It had been years since Marty had been through these doors. In his university days, he lived (and almost died once or twice) on the floor of this pub. Those were the carefree days, he thought. Schoolbooks by day, pints and darts at night. Bathed in the green light of the neon sign, it all came back to him in a rush and his eyes misted-over slightly.

"I was reborn in this pub. Maybe I'll find the strength to start again," he muttered. He pulled open the door and the welcoming warmth of the pub beckonned him. He peered around the corner, afraid of what he might find.

To his surprise, not very much had changed. The carpets were a bit newer, some of the artwork had changed, but the lights were warm and the conversation was lively amongst the dozen or so patrons hugging the barstools. As Marty approached the bar, a beefy man turned to face him.

"Marty," he cried out, drying his hands on his apron. "Is that really you? I haven't seen you in a dog's age! How have you been old man?" Marty pumped his outstretched hand in a firm handshake.

"Not too bad Stu," grinned Marty. "You haven't changed at all. I see the beer's keeping you pickled and well-preserved."

"Bah," he growled. "I gave the stuff up years ago. Now I only indulge now and again, when the wife's not looking."

"Good on ya, Stu." Marty cast a quick glance around the room. "Not too much has changed since my day, except where did all these kids come from? I guess you always need new recruits to spend new money. New blood keeps the circulation going."

Stu looked up suddenly, the warmth in his face suddenly replaced with suspicion. "What's that you say?" he snapped in a hiss-like whisper. Marty almost jumped back in surprise.

"For business I mean," Marty replied, holding up his hands. "You gotta keep getting new people in or the business will die off. I'm sorry... did I say something wrong?"

"Nah, nah," Stu said, his body relaxing once again and the joy returning to his eyes. "Sorry 'bout that. Things have been a little tight lately business wise and I'm a bit too stressed out about it." Stu wiped the spot on the bar in front of Marty clean with a rag. "Let me get you something... what was your favourite drink again?"

"A pint of house stuff, please." Marty said, taking off his coat.

Stu went to a beer tap that was set apart from the others and drew a pint of reddish beer, topping off the frothy pint and set it before him. "It's on the house, Marty," Stu waved the money away. "For old times sake. Besides, y'know the first hit is always free," he winked.

Marty sipped at his beer and a strange warmth coarsed through him. "I don't know why you never tried to bottle this stuff. It's just as good as I remembered it." He took another pull on the pint, a deeper one.

"Well, maybe I enjoy keeping my little secrets." Stu grinned, glanced downwards for just a second as he pulled another pint. "I have to say, I've been considering that idea for awhile now, but I need to bide my time. Soon, though. Soon."

He staightened up abruptly and removed his apron. "Can you watch the bar for a second Marty? I just need to go downstairs for a second." Marty nodded and Stu lumbered out from behind the bar and worked his way down the steps carefully, each step erupting in a loud creak as Stu disappeared from sight.

Just then, Andrea appeared framed in the doorway. She glanced around briefly, her features creased in disdain until she spotted Marty. He waved her over with a grand gesture, got off his stool, and embraced her warmly.

"Glad you could make it," he grinned. "I wasn't sure you would remember where the Usual Place was."

"I've tried to forget it, honestly," she grimaced. "I just don't know what you see in a pub called SoapBox Derby. It's dark, it's dingy, and it's dirty."

"Bah... you were alway too hoity-toity for your own good. Stu'll be back in a minute and I'll get you a pint of the house brew."

Andrea's face flushed for a second and she stammered, "S-st-Stu's still here?"

"Yeah... hard to believe isn't it? He's just gone downstairs for something, but I'm sure he'll be back up in a minute."

Meanwhile, below the bar, two voices exchanged harsh whispers as they spied on the couple at the bar through a crack in the floor. Stu fidgeted with his apron nervously, staring into the dull red eyes that hung in the darkness beside him.

"That's Marty, alright. I even tried the code word on him. He checked out. He's still under... What I can't figure out is why Emertia ain't with him. Those two were supposed to be inseparable. That was the plan."

"Silence you fool," hissed the eyes, glowing bright for a moment. "I sensed something had gone awry with him early last week. There was a disturbance, a violent one, and then all I could sense was a deep silent coldness. Something has gone wrong, but it's curious that he turns up here. Who is that girl beside him?"

"Her name is Andrea," Stu squinted through the crack in the floor. "She used to come here with Marty all those years ago, but her conversion was never completed. I never could figure out why."

"It is of little importance now. We have all that we need in this town already." Stu felt the cold clawed hands clutch his shirt and then shove him back. "Now get back up there before they suspect something is wrong. And find out what happened to Emertia! I have waited too long... sacrificed too much. Everything is almost in place."

Bowing slightly, Stu backed away, almost tripping on the stairs in his haste to get away. He emerged from the basement shakily, tying the apron around his waist, closing and locking the door behind him.

"There you are Stu," cried out Marty. "A half-pint of the house brew for Andrea! You remember her don't you?"

Casting a quick glance in their direction, Stu waved and made his way back to the bar. He carefully poured a half-pint of the home brew and approached them, his mind racing, trying to figure out what to say.

"Here you go Andrea... A half-pint of the finest brew ever poured at the SoapBox Derby." As he reached forward to hand her the pint, he glanced at Marty. "Sooooo... Marty. How's Emertia doin' thes-- Oh!"

Andrea hand had shot out suddenly towards the offered glass, knocking it from Stu's hand. The reddish liquid splashed everywhere, but mostly on Andrea's sweater. With a cry of surpise, she jumped back, he hands shaking wildly in the air.

"Andrea! I'm so sorry! I don't know what's wrong with me," Stu grabbed a rag and made a move towards Andrea, but she twisted away from him, shaking the beer from her hands.

"No no... it's my fault entirely. I have trouble judging distances sometimes. Myopic, you see," Andrea quickly removed her coat and sweater. "I've got another sweater in my car, Marty. I'll just go get it and maybe we could make our way to the restaurant?" With that, she hurried out the door of the pub.

"Well... if that don't beat all," Stu said, watching her go. "I don't understand how that happened. I hope I haven't ruined yer evening."

"No, of course not," Marty reassured him. "I should get going though. I'll see you soon, eh?"

In the parking lot outside of the SoapBox Derby pub, Andrea was grinning. The operation was proceeding without a hitch. She opened her trunk quickly and reached for the metalic briefcase in the bottom. Glancing around quickly, the punched in the access code on a keypad on the side of the briefcase and it opened with a soft hiss.

She carefully slipped the soiled sweater inside a plastic bag and the slipped the bag inside the case. She then took out the large envelope, and wrote the date and time on it, and placed it on top of the plastic bag. She closed the case again and it beeped quietly to indicate that it was sealed again.

"Ready to go?"

Andrea jumped up suddenly and spied Marty stand at the foot of her car. She swung the trunk shut, moved around the car, and took his arm in one fluid movement.

"Let's paint the town red, Marty. Just you and me."

TBC...