Let's see... three chapters, two pages per chapter, six pages!  *sigh*
I am so pitiful...  From now on, if I can't finish it in one sitting,
it's not getting written :)
Disclaimer:  Marvel.

Act As If (Part 3)
by Northlight

        We leave the restaurant together, the silence heavy with unspoken
words between us.  I am expectant, eager for confirmation or denial of my
vague feelings.  Muybridge's silence is more one of dread.  He has the
look of a man about to meet his death.  I wonder if the secrets he is
about to reveal are truly that awful that his every step at my side
seems as if it were being forced forward through nothing short of the
total strength of his will.

        He is obviously nervous, an expression that he is not having much
luck hiding behind the polite, brittle smile he offers to any acquaintance 
we encounter.  We make our way towards the destination Muybridge suggested
with as much of a leisurely stroll as we can manage considering the
height of both of our emotions.

        Muybridge comes to a abrupt stop next to what I presume to be his
car. He fishes around in his pocket for the keys.  Finding them, he unlocks
the door and slids into the driver's seat, opening the passenger door
for me.  I follow his lead and settle down in the seat next to him.

        "He used to be different," Muybridge says abruptly, his voice
startling after our long silence.  His head cocks to one side, and he regards 
me seriously.  "Alan was always rather... unique, but recently..." he
shrugs slightly.  "He used to be different," he repeats, apparently at a
loss for words to describe the changes he has seen in Blackwell.

        "Different how, Mr. Muybridge?" I ask, gently urging him to
continue. I wrap my arms around myself in meager protection against the chill 
air that I can feel even through the body of the car, and watch Muybridge
closely.

        "Sane."  The word that drops into the silence of the car obviously
was not what Muybridge had intended to reveal.  He shifts nervously, his
hands tightening around the steering wheel desperately.  He looks almost
queasy suddenly.

        His eyes clench shut and he draws in a calming breath before
gathering the strength to continue.  "I don't know how it happened, Ms. 
Braddock. I can't pinpoint when things changed, or even how, really.  All 
that I know is that Alan Blackwell is not the man he once was -- and more 
than that, he is a much less appealing one."

        "And this frightens you?"

        He nods slowly.  "It's the eyes... They always seem to be watching
everything and everyone.  There is such contempt in them..." Muybridge
trails off, shaking his head helplessly.  "There's something missing
from him."

        Though not quite what I expected, this news does serve to add some
substance to my otherwise vague feelings about Blackwell.  It is not as
much information as I may have wished for, but the fear in Muybridge's
eyes tells me that the man is worth being wary of.

        "Be careful, Ms. Braddock," Muybridge tells me.  "You don't want to
mess with Alan."

        Perhaps not.  But somehow, I don't feel as if I'm going to have much
of a choice in this matter.

***

        When I arrive home, my immediate desire is to find Warren so that 
we can work through my discussion with Muybridge together.  Unfortunately,
he has still not returned from his own errand, and I find myself alone.

        I ignore the stab of disappointment that rushes through me at that
discovery and turn my attention to the mail neatly stacked on the table
near the front entrance.  Absently, I divide the envelopes into matters
of interest.  Bills, social invitations, personal correspondences... my
half-hearted study of our days mail comes to an abrupt stop as I find
myself looking down at a cream coloured enveloped from Alan Blackwell
himself.

        The writing is a bold black scrawl, and it is addressed to me.  My
nagging sense of worry spikes as I absorb that.  Blackwell has no reason
to be addressing me.  If he were to contact anyone in this apartment, it
should be Warren, not I. Before the previous night, the man had been no
more that a brief name mentioned in passing in regards to Warren's
business matters.

        The image of Blackwell's predatory eyes as we left the party springs
up in my mind, as do Muybridge's comments.

        My nail slits through the envelope's flap with ease and I withdraw a
crisp sheet of paper.  I carefully read over Blackwell's message before
letting it drift down to the table.

        He has invited me to meet with him.

        My worrisome side informs me quite primly that I should do no such
thing.  Seeing as I haven't listened to said meek voice in quite a
while, I am not about to start doing so now.

        I am a ninja.  I am an X-Man.  I am a _Braddock_.  And I do not back
down from a challenge.

~end part 3 -- finally!
You know, I think I hate this story...