Fume rode up the street on his motorcycle and parked it near a dirty, dripping, trash filled sewer grate. As soon as he cut the engine he didn't budge for a few seconds. Everything was dimmer and harder to see from up here. If he couldn't use his eyes, he'd need to listen to make sure the Xenons weren't nearby.

Down below him was forty-seventh street. Neon paint, flashing lights, and brilliantly colored people populated the avenue. Their voices and the music sounded muffled being so far away. He had tried mingling down there several times, but it was a little rowdy for him. The Misted didn't like wild crowds.

Fume finally slid off the bike but kept his helmet fastened to his head. Leaving his gear on was another way to remember his human body and retain it. He'd been on EeE long enough to take on one of the native forms, as Misted were quite capable of this talent. For some reason though, he didn't take on a Dredger body, but a human instead.

As he glanced up to his dark three-story apartment building, a piercing shriek shattered his temporary respite. He knew what that sound meant; he had to make sure the Xenons didn't find out where he lived. There was enough time to blend if he could allow himself to breathe ... calmly. He swiftly pressed himself against the doorway of his place pulling his helmet off and watching it bounce while spinning on the tar.

The Xenons floated up the street in their black ink-colored cloaked jackets. Underneath their attire he could see their dusty-blue and matte-purple glowing bodies. They held their arms out and raked the sides of the buildings performing the Reach. As they approached Fume, each one of the Xenons extended their fingernails even farther.

As soon as they were set to make contact, Fume morphed into mist. He floated above them, safely suspended. Everything was gray, tranquil, and quiet. It was a good thing he'd taken the helmet off in time. 

Fume knew that he couldn't remain this way for too long. Every time he floated, he ran the risk of being returned to his former self. It was hard to come back after small floating stints and even worse when he did it more frequently or for longer duration. Being on EeE, he needed to be human ... and lately, he wanted to be, as well.

As time nearly stood still Fume watched the Xenons pass underneath him. The Xenons wanted him for several reasons and his burglary attempt on one of their nests wasn't the foremost. They wanted him because their planet desperately needed the Refresh, but any Misted with their head about them knew they couldn't go to Xenonia.

Since the Misted refused to visit Xenonia, because they'd face certain death, the Xenons' only option was to kidnap a Misted and force them to visit. Now that Fume was on EeE which was closer to Xenonia, the Xenons' plan to do that was closer than ever. They'd capture him and force him to bring their horrid planet back to life.

Once the group of Xenon's were gone, Fume inhaled, sensed his human body becoming restored, and felt himself float firmly to the ground. He slipped to the door of his building fumbling with the organic entry method. After removing his glove and he held his hand to the steel door, it read his gelatinous handprint then opened for him. He rushed into the building entryway and slammed the door shut.

From up above he heard the familiar shouts of his neighbors. The older Dredger couple was boisterously celebrating while the younger humans were arguing. When he entered his apartment he went straight to his living room and sank down into his dirty couch. He lit a cigarette and laid back, enjoying a human vice while staring out the windows to the neon spotlights and images of dancing women with Quint as the top advertised. 

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He watched while the smoke encircled him. It reminded him of the past. Living on this planet wasn't desirable or even close to ideal. Fume was here because his home planet was destroyed.

When Fume had arrived on Trip E, it was darker than he anticipated, not in color but in life. Now, as he stared at his cigarette, he felt the same dark, abysmal pain within. However, his childhood dream to contribute HAD come true, albeit while under extreme duress. Now on Trip E, green grass was plentiful, and the people who lived there were healthier.

Unless they ran into the Xenons.

The smoke continued to circle him, and he floated again for a moment. He chased the vapors and bathed in it. After absorbing the nicotine into his entire essence, he morphed back to human.

Suddenly, he heard a knock. He whipped his head around. It was odd to have a visitor at this time of night especially when he wasn't expecting anyone. After putting his helmet, gloves, and boots back on, he tiptoed to his bedroom closet and took out his electric gun.

Peeking out the peephole didn't help. It was fogged and oily. Desperately, he continued to peer out unable to understand how someone had gotten past the outer entrance. Then he noticed a pink flicker of electric light.

After unlocking the door, he opened it quietly. He watched as she entered gracefully. It was Quint. He had given her his handprint for entry months ago.

"Fume," she began. "I'm worried they're looking for you."

"I just saw them," he said.   

"And you're not afraid?"

"Not as much as I am for you. Your face--"

"I'm too fast for them to catch me."

Fume reached up to her snow-white iridescent chin and turned her cheek toward him. He sucked in a breath as water droplets fell into the gaping hole. Her exposed circuits were glowing pink. 

"Why don't you get to Sevlen? He said he'd patch you up."

"Can't you just help me, instead?"

Fume stared at her unable to turn away from her beauty. He couldn’t help how much he cared for her no matter how hard he tried. As much as he desperately wanted to avoid being hurt by her, he figured it was better than having her go find alternative, more dangerous methods for relief. 

After he nodded, she smiled at him. Her cheek flickered and the miniscule sparks flew onto the dirty carpet. Their feet stamped the embers out and then he sat her down on the couch. Before he could do this, he had to remove his gloves.

Once he was partial, he raised his hands to her face. The swirling, wet essence circled in search of what needed healing. It spun around her several times, but nothing happened. He pulled his gloves back on.

"What happened?" Quint asked.

"The same thing I warned you about the last two times. The parts of you that need help aren't improvable by me anymore. The area must be organic for me to help. When it was just the tissue in your face--"

"Enough." Quint stood up, her robotic body moving smoothly, yet speedily. Without a goodbye or even a stolen glance over her shoulder, she was gone. Fume told himself not to follow, but found himself dashing to the window. The rain had picked up but far in the distance he could see her sprinting. The sparks trailing from her cheek were visible even from yards away.

He sat down and stared up at the advertisement featuring Quint blinking upon the building. Finally, he removed the helmet for the night. It was his hope that she wasn't going to go to a dust den to kill the pain.  Would she even be alive when he woke up?