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    Chapter 6

    tab The car (the invisible car however incredibly ridiculous that sounds) races down the street, making a sudden quick, sharp turn to the right down a large trech.
    tab That would be the second time.
    tab "What was that?" I exclaim, rubbing my throbbing head.
    tab "We needed to get away from the public eye," Mr. Jacobs replies, turning to me after killing the engine.
    tab "Why'd we need to do that? No one can see us!"
    tab "Being invisible has it's pro's, like the fact no one can see us. That's a given. But, the trouble is, we're still there. Which means, it's much more difficult to maneuver around when invisible than when not. People can crash into something when supposingly nothing is there. That will raise too many questions, and bring the media into the whole affair. So, we're going to become invisible and blend in with everyone." He takes out his remote, and presses the only button on it. Nothing changes.
    tab "You can press your button now," he tells me.
    tab "My what?"
    tab "Your button," he repeats, starting to take off his glasses. "Your cloaking device." Right. Where'd I leave my cloaking device again? I glance around for a second, but I guess so many things were happening so fast that I don't even realize for a second that it's in my right hand. I press the button. It appears as though nothing happens. Appears.
    tab "Remove your IME," Mr. Jacobs says. Right on cue. I take off the IME, and everything is visible, like before. But now, it was visible to the rest of the world as well.
    tab "So...during this mission, are we constantly going to have to become invisible and visible; take on and off our IME's?" I ask, straing my neck to twist to the driver's seat. "Talk about a hastle."
    tab "We turn invisible when we need to turn invisible. Now..." The corvette's engine growls to life, Mr. Jacobs makes a quick 180 degree turn around, and in a couple seconds, we're bouncing down the neighborhood, which in time slowly fades to a busy, bustling, traffic filled intersection. I see what Mr. Jacobs meant by "blending in" Everyone is completely oblivious to the fact that we are from the future.
    tab I look out the window. It wouldn't be hard to get situated with this time period. 2006 is (should I say was?) very much similar to 2009. I sigh, and continue to gaze out. Eventually, the logo of Burger King meets my eye and sends my mouth watering. We turn into the parking lot, and rush out of the car. The smell of warm burgers and fresh fries crawls into my nose as we walk on in. They are welcome smells. There is not a line, so we walk (I guess I roll) right up to the counter.
    tab "Three large fries," he says to the clerk. "A large pop. And a large chicken sandwhich." Man, he really is hungry. And I like that. I am just as hungry. He looks at me and asks,
    tab "What do you want?" I look at the menu, and reply,
    tab "Depends."
    :tab"Depends on what?"
    tab "Depends on how much money you have." He lets out a little chuckle, and answers,
    tab "You can have anything you want." Wow, he was like the dream dad. I point to the Whopper.
    tab "That one." Mr. Jacobs looks to where I'm pointing, and says with a wide smile,
    tab "That one? Man, you really are hungry.
    tab I strain not to laugh at the irony of that sentence.
    tab He fishes through his pocket, and takes out a 50 dollar bill. He hands it to the clerk, and says,
    tab "Give my son a Whopper. And keep the change." Son, huh? Now we're some kind of under cover angents? Nice.
    tab The clerk gives Mr. Jacobs an awkward smile, and gratifies,
    tab "Thanks you." He walks off, and Mr. Jacobs says to me,
    tab "I'm gonna wash my hands. You find us a table." I nod, and pick a table at the corner of the restaurant. I smile and sight. Relaxation. Seems like ages since I felt like this.
    tab Then something catches the corner of my eye. Not just a small, curious glance. A stare. A hard, cold stare.
    tab Maybe I'm just being paranoid, I think, and wait a couple seconds. But his eyes are locked onto me. Now this is just getting creepy.
    tab Mr. Jacobs walks out of the bathroom. He nervously shuffles over to me, shaken.
    tab "Hey, Mr. Jacobs..." I start, a little tentatively myself. "That clerk keeps on..."
    tab "I know," Mr. Jacobs interrupts, his eyes flashing with fear. "I thought that guy looked familiar." Suddenly, he clasps onto my wheelchair handles, and pivots me around like a dial.
    tab "It was a mistake to come here," he spits, but in a small whisper. "I'm not sure how this is going to end, but I knw one thing: We won't be eating here."
    tab Crack!
    tab "Wh-what was that?!" I gasp, turning my head left and right. "Was that a gunshot?!" It doesn't take long for me to comfirm that. At the counter, the clerk is grasping a smoking pistol, ready to pull the trigger for the next shop.
    tab I don't think "the clerk" was "the clerk" anymore.
    tab I'm suddenly thrusted forward to the door. Mr. Jacobs quickly releases me and rams into the "PUSH" door.
    tab It doesn't budge. It's locked.
    tab "Locked," he mumbles, suddenly pushing me again. "Always one step ahead."
    tab "What are you talking about?"
    tab Crack!
    tab "No time!" he shouts, and pulls the bathroom door open. In a second we're both crammed inside. Thankfully, it's a one man bathroom, so Mr. Jacobs locks the door.
    tab "Safe..." he gasps. "For now."
    tab "I think it's a little rude, Tom," a voice booms, "that you have the audacity to intrude on my privacy." I glance around the room, aghast. Where is the voice coming from? I don't see anyone for a second, but after a sudden near blinding flash of light, I see a man in around his thirties sitting on the toilet. Fully clothed, thank God. He has a thinly cut beard, one of those beards that were three-fourth's way shaved, only dotted with half a centimeter long hairs. His hair itself is long, dangling down over his ears, and over his forehead even, some of it getting into his eyes. Despite the fact it was long, it was pretty well kept together, as to in a tangle. His Burger King uniform would imply that he's an employee.
    tab But something tells me he's slightly more dangerous than that.
    tab "Hello, Tom," he says with a smile, heaving himself off the tiolet. "Did you enjoy your stay at Burger King?"