Standing in the laundry room of his apartment building, Ezra Blackwater tossed the contents from his sack of dirty laundry, into a washing machine. While some believe that there should be a separation process, he didn't really see the point. So it all went in at the same time. Then soap was dumped in and the dial was turned to the appropriate setting. Normal/Regular. The reason backing this choice was because it made Ezra, internally chuckle.


Being half alien, with the ability to convert his body into pure electricity, he was far from either of those words, ever getting used to describe him. Yet, even if he were a hundred percent human, with no extraordinary gifts or powers, the chances were still slim. Ezra was considered to be a genius and his mind functioned like few others; would or could, given that his ability to store information and memories, was flawless. Naturally, this set him apart and isolated him from his peers. Especially, when he was much younger.


Although, these assets did come in handy, regarding his work as a computer programmer, software engineer/analyst and graphic designer. A profession that allowed him to work from home, aiding and abetting in his life of seclusion and hermit like tendencies. On top of that he was a nerd, always thriving to learn more, devouring information like it was the sustenance that supplied nutrition to his body and kept him alive. He loved obscure facts and strange tidbits of knowledge, Ezra would often use that sort of thing to mask his awkwardness and divert attention, from the odd quirks that he had. Sarcasm and dry, sardonic, wit would also accompany such tactics.


Still, he was rather accustom to not quite fitting in, despite the use of these tricks that he developed, in order to help himself survive and exist as a functioning member of society, when he deemed it necessary. Normal was a setting on a washing machine and nothing more. Ezra accepted this as fact and understood it well, with no sadness or remorse given. This was simply life as he knew it. How things were and would always be.


Closing the washing machine, Ezra turned it on and popped up onto the long, white table that was stationed, directly across from the appliance. Folding his legs; Indian style, he then picked up the book that was resting next to him, opened it to the spot where he left off and began to read. It wasn't long after he became deeply immersed in his book, when a loud slam, startled him back to the real world. Briefly looking up from his book, he adjusted his glasses and seen the most gorgeous man, that he had ever laid his eyes upon. In all his life.





It literally was like a scene from a movie or a tv show, where an out of place, nerd suddenly spots someone attractive, that they also believe is way out of their league. For a second, they gaze on like a deer caught in headlights, before the object of their attraction, turns around and they awkwardly attempt to hide the fact that they were just staring at the individual.


This scenario played out, precisely like that and Ezra proceeded to immediately cast his attention, straight into the book on his lap. Swallowing hard, he struggled to find where he left off, only to realize that he couldn't remember. Yep. The man with the perfect memory, couldn't remember. This was indeed a nightmare, from which he couldn't wake himself up. His brain was betraying him, leaving him lost and frantic, in his time of immense need. Fighting to find his place in his book, he did his best to fake it as he hoped that wasn't something that could be outrightly noticed.


Ezra bit his bottom lip and wished that his powers included the ability to become invisible. With his heart racing, he breathed in deep and remained incredibly still. Like he suddenly found himself in Jurassic Park and there was a T-Rex in front of him. Please, don't see me - he thought to himself. A pathetic, desperate sort of plea. Alas, there wasn't a Tyrannosaurus Rex standing a few feet from him, there was a man, who was currently looking straight at him and Ezra, wasn't exactly the type of fellow that could simply fly under the radar, undetected.


Tall, slender, with a mess of shoulder length, brown hair and black rimmed glasses, dressed in clothes that looked like he picked them up from the yard sale that Courtney Love held, after Kurt Cobain killed himself, Ezra set against the backdrop of life's scenery, utterly out of place and gawky. In addition to this, his movements also tended to be clumsy, graceless and downright, uncoordinated at times. He was a klutz, through and through. It was almost as if his limbs, weren't aligned or fit to him properly and this gave him sort of a marionette quality. Which is why he stayed completely still and didn't attempt to flee. Yet, even with this being the case, there wasn't a chance that he could be ignored or overlooked. Not when someone's already spotted him. No. It was far too late after that occurred. There was no way he could become transparent in this situation, not even in the figurative sense.


"What are you reading?"


The question brought Ezra back into the reality of what was happening. With his mind reeling, part of him wondered if he could play off silence, like he didn't understand English, while another portion actually tried to process the question. Yeah. This was getting bad. In less then five minutes, he went from brilliant, to bumbling idiot. What was he reading? Crap. He didn't remember. What the fuck was reading? The words weren't even properly presenting themselves to him from the pages, directly in front of him. It was then that he realized, he couldn't even speak. What was talking? The ability evaded him and instead, he was plummeted into an abyss of confusion and ignorance. Forget nightmare, this was a full fledged... NIGHT TERROR! His mind was a total blank, he couldn't think or do anything. He was paralyzed, in every way possible. This was a disaster. That's when he heard a laugh and felt the book get removed from his lap as the mystery man, hopped up on the table next to him.


"A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. Well, obviously this is a frivolous, purely meant for pleasure, read."


The unidentified, "hottie" reached to the side and placed his hand on the stem of Ezra's glasses, before flashing a grin.


"Do you mind? I wear glasses too... well, I used to wear glasses, I wear contacts now. Switched to 'em recently. Anyway, I just don't have them in right now, so my sight is a tad impaired."


Ezra shook his head - no, and the stranger, carefully swiped his glasses. Turning focus to the interior of the book, immediately after. The mystery man scanned the pages, quickly. Nodding to himself slowly, as he did this, his eyes widened a little, while they panned across the text.


"Nope. That didn't help. First off, you're way more blind, than I am. Second, this book, doesn't seem to be written in a language that I can understand."


A laugh.


"That's my story and I'm sticking to it."


Placing the book back into Ezra's lap, the man handed back Ezra's glasses. After Ezra took them, he then held his hand out, in a gesture one does, when presenting the option of a handshake. An offer that Ezra accepted.


"Ivan. Ivan Vaust. I'm new here, just moved into the building. Figured since I finished unpacking, this was the perfect opportunity to get my laundry done. Since I didn't seem to be able to pull off that task, before the whole moving process."


Ever so brief, a slight, small smile, flickered onto Ezra's face. His mind finally allowing his verbal skills and basic motor functions to return. Ezra merely was thankful that it happened and didn't allow himself even a second to scoff internally about how they had abandoned him for awhile there.


"Ezra... Blackwater. I usually get wrapped up in my own world. Work and such. Anyway, I often wind up waiting until I basically only have the clothes on my back to wear, before I see to doing my laundry. So no judgment here."


"Excellent."


Ivan placed a cigarette between his lips and reached into the front pocket on his jeans, obviously for a lighter but when his hand got there, he sighed and hung his head a bit. Retracting his hand, he shook his head.


"Fuck."


In a bold move, Ezra retrieved a lighter from the pocket of his sweater. Remember how it was pointed out, that it appeared as though Ezra bought his clothes from the Kurt Cobain, suicide rummage sale? Well his sweater looked exactly like the one that Kurt Cobain wore during the MTV Unplugged show. The same show that was also released as an album. That old man looking sweater, that was a weird pea green, sort of off yellowish color. Following the act of removing a lighter from its pocket, Ezra lit Ivan's cigarette. Impressed with his own ability to pull off this act, in one fluid, perfectly coordinated movement, Ezra softly snickered as a smile, momentarily filtered across his face again.


"Thanks."


Taking a drag from his cigarette, Ivan directed his focus fully on Ezra now.


"Much obliged."


"Not a problem. I always either end up forgetting my lighter or cigarettes... or both."


"And today?"


"No cigarettes."


"Damn."


With a chuckle, Ivan exhaled a cloud of smoke and extended his lit cigarette out, towards Ezra.


"On my extremely long list of things that I need to do, buying a pack of cigarettes is one of them. This is literally my last one but hey... you can just owe me a shared cigarette later."


There was a slight hesitation in Ezra's reaction, which only made Ivan chuckle again.


"I'm clean, I swear."


He waved his hand about, with urgency in his movement.


"Come on, you know, you want it."


Ezra dipped his head forward as he felt that slight smile, return and accepted the cigarette, taking a swift pull from it.


"I didn't think that you were dirty."


He snickered, his eyes planted on the ground.


"I'm just..."


"Weird around strangers. Chronically awkward. Maybe even; at times, shy."


"Sort of... especially, when I meet someone that's as good looking as you are."


Oh no. Oh fuck. First he loses his ability to speak and now... NOW! Any old sorta shit was tumbling forth from his mouth. Ezra wanted to sink through the table and continue on through the floor. A nervous laugh spurted from him as he kept his eyes locked on the floor. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he took another pull and handed the cigarette back to Ivan.


"Not that I think that you're good looking."


He was scrambling for words, any sort of explanation would do. Anything besides the truth. Temporary insanity. A joke. Fucking Tourette's. Anything.


Ivan took his cigarette back and smirked.


"Relax. It's cool. I think you're hot too."


Raising his eyebrows in a mocking sort of surprise, Ivan took a drag from his cigarette.


"You do?"


Gradually, Ezra released a puff of smoke. It trailed upwards, while he blinked. He was kinda stuck in a moment of disbelief there. Though he was fairly sure that he heard Ivan correctly. The statement hit him with such a wave of shock, Ezra wasn't totally, a hundred percent, certain. So he pulled his eyes from the floor and forced himself, to look at Ivan. Expecting to be mistaken.


"Yeah."


Ivan nodded in affirmation.


"I do."


"Oh..."


There was a pause accompanied by his hand, passing back through his hair, Ezra looked away again. Heh. He wasn't mistaken, he had heard Ivan accurately. Awesome. Overtaken by elation, he could only manage a simple...


"Cool."


Inside Ezra's head, a tiny cartoon version of himself, did a happy dance.

---

"In two days. I'm facing Hugh Callidus on Saturday Night Savage. I don't really know much about the man, other than the basic facts. Even though this isn't my first time in the ring, I'm certain he'll say the same about me. I have only wrestled one time before and that was several months ago. The outcome of that fight wasn't that great either. Still, that doesn't mean that I'm destined to fail in my upcoming fight, the future isn't already written, after all. While our past can serve as a guideline for what could happen, it does not define what will. I have skills and abilities that will most certainly aid in a battle and I believe they won't fail to do precisely that on Saturday Night."


"I'm strong and determined, therefor the chances of me achieving victory over Hugh, are very real. I also plan on bringing everything that I've got to this fight. Hopefully, Hugh does the same. Apparently, he's a teacher that prides himself, on outsmarting his opponents. Well, Hugh... I think you'll find that task quite difficult, for my brilliance knows no bounds. I can plan my actions much like playing a game of chess. I'm highly strategic and have been considered to be a genius. Often testing off the charts. From the time that I was very young. So don't think for one instant, that you're facing an everyday schlub, you will have your work cut out for you. This I promise you."


"Please don't disappoint me, Hugh. When you enter the ring and we're standing across from one another. Remember my words and act correspondingly. Treat this fight with the respect that it deserves and don't for one second, drop your guard. You will not only regret that poor choice, but such blatant disregard and utter failure, will cost you the match. My words are not delivered with self entitled, ill deserved, confidence and pride. They are merely meant as a warning. If you do not take them seriously, you will lose. You would do best to keep this in mind and adjust your tactics accordingly. I swear to you, any other course, will prove to be a mistake."