trustyside-kick
The Marine Marvel
- Joined
- Dec 6, 2005
- Messages
- 16,127
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 31

The door opens, a door Owen never even saw before because all he can see around him are windows, and a man in a suit steps in. The door behind he shuts, and Owen just turns his head to the side.
"Your food is getting cold. And your water...is just sitting there. Don't you want a drink?"
"...Not right now."
The man looks over to his side at the mirror-wall, as if he could see his colleagues on the other side, and merely shrugs his shoulders. He takes off his coat, and unstraps the holsters of his guns, and walks over to this small table in the room. He takes a seat, and faces Owen.
"You know, the last time we saw one of your...people, was about 17 years or so. That's quite some time, isn't it?"
"I suppose."
"You suppose? That's 17 years, entirely cut off from the world, kid. So, you wanna tell me why you are sporting the orange and green? That's a pretty symbolic style there, kid. Used to be a hero who roamed the oceans claiming to be the King of Atlantis."
"He is the King."
"Oh. So you know him."
The man gets up from the chair, and walks over to Owen, kneeling down. His colleagues on the other side of the double-sided mirrors turn to each other, and one of them runs over to the phone.
"Get me a few guards, just in case."
"What the hell is he doing?"
The assistant hangs up the phone, and turns to her colleague.
"I have no idea."
Owen looks at the men before him, and tries to slide back across the floor a bit, trying to keep his eye off the man. But the man just keeps staring at him, and smiles.
"My wager is, with you wearing those colors...he's your pap, isn't he?"
"Pap?"
"You know. Dad. Father. Man who will do anything to make sure you're safe. Your pap."
"Oh..."
Owens eyes drift away again and his facial express changes. A lightbulb must be over the mans head right now, because he sure has something on his mind he just realized.
"...He doesn't know you're out here, does he?"
Owen doesn't answer him.
"Good."
The man gets up, walks over to the desk and straps back on his gun holsters. He then puts his jacket back on, and heads for the door. As he turns the nob, he turns back at Owen for a second.
"The name's Dwayne. I'll catch you later, son."
He steps through the door, and the door closes. Owen just sits there, now looking at the glass of water up on the table.