"What would you say are your strengths and weaknesses, Mr. Mitchell?" the burly man across the table with a fantastical mustache demanded.

The middle aged man had a name, but anxiety batted it away before it ever reached Arik's ears.

"Well, I'm very attentive, diligent, and creative. As far as weaknesses, if I had to pick, I'd say that I have trouble getting out of my head at times?"

The man raised his equally fantastical eyebrows and let at a comical and obnoxious HA. "Don't ask me. I don't know you." He looked to Arik's resume that he had in hand. "Ok, well do you think of yourself as a particularly strong and durable man?"

The question felt odd to Arik as he was currently before the interviewer that could see his body. But he shook the thought with an appreciation for not assuming one's traits.

"Honestly, I surprise myself with what I can do quite often. I've always been strong for my weight and I seem to be relatively immune to falling. I'm pretty sure I'm immortal."

The man stared through Arik. "Well, I'll admit, never heard that one in an interview before." Arik gave a concerned thin grin. "But a sense of humor is never a bad thing. In moderation of course."

"Apologies. It just kind of slipped out and wasn't as funny as I initially thought." Arik chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

"They rarely are. But I'll tell you with absolute certainty that immortality can come in handy when moving boxes around. But as long as you follow the safety guidelines you shouldn't ever need it."

He was clearly piggybacking off of Arik's joke, but his deadpan delivery and earnest face made it almost concerning. Arik didn't know whether to laugh at his joke or mimic the seriousness of the room. He just held his breath and smiled.

Sweating Engaged

"I'll tell you what. I like you. I think you'll do good here, and, as long as you put the effort in, you can absolutely make this place a career. Don't let anyone tell you different." He banged the bottom of some papers onto the table and sat up from his slouch. "So I'll send you through. Can you work next Tuesday?"

Arik's heart trotted about in satisfying excitement. His hard work had finally paid off and he landed a job. He couldn't wait to tell his friends, all three of them that is.

The glass door to the front of the company's building swung open as Arik skipped out with a deep breath of fresh air. His phone was burning a whole through his pocket since he was told he had the job, and he decided a little get together with Kilvio was just what he needed to charge his battery.

He sent a quick text asking to hang out later that day and maybe play some video games; an old favorite way to pass time back when they were younger. After that, Arik hopped on his bike and headed home in anticipation, with a detour for a burger as a self-reward.

It didn't take long to ride home considering his recent bike riding had significantly upped his endurance; that and the pressure of rushing with his bag of food as to eat it at home before it completely cooled off of course. However, what he was met with inside his apartment building had made him wish he had taken his sweet time.

It was Mr. Mohill in all his human tater tot glory standing in the center of the lobby, pointing at Arik with apprehension. A man stood beside him, tall, old, and clad in the dark uniform of a priest. He held a bible in one hand snug to his person while the other adjusted his glasses to better see the man approaching.

Arik knew what was going on almost immediately, and he decided it was equal parts amusing and annoying from a fundamental level. But he wasn't going to give that to them. He couldn't afford to give anything but what would seem natural. The less eyes he had on him the better these days. Although, nothing about the situation was natural to begin with. So anything was on the table.

"Mr. Mohill, what's going on here? Everything alright."

The landlord's body language was tense. "No, things are not alright." He looked to the priest. "I've got myself a pastor here who is gonna exorcise your ghost ass." His face looked deranged and smug.

"I don't think I really understand—"

"Afternoon, Mr. Mitchell. My name is Pastor Paven." He shot a warm, crows feet winged smile and held out his hand. "I provide sermons down at Three Cross Church."

Arik nodded and shook, not sure of the man's demeanor.

Mr. Mohill almost leaped at the pastor. "Don't touch him! He's gonna possess you or eat your soul or some shit!"

The priest turned to Mr. Mohill, his smile almost gone. "Sir, You hired me because I know what I'm doing. Please allow me to operate."

The superstitious landlord squinted and took a step back, grumbling under his breath.

"I'm sorry pastor, I'm very confused," played Arik, lying through his teeth successfully.

"Well yes, of course. Allow me to explain. A few days ago, Mr. Mohill here approached me inquiring about my services outside of my church. He claimed to have a paranormal entity haunting his apartment building and asked for my aid in identifying and banishing it. Being the person I am, I couldn't just simply turn him down you know." He chuckled.

"So now here I am. We have done some light detective work and I've run my numbers but it appeared we had just missed you when I had first arrived."

Arik looked to Mr. Mohill who appeared to be hiding fervent fear behind cheap anger. If Arik had screamed right then and there, he was confident that Mr. Mohill would immediately turn and run away for his life. A thought that was delicious just to think about.

"Tell me Mr. Mitchell—"

"Arik is fine."

"Very well. Arik, can you confirm your incident that landed you in the hospital from what should have been a fatal fall the other week?"

"Uh, yeah. That happened."

"Okay. And can you tell me if you did in fact die from that fall?"

Arik's body immediately pinged with heat and his vision zero'ed in on the pastor's face.

'Is this guy on to me? Does he know more than he is letting on? Or is he just going through the motions? Either way, I should still act normal as can be.'

Arik let out a laugh that was probably a bit higher in decibels than intended. "No pastor. I can assure you I did not die and I am alive and well. I'm standing right in front of you after all."

Pastor Paven chuckled in response, but much more quietly, almost as if he was analyzing Arik every step of the way.

The pastor continued. "I know, it's a weird question. Just ironing out the facts. But, do you know how you survived perhaps?"

The zero'ed in vision persisted, fixated on the priests face in trepidation anxiety. Mr. Mohill didn't even exist anymore. Just Arik and the priest.

'Dammit, this guy is asking too many of the right questions. Does he actually work for some government agency? I knew I shouldn't have flown above the canopy of Woodstock.'

"Honestly, I don't know. The memory is hazy myself, and the doctors all said that I had staged it somehow. They mentioned something about a tumor in my brain if that clears anything up for anyone but me." Each word he feared his delivery was too stiff.

"I see. That is very interesting, and rather insightful if I do say." His body language shifted a bit to a more lenient and neutral stance as he reached into a pocket inside his clergy vest. "I don't know if you are a man of god, Arik, but here is a card with my church and I's information on it. If you ever feel down and need someone to talk, seek out my help. Please."

Arik's hazy focused vision had dispersed as the card was shoved to him. Before he could even take it, Mr. Mohill began yelling his opinions once more.

"So, what? That's it? You believe him? After everything I've told you and after he even told you he had a fatal accident, you're just gonna offer him a shoulder to cry on?"

"I understand you are fully convinced of this boy's paranormal existence. But I do not see it."

"Paranorma— What?" replied Arik in disbelief, playing the fool until the end.

"No, no, no. That's horse shit. I've seen it with my own eyes, pastor."

"I could tell the moment he came through that door that he was no ghost. I decided to make both of our efforts worth it and still had a discussion with the boy. I learned that he may be troubled, but not that he is a demonic entity or spirit from beyond the grave, Mr. Mohill. Besides, I don't see why a ghost would have any need to ride its bike to a fast food restaurant." He gestured toward the paper bag in Arik's left hand.

Mr. Mohill's face was going purple with rage. He had probably even forgotten the fear he had of Arik in the moment. "Then what about the security camera footage?"

"The camera footage showed you letting Arik into your apartment, nothing more nothing less." Pastor Paven's answers were somewhat passive aggressive; respectful, yet glinting at disregard and impatience for the man spewing fallacies left and right.

Mr. Mohill danced in frustrated fury.

Pastor Paven pushed his glasses up once more. "Here is what I truly think. I think that, Arik, you have your own troubles that you battle with everyday, as does everybody. And related to that, I believe you may have capitalized on your freak accident survival to prank or trick Mr. Mohill here into believing you were some kind of spirit to get things from him. In other words, you unlawfully threatened his life."

"What? No! I would—"

"And Mr. Mohill, you fell for it hook line and sinker. Your superstition got the better of you and you allowed him to prey on you."

Mr. Mohill raised a finger and piped up. "Now you listen here—"

"As for how much that would hold up in court, I'm not sure. But it's none of my business. I'm just a pastor after all. But that also isn't the least of your worries."

Both Arik and Mr. Mohill stood in anticipating silence.

"It would be incredibly amoral of me to not admit that Mr. Mohill and I took a tour of your apartment while you were away."

"You guys what?!" Arik was visibly ticked.

"Yes, I apologize. I didn't touch anything, but Mr. Mohill was so incredibly persuaded by your paranormal identity that I was willing to believe him. We went through the apartment to find signs of nonhuman behaviors. I see now that it was a mistake. You do not have to forgive me, but I am incredibly sorry."

Arik didn't have much in his house anymore. The aesthetic was very much minimalist, or at least that is what he would want people to believe. But that wasn't the point. That was his private place to feel safe and that should never be taken from him.

"That is illegal," Arik reprimanded the landlord. "I could sue you for that!"

"Look, we had reasons to do what we did. And just because you've fooled this good for nothin over here doesn't mean I'm gonna fall in line. I'm on to you!"

The pastor slightly bowed. "I'm going to just take my leave now if I will. Arik you have my card."

The pastor walked out of the building in a hurry, as if to draw distance from the fire he had started as fast as possible. Arik and the landlord continued bickering for a brief moment before Arik stormed to the elevator. He was battered with Mr. Mohill's crazed words until the elevator door cut him off.

Once on his floor, he was halfway to his room before he heard more crazed yelling down the hall. Mr. Mohill had climbed the stairs to finish their argument. But Arik was over it already, at least for now.

Before the sweaty meatball of a man could get down the hallway Arik was locked in his apartment, back on the door. The landlord's gritty exasperating voice continued behind the door with repeated banging for an audience.

About 10 minutes had passed. The banging and yelling had disappeared and Arik was enjoying his now cold burger. A solid 5/10 in his book.

'Kilvio!'

He grabbed for his phone and excitedly checked the text. There was indeed a reply. But it was a negatory. Kilvio had a work project he was working on that he had to be up extra early for the next day.

'Damn. I wanted to talk to him about this Mohill situation.'

Another bite of his burger and his front door began banging again. Heavy, like the thuds off someone kicking it.

"Are you kidding me? Go away Mr. Mohill!"

More banging.

"Jeezus."

He threw his burger on the table and marched over to the door, adrenaline surging his body to what felt like the coming of violence. He grabbed the door and swung it open with intentional speed and anger.

"What the fu—..."

The door opened for Arik to blast his provoked barrage of insults, but what he saw wasn't Mr. Mohill, not even close.

It was a bear. A bear bigger than the doorframe it stood behind on two legs. The same creepy bear that Arik had run into at the expo a few days ago; giant teeth, single eye, metal claws and all.

Arik felt like yelling for his life, but couldn't move.

"Lovely 'ouse innit," called a familiar cockney voice behind him from within the apartment.

Arik turned around just in time to catch the glimpse of a giant metal fist slam into his nose, sending him back into the bear.