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Sarah's life had been far from simple. No one in her line of work had a simple life, so she definitely did not need the extra stress brought to her that night.
She had been sleeping lightly, like always, when a bright light flashed through her mind. Sarah snapped awake, instinctively grabbing for the .38 Smith and Wesson under her pillow. Since a round was already chambered, Sarah wasted no time and leapt out of bed. She inched toward her bedroom door, carefully avoiding the floorboards that creaked under pressure. Sarah eased open her door and gazed down the hallway to the right. She whipped her head the other way when she heard the dead bolt on her front door snap open and someone walk out the door.
Furious about having her personal space violated, Sarah ran to the door and flung it open. Unfortunately, the intruder was nowhere to be found. Sarah considered following the scum, but decided against it when she realized that running around the city in nothing but her plaid boxers and white tank top would be slightly conspicuous. Instead, she drew back into her apartment and bolted the door.
Suddenly, a disturbing thought came to her. If the guy had to unbolt the door to get out, how had he gotten inside? This question started a domino effect of other inquiries. As she checked the windows, Sarah kept thinking, "Why had he come here? Was he sent to kill me? If so, why had he left when he was almost successful?"
To her horror, Sarah could not find where he could have possibly entered the apartment. She sat down on her bed, unable to answer any of the questions that puzzled her. She sat, facing her open bedroom door with her gun on her lap, and refused to sleep for the rest of the night.
She wasn't able to keep her promise to herself. When she awoke the next morning, she cursed herself for being weak. Fortunately, nothing happened while she had dozed.
Sarah got up and showered. After she got dressed (completing her outfit with her piece), she left the apartment and made sure to lock the door. Then, she headed to the diner down the street.
The smiling faces of the familiar waitresses continued to sicken Sarah. "Every time," she thought to herself. "Don't these people have bad mornings?" As she sat down at a booth, a twenty-something waitress came over and flashed a huge smile.
"Good morning!" she said in a saccharine-toned, singsong voice. "What can I-"
"Look, um, Doris," Sarah said, reading the waitress' nametag. "I'll have two eggs, scrambled; three slices of bacon, and a large orange juice. Can you handle that?"
Doris gave Sarah the patented some-people-cannot-be-pleased look and went off to place her order. Sarah sat back in her seat and thought about the previous night's events. She continued to think about them when Doris returned with her food and while she was eating. Still unable to find any answers, she hastily paid for her meal and walked back to her home.
As she walked down the hall to her door, her internal alarms went off when she saw how her door was slightly ajar. She pulled her .38 and held it in one hand. With the other hand, she prepared to open the door, but stopped when the door opened for her, and a large man walked out of her apartment. Large was an understatement. He stood about seven and a half feet tall and looked very solidly built. Dressed in gray slacks, a black overcoat, and a fedora hat covering his face, the man looked like he had just stepped out of an old black and white spy movie.
Sarah pulled into a firing stance, gun held in both hands and feet squared with her shoulders. "Hold it right there, buddy."
The man regarded Sarah, regarded the gun and stood still. He seemed to be relaxed, though, and it made Sarah angry.
"Who are you?" she asked, watching to make sure that he did not pull his own weapon. When he did not answer, she became really annoyed. "I asked you a question!" she yelled, caring not if she drew the attention of her neighbors. She reached for his hat so to get a good look at him. Apparently, he did not wish to been seen, so he tried to turn aside and avoid her grasp. He was too slow however, and Sarah gasped as she saw who- or what- stood before her.
He pulled her into her apartment and closed the door behind himself. Sarah back away from her unexpected guest and tried to figure out her current situation. Before her stood a 7 ˝ foot tiger, of the Bengal variety. Burnt orange fur covered his face and was accented by pitch-black stripes. Even with the thin whiskers and sharp carnivorous teeth, what drew Sarah's attention was the creature's crystal blue eyes. They looked as deep as pools, but full of wisdom rather than water.
The tiger lead her into her den and motioned for her to sit. Sarah sat in the armchair, her surprise slowly subsiding, and the tiger grabbed the couch.
"Trent," it said to her.
Sarah gasped again at the realization that he could talk. "What?"
"You asked who I am. I am Trent."
"Oh. And?"
"And what?"
She fired her gun, dangerously close to her guest, purposely putting holes in Trent's overcoat and her couch. "Look, it's not often that I get seven foot talking tigers as house guests, so just tell me what you are and what you're doing here."
Trent was very cool about the situation. He did not even check to see how close the bullet had come. "As I told you, I am Trent. I am looking for a dangerous criminal who came through this area recently."
"Why are you in my apartment?" Sarah was becoming calmer around Trent.
"This is where the portal is," he said nonchalantly.
Sarah's eyes widened. "The what?"
Trent sighed. "The teleportation portal into this world. It is centered in your apartment."
"You've got to be kiddin' me!"
"It's true. Certain dimensions have portals from which one could teleport into or out of it. This dimension's just happens to be in your home."
"And I take it that your world was overrun boy super-intelligent tigers?"
"Not overrun, so to say," Trent explained. "On my earth, a violent plague was about to wipe out mankind. So, engineers mixed human and animal DNA to find a way to survive. To make a long story short..." Trent held up his hands, which looked perfectly normal. Human normal. "Plus," he added. "No tail."
Sarah fell against the back of her chair. "Okay, I'm talking to a tiger about teleportal, um, portals. This would make a great sci-fi movie. As long as Kevin Costnar isn't in it."
Trent looked confused. "Why would the football player be in a movie?"
"Excuse me?"
The tiger smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I keep forgetting about the alternate personas. In my world, Costnar is an athlete, not a movie star."
Sarah realized how difficult conversation would be with Trent. "Don't worry. He's not much of an actor here either." She tried to change the subject. "So, you're a cop, huh?"
"Why do you say that?"
"You said that you were hunting for a dangerous criminal. That's the job of cops and bounty hunters. You don't seem ruthless enough to be a bounty hunter."
Trent smiled a toothy grin. "You're right. I am a cop, a member of the Interdimentional Peace Force." He pulled out a small flashing box with a flip-top lid. When he open it, Sarah saw a piece of silver that vaguely resembled a badge. After he closed it and placed it back in his coast pocket, he turned to Sarah. "You seem to know a lot about crime fighting. Are you a cop?"
"Of course," she answered.
Trent's eyes widened. "Really?"
It was Sarah's turn to smile. "No, not really. I can't stand answering to anyone but myself. I'm just a privy Richard."
"A what?"
"A private Dick. A detective for hire."
"Oh. Very clever."
"Thanks." Sarah stood up from the chair. "We should find your, I'm guessing, murderous criminal."
Trent nodded. "Yes, very murderous."
"Well, since my guesses are hitting the mark, I'll guess that he was the gentleman who graced my presence last night."
The tiger nodded again.
"All right, let's find him. I take it that you're armed."
He pulled out a wicked-looking piece from under his coat. "A Warner Brothers Special. Guaranteed to destroy anything in its path."
"Let's hope that Bugs Bunny doesn't finally go berserk on Daffy Duck."
"Excuse me? And what exactly is yours?"
Sarah smiled with pride. "Mine's a .38 Smith and Wesson."
"The ice-cream guys?"
Conversation would be impossible.
According to Trent, tracking down the guy would not be too hard. As it turned out, the flashing box was a tracking device. Trent explained that it was made to detect teleportal residue emanating from a traveler. He went into a bunch of scientific mumbo-jumbo, which Sarah didn't understand, but she pretended that she did.
Trent opened another compartment on the box, revealing a small hologram of their target. A thin man with shaggy blond hair appeared. Again, what truly caught Sarah's attention was the eyes. They looked shifty, untrusting, and inhuman. Sarah could swear that she saw a yellow tint in his eyes. He otherwise looked human. Under the hologram appeared the words: "Jamison DeLorn, Approach with Caution."
"Jamison DeLorn?" Sarah asked. "That's our boy?"
"Correct," Trent assured her.
"Then let's go find him."
In the bright daylight, it was difficult to search for DeLorn since the pair had to keep Trent's identity a secret. Too much exposure was a risk of the 7 ˝ foot tiger being discovered.
Instead, they kept to the dark alleyways. Carefully staying in the shadows and tipping his hat over his face, Trent watched his flashing box. As they traveled the streets, the lights continued to change colors, from purple fading into blue into yellow. Trent explained that the colors indicated how close they were getting and that when the lights became red they were right by DeLorn.
Something continued to bother Sarah since before they had left her apartment, so finally she brought it up. "If DeLorn knew that you were after him, why didn't he just teleport out to another dimension as soon as he teleported in?"
"Number one," Trent responded. "He was not aware of anyone following him. He had only recently escaped and so he probably thought that he had a little time. Number two, a traveler cannot use an in-teleportal to teleport out. It's like trying to swim upstream, and you usually end up exploding."
"Oh."
The couple continued to follow DeLorn's path until the flashing lights turned a dark orange. Right outside of a night club, lined with pickup trucks. Loud country music emanated from inside. In her mind, Sarah could see all the cowboy hats and boots bobbing on the dance floor, doing the Texas Two-step, or whatever it's called. It nauseated her.
"Please tell me that this is a torture chamber," Trent pleaded.
"Why?"
"The thought of anyone listening to this music for pleasure completely bothers me."
Sarah nearly burst out laughing, but she managed to keep her laughter to a faint chuckle.
Trent and Sarah moved to the back entrance. Sarah's attempts to open the door were thwarted by a stubborn lock. She pulled and kicked, until finally she pulled her gun and shot out the lock.
"Problem solved," she said to the feline.
"You know," the tiger replied. "I have a device that would have had the same effect, minus the very loud bang and flying metal and wood."
"Oh, shut up!"
They moved inside and found themselves in the women's bathroom. The lights were dim, the mirrors were smudged and the sinks were cracked. Toilet paper covered the floor, and one of the five stalls had an out-of-order sign on the door.
"Some things never change," Trent remarked.
Sarah was about to say something when she heard someone start to open the bathroom door. "Hide!" she said as she pushed Trent toward the broken stall. He fell through the door but managed to close it before two half-drunken women staggered into the room. They didn't seem to notice the growls of disgust coming from behind them.
Sarah had three minutes to "check her hair" before the pair of ladies left. When she was sure that they were gone, she ran to the door and locked it. Then she ran to the broken stall and opened the door.
"Are you okay?" she asked the tiger.
"Is it so difficult for people to flush after they go?"
Sarah cringed. "Sorry. It is broken, you know."
"Yes, unfortunately I do."
Sarah turned toward the locked door. "So, do you think DeLorn is out there?"
The feline nodded. "I'm positive. He always had a habit of searching a populated area for his prey. It gave him a thrill with better chance of being caught and a better variety of victim choices." Trent also looked at the door. "I guess it would be better if you went out there and looked for him. I think people would notice me."
"You think?" Sarah headed for the door and unlocked it. As she peered out of the door, she could fell Trent lean over her shoulder to get a glimpse as well. The club was packed full of drunken cowboys and their drunken girlfriends. Perfect prey for a crazed homicidal maniac like DeLorn. Sarah pulled back into the bathroom.
"Okay, I'll go out there and look. You stay in the stall." When she received that I-don't-think-so look from Trent, she replied with, "Would you rather stay in view of anyone who casually walked through that door?"
"They would probably think it was just a drunken hallucination."
"Point well taken," Sarah said. "But our luck, it would be the only sober person in this entire bar. Okay, I'll just be gone for a little bit." With that, she walked out the door.
"If one more person steps on my feet with a pair of boots, I am going to shoot them in the head." That promise was the only thing stopping Sarah from leaving at that very moment. The idea of some unfortunate cowboy's brain being splattered across the room actually caused Sarah's mood to lighten.
Her eyes continuously scanned the room for her target, although it would be hard to locate a single blond man amidst the sea of cowboy hats. Just as she was about to turn and head back to Trent, Sarah spotted DeLorn. He stood in a corner, chatting it up with an incredibly liquored-up blond who seemed like she had one brain cell, which of course made her the smartest blond in the world. Contemplating how she would isolate DeLorn away from the rest of the crowd, she slowly walked over to him. Finally, an idea popped into her head. As she reached his corner, she flashed her best smile.
"There you are, honey," she said to DeLorn, delicately placing her hand on his chest. DeLorn gave her a look that could kill as the blond cautiously watched. "I've been looking all over for you. Look, the doctor called today. He said that the irritation would clear up, but you have to continue using the cream." The blond crinkled her nose, gave DeLorn a disgusted look, and walked off.
DeLorn watched the woman leave and then turned to Sarah. She started to back off when she saw the yellow glint appear in his eyes. He seemed as though he was about to say something when something caught his attention. Sarah followed his gaze and saw Trent peering out of the bathroom. She knew they had been found out. She turned back to DeLorn, but he was gone. Sarah quickly looked around the club and briefly spotted him dashing out the front door.
Sarah cussed aloud and ran back to the bathroom. She pushed through the door, not caring if she hit Trent on the way through. "He's getting away!" she yelled as she dashed through the bathroom, heading for the back door. As she crossed the threshold, she heard Trent take after her.
He caught up with her as she stopped in the middle of an alleyway. "Hold on," he called to her. "There's one thing I haven't told you about DeLorn." Suddenly, a bright lightning bolt shot between the two of them, narrowly missing the two. They scattered in opposite directions: Sarah behind a dumpster and Trent in a protective doorway.
"Let me guess," Sarah cried to Trent. "That's what you forgot to tell me."
"Ding, ding. You get the grand prize."
"Oh, I hope it's the trip to the Bermudas."
From down the alley, DeLorn spoke, allowing Sarah to hear his voice for the first time. "Well, well, well," he called. "They sent the infamous Trent after me. I feel honored."
"It'll pass," Trent called back.
This angered DeLorn. Another bolt flashed through the alley, close to where Trent was hiding. Gathering all of his courage, the tiger rushed across the back street to hide next to Sarah.
"What are we supposed to do now?" she whispered to her feline friend.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"A little stuck, Trent?" DeLorn called out, sounding nearer than he had before. "Let me help you out." A third bolt flashed at them and incinerated the dumpster they were hiding behind. Their cover was blown, so they slowly stood up.
"That's right," DeLorn hissed. "Slowly but surely. And be sure to drop your weapons on the way up."
DeLorn watched carefully as Trent and Sarah carefully pulled their weapons and placed them on the ground. He was watching their weapons so closely, that he failed to notice Trent pulling the box from his pocket again. Sarah did not, however.
Sarah gazed at DeLorn again and watched as crackling energy began to surround DeLorn's hand. He spread his finger and the lightning expanded, almost consuming his arm.
"So many people have wanted to do what I'm about to accomplish," DeLorn said to Trent. "Killing you has been the dream of so many of my friends." He pointed his hand at Trent. "Say good-bye, you dumb-ass tiger."
"Good-bye," Trent replied. He hit a single button on the box and threw it at DeLorn. Before the murderer could react, the box struck him right in the chest, and a purple ooze began to crawl all over him. It encompassed his torso, arms and legs, and spread to his head. As DeLorn let out an earth-shattering cry, the slime covered his face, flooding his mouth and throat. Finally, all was silent.
Sarah was stunned. "Wow, how did you…" The mind-numbing blast cut her off as DeLorn's body exploded, and the force knocked her off her feet. Pieces of the man's body and purple goo showered around her.
She started laughing. "That was the coolest thing I have ever seen! What was that?"
Trent smiled, his eyes reflecting his own amusement. "Standard self-destruct mechanism. You're supposed to drop it and run, but I figured what the hell? We were defenseless anyway, might as well give it a shot."
Sarah stopped laughing. "You mean you didn't know what was going to happen?"
"Of course not."
"Of course not," she repeated in a whiny, mocking tone. "Warn me before you do anything stupid like that again."
Back at her apartment, Trent was getting ready to leave.
"Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?" Sarah asked the tiger. "I could show you around. You'd be a shoe-in for first place at any costume parties."
Trent grinned. "I'm sure I would be, but I have to get back to headquarters. This assignment took a little longer than either my boss or I expected."
"Do you have any idea where the out-teleport is?" Sarah asked. "It's not like you have your little box thingy anymore to tell you."
"I'll find it. They're usually easy to find. It's just a matter of knowing what you're looking for." He stopped talking suddenly and looked Sarah in the eyes. "I just realized something. I just spent the whole day with you, nearly got killed by your side, and I don't even know your name."
Sarah scoffed. "You're right, I never told you." She held out her hand. "Sarah Corrigan, Private Eye."
Trent shook her hand with his. "Evander Trent."
"Evander?"
"It's a family name."
He started walking to the door. "Listen, Sarah. If I were you, I'd plan on receiving a lot of visitors in your home. That portal is a beacon, ready for anyone who travels."
"I'll be ready. I have my ice-cream gun just in case." She patted her holster.
Trent actually giggled. "You know, your eyes light up whenever you make a joke."
"Well, they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Maybe my soul's just radioactive."
"Who knows? Good-bye, Sarah."
"Good-bye, Trent."
With that, Trent walked out the door. Sarah slowly closed it behind him, content with knowing that she had a friend whom she would always remember.
Trent was right. Over the years, Sarah's business slowed, but she received some mighty strange guests, ranging from a Rock Hudson look-alike to a snail-hippopotamus crossbreed. Every time, a warm smile, and an invitation to stay for a while greeted the visitor. Once in a while, someone from the wrong side of the tracks made a quick stop, but an officer from the Interdimentional Peace Force was always close behind. Sarah kept a look-out for Trent, but he never seemed to show up.
One night, Sarah jolted awake, afraid she had just missed another teleporter. When her eyes focused, she was staring directly into the eyes of her feline friend.
"Morning sunshine," he jested, pulling her out of bed.
Sarah hugged her pal, barely able to get her arms completely around Trent. "How's it going, Evander?"
He narrowed his eyes. "It's just Trent, please. Sarah, I warn you now, I'm about to do something stupid again." He pulled out a box, vaguely familiar to the tracking device he had before. Trent pointed it at the wall, and pressed a button. A purple rip appeared in the air before them, and gust of wind filled Sarah's apartment.
"Watch that first step," Trent notified her. Then, he pushed her into the tear. Within seconds, Sarah found herself in a huge meeting hall, filled with people. The breach was now behind her, and Trent was coming through quickly. Sarah scrambled to get off the floor and realized she was standing before a giant lion-man.
Trent bowed before the lion. "Sir, allow me to present Sarah Corrigan. She assisted me in the destruction of the criminal Jamison DeLorn."
The lion gazed at Sarah. "So, you are the mortal who helped my most trusted agent. You are to commended for your assistance and for your acceptance of the role of ambassador for you world. Allow me to offer you a position on our elite force."
Sarah turned to Trent. "What is he talking about?"
"He's offering you a chance to join the Interdimentional Peace Force. He likes your style."
Sarah smiled and turned back to the lion. "I would be happy to accept. Sign me up."
"Welcome aboard." As the lion said that, an officer came forth with a badge for her, plus her own little case. She took it and flipped it several times over in her hand.
"I have taken the liberty of assigning you your partner. Agent Trent, you and Ms. Corrigan shall be working together from now on. Congratulations to the both of you."
Trent smiled at Sarah, and she grinned back. This was going to be a blast.
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