Sarah stepped out into the warm air. Freed from the confines of her caffeinated coffin, she walked towards Ol’ Trucksie, ready to return home. Hopping along closely behind, Carbuncle revelled alongside in the sweet release. Much like a man leaving his cell for the first time in months, he took in the sights and sounds, looking every which way with renewed vigor.

“Squeak?” Carbuncle stopped as a strange sight caught his attention towards the side.

“What is it, boy? Did Timmy fall down the well again?” Following along his line of sight, a sleek luxury car sat on the edge of the parking lot, glittering in the sunlight with a factory-fresh paint job. Underneath, a puddle of water sat. Strangely, the last time it rained was over a week ago. “I had no clue you were into cars, ‘Buncle." Sarah continued her jaunt towards the rolling pile of junk, "Wait until you see the one I’ve got at home, you’re gonna fuckin’ flip!”

As the two drove out of the shopping plaza in their questionable steed, Carbuncle continued to stare at the same car, his gaze unflinching. The puddle roiled underneath the vehicle occasionally, causing him to shutter. The car came to life as they drove past.

Following the same route as usual, Sarah had to check over the dashboard once or twice to make sure no one was in the way. “So, yeah, I just punched him in the jaw and made sure he never- What are you doing?”

Carbuncle sat utop the seats, perched in a position she had never seen him try before. It looked fairly uncomfortable as he continued to gaze out the back window.

“What’s going on with you? Are you nervous about the duel with that old guy?” Sarah tried to creen her neck to look behind her, but she was too short to see over the seats. She had given up on the rearview mirror after a few minutes into her first drive nearly a month ago. “Do you think we’re not going to win?”

Breaking his gaze for but a second, the ghostly creature looked at her and offered a single chirp. Looking back out the back window, he raised his back in a threatening pose.

“Shit. We’re getting tailed.” A wide grin slowly crept on Sarah’s face, “Now I’ve got an actual excuse to do this…”

Turning into the country road headed home, the ride was going to be bumpy but certainly less crowded. As she reached the less maintenanced asphalt, she floored the gas pedal remembering to actually change gears this time. The truck roared to life, the sound of metal on metal growing into a symphony of gear grinding and tailpipe stutters.

“Squeak!” Carbuncle nearly fell off his perch as the two roared down the road, Sarah whooping and hollering all the while.

Flying down the trail, the 1996 Ford gave it all it’s worth. The nearly-extinct gas engine roared with the vigor that echoed through the streets back in this beast’s prime. Ol’ Trucksie had his problems, but kicking up dust and ruling the remote roads was certainly not on that list.

“Did we lose them yet?” Sarah shouted over the sound of the A-pillar being slapped by the body panels of the truck. She had to get out of the seat to actually reach the floor, so her vision was just the bottom of the steering wheel and the disgusting amount of gum stuck to the bottom of the column as they now blindly screamed down the sparsely populated road.

Finally turning from his affixation behind them, he turned and panicked, “Squeak! Squeak!” Quickly motioning towards the right, Sarah corrected course and turned the steering wheel before they crashed into an irrigation ditch going what she could only guess was 90 miles per hour.

“Alright!” She shouted, hopping back into the seat and fixing her wooden block that served as an extension of her foot. Turning down a beaten path, she felt the need to change the path a little. Thankfully, the trail through the now empty corn field led to a copse of trees that would provide a break in vision from the otherwise flat plane of farmlands all around. After a few minutes and reminding herself how to read a gas gauge, the two headed home with a bit more subtlety.

“You know, Carbuncle, I think we’d make fuckin’ great country folks.” Sarah dried her hair with a towel and took a seat on her unmade cot next to her stuffed stegosaurus. “Think about it: we can drive down the country roads without anyone getting in our way, dodgin' the law, we can grow shit, and we can raise animals and shit!” She pulled the towel off of her loose blonde curls that clung to the mid-back of her old tee shirt, “But no horses though.”

The radiating rabbit-renard rested on her rolling chair. Normally, he’d humor her and cheerfully go along with her conversation, but he seemed more pensive than usual. Wow, it kinda sucks getting the one alien that doesn’t talk your ear off…

He reminded her of an old cat she had. 'Mr. Grumpsie' was nearly as old as her. He was about as lively as Mr. Harrison, but seemed to only stare down in judgement rather than barely being seen amongst the living. Sarah drew a mischievous grin.

"Allonse, vieillard!" She tried to grab his ears and stand them upright, phasing through his ghostly visage in her excitement.

He tiredly looked over, "Squeak?"

"Aw, it's just a thing I used to do with my old pet cat back in middle school. I told you about him before, Mr. Grumpsie?" She placed her hands behind her back and smiled at the sulking phantom fenic.

As he went back to staring in the distance, she quickly dropped the smile.

“Eek!” Sarah jumped as a now unfamiliar sound rang out in the tiny room. Lighting up for the first time since she had it stolen back by Rebecca, the phone displayed a familiar notification.

“Hey gurrrrrl👧! I💁 know im💁 a biiiiit👌 late⌛ but murray christmas!🎄🎁❄️️🙂 I💁 MISS😩 YOU💖”

Sarah could not help but smile as she reread the text over and over. She was afraid to contact Crystal, having worked for the company for a few years now, she could have lost her job if she was seen talking to Sarah, much like her sister. But, with Crystal making the first move, she appeared to think it was safe to speak with her again.

“Hey biiiiiiiitch! I fuckin miss yo ass. Why dont we meet at the usual place tomorrow? you know when. 😘”

Looking over at Carbuncle, still lost in his thoughts, Sarah patted on a space on the messy cot next to her. ‘Buncle’s cheered me up a few times, I guess I need to do the same for him…

“Hey, why don’t we look up some cards we need? You love it when we do that.”

For the first time since they got in the truck, Carbuncle seemed to lighten up a bit more. Siding up next to her, she laid on her stomach as they slid past news articles regarding the new president, strange alien sightings and some masked vigilante roaming some streets somewhere before finally getting to a shop page and speculating how to improve their deck.

The man moved so strangely.

Every time Rebecca saw him, something just was… off. Phillip Turner barely knew how to eat, shoving everything into his mouth in one bite unless it was a blueberry muffin, which he ate a lot of. He would wave at every person in the office, but would run off with his head down when she got near him. And worst of all, he would just break in the office on Sundays. At first, they were suspicious of him shattering the glass doors to get in, but after a month of working, they just let him in. Some of the traders actually enjoyed seeing everything prepared for them on Monday morning, so the guard just lets him in with no problem.

She sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She could hardly concentrate on work. Plotting out a massive change to a portfolio for some old client in Switzerland was the last thing on her mind. Just the thought of that freakazoid, as her sister affectionately called him, walking around the office made her feel unsafe. But firing the guy was out of the question, he was the only one on that level that actually was excited to come to work making copies and running coffee for the traders. Plus, he probably had a wife and kid or even a pet dog. Someone must love or rely on the guy, as eccentric he was.

Checking her phone, she swiped past the second of Prince Salman’s messages for the day, having learned just to ignore them after years of what would be considered harassment at this point. She looked at her sister’s number, debating whether or not it was worth the risk of asking her what to do with Phillip.

Daddy’s always got his eye on me, so he might not like it if I talk to Sarah…

She glanced at the calendar on her desk, the circled date was passed nearly a week ago. Maybe I actually need to talk to him about all of this? She doesn’t deserve a punishment this bad...

Spinning in the office chair idly, she turned to face the massive windows in the corner of her office. Cars whizzed by on the freeway below, driving themselves to their destination, with or without passengers inside. The sun shone brightly as it hung above the skyscrapers all around her. Downtown St. Louis had not really changed much since she moved into the cornerstone office a few years back.

Thoughts of the last time she had seen her sister danced in her mind as the topic of Phillip came up once again. Instinctively shivering from both the cold and the fear of that night, she held herself as her eyes glazed over.

What did they mean by ACE monsters and him being possessed?

Having done extensive research into both had only left her with more questions with the same number of answers she had when she started. In fact, she accidentally became certified in exorcisms while looking for the latter.

“May the power of Christ compel you…” She idly said, slumped in her office chair and waving her hand forward with every word as was described in the course. With a tiny giggle at that, she sat up straight, pushing herself back towards her desk.

“You know what?” She sat at her computer with an extra sense of conviction, “I’m gonna take matters in my own hands!”

Turning off the hard light screen, Rebecca jumped out of her chair. She considered the time-honored classic of using a disguise, but given the surprising amount of people working on a Saturday like this, she put the afro wig back in the cabinet she kept in the office.

No time to hesitate. I gotta find those answers. He’s got something going on with Sarah and I need to know what.

Locking the door behind her, she walked past actuaries and gophers alike dressed in pajama pants and loose tee shirts. Usually the weekend crowd are those who are either involved solely in knowledge work where they never appeared before the clients and/or those who enjoyed their day off somewhere in the middle of the workweek for whatever reason. While about to start her second semester of her freshman year, Rebecca could only find the time to work on Saturdays. Thankfully, with Christmas break, she actually had the rest of the week to take it easy, a far cry from her typical workload as a Finance student.

As she rode the elevator down from the 22nd floor down to the 3rd, knots began to turn in her stomach, roiling and rolling over as she began to reconsider her bravery.

Maybe I should just ask Daddy to just fire him? She shook her head, sending her loose tangled mess flying every which way. No. Sarah knew something about him and still didn’t like him. He might be blackmailing her or something…

As the doors opened, she found herself in a field of cubicles, people standing or shuffling around paper. Despite what they were doing, each one was on the phone, speaking to either new clients or doing what they could to keep old ones. She never understood how these people could just pick up the phone and talk to strangers, let alone get them to part with their hard-earned money. She knew the company always followed her father’s belief of doing everything for their customers, even sacrificing profits, but something about salespeople just never sat right with her.

The veterans that have been with the company for a few years waved as she walked by, prompting a shy hand raise in return. As she expressly walked through the tangled mess of cubicles and enthusiastic sales pitches, the copy room drew closer and closer, guaranteed to be the hiding place of one Phillip Turner.

Peeking into the room, she was met with the sound and heat of eight commercial copiers running at full speed. In the midst of the churning machines was one man, fully dressed in a suit despite the sweltering localized heat. He sat at a table in the center, a pencil in one hand and working a laptop with another. As he alternated between thinking and writing something down, his left hand created its own afterimage, typing at a rate that would surely melt the innocent computer if left unabated. Once a machine finished its job, he rolled the chair and the desk towards the copier, removed the contents and keyed in another job all in one fluid motion.

Rebecca stood, mouth agape. Thankfully, the flow he was in barely had any room to notice her as he provided enough manpower to run an entire city by himself.

After what felt like half an hour, she jumped back into hiding as Phillip stood, carrying a ream of freshly printed papers. His normally inexpressive face became possessed with fervor and determination without a wrinkle of faltering. The blonde man dashed out of the nook, running past Rebecca and towards his destination, dancing around carts and shouting salespeople.

Never breaking stride, he ascended and descended the skyscraper with the greatest of ease with either fresh copies or fresh coffee, both of which prompted shouts of praise and adoration from everyone but the poor girl chasing him. After a workout that would make an Olympic stair stepper blush, Rebecca had to take a breather in the storage room.

He is possessed! This man is not human! He did in three hours what would take any sane person three days to do!

She had to struggle for air in her thoughts. Even as a star tennis player back in High School less than a year back, there was no way she could keep up with him. He cleared the stairwell without a drop of sweat, even passing her up a few times in her effort to just keep up with him, let alone hide from this monster.

As she sat up, she examined the room around her. With the door in front of her, the shelving formed a sort of divider, cutting the room almost in half, with each side’s view being blocked from the other creating a ‘U’ shape.

The room was far flung from any worker’s desk and on the twelfth floor, the home of internal accounting staff, leaving it to fall into a slight disarray. Cobwebs and dust bunnies abound, frolicking in the dimly lit room with only one working fluorescent bulb.

As she caught her breath and considered leaving, the door handle began to move.

“Eeek!” She covered her mouth and ran behind the shelving, silently praying that whoever was coming in was either lost or a quick shot.

“I must find that outdated toner cartridge!” A familiar masculine voice rallied behind the stacks of dusty legal paper and binders filled with probably ancient Pharoh’s tax documents. Rebecca held herself tighter as the hunter had just become cornered.

Phillip rummaged through strangely shaped cardboard boxes, pulling them off of shelves before stacking them on the ground for quick and effective return to their slumber for a millenia more. Rebecca peeked from behind the shelving, hoping to just make it out of the room alive. She lightly knocked herself on the head, still holding herself tight and not losing sight of the strange creature trapped in the same room as her.

Oh, you’ve done it now, Becky... You’ve seen this man carry your body weight up and down this building on stairs multiple times for the past three hours nonstop, withstand both the heat and the noise of all those printers running at once, and somehow think you’d get something about your sister from just following him? What was I thinking?!

As she began to back into her hiding spot, the back of her knee found the corner of a spare desk.

“Eep!”

With the sound of her surprise, Phillip’s piercing blue eyes quickly shot towards her direction. He seemingly forgot the task he had just single mindedly devoted himself to as he slowly made his way towards her, much like a tiger stalking its prey. Without a word, he expertly picked his way across the room. He was unarmed, but threatening nonetheless.

Putting the Niagara Falls to shame, Rebecca shoved herself into a corner as far as she could go, completely ignoring her clothes drenched in sweat. As the monster drew closer, she quickly looked for something to fight him off with, making sure not to take her eyes off of the corner he would emerge from.

Blindly reaching onto the shelf, she found a broken stapler, unable to hold itself shut.

Her instincts from her time in the wilderness kicked in, sending her flying around the corner, broken stapler being wielded like an assassin actuary’s nunchuk. With a strike across the face, he appeared unphased and reached out to grab her wrist.

As he held her, his hunter’s expression quickly faded to his typical neutral look, “Oh. Hello Miss Weatherford. Are we playing a game like the children do at the strange plastic structure I pass everyday?”

With a grunt, she shoved her leg up between his, years of play fighting with her brother coming back, but this time with a vengeance.

Taking the blow without flinching, he continued, “Did you need anything, ma’am? I am here to offer my best for you and the company.”

“What…” She stammered, out of breath but with every neuron screaming, “What are you?!” She tried to scream, but nothing would come out. Just the way he seemed to be detached from the situation scared her far more than anything else. This man could kill her and not even feel a shred of remorse, let alone what remorse even was. She saw it through his actions, but now had definitive proof: Phillip Turner was not human.

His face turned serious, “I am a human man. My name is Phillip Turner. I am here to find success for you, the company, and myself.”

“Well!” She struggled, trying to hit him again with the stapler, “You’re doing a fucking awful job!”

He stopped once more.

A slight air of mania tainted his wavering voice, “I am not meeting the standards you have set?” He deflated a bit, still holding onto her wrist as she struggled. “Maybe my approach is incorrect? I have done all that I can and yet have still not achieved the ‘success’ that was set out for me by my host…”

“What are you even talking about?!” Rebecca struggled to break free from his grip. “I’m going to scream and you’ll never work in this country again!”

His eyes widened, almost prompting Rebecca to start then and there, “No! I must meet the prerequisite to stay manifested to my current host!” His eyes grew bloodshot and darted around multiple angles at a rate she had never seen before, before staring forward “Maybe!”

Shooting his neck forward, his face almost met the side of hers, twisting at a strange angle, “Maybe you could be my host! Tell me, what is it you desire the most? I will grant you anything you wish...” His smile stretched almost across his lower jaw.

“I want you to let me go!” Rebecca had given up crotch kicks and moved towards body blows with her free hand, “Let me go and I’ll tell you! I promise!”

Without so much as a fuss, his grip loosened. Slipping out and running towards the door, Rebecca turned as a loud thump echoed in the small room. Despite her mind screaming at her not to, she turned only to find her assailant collapsed on the ground. His body seemed more lifeless than usual, collapsed in a way that certainly was not intentional.

Maybe all that punching and kicking did do something after all?

As she turned towards the door, she stopped.

I can most assuredly say it did not. I do not feel the pain of my host. Now, tell me…

The voice did not sound like Phillip, but it spoke like him. It was clear in her mind. A strange presence clouded her thoughts, coating each one thoroughly all while they flew a mile a minute.

What’s going on? I didn’t think that!

No, I did. Now. Tell. Me. Your. Desire.

Her hand felt hot.

Rebecca looked down to find a card between her fingers. It was similar to the ones she played with Sarah not that long ago. The yellow card glittered in the dim light, drawing Rebecca towards its warm glow.

“Now you’re certainly a more interesting host…” She whispered.