Rama Avatar found himself completely unable to relax on the plane. Besides the indefensible position he was situated in, there was something unsettling about being in this airplane. It wasn't that he hadn't flown before or hadn't had any experience with flying before -- he regularly took his gargantuan hawk on flights, and he had not only flown but built several flying machines over the course of his long life -- but an airplane was made for travel, not relaxation, and he marvelled at the ability of the people around him to fully give in to sleep, trusting that this metal machine hurtling at breakneck speed through the air would keep them safe from harm.
More than a century earlier, the Swordsman had built a flying airship with a strange, otherwordly metal which lacked the usual magnetic properties of many metals yet held a strong negative electromagnetic field which enabled it to hover at a definitive distance from the surface of the earth (or, rather, from the molten metal core of the earth which gave the planet its own electromagnetic field), and merely by making adjustments to the field could the airship be made to move up and down from the planet, thus defying gravity. Once a setting was made it had to be altered before the ship would move any closer or further away from the earth's surface, and thus it was not difficult to sleep on such a secure ship. The only time he found the ship difficult to sleep on was when it was moving in a forward or lateral motion, requiring the use of his specially-built engines to propel it, a motion independent of the anti-gravity effects of the otherworldly metal of which much of the ship was built. Contrary to his relatively safe airship, the airplane which Rama Avatar was currently situated upon needed to be in a constant state of motion in order to merely remain aloft. Any number of eventualities could cause a rupture in the flying process, causing the plane to crash. Knowing too much about the mechanics of air flight was thus a hindrance to his relaxation, even if he was inclined to sleep.
Rama spent the next several hours looking up information on his laptop computer, thanks to the wireless Internet connection it had. As he had suspected from his own observations, this world had many similarities in history to his own, but somehow it was more mundane than his world, probably safer yet less interesting for an individual in search of adventure. It was as if the history of his own world had been carefully scrutinized for anything that smacked of the fantastic and was washed out with diluted bleach. He was not sure if this was due to a higher amount of skepticism on the part of this world's people in general, but that still would not explain the phenomenon that he had noticed immediately upon stepping into this world, that the colours seemed washed out, greyer somehow.
Still, despite the somewhat fantastic nature of their abilities, there were metahumans on this world as well, though those abilities were also much less fantastic than the ones found in the more numerous metahumans of his own world. To the Swordsman's way of thinking, this gave him an advantage should he have need to battle one or more of these metahumans. This world's version of Vanguard International -- Avant Garde (which, of course, was French for "Vanguard") -- included almost all of the western world's metas, and although the core team had a limited number, there were auxiliary members stationed in each member nation of NATO. Rama made a point of studying the abilities of each one he learned about, one-by-one. After a while it became apparent that all the metahuman abilities were variations of one another and not all that different. It was just a question of anticipating which one would be used against him.
***
On the outskirts of Las Vegas, 19-year-old Jay Fischer leaned heavily on the counter inside an old gas station named Bud's Fill-'er-up which, several years before, had been the only stop for several miles. Now the suburbs of the sprawling city had encroached even here, enabling a local youth such as Jay to have nearby (if low-paying) employment. Since business had been slow all day, Jay was engrossed, as usual, in a comic-book published by Dark Horse Comics which was full of big brawls and zombies galore. The fantasy world of this comic was much more interesting than the day in, day out real world he was forced to exist in.
That is, until today. He glanced up to see a red sportscar of a make and model he didn't see come through very often fly down Highway 15 towards him. He shifted himself up from the countertop a bit to watch it, not noticing as the issue of The Goon he was reading flipped shut. He began moving towards the door when he realized it was finally slowing down and stopping at his station.
He saw, of course, the beautiful woman with long, brunette hair who wore sunglasses and a revealing tank top even on this December day in the desert, before the car came to a stop, so he more-or-less prepared himself for talking with her. Even so, his voice sounded high-pitched and squeaky when he asked her, "Fill 'er up?"
She handed him a twenty without more than a glance at him, and as he filled her gas tank to full, he couldn't help but watch her as she adjusted her makeup in the mirror. A few moments later he was back at the side of her car and said, in a huskier voice that still sounded somewhat fake, "Want an oil-change, ma'am?"
"No thanks," the woman said in a flat tone, but as Jay nodded and began to walk away, she called out to him again and motioned him back. She said, in a surprising tone, "On second thought, handsome, how about you give me that oil-change inside?"
"'Inside'?" Jay said in his earlier squeaky voice a moment before realization kicked in, and his freckled face went stark red. "Uh, okay," he managed to sputter as she removed the keys from the ignition and opened the car door. By the time she followed him inside he could no longer hide his erection.
***
At the McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, Ed Cicciotto stretched and yawned as he and Rama Avatar waited in the line-up at Customs.
"I really had a good rest last night," Ed remarked.
The Swordsman grunted in a warning tone. The bags under his eyes literally had bags under them. His hair was somewhat dishevelled, and his three-piece suit was as wrinkled as one would expect after having worn it for far too long in a sitting position. He felt barely conscious of his surroundings and wanted nothing more than to plop down in his hotel and sleep the rest of the day away.
"We should begin looking for Aurochs right away, I think," Ed continued. "Knowing him as well as I do, I have a few ideas of what kinds of places he may have gone. We need to find a section of this city which caters to men looking for male prostitutes. And, of course, we should check out the casinos. Aurochs is fond of gambling."
"What?" Rama said, a frown creasing his brow.
"I said that Aurochs is fond of gambling, so he may be found at one of the local casinos."
Rama shook his head. "No, no, what you said about male prostitutes before..."
"Right, well, Aurochs' sexual fondness for boys has long been known, and--"
"There's no way in bloody hell--" Rama Avatar said in a controlled yet aggressive tone, "--that I am about to go traipsing around looking for male prostitutes!"
Rama turned around as he heard a shocked sound of disgust behind him. He saw an overweight mother with two small children, who wore a patriotically-colored button which said "Support Our President", holding her hands over her younger child's ears, even as her daughter tried to squirm her way out of her mother's grasp. The mother glared at the Swordsman with an expression of righteous anger and exclaimed, "Watch your mouth! There are ladies and children present!" This statement, of course, was at odds with her own actions, as she was an avid viewer of the Jerry Springer show.
"Oh, get over it, madam," Rama snorted and turned his back on her, ignoring her further comments, which were not meant for the ears of little ones, either.
Soon enough, Ed and Rama were at the front of the line, where they were asked if they had anything to declare, and both their luggage and themselves were scanned. Ed went through without any problems, but Rama had to stop as a beeping noise in the walk-through scanner indicated he had something metallic on his person.
"Would you mind removing everything from your pockets, sir?" an overweight African-American woman named Betsy said in a tired tone, holding out a metal tray that looked somewhat like a bedpan, in which a few coins from Rama's pockets already lay.
The Swordsman sighed and dug into his pockets, not finding anything until he realized he had a pouch fastened to a string around his neck. "Oh, right," he muttered as he removed the pouch, "I'd forgotten about this." He dropped the pouch into the tray with a dulled clinking sound.
"Please remove the objects of your pouch, sir, and place them in the tray," said Betsy in the same tired, flat tone as before.
Rama did so, and 12 keys clinked onto the metal tray. Betsy nodded, and Rama walked through the scanner once more, this time with no problems.
Betsy had pushed the tray to the other side already, so Rama picked up his keys and put them back in his pouch, slipping it into his outer jacket pocket rather than reattaching it once again to the string under his shirt.
"Are you a locksmith, sir?" Betsy asked him.
"Excuse me?" Rama said, taken aback at the unexpected question.
Betsy said, "I mean, do you always keep a dozen blank, uncut keys on your person?"
The corners of Rama's mouth twitched slightly, and he said, "They're for good luck." He flashed an ingratiating smile for a moment to smoothe the situation and began to walk away.
"Excuse me, sir!" Betsy shouted in a somewhat alarming tone which made Rama wonder what was wrong now. He considered dashing for the exit right then and there but thought better of it.
"Yes?" the Swordsman said in a guarded tone as he slowly walked back to the walk-through scanner.
Betsy held up the bedpan-like tray and shook it enough to let him know there was something still in it. "You wouldn't want to forget your money, would you?"
Rama walked up to her and saw a single penny left in the corner of the tray.
"You might need that, sir," Betsy said with a straight face.
Rama grunted as a few of the other Customs officers chuckled at his expense, and he picked up his penny, soon enough joining Ed on their way out of the airport. The Swordsman was looking forward to a quiet hotel room all to himself, a hot bath and a few hours' sleep.
