The Detective Goes into Hiding

"Shit, shit, shit!" Daniel cursed silently as he exited the high class hotel's lobby, making sure to avoid eye contact with the obvious federal agents watching out for him. His years in Vice and Homicide had made him familiar with surveillance tactics, so it was easy for him to spot the various plants inside the hotel. Thankfully, he was currently wearing someone else's body, so the agents didn't recognize him.

Using the mirror, the detective was able to change his appearance to that of Lionel, a young man who used to work as a barista in a Starbucks near his old precinct. Daniel had been using the mirror all day since he had acquired it this morning from Hertz, changing his appearance first to the man's ex wife Amanda to escape the condo undetected, then to move about unnoticed as he stalked the next name on his list.

Daniel had just arrived on the street where James Anderson, the owner of the Gold Watch and assistant to the pawn shop owner, lived. He quickly noticed that a plain white sedan was parked outside the rather large, upper-middle class home and that two men in dark suits were knocking on the door. He saw the door open and an attractive hispanic woman with large breasts open the door. The men spoke and flashed the woman their badges; from his vantage point, Daniel saw them to be FBI identifications. The woman looked worried, then invited both men inside.

The detective grit his teeth as anger bubbled up within him. It seems that Agent Knight had managed to act much faster than he anticipated. It was also obvious that she had received the same list from the pawn shop as he had. Now that she had backup, it would make his job of collecting the rest of the items much, much harder. "Damn it." He was tempted to just blindly rush in there, knock out both feds, then take the item, but thankfully he cooled down knowing it was a bad idea. He restarted his junk heap of a car, then rushed as fast as he could without being pulled over to the next location on his list, hoping that the FBI hadn't gotten there before him.

He stopped outside Rodney Polson's apartment complex, which was a ten story affair right next to a busy thoroughfare. Dan got out of the car and headed inside. He was currently wearing the body of Mr. Gordon, his old 9th grade English teacher, who was one of the most unassuming looking men he'd ever met. The detective checked the names on the mailboxes in the lobby and saw that Polson's apartment was on the fifth floor. He quickly stepped into the elevator and waited patiently as it ascended. Alone inside the small space, he made sure that there weren't any cameras inside and once certain he dropped his disguise. He was once again Daniel Sihn, dressed in the tattered black suit, glasses straight and hair tidy and slicked back.

When he stepped out of the elevator he heard gunshots. Muttering a curse, he rushed towards Polson's apartment with gun drawn. He stopped outside the man's wide open door and peeked inside. The detective saw into the living room and at its center lay a young man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, blood seeping from two bullet holes in his chest. What really drew his attention though was the brown leather gloves he was wearing.

"Shit," said a voice as two men in suits came into his line of sight, each having a 9mm pistol aimed at the still form on the floor. "I think he's dead."

"Yeah well, the fucker tried to crush my skull in with a lamp," said the other man as he knelt down and felt for Polson's pulse. Feeling none, his shoulders slumped and he shook his head in irritation. "God damn it, kid," he told the dead boy. "Why the hell did you have to go and do that?"

"Look, just grab the gloves and let's get out of here," the other man said. "The General is gonna have our asses if we killed a civvie and didn't get the Imprint back."

"Yeah." The man grabbed at the corpse's hand and began to take off the gloves. That was when Daniel entered the room.

"I think that's mine," he told them as he stepped forwards.

The man taking off the gloves cursed, dropping the dead boy's arm and lifting his weapon. "Shit! It's Sihn!" He began firing.

Daniel didn't even feel the bullets anymore. "That's enough of that," he said as he raised the Paperclip. Both men's guns flew out of their grasp, sailing over the detective's shoulder and into the hallway outside.

The man who fired quickly leaped forwards, intent on tackling Daniel to the ground. He outweighed the detective by a good thirty pounds, so it should have been easy, but unfortunately for him he didn't account for the Ring. Daniel easily withstood his ****, then hurled him over his shoulder and into the nearby wall. He made sure to be as gentle as he could, he didn't want to kill the agents after all.

"West, cover your eyes!" the other man shouted as he tossed something at Daniel's feet. There was a suddenly loud BANG and a bright flash of light, and soon the detective found himself stumbling around as both his hearing and vision were taken away. The agent used the distraction to his advantage as he rushed forwards, grabbing Daniel by the waist and pushing with all his might. The distracted detective didn't have time to resist, and soon he felt himself tripping as he was pushed into the hallway. Still blind and with ears ringing, he felt himself crash through the window and was suddenly assaulted by the sensation of falling. His vision cleared and soon he saw the sidewalk below rushing up to meet him.

"This isn't good," he thought blandly as he fell. Daniel remembered how the homeless man, Jewel, had died: internal injuries from a massive impact. Somehow he knew that falling five stories would be something the Rubber Band could not protect him from.

Right before he hit, almost on instinct, he tried to push out with his mind, to **** himself from falling, to stop his body's movement before it killed him. And to his complete and utter shock, it worked. He didn't even realized that he had closed his eyes when he opened them, and saw that he was floating about a meter from the concrete of the sidewalk.

The people around him, as it was a busy area, gasped and pointed, many taking pictures and video of him on their phones as they watched in awe. Many had screamed in panic when they saw him fall from the window, but now that panic had turned to wonder as they watched the detective float in midair.

Daniel could have laughed. In fact, he was pretty sure he did. He had quickly realized that the Airplane Ticket was responsible for this, after all he had been carrying it with him everywhere since this entire series of events had happened. It was the only explanation he could think of. Looks like it wasn't completely useless after all, and didn't just float for no reason.

He focused on the ground and soon he felt himself lowered. The detective twisted his body sideways until his feet touched down onto solid ground. He took a moment to adjust his tie and straighten his suit before he took of running, pushing past the shocked crowd. He rushed into a nearby alley and once in the shadows and sure no one was looking, activated the mirror again.

Once more he wore Mr. Gordon's body, and with the disguise in place he walked calmly out of the alley and back onto the sidewalk. He almost panicked when the two agents from Polson's apartment rushed past him, heading towards the area where he should have been pancake. Daniel avoided eye contact, walking swiftly but calmly towards his car. Once inside he quickly drove off, trying with difficulty to keep under the speed limit.

He had almost died. If it wasn't for the Airline Ticket, he would be dead. Daniel decided to call off the rest of the hunt for today and headed back to his hotel to rest and rethink his strategy. With the feds hunting the items, or Imprints as those agents had called them, then it would be very dangerous to keep going after them.

Things only seemed to be getting worse for him when he got to the hotel and spotted the agents in the lobby. Thankfully, with Lionel's face on, they didn't recognize him. He made his escape, hopping into his car and just driving. Once he was several blocks away, he growled and shouted, "SHIT!" at the top of his lungs.

They had gotten the briefcase. It was perhaps the most dangerous of the items since it could nullify the effects of all the others. "SHIT!' he cursed again, slamming a fist against the steering wheel in anger. The metal bent backwards from the blow.

Calm down, he told himself. This was a complication, just a set back. Nothing more.

They wouldn't stop him, not now. He had the Rubber Band, the Paperclip, the Ring, the Mirror, the Ticket, the Map, the Housekey, the Flashlight. Those items alone should be more than enough to allow him to complete his goal, not to mention the other Imprints that were safely locked away in his ghost locker.

No, he was still in good shape. This was just a set back. He was not out for the count. Not yet.

Not ever.