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You're late.

Huh?


It was unanticipated. Nobody really expected them to burst through the doors, charging in with badges in the air. Roger certainly didn't. Or he would have done something about it. Maybe he could have done something. Maybe it might have turned out the same way as it did now. Anyhow, Roger would never know. He didn't want to spend a lifetime pondering about the what-ifs; they didn't matter. It was all about being practical.

He was. He'd never brood over a mistake too long. There were many other opportunities out there, a second burnt on self-pity or self-blame was a few more chances lost. So he didn't really care about the 10 buck cream cake he had left over night on the pantry. 8 hours and business was already booming : a crowd of flies had already gathered, rubbing their forelimbs together, resembling strange little six-legged men hungry for food. A swat had dispersed them quickly and the rotting food was promptly invited to the bin.

There wasn't a point shooting himself on why he'd left that expensive cake he'd so wanted to try overnight. Work often turned Roger into a single-minded drone, diligently working towards a goal; the sky could collapse and mountains could crumble and he'd never noticed. Not until he finished his own Everest of paperwork anyway.

Earlier he had started to fry pancakes for breakfast after the diposal of the fly hangout. Rita would be up soon, and she wouldn't be thrilled to discover that Roger had again skipped his turn to make breakfast for both of them. Leaving the sizzling batter for a few seconds he poured two steaming mugs of black coffee and left them on the table.

Rita was cranky before the morning drink. She'd probably drink his blood if it meant getting a sip of black coffee in the morning. She said she only really woke up after the she'd downed the mug.

"Shit," he had muttered, remembering his pancakes. Pancakes indeed, they looked like crap. But then again, Rita was probably expecting something like this. He had heard the shuffling of feet from the bedroom. Seconds later the bathroom door creaked open and slammed shut. Rita was up.

Roger had met her at a friend's party, both were introduced to each other by that friend. Love at first sight was never more appropriate. He had thought she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. Striking auburn hair that flowed down to her shoulders, twinkling eyes that sparked mischief and a body to die for. She was everything Roger ever wanted. Not that she had looked anything close to that when she had emerged from the corner and into the dining room, where Roger could see her from the kitchen.

Time had taken its toll on her, but it didn't matter to Roger. She was always the angel to him. Always. And will always be. He had smiled when he saw her."Morning Rit!"

Rita had returned the cheerful greeting with a half-hearted groan and plopped onto a chair, slumped over and hit the dining table with a thud. "Uhhh..."

Roger had smiled to himself, bringing over the pancakes (actually sorry excuses for pancakes) and the coffee. "Here's your magic water."

He could have swore he heard an alarm ring when Rita took the first sip. Her eyes had lit quite suddenly. Sometimes he would think about how she should have married coffee instead. He would voice it out to her, and she would laugh while poking him. "Silly Rogie, coffee would never make me as satisfied as you do."

Yeah right.

The morning had been silent as they ate. Like it always was. After breakfast Rita would break out into a chatter. They would laugh and talk about last night's movie or yesterday's work while they got ready for another day of nine to five. Then he would drive her to the bank while he went to teach. Unfortunately, that did not happen.

Even before breakfast was done they already had kicked the door down. "Roger. Roger must go."

He didn't even had time to question. They just came in, shining blue armor and all and grabbed him by his shoulders. "What is the meaning of this?!"

Roger could not see anything behind the reflective helmet visors they wore. He had no idea who they were or what they want. They looked like they had came straight out of a comic book. The three...or was it four or them stood at least two metres tall. How they had fit through his tiny door without even bending down would remain a mystery.

What was no mystery was the fact that Roger was getting dragged out of his own home without any explanation. This was kidnapping. He struggled, like anyone would do. Already he knew it would be useless. These men were strong. They would save the world.

Huh?

Things were randomly popping into Roger's head. They were disjointed. Trying to put all of them in place was like a kid slamming two Lego blocks on the same side, expecting them to magically adhere to each other. He seemed to know who these people were, and why they had come to claim him. He seemed to know a lot of things at once. It was like the eve second before the epiphany, like a climax, but not yet there.

Maybe that was why he didn't hear the blaring ring. When he did hear it, it was defeaning. It filled Roger's entire world; he felt his body vibrate. His head hurt. It was as if his brain had been out and someone had hastily jammed it back into his head.

He rolled over and hit a button.

Silence.

Roll?What?

Slowly, his eyelids parted and the world rushed into view. The digital readout on the clock read 8.00am

You're late. "Damn it."

As Roger got up a brightly colored book fell from his lap. On its cover :

BLUE AVENGERS issue 11
The Search For Rita
I hate mornings.
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