November 6, 2017 :: Today's Words: 882 :: Total Words: 4,964

The trek wasn’t long, and she was able to walk along well-worn paths for most of the trip, which meant that she didn’t have to worry about her tracks. When she arrived at the main highway, it was paved, which was even better.

She arrived in the city and went straight to a warehouse in the centre of town. She’d been here before, in the old days, and if her contacts were still around they’d be there.

She wasn’t disappointed.

Alaina slipped past the guards and snuck into Jigme’s room. He had been a resistance fighter then, and was one now; he still slept with a gun on his pillow, she saw.

She popped her lips, a signal they had developed while prisoners together in Phuentsholing twenty years ago. He popped up into a sitting position, gun in hand and pointing directly at her.

“Good reflexes,” she said calmly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He didn’t lower the gun.

“Information.”

“I have none.” The gun remained where it was.

“I’ve been sent after the plans for a nuclear power plant.”

He snorted. The gun came down. “Nobody in Bhutan is building a nuclear power plant.”

“I figured.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean the plans aren’t here. I need you to help me find them.”

Jigme sighed and stood up, straightening his pants as he did so. He pulled a worn t-shirt over his head and pointed at the door. “Let’s go, then. I’ll introduce you to the crew and we can make a plan.”

Alaina nodded and turned toward the door. As she did so, she noticed an ice cube sitting on the small table next to Jigme’s bed.

There was no water on the surface around it.

“Wait.”

Jigme paused and looked at her expectantly. “Yes?”

She pointed. “That.”

He frowned at the ice cube and picked it up. “Not sure. It’s cold, like ice, but it doesn’t melt.”

“Had you seen it before now?”

“Yes, but I didn’t notice that it wasn’t a normal ice cube. Good eye.” He stuck the cube into his pocket. “I’ll bring this along and pass it to our tech guys. Maybe it’s something we can use.”

She nodded. “Hopefully it’s not something dangerous.”

“Oh, it’s always dangerous.” He grinned. “I’m just used to it by now.”

Alaina nodded and followed him out of the room, wondering how much he’d said about the cube was true. She’d keep her thoughts to herself for now, but she’d be ready for betrayal.

Your character just received a delivery from Christmas Island. When they open it, they find Iron Man. Why was it sent to them?

Timothy arrived home from school on Friday afternoon and found a package sitting on his bed. He stuck his head out of the door and called out to his mom. “What’s this box?”

She came out of the living room and down the hall. “I don’t know, honey. It showed up in the mail today. It’s pretty heavy.”

They came back into his room and stood beside each other, looking at the package.

It was about three feet long and two feet wide and two feet tall. It was wrapped in brown paper and taped with clear packing tape. Timothy’s name and their address were printed by computer on a piece of white paper that was taped to one side of the package with more clear packing tape. There was no return address.

Timothy reached out and took hold of the paper. He carefully lifted the paper and tape, and opened the paper up slowly.

There was a box inside, which of course he had guessed. The box was red and gold, and it didn’t seem to be cardboard or plastic. It looked kind of like a steamer trunk from one of the old pictures from his great-grandma’s photo album. He knocked on the surface of the box and looked at his mom. “It’s metal.”

“That explains how heavy it is. What’s inside?”

Timothy looked around the box and found the latch. He released it and lifted the lid.

The inside of the box was molded and lined with navy blue velvet. It held a large humanoid figure, also red and gold. Timothy’s mouth dropped open.

“Timothy, did you order something at the comic store?” his mother asked.

He shook his head slowly, then reached out and picked up the figurine. “No, I don’t know where this came from.”

His mom looked into the box, beneath where the figuring had been lying. “There’s a card here.” She picked it up and frowned. “Christmas Island Collectibles, enjoy your gift.” She flipped over the card to look at the back. “That’s all it says.”

“Maybe Dad sent it,” Timothy said hopefully.

“Maybe,” came the non-committal response.

Timothy sat down on the floor with the figurine and began working to move the joints. “He knows I love Iron Man, Mom. I bet it was him!”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, sweetie. I can ask next time he calls.”

“I want to call him now and say thanks!” Timothy jumped to his feet and ran out of the room with the figure under his arm. His mother sighed and followed. She was pretty sure it wasn’t from his dad, but that could come from him.