• Peter was the first to reach the front door of what appeared to be a small log cabin. He rapped on the front door with his little knuckles quite casually, and then stepped back, hands in his pockets, waiting for someone to answer. He seemed very calm for someone who had just narrowly escaped an armed arrest.

    "You know, we can't go back to that house. I'm sure they have people searching it up and down." He checked his watch, which had 7 symbols instead of 12 numbers. Celica didn't bother asking. "The first cops are probably awake by now, too."

    "You mean you didn't kill them?" She asked, who had assumed that the sizzling, unmoving bodies were surely deceased.

    "I'm in enough trouble as it is. If I kill the cops, then there's no hope for the Unknown to become a socially accepted race again. The only reason I attacked them at all was in self-defense."

    Celica opened her mouth to say something at the exact same moment the front door swung open, and a broad-shouldered, large-nosed man stepped out. "Ah, Peter." He said, shaking his hand.

    "Nice to see you again, Michael." Peter said politely.

    "Kunalo, Peter. You know that." He scolded, as though he had been talking with his mouth full.

    Celica noted his odd attire; Black rubber pants, that one might use while wade-fishing; a white undershirt, with a nauseating lack of sleeves which exposed his hairy underarms; the image of insanity was completed by the long green cape he wore.

    "And who is this lovely lady?" He asked as she scanned Celica from head to foot. She suddenly became very self conscious. She hadn't showered for almost 36 hours. She hadn't even had a chance to brush her hair since the night she had set up the stake-out. She hastily brushed her hair with her fingers, and to her dismay, it was shooting off in all different directions.

    "This is Celica." Peter answered, smiling at Celica's fruitless attempt to tame her black mane. "She's the Jumper you're supposed to train."

    "Oh, I see." He said, still appraising her. "Well then, why waste time standing here? Amos is waiting inside, we hadn't expected you so early."

    Celica cast a look over at Peter, but he didn't seem to flinch before giving the long explanation of their escape from the house.

    Peter's recounting of the event was much different that Celica's. Peter had been eating eggs at the kitchen table, when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Suspicious that someone would be arriving that early in the morning, he had first used something he called "Ocular Enhancement" to see through the door and find out that they were, indeed, the police.

    After he had neglected to answer the door for several minutes, the police tried to knock down the door, but Peter reinforced it with a wall of water he had summoned from the sink. Finally, they used a cannon to burst through the door, and he was forced to run into the living room.

    This is where Celica could start interjecting her side of the story, occasionally saying, "So that's what made that noise," or, "Yeah, that was scary."

    Michael, or Kunalo, laughed several times throughout this retelling, and when they finished, he said, between wheezes of laughter, "You made quite a ruckus, then? Will there be cops coming to my house?" He said the second sentence a bit more seriously.

    "I don't think so. The only people who could have seen us head in this direction are either already here," He pointed to Celica and himself, "Or were stunned into unconsciousness. You won't have to worry."

    "Oh, thank goodness. I may be legal myself, but being seen having a friendly conversation with you would be quite a dirty little smudge on my file." He chuckled lightly.

    "So where is Amos?" Peter asked, looking around, craning his neck to get a good look through a door on the right.

    "He's upstairs, I think. But no matter. Young lady," he said, looking at Celica, who noticed a lazy eye drifting around in it's socket. "Let's go make you a Jumper!"