“If these readings are correct… I believe we have a bit of an issue, assistant. I’ll need you to investigate.” said a man’s voice, stark, cold, commanding. He rose from his chair in front of a cloud of smoke, it emerged from a crystalline pool of swirling water, rising into the air and projecting a map through the mist.

He saw disobedience as the man didn’t even bat an eye at his announcement. The targeted listener wasn’t in the room, an error on his part for not seeing this before speaking.

The man cast a spell, shifting his hands in strange shapes until a gust of wind blew the mist away. The pool stopped swirling, and of course, the map vanished too. The water seemed to drain away as the indentation in the floor rose back up and looked simply like a stone pattern on the already stoney floor of the dim room.

The man walked out of his study, random books and tomes lining the walls, crystals and ornaments hanging from the ceiling, and into a small corridor. A three way fork, straight ahead stairs, to the left a glow, and he chose to go to the right.

As he continued, the sound of welding grew louder coming from a wooden door reminiscent you’d find in a castle or a mansion’s wine cellar.

He swung open the door and looked at his assistant, who took off his welding mask as he entered.

The room was small, it only had some bare essentials. A bed, mini fridge, and a TV with a couple of DVD’s next to a TV box that definitely got used more often. On a bedside table, a couple of books and an empty beer bottle.

On the other side of the room, the man sat in a small chair at a workstation full of tiny metal parts and various little bits of tech. Sprockets, circuit boards, metal framing, and wires. The man was a little overweight, and wore a working class jumpsuit meant for mechanics, although, sprawled across the bed was a black suit and tie, he’d changed clothes.

“Grand Quetzal.” he smiles, taking off the mask entirely and ripping off his oil soaked gloves. “Needed anything, boss?”

“Your contributions indeed succeed the other scoundrels in my service.” the Grand Quetzal says in response. “I require more.”

“How can I assist?” he asks, coming to his feet.

“I’ve detected interdimensional activity from in town, I’ll need you to investigate.”

“I’ll have to make it quick, I was supposed to get home within thirty minute, and my family might suspect something is off. But, yeah, just tell me where it is and I’ll suss it out.” the man explained.

“Up in the woods, near Guard Tower 134. Make haste if you wish your personal time.”

“As instructed, sir.”

The Grand Quetzal shut the door behind him, expecting perfection. Every fine error could be ironed out easily. He didn’t have the time for mistakes.

About a miserable hour later, the group was still up in Cristobal’s tower discussing their options to move forward. Stygian had begun to snap, shouting at Lyman about his kidnapping and the fact he’d probably killed his son too.

Obviously Lyman probably hadn’t done such a thing. Probably.

Drew was backing Lyman, he was busily trying to figure out where they could get something to eat. And looking at Stygian’s hunching, unfit body, he’d probably be hangry within the hour, if this wasn’t already his stomach talking.

Julia was quietly trying to get her two cents in. Unlike Stygian, she was trying to talk a little more civilized than Stygian currently was. Odd, given how Stygian’s long life had been leagues more civilized than hers.

Nove was over her tantrum. She was currently having an existential crisis in the corner realizing she’d failed her father and her family. She’d not admit it to anybody though.

And Cristobal was tied to a chair, frantically looking for a way to escape. It then hit him he had duties that hadn’t been completed for over an hour and he’d just been caught up in the chaos. Although, he also realized, if the other rangers noticed he was missing due to his jobs being unfinished, this would be the first place they’d search.

And another although, unfortunately for him, he hardly spoke to them… today would probably feel like a normal Friday to them… No matter. His weekend fill in would be in tomorrow morning, but would he last that long?

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, OTTERFOLK!” Drew shouted, turned around and holding out his gun threateningly.

“Welp. He’s gonna shoot him.” Nove sighed, looking up from her knees. This feels like a good time to mention Lyman had only supplied her with basic undergarments after their encounter in the woods. The whole bus ride, boat trip, and past hours had been pseudo-naked and she was starting to realize why humans wear so much clothing. It may have been Spring, but it was still freezing outside and she was getting goosebumps, which Halicanth could get apparently.

She’d also gotten stares, but she was pretty sure it was her race more than creeps. But it was mostly the cold that pissed her off and made the pain doubly painful.

Awkwardness aside, she kinda wanted to rip that gun out of Drew’s hands and put a bullet in Lyman, but remembered he may be the only one that knew how to go back.

“The only way we’re getting out of here is if all of us get along!” Julia yelled, finally letting it out.

“She’s right. I wish you’d stop yelling at me.” Lyman huffed, glaring at Stygian.

“No, he should keep shouting at you. You kidnapped him.” Drew added, turning back to Lyman’s now caseless phone. He smiled remembering the embarrassing casing was still inside his pocket, removed temporarily.

“Hey, are you the type of person that gives your prisoners food, or...?” Cristobal spoke up.

“You’re only a prisoner because you tried ta gonna call the cops on us, ayun.” Drew replied, still trying to get his plans ready.

“Only because I thought you were killing people in the woods. But, food?”

“I’m doin’ that asswipe, I really want to kill you, so don’t test my fockin patience! Have some of your own, why don’t ya?” Drew scowled to him, honestly the intensity in his words got his point across well enough.

Nobody talked for around a minute before Drew gave in. “Ya… know any eateries? This phone is fucked.” Drew swore in shame.

“Sure. I know a place. But they probably won’t take kindly to a bunch of fairy tale creatures walking into their place.” Cristobal smirked, Drew coming to untie him.

“Then I’ll go alone witch ya. Julia, take my gun. You seem ta be the most level ‘ead here. Make sure Lyman doesn’t try anything.”

“And what… I’m… supposed to shoot him?” Julia asked, fearfully taking the black device of death.

“If he’s smart, you won’t ‘ave to.” Drew replied. He and Cristobal walked to the door, leaving Julia in a panicked state.

“So… you primitive human… what’s it like livin’ in this shithole town a’ yours?” Drew asked, driving the car while Cristobal sat in the passenger seat.

“You are speaking as if you aren’t human…” he replied, looking out at the pine trees, their nettles impervious to the harsh winter that had since passed.

“I’m not. But I can change my form to look like one if I want. I’m a changeling.” Drew sighed, focused on the road. He had to admit he missed the forest, city life bored him. The colors of the marcescent and deciduous trees with the morning light reflecting off their foliage, it reminded him what a nature geek he’d been. Still was... Although, his time as an agent kept him away from the vast outdoors. A part of him hoped that they’d be stuck here. He had Lyman now, he’d gotten what else he needed from his job which shan’t be spoken of just yet. He was free, and ready to start life anew. Back in the forest playing his pranks. However, he felt too old to be doing that now… too large to even climb a tree.

But could an immortal trickster spirit become old? Perhaps he wasn’t as immortal as they told him. Perhaps age would eventually begin to set in. Perhaps he wasn’t even immortal, but simply slowed in aging. After all, back in those days, before the transformation, he was shorter, faster, he had more stamina and less body hairs. He was growing, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself.

“What’s it like, as a changeling?” Cristobal asked, curious. “Where did you even come from… your world?”

“From what I’m seein’, there are glaring parallels to yours. It’s pretty decent… I’d say the only difference I’ve seen so far is the lack of magic. But as a changeling, I’m not gonna say more. We keep our secrets close ta’ da chest, ayun?” Drew replied.

“Sure… but Drew is an odd name, is that like a disguise or something? I’ve read folklore about your kind, and they usually have aliases. Oh, up here by the way.” the park ranger signaled.

“No. It’s my birth name, but it’s grown on me. My changeling name is a mouthful.” the changeling sighed, turning off and onto a small side street into a quaint town at the forest’s edge.

“This is Ravensdale. Not my hometown, but it’s my home now.” Cristobal said, showing the rustic 1900’s American architecture in all its… well, it wasn’t super glorious or anything. But it definitely packed a big charm and reminded Drew of apple pie, he’d hardly ever even been to America in his world, but he knew something about cheeseburgers and apple pie being staples of catering there.

“Well, I have to say it’s not terrible.” Drew said, looking at a brown brick building which looked to be a cinema. He knew that because the giant sign which read ‘Cinema’ on the front and the list of movie names he hadn’t heard of plastered on the front. Peak comedy.

“I’m not sure if that owes a thank you… Here, the Diner is just ahead. By the way, I’m not really sure if I’m dreaming or not.” Cristobal said, pointing to a chrome plated restaurant with a lot of class. It looked like nostalgia incarnate. The red booths, the black and white tiled floors, the owners vintage car parked outside the door, this place was owned by someone very fond of the 60’s it seemed. The neon sign was illuminated in the daylight, it read “McConra Diner”.

“And, whatcha mean by ‘this isn’t your hometown’? What place that I haven’t heard of do ya hail from, ayun?” Drew asked.

“Buenos Ares, down in Argentina.” Cristobal said with a hint of pride as they exited the car, talking over the roof. Drew gave him a nod and they walked to the shiny door.

Upon coming inside, a man who Drew presumed to be the owner gave the ranger a hearty wave. He was an overweight blond man with black rimmed glasses in his thirties. He wore a red and white themed restaurant workers uniform and apron.

“Cristobal, funny seeing you here. Shouldn’t you be at work?” the man asked, approaching them. His voice was quite direct, but also a tad greasy and intellectual.

“Just drove back when Drew here showed up in the middle of the woods. His car broke down and I drove him back to get a meal while we waited for the tow.”

“Wish I had a heart like that. Anyway, welcome to Ravensdale, Drew. I am Bentley McConra, but everyone calls me Ben.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. McConra. I’m not stayin’ in town long, or maybe I am… I’ve found myself short on… uh, anythin’...” Drew mumbled irishly.

“Well, anyone with a nice suit and trench coat can stay in this town as long as they want for all I care. Now, I’m sure you’re hungry, why else would you be here?” he asked, purveying the breakfast patronage today to see if they needed anything. There weren’t many people in today. Drew counted maybe seven, including a family of three, all enjoying meals.

“I take it you like this thematic, right?” Drew asked, looking at the aesthetics as Ben showed him to the counter. There he gazed up at the menu, looking at the sandwiches, shakes, and breakfast options available. This guy had quite a budget for a restaurant like this, all decked out. Or maybe he was gouging prices or something money money something. Drew didn’t know what the humans did these days.

“I’m a bit of a 60’s fan if it didn’t hit you in the face. I used to work making cars with my old man when I was a teen. I loved the style and the charisma in them. But my love extends beyond automobiles of this type.” he said, going behind the counter to serve him.

“Ben, you talk about yourself way too much.” Cristobal sighed, turning a chair around and sitting in it backward as he waited for Drew to order.

“Yeah… you’re right. What’ll it be?” Ben said.

“Five grilled cheeses to go. One vanilla shake.” the agent requested. The owner's face turned.

“Five?”

“Guess I forgot to mention my friends.”

“Eh, shouldn’t complain about more money. Haha!” he chuckled, writing the order down and clipping it to the clothesline of orders above the kitchen’s porthole. A young blonde woman inside the workspace turned, nodded, and went back to her work chopping onions and putting them into an omlet.

“Your daughter as your chef. Smart. Always wanted to have a kid. Only to do my chores for me.” Drew snickered, Ben following suit.

“How’d you know Silla was my daughter?” Ben asked, leaning on the counter.

“I’m a people person. I’m MI6, if you know what that is.” Drew replied, peering back at Cristobal, who was still sitting, fidgeting a bit in boredom.

“Yeah, British intelligence. Why are you here in the US? Some sort of homicide I’ve been out of the loop on?” the waiter asked.

“Ah, actually a little worse than that. But... can’t say much more than the fact there’s been a kidnapping. I’m hunting the culprit. Might actually stay in town a while since I heard the villain is in the area, ayun.” Drew lied. He was pretty good at making up a large fake story that’d fit his needs at later dates. The group probably could stay here for the time being. Worst case scenario, he could just skip town and vanish if they were catching on.

At least, that’s the worst case he could envision. This entire town would be the epicenter of something far worse soon.