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A MASTERS THIEF
Part I: "Those Punk Kids"

        “Alright kid, it’s a simple grab and go.  You get in, get the access code to the Fabian family fortune, and get out.  Got it?” the gruff voice bellowed into Alex’s mind.
“How many times have we done this Fife?” Alex replied sarcastically.  “You don’t need to worry about me getting it, bro.  I got it.  I was born with it,” Alex heard himself think…literally.  HIs voice echoed off the walls of his mind.  With each word the walls pulsed, flashing a white light.  It was what Alex thought a heart might look like when it beat.  Except for the white light, that is.
“Don’t get cocky Masters,” Captain Fife snapped.  “I know some of the higher-ups think you’re God’s gift when it comes to mind thievery.  But to me, you’ll always be a worthless, fifteen year old punk.”
“Figures,” Alex said under his mind breath as he raked a neural hand through his spiky, flowing neural red hair.  “Show me the target.”
A huge head was suddenly projected into Alex’s mind.  His neural self stood there, looking up at the floating, revolving head of a kid who couldn’t have been much older than him.  The looming face looked worn and tired, with bags under listless green eyes and stringy blonde hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a long time.
“This is Michael Fabian.  His father, William, disappeared in a helicopter headed for Beliz yesterday.  Big into processors, the Fabians.  That’s how they made their money.  Before Fabian senior disappeared, he entrusted the access code to the family’s wealth in the safest place he could think of - his son’s brain.  You see, Michael is a very special boy.  Smart.  Probably smarter than you, Masters,” the voice of Fife scoffed.
“I don’t care how smart he is Fife,” Alex shot back.  “I don’t need brains to do this job.  I just need to understand him.”
“Please, all you teens are the same: big balls of angst.  Of course you’ll understand him,” Fife sneered.
“We’re not all the same,” Alex retorted.
“Yes you are.  News flash Masters, none of you are special.  But some of you are rich.  And that’s why we need you,” Fife said.  “Are you ready?”
“I told you before, old man…I was born ready,” Alex replied as the lights in the walls of his mind flashed faster with his rising excitement at the start of a new mission.
The large, looming head of Michael Fabian turned to face the neural projection of Alex Masters.  The mouth of the giant head opened wide, and its tongue extended out.  It should have stopped just past the bottom the lip, but it kept going: getting longer and longer until the tip reached the white space level with Alex’s neural feet.  The digital tongue sectioned off then, forming a staircase up into the open mouth of Michael Fabian.
“Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘open wide’ am I right?” Alex heard the voice of Fife chuckle.
Masters walked up the staircase slowly and methodically: taking in every detail of the huge face of the boy he was about to infiltrate.  He was leaving his own mind now.  In the waking world, he was strapped to a gurney with a thin cord plugged into his ear.  The other end was inside Michael Fabian, allowing Alex to travel between both brains.  Overseeing all of this was Captain Fife, who communicated with Alex by speaking through a microphone that fed into a receiver in Alex’s other ear.  That way, Michael Fabian couldn’t hear anything Fife had to say.
Masters reached the top of the tongue stair case and turned back to face the white, pulsing walls of his mind.
“Hey Fife,” Alex called out.
“What?” The captain replied.
        “Your jokes are lame,” Alex said with a swish of his hair as he turned into the open mouth of Michael Fabian and took a running leap down the digital head’s digital throat.  He fell for less then a second before he was stopped: as though by some invisible hand that caught him.  Then, Alex Masters started flying upwards.  There was no wind pushing him; there was no hand pulling him.  He just launched straight up: flying high, deep into the mind of Michael Fabian.

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