The bartender, Darrel, I think, eyed me cautiously, a curious look plastered on his face. It looked completely out of place on the giant of a man. "What was that, lad?" His accent was laden with a distinct European flavor, I couldn't quite place the country though. Austria, maybe? He didn't look Austrian. He looked, well, giant. He folded his arms, and I don't think his intent was to come off menacing, but the guy had to be 250 pounds of pure muscle, so I may have peed my pants a little.

"I, uh, I said 'Sheryll lives in, uh, Akron?" His eyes shot wide a moment, and he fumbled with something under the bar. My sister had been struggling with a heart condition and was next on the list of heart donors, I was on my way to Colorado to be with her. In case anything happened.

"Well, you certainly aren't what we were expecting." I looked at him, puzzled. He suddenly paled. "Meaning no disrespect, of course. Just, it's strange to see you like this, I guess." What an odd fellow. He continued to fumble around under the bar. "It'll be a mome-, ah there it is!" I heard a distinct click above the din of the bar. Darrel nodded, satisfied. "Follow me, if you will, Doctor."

Now, to be clear, I am a doctor. However the imposing figure of the man, the oddity of the circumstance, and the fact that I was slightly inebriated all formed a cocktail of confusion that meant the question of "How would he know I'm a doctor?" hadn't really had the opportunity to enter my brain. Mostly the imposing figure, if we're being honest. I don't think I can do justice to just how huge this guy was. His shoulders barely fit through the swinging double doors leading to the kitchen area. Through which I obediently followed him, and noticed a secret door in the paneling to the side had been released and cracked open. Must have been the click. "Where are we...?"

Darrel just opened the door and began walking down the ominous, blackened stairwell. The fact that I was following a human gorilla down into a darkened basement of a bar was just starting to enter into my conscious brain. Likely due to my subconscious practically screaming at me to wake up. I've had basic combat and awareness training during several joint operations with the military, so I was honestly surprised it took this long to notice how very wrong the whole situation was.

But still I kept walking, afraid to break some social construct that would ultimately lead to my death.

Finally we landed at the bottom, facing an ornate door. Darrel rapped twice, paused, rapped three more times, and then I lost count as he continued for a good thirty seconds at least of anywhere between one and eight knocks followed by uneven pauses.

When he finished there was some movement on the other side and the door creaked open on its own.

The scene that met me beyond the door could only be described as science fiction. Computer monitors displaying information of all kinds lined the walls, literal human-sized test-tubes with varying colors of liquids. A large, glass conference table with black-backed futuristic office chairs was situated aesthetically in the middle. Six or seven other people were gathered around the room, monitoring different areas. Mostly what looked like security camera footage. Beeps and whirs and hisses of different machinery filled the room, though not in an unpleasant way.

It was perfect. That's was the first word that came to mind, though the meaning behind it escaped me at the time.

Darrel gently guided me to the center table. "Everyone." Only one of them, a portly woman who must have been in her mid forties, looked up and waved, then turned back to her work.

"HEY NUMBSKULLS!"

The sound was deafening. I'm not talking screaming-pitch loud. I'm talking megaphone in your ear with a blowhorn in the other ear loud. I feared my eardrums would rupture. Surprisingly, though, there was no pain that followed, just an immediate response from everyone in the room. Monitors shut off immediately and the whirring, beeping, and hissing slowed to be little more than dull background noise.

He nodded, pleased with himself. In contrast, I was pretty sure I was still peeing myself. "That's better!" He added "buncha morons" under his breath with a wink at me. What an odd fellow. Terrifying, but odd. Everyone was looking at him, now. I wasn't even a blip on their radar. Not that I blamed them. "Well, uh, you all know I'm not good at this stuff. So, uh. I found him."

Have you ever been in a room where all of the attention suddenly shifted to you? Maybe you were talking loudly to a friend in a crowded room when everything quiets down for a presentation or something, and you didn't notice? The feeling of everyone's attention on you in an uncomfortable, awkward way?

It was only a handful of people, but that's exactly how I felt.

Darrel was already moving around the room, he paused next to a street-punk with the tallest, most vibrant mohawk I had ever seen. "This is 'Hawk. He's our tactical expert and resident demolitions." He said, simply, and moved on around the table. He paused in front of the next figure, a pretty girl in her late teens. She looked simultaneously interested in everything around her and bored at the same time. Odd to describe, even moreso to experience. "This is Hannah, and she's a walking cliché." She eyed him angrily, and he just belted out laughter. "By that I mean she's stronger than I am." He ruffled her hair as she angrily gripped the desk and I saw it crumble under her fingers. My processing of the situation again had slowed to a crawl, because had I been of sane mind, that would have affected me more than it did at the time. She was, by all appearances, just a teenage girl.

He moved on and introduced Sheila - the portly woman who had first looked up - as the team's "oracle", whatever that meant, and Zoom as the team's reconnaissance and fence. Fence, great. Criminals. Zoom, well, "zoomed" up to me in an instant, shook my hand, and before I had time to register what had happened, he was back in his seat.

"And of course you already met me, Derrick." Shit, this whole time I didn't even have my killer's name right. Well, I guess he wasn't my killer. Or at least not yet. "I'm the team's tech expert and second-in-command to the Justice Army." Army!? Just what in the hell is going on? Now I'm dealing with private militia?

"Why am I here?" It was out of my my mouth before I had the chance to shut my stupid self up.

Sheila looked between Derrick and me and sighed. Loudly. Intentionally. "You didn't explain anything to him, Derrick? My god you are just, I can't even begin to say, unbelievable." She walked over to me, grabbed me by the shoulder and sat me down in one of the future-chairs. "Listen, Doctor. Derrick has an IQ of over 200, but because that idiot is a moron," she gestured to Derrick, who grinned sheepishly, "you're probably extremely confused right now, right?" I simply nodded, unable to speak. She glared at Derrick again. "We're a group for justice. We, uh, will assemble in the banner of our leader in a few years."

My mouth finally found itself. "Who, uh, is your leader?"

She just smiled, stood and moved toward the back of the room, toward a painting I hadn't seen when I entered. As I got closer I realized it was my beautiful baby sister. Sheryll. "I can't give you much, for fear of modifying something I shouldn't. I will tell you this, though. In a few minutes' time, you're going to get a call on your phone. This phone call will change everything. It will change how you see the world. It will change you. And you, Doctor Elling" she reached and touched my shoulder gently, I was still lost into wondering how and why they had a picture of my sister, "you will change the world."

"His time's up." I wasn't even sure who said it, probably 'Hawk. "Give it to him! Hurry!" Sheila handed me a simple manila envelope.

She winked at me. "See you soon. And, well, this won't make sense now but it will in a minute, I'm...really sorry." And then suddenly, she wasn't there. Nobody was. The room itself was gone, the computers, the desk, the chair I had been standing in just moments ago. All gone. The room was entirely concrete and dust. The only thing that remained was the picture of my sister and the envelope in my hands.