The Devil You Don't Know (Superhero Black Hole, part 84)
“JESUS CHRIST!,” screamed Zoe.
“That isn’t my name,” the albino said, with nary the slightest hint of sarcasm, or seemingly any other emotion.
“How the hell did you get here,” I asked him.
“No, more importantly, who the hell are you,” Zoe added.
Still speaking in that flat, nigh-on robotic voice [no, he wasn’t a robot, before you offer your theories, dear Reader], the albino replied:
“I followed you. And I have no name.”
For a few moments, neither me, Zoe or the albino man spoke a word. Only the countryside’s ambient noise filled our awkward silence.
The albino broke the near-silence.
“If you two would not mind, it might be preferable to continue this conversation in your apartment.”
Zoe shot me a quick look, as if to say: What the frakking frak?
“Uuuum…were we having a conversation,” she asked him.
“We are about to.”
He held out his chalk-white hands.
“If you would be so kind…”