a large area of grass where some boys were playing football. "That is where your helicopter should land. You still have about an hour to wait though." "Okay, we'll go and wait outside. Thanks again for all your help, and the loan of these clothes. Just remember what I said though, I will be listening," said Marcus. Oliver just nodded silently and both men got out of his car and started over towards a bench. He watched them walk away for a few moments, admiring the contours of their asses in the jeans they were wearing. Even in his petrified state, he could feel his cock twitching. He took a few deep breaths and then started the car and headed for home, already absent-mindedly rubbing at his cock. Marcus sat down on the bench, watching the boys play football, with Tommy beside him, resting his head on Marcus' shoulder. They sat there for about ten minutes, not saying a word, until Marcus broke the silence. "Talk to me, Tommy." "What do you mean?" he asked, looking up with confusion etched across his face. "Less that 12 hours ago, I had to break you out of a secret complex that was meant for god knows what. I revealed that I'm a wizard, and then I killed a load of people. You don't seem in the least bit phased!" said Marcus, shifting so that he could look Tommy in the eyes. "Phased? You don't think I am phased? Marcus you idiot, I am fucking terrified! But I trust you. Three days ago I had a caring, gentle, funny Earl-to-be. Now, I have a caring, gentle, funny Earl-to-be that can turn into some kind of fiery demi-god thing and kill people within the blink of an eye. I am still not completely sure if I shouldn't run away screaming, but my heart, and to a small degree my head, say that you will never hurt me. And I believe them." Tommy had been looking at the ground as he said this, but now he looked up and saw tears running down Marcus' face. "I would never hurt you Tommy, but...well, maybe you should run away screaming. At least that way you won't get used by someone trying to get at me. I have no idea what's going to happen, but I couldn't bear it if you were captured again or..." He was silenced as he felt a hand on his cheek. Tommy's thumb wiped away a tear making it's way down past his nose. "Shh," he soothed. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you, and more than that, I feel there is some kind of link between us. Something that goes beyond companionship, or even love. Something almost tangible." Tommy was about to continue, but was interrupted by one of the boys from the field. Someone had kicked the ball wide of the goal and it had ended up a few meters away from their bench. The boy, who looked about 16 or so, had come over to retrieve it when he had spotted the two of them on the bench, one crying and being held by the other. "Ew, gross. What are you two? Gay or something? Only queers cry." They both turned to look at him, one with surprise, the other with anger. The ball, which the boy held under one arm, suddenly shot about a metre in front of him and hovered there for a few seconds. He was so shocked, that all he could do was stare at it, the two men on the bench completely forgotten. Suddenly, the ball shot back toward him, hitting him square in the face. He cried out and fell to the ground, clutching his bloodied and broken nose. The anger on Tommy's face quickly changed to shock as he turned to Marcus. "What did you do?" "I...I didn't do anything." He was just as shocked as Tommy was. "Aaah, by dose!" the boy whined, voice all nasal and distorted. "What da fuck?!" "Get the hell out of here, you little prick," hissed Tommy. "Unless you want it to happen again, I suggest you scram!" The two men watched as the boy clambered to his feet, still holding his nose, and ran back over to his friends, the ball completely forgotten. "Seriously, Marcus," said Tommy, his anger calming somewhat, "what did you do?" "Tommy, I am telling you, I didn't do anything. My telekinetic powers are next to nothing! I used to get a headache just trying to lift a pebble of the floor, let alone trying to control a football like that." "Maybe you did it subconsciously," suggested Tommy. They both watched as the injured boy ran over to his friends and pointed back to the bench they were sitting on. What looked to be ten or twelve boys seemed to shout amongst themselves for a few minutes before they started to walk over towards the two of them. A few moments later, there was a group of twelve boys between the ages of about thirteen and seventeen standing a few meters from the bench. There was silence for a moment or two as the two groups observed each other and then one of the older looking boys spoke up. "What the fuck did you do to Bobby? We could have you arrested for assault, you know." "We didn't do anything to the little prick," said Tommy. "He stood there and threw a couple of insults at us, then tripped over the ball and smacked his face on the ground." A couple of the younger boys sniggered at the idea of the wound being self-inflicted. "Dat's not true," said the injured boy, now identified as Bobby. He could see his street-cred dropping rapidly if his friends were allowed to believe that, so quickly spoke up in his own defence. "I was just, like, standing dere, when the ball sorta floated in front of me. And den it smacked me in the face and broke my fuckin' dose. It was like...magic or something." "Shut up Bobby, there is no such thing as magic," said the older boy, obviously annoyed at wasting time. "Now you're just bein' an idiot." "I'm not, I swear! He used magic on me!" "Yeah, yeah. Whatever Bobby, lets just get on with the game. Where did the ball go?" "Its over there," said Marcus, pointing over behind a tree to their left and letting out the breath he was holding. He still wasn't sure how good his control over the Elemental was and he really didn't was to experiment with these boys. "Cheers mate, sorry to have bothered you," said the older boy. Turning to Bobby he said, "You had better stop making shit up about people, it's not funny or clever. It just makes you look like a prick." One of the boys went over to get the ball, while the others headed back to the pitch to carry on with the game. But Bobby had other ideas. He searched the ground for a second and then bent down and picked up a rock he found. He flipped Marcus and Tommy the bird and then threw the rock at Tommy as hard as he could. Instinctively, Tommy closed his eyes and threw his hand up in front of his face to protect himself and waited for the rock to hit, but all he heard was a gasp from Bobby. "Guys, guys Dey did it again! I threw a rock at dem and it stopped in mid air!" "It did what?" asked Tommy, quietly enough that only Marcus could hear. "What?" called back the older boy. "So not only are you stupid enough to throw rocks at people, but you have a shitty aim too?!" "Well...I...um..." "Go home Bobby. Don't come back until you have learnt not to be such a prick." He turned his back on Bobby and carried on with the game. The rest of the conversation was lost to the two men, both too involved in their own shock and confusion. "Would you mind telling me what it is you just did?" "What I just did," Tommy almost shrieked, "I didn't do anything. You are the magic user in this relationship, remember?" "I know that, Tommy," said Marcus, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips before he could stop it. "But didn't I just say that my telekinetic skills were negligible, and verging on non-existent? There's no way I could have stopped that rock, and it sure as hell didn't stop itself." Further discussion of the matter was cut short when they heard the low drone of an approaching helicopter, followed by several exclamations from the young boys. Meanwhile, in a science lab somewhere outside of Portsmouth... "Link established," droned an eerie, dual-toned voice. "What are your orders?" "Excellent," said Aaron to the scientist standing next to him. "Have them each produce an offensive globe. I want to see how they work together when connected." "Sir, we have no idea what the exertion of their power will do to the link yet. We can barely maintain it beyond five minutes, let alone start testing its boundaries," "Doctor, we don't have time to tip-toe around this project. If we don't produce some serious results soon we are going to have even more serious problems. Would you like to tell Master Nathaniel the current status of the project, or shall I just cut out the middle man and kill you myself?" "I understand what you are saying, Master Aaron, but at this rate we are going to run out of test subjects. And if -" "Just DO IT," growled Aaron, cutting off the doctor mid-sentence. "Very well. Link subjects F3284b and F3284c. Produce an offensive sphere, and hold it for as long as you can." "Affirmative," responded the eerie voice. However, before anything further could occur, the dual-toned voice let out a high pitch screech. After a few seconds, the voice split into two distinct, separate screams which suddenly fell silent as two inert forms fell to the floor. "Dammit!" shouted the doctor. "How long this time?" "Four minutes and thirteen seconds," called back one of his assistants. "Well, at least it is getting longer," muttered the doctor. "Remove them and bring in two more." Back in a field on the outskirts of Glasgow... "Boys," called Marcus, to no avail. "Hey! Guys!" he shouted louder this time. "What?" "Would you all come over here, please?" "Why?" "Because my pilot needs to land that helicopter here," replied Marcus, waving his hand in the direction of the descending aircraft. "Your pilot? You mean that is your helicopter?" "Well, not exactly," called Tommy, as the group of boys started to jog over to them. "But it is here to pick us up." The boys crowded around the bench that Tommy and Marcus were sitting on, eager to hear more. "Are you guys like, famous, or something?" asked a lad who looked about twelve. "No, we aren't famous," said Tommy before Marcus could respond. "But a close friend of mine is very rich and he needs us down in London to do some important work. So he arranged for the helicopter to come and pick us up." "What kind of important work?" asked the older boy who had been shouting at Bobby. "Well now, if we told you that, Marcus here would have to kill you." The boys all gasped in shock, but then Tommy started laughing and winked at them, causing them to laugh too. While they had been talking, Marcus had been watching the helicopter, which was now only a meter or two above the ground, slowly making its way down. He grasped Tommy's shoulder and turned to address the boys. "Well, its been very nice meeting you boys, but I am afraid we must be off, now." They all started to walk towards the helicopter, but Marcus hung back from the group, indicating that the older boy should walk with him. "What's your name?" asked Marcus. "Henry." "Don't be too hard on Bobby, Henry. He's at a difficult age, you know?" "I know. I don't know what got into him today. He doesn't normally act so stupid." "Just give him a day or two to cool off, and I'm sure everything will be alright." "Okay." They had reached the group standing by the helicopter, and watched as the door opened and a man jumped out, stooping slightly as he jogged over to them. "Hello. My name is George Gamble. I am a colleague of Matthew's." "Hello George. Thank you for coming so quickly." Marcus stepped out from behind the boys, pulling Tommy with him. "This is Tommy. He will be riding down to London with us. I have no idea who these boys are, but I am sure they are all very charming." They all laughed at Marcus' comment and then the three men jogged back over to the helicopter and climbed in. In just a little under three hours, Marcus, Tommy and Matthew were sitting in a boardroom in the Shoreditch offices of Coutts bank in central London, discussing the finer points of Marcus' finances. "Right," said Matthew. "We have cancelled all the old cards. Here are your three new ones and the pin numbers that go with them. I have spoken to a friend of mine at Bradford and Bingley, and they are looking into finding a new apartment for you. Is your mobile number still the same if they need to reach you?" "Yes, I believe they should have the up to date number. It ends with 544." "Marvellous, that is the one I have down here," beamed Matthew. "Now, tell me Marcus. How is your...er, training...going?" He glanced quickly over to Tommy as he said this. "It's okay Matthew. Tommy knows all about it. He even experienced some of it first hand yesterday." Tommy gasped when he realised what the two men were talking about. He looked questioningly over to Marcus, who chuckled slightly and reached over for his hand, gently caressing the palm with his thumb, while he explained. "Matthew is a level 9 wizard. When I was introduced to him at the Guild, we had already known each other for a number of years, through the bank. But had never seen each other in the Headquarters. So we were quite taken aback." "It was quite funny really. We were introduced by Balkan, Marcus' trainer, and we just stared at each other, until eventually one of us managed to stutter out that we had already met on a number of occasions. Balkan just laughed. Apparently that situation is quite common. Talking of Balkan, how is the old dog?" asked Matthew. The smile fell from his face as soon as he saw Marcus' reaction to his question. "What is it Marcus? What's wrong?" "There is much we have to talk about," Marcus' voice was quiet and a tear slid down his left cheek. "Balkan is de...dead. He died helping me. He died because of me." "Oh come now Marcus, I am sure that isn't true!" Matthew was shocked by the news that one of the Masters had died. He was even more shocked that the council had not yet informed the rest of the Guild. "It is," cried Marcus in a strangled, desperate voice. He tried to explain, but every time he opened his mouth to speak, his voice caught in his throat. Tommy moved his chair closer to Marcus and pulled him in to a tight embrace. "Marcus, it wasn't your fault," he soothed. "Balkan knew exactly what he was doing." He turned to Matthew, one are still around Marcus, and continued to explain. "As far as I can understand, it would appear that your council are not as forthcoming with their plans as perhaps they should be. All we know at the moment is that they are up to something, and Marcus is the only one who can stop them. From what Marcus has explained to me, it seems that the council put some kind of mental block on Marcus so that he couldn't achieve his full potential. But, because they didn't fully trust Balkan, for reasons I don't know anything about, they place some kind of safety mechanism on the block that would kill whoever lifted it." Matthew's eyes grew wide with shock as Tommy went on to explain their kidnapping, and the possible involvement of the council and Master Aaron. "All we know at the moment is that Aaron was running the facility we were taken to, and that they're performing experiments on the other prisoners there. It could be very bad if the council is allowed to succeed. Not to mention that Marcus seems to be some sort of elemental being." "My god, what are you going to do?" "I have no idea," said Marcus, still in Tommy's arms. "Right now I just want to get Tommy somewhere safe, so that I can work out what it going on without having to worry about his safety. I think whatever's happened to me might have affected him as well." "What?" asked Tommy and Marcus at the same time. "It might be nothing," said Marcus, looking at the table in front of him, "but I think you might have picked up some kind of magical ability from me or something." "That's ridiculous! I can't do magic...can I?" said Tommy, frantically looking between the two men sitting at the table with him. "I don't know, but I want to check," said Marcus. "Calm down, babe.. It will be okay. I won't let anything bad happen to you." He squeezed Tommy in what he hoped was a reassuring hug, but Tommy was clearly still quite flustered by the news. Matthew tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, while Marcus and Tommy shared their moment. After a brief silence between them all, he cleared his throat and suggested they all go out for some food. "Brilliant idea, I'm starving." Marcus' stomach chose that precise moment to rumble in agreement, causing him to blush furiously. Tommy and Matthew just laughed. "Darcy," said Matthew, pushing a button on an intercom in the middle of the table, "I will be out of the office for a few hours. I have to go and butter up some clients." "Very good, Sir," replied a voice from the intercom, while Tommy and Marcus fought to stifle their giggles. Twenty minutes later saw the three men sitting at a table in a little café, around the corner from the bank. They were each enjoying a glass of white wine, having ordered their lunch. "Marcus, check out the guy who just walked in." Tommy's voice was lowered to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "What?" Marcus was clearly surprised by Tommy's instruction and also a little upset. "Only a few hours ago you asked me to be your boyfriend, and now you're checking out other guys? Do you really think..." "No, you muppet!" sighed Tommy. "That's not what I mean. If ever there was a guy who didn't belong, its got to be him." "Eh? Oooooh," As understanding dawned on him, Marcus discretely turned round so that he could look at the man who had just walked into the café. In the doorway, waiting to be seated, was a man who would have looked more at home on a country estate in the 1940's. He looked to be in his sixties, with white hair that reached his shoulders, and a white, bushy moustache. He was wearing an ivory coloured suit with a white shirt, black tie, and a top hat and cane that matched the colour of his suit. "Do you think that's him?" "Do you think that is who?" asked Matthew. "I'm very confused." "For the last few days, I've had a voice in my head that has been giving me advice," explained Marcus. "I know it sounds really crazy, but so far his advice has helped us on a couple of occasions. The last thing he said to me, was to seek out the one who doesn't belong." "Oh, I see." "Unfortunately, that was all he said. There were no further instructions about where he doesn't belong, or anything like that. So we're just having to guess," said Tommy. "Well, I would say that guy is a pretty good bet. He doesn't even belong in this decade!" By this time, the gentleman in question had been seated and was a few tables away over by a window. "Do you think I should go and talk to him?" "Yeah, just...oh! I know. Ask him about his cane. Say you want to get one like it as a gift for someone else, or something. I'm sure if he's the right guy, something will happen to let you know." Tommy rubbed Marcus' arm and smiled encouragingly. "Tommy is right. Give it a go. What's the worst that can happen?" "That's true. Okay, I will probably be back in a second, but here goes nothing." Marcus got up from his chair and made his way over to the table where the man was sitting, reading the menu. "Excuse me, Sir," said Marcus once he had reached the table. "I wonder..." "Good afternoon, Marcus," interrupted the man, not even looking up from his menu. "I have been waiting for you. Please, take a seat." Authors note: Well guys, that was chapter 4. I hope you enjoyed it and I am sorry again for the delay! As always, any feedback, positive or negative, is greatly appreciated at the_elemental909@hotmail.co.uk.