Random Chance nursed his drink in a back booth, holding the glass in a black-gloved hand so that a golden shadow was cast on the table.  He whirled the whiskey, listening to the clink of ice.  His left hand was ungloved, normal.  He had no reason to hide it.

     His abstraction was pierced by a nearby argument.  He would have ignored it but one of the voices was familiar.  Angie?  She was the reason he came here.  He slid out of the booth, leaving his black duster behind.  The lighting was dim, atmospheric, but sufficient for him to recognize a feisty redhead standing nose to nose with a blunt-faced man in jeans, cowboy hat, and a charcoal shirt.  His thinning hair was silver, and his face had the red coloration of a confirmed drinker.  Random had seen the man in here before but didn’t know his name.  He clutched Angie’s wrist possessively.

     “Let her go.”  Random’s quiet voice carried authority.

     “Mind your business,” the man suggested.

     “My business is what I say it is,” he answered, ”and the lady is a friend of mine.”

     The man clenched his jaw, then asked Angie a question.  “Just how many men are you sleepin’ with, you whore?”

     Her free hand held a glass of beer.  She tossed the amber liquid into the man’s eyes and wrenched free.  He wiped his face and threw a hooking punch.  Random’s gloved hand intercepted the fist, trapping it.  There was a cracking sound.  The drunk stiffened as pain pierced his alcoholic haze.  “My…Gawd…!  My hand!  You broke it.”

     “You were warned.”  Random released the shattered fist, letting its owner sink to his knees.
     The bouncer arrived.  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

     “I did your job for you,” Random said.  “This guy was getting ugly with the lady.  He’d probably appreciate it if you’d call him a cab so he can go to the hospital.  Oh, and maybe you can get him a bar towel as well since he’s dripping all over the floor.”

     The bouncer looked at the woman.  She nodded.  “Rodney, show my ex to the door, please.” 
     Random retreated to his table and Angie followed.  She sat across from him as he gathered up his drink.  “I could have handled him, myself,” she said.  “I’m more than a pretty face you know.”

     He nodded, willing to believe anything she wanted him to. 

     She went on.  “Bill’s not an evil man.  He just can’t let go of things he really wants.”

     “And you’re one of those things, apparently.”

     “Yeah, divorce papers aside.  If he didn’t own a small piece of the business, I wouldn’t even let him in here.”  Her glance fell on his gloved hand.  “So, what’s with the glove?  Making a fashion statement?”
     “It’s a long story, best told in private, before a raging fireplace, with lots of booze in hand.”

     “Angling for an invitation upstairs?”

     “Got any better offers?” he asked.

     “It better be a good story.”

     “Would you settle for entertaining?”

     “Grab your coat.  Let’s go.” 

Passing the bar, she snagged a bottle, then led the way up a flight of stares.  Her apartment was spacious and dimly lit.  Family photos adorned walls paneled with white pine.  The carpeting underfoot was deep enough to dive into.  Rustic and comfortable; he approved. 
      “Start the fire up,” she said.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes to pour the drinks.  I want to get comfortable.”

     “Works for me.”  He settled on the floor, inside an enclave made by a loveseat and couch.  Moving the fire screen, he laid a paper-wrapped fire log on the grill and lit it with a long match.  After replacing the screen, he moved back against the loveseat, and watched the flames take hold.  In the dancing orange flames, he imagined fantastic figures, leaping phantoms, leering faces—-all passing as soon as his eyes discovered them.

     Angie returned and settled beside him, folding her legs slowly under her.  She extended a glass, keeping one for herself.  Her former clothing was gone, replaced by a silk robe covered with swimming koi pattern.   Her eyes were dark wells despite the fire.  “What shall we drink to?” she asked.

     “Long stories and happy ending?” he raised his glass in salute then took a sip.  She knew his brand; the whiskey went down smoothly, like liquid smoke. 

     “Speaking of stories,” Angie said, “I believe you owe me one.”

     He nodded.  “So I do.  Well, several years ago…when I was young and very stupid…”

                 *   *   *

     “Look, Slim, I don’t believe in magic mirrors.”  Random let his gaze slide past his idiot-savant brother, searching the cluttered garage.  Of all places to play mad scientist!

     “It’s not magic.  It’s raw unfettered genius, even if I have to say so myself.  As you probably don’t know, materiality, at its most basic level, comes down to one thing--”

     “Sub-atomic particles, energy shells.  I know that much.”

“No!”  Slim said.  “Vibration.  Everything is vibration,

Chaos rattling her chains.”

Random attempted to change the subject.  Physics bored him, especially when spouted by a kid brother who ought to be out playing baseball or something.  “Look, I want to do some work on my car.  I just need my toolbox.  Have you seen it?”

“What does it look like?” Slim hedged.

“What did you do with it?”

“Pawnshop.”
“You pawned my tools?”

     “Yeah.  I needed a few extra bucks for an oscilloscope and since that old box was just laying around underfoot anyway…”
     "You pawned my tools?"
     “You said that already.”
     “Look, half-pint, there’s no way you got what it takes to open up alternate dimensions.  Your brain’s been slagged by too many Twilight Zone episodes!  You gotta at least have chewing gum, bailing wire, and a government grant.”
     Slim’s face went closed, sealing in all emotion, his typical reaction to being teased.

Random went on.  “Now, I don’t care what you have to do, but get my stuff back, or I will stuff you in a crate without air holes and mail you to Mongolia.”
     “C’mon, Random, have a heart.  I’m ready for a trial run.  Don’t you want to see me make history?”
     He drew a deep calming breath and reminded himself that Mom was oddly fond of all her children.  She’d miss Slim if he were to suddenly vanish without a trace.  Random sat back on the hood of his Mustang, crossed his arms, and sighed.  “Okay, go ahead.  Astound me.”   
     A huge grin appeared on Slim’s face as he threw a switch to close a circuit.  “Now comes the final element, a pattern of vibration designed to act as a key.”  He began to spout non-sense words in a rhythmic cadence.
     “That seems familiar,” Random said.  “Jabberwocky...Lewis Carroll?”
     “Yeah.  He was the first to discover the principles of looking-glass trans-harmonics.  There’s more truth to Alice in Wonderland than people know.  Now, don’t interrupt.  I gotta finish this.”
     The gibberish continued.
     “It can’t be that easy,” Random interrupted, “or every time someone read that poem aloud, mirrors everywhere would start up-chucking white rabbits and Cheshire cats, to say nothing of Jub Jub birds.”

“There’s the matter of ionizing the atmosphere,” Slim explained, “otherwise, you’d have to wait for a thunderstorm.  And there’s mind over matter as well.  You must believe this is possible.  According to quantum physics, the observer is always part of the experiment.  Now, for the last time, will you shut up and let me finish?”      

Random shrugged and indulged his brother with quiet.  Sure.  Take all the rope you need--to hang yourself.  As the stanza repeated, the mirror wavered.  Must be the power of suggestion, either that or dementia’s setting in. 

Random stood.  He passed his brother and reached out to touch the glass.  It was no longer solid.  His fingertips tingled.  His whole hand sunk from sight.  He tried to pull it back but was trapped.  “What the…” he yanked harder, but it did no good.  He was tempted to put his foot against the mirror for extra leverage, but reconsidered.  His foot was likely to get stuck as well?

Fear and anger fused in him as he snarled, “Don’t just stand there like an absent-minded professor.  Help me out here!”

“You can’t pull out,” Slim explained.  “It’s like a quantum worm hole.  Movement is one-directional.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do?  Haul this freaking thing around until doomsday?”

“Hey, did I tell you to touch it?”

“That’s right, laugh it up.  Have all the fun you can, cause when I get a hold of you—-“

“Oh, quit being such a drama queen.  The answer is simple.  You just have to go all the way through, then turn around and come back.”

“And what if I go through and the thing closes behind me? I’d be trapped in some nameless dimension forever!”

“Hmmmm.  To be on the safe side, you better sign the title of your Mustang over to me before you go.”

“What!  Were you planning to get rid of me all along?”

“Here.  Take this.”  Slim offered him a book.  “It has the poem I was quoting from.  If the portal closes, you can just open it up again.”

     Random reached out as if to take the book.  He grabbed Slim’s wrist instead, pulling him close. 

“What are you doing?” Slim demanded. 

“Putting you in the same boat I’m in.  If I don’t come back, you don’t either.” 

With both his brother and the book, Random lunged into the mirror, letting the tingle he felt envelope his whole body.  After a brief plunge through a cold darkness, he found himself sprawling across yellow pebbly dirt.  A wet wind swept him with coolness as he rose to his feet and picked his brother up.
      Around them were sandstone ruins choked with indigo creepers.  Monstrous black thorns defended topaz orchids flecked with black.  The flowers were the size of trucks.  The sky above was equally alien, a mint green field showing through white scales of cloud. 

“Look in the shadows!” Slim warned.

Random spotted red eyes, a lot of them.  One set bobbed as their owner hopped into the open.  Random confronted a tiny gray lizard with pointy teeth and scythe-like claws.  It looks hungry.  Hope I’m not on the menu.  There’s no telling how many of these things are around here. 

Still holding his brother, he was about to ease back toward the portal when all the lizards fled in furious haste.  He heard something big clamoring closer over a mound of debris.  Definitely time to go.  This is no wonderland I’ve ever heard of.  Random waved his hand around, looking for the way home.  The tingle eluded him. 
     Above the mound, the head of a humongous millipede appeared.  The blood-hued creature studied him curiously, then began to move once more. 

“Say the stupid words,” Random told his brother.  “You gotta get us out of here.”

     “Ho, strangers!  Declare yourselves.”  The voice was female.  As more of the insect appeared, Random saw that it was straddled by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  She wore half a dozen gold necklaces and armlets set with fire opals, strategically placed flaps of black leather that matched her hair, and carried a sword across her back.  The blade was uncommonly wide with a topaz skull adorning the hilt. 

     “Declare myself?”  Random was confused.

     “She wants to know who we are,” Slim said.  “Apparently, they speak English in these parts.”

     “I don’t even want to know how that’s possible,” Random said.  “Who do you suppose she is?”

     The woman heard the question.  “I am she who is known as the Red Centipede Rider.”  She spoke the title as if expecting it to produce instant recognition.

     “That much is pretty obvious.”  Random let his gaze rove freely.  The woman’s body compelled his attention.  Well muscled, delightfully rounded, she was a vision of strength, grace, and barbarian splendor.  The need to escape this reality was dying quickly, bleeding out.

     “Careful,” Slim warned.  “You’re drooling on yourself.”

     “Are you vile minions of the Dark One?” the woman asked, reaching for the hilt of her sword.

     “We’re just ah...tourist, passing through,” Random said.  “Who is this Dark One you speak of?”

     “You are from a strange and distant place, not to know of my brother, the Prince of Shadows.  I would advise you not to linger.  I fear he is close.”

A deep voice slammed them like thunder.  “Closer than you know!”  A lightless whirl of fire sprang from a dark patch, resolving itself into a black-robed giant.  His jet strands of hair framed an ice-pale face set with piss-colored eyes.  Embedded in his forehead, the giant wore a monstrous ruby, like a lump of dried blood. 
     He lifted an onyx ring toward the Red Centipede Rider as she drew her blade.  Random was confronted with a dilemma--on one hand, he had a brother to protect, and on the other, there was a drop-dead gorgeous sword-babe and the chance to win her passionate gratitude.  He did the only thing possible; he snatched up a broken branch from the ground and charged the giant while his attention was elsewhere.

     The Dark One’s ring created an orb of shadow that spat black jags of lightening.  The centipede reared, taking the dark fire on its armored stomach.  Random swung his branch and saw it shatter in his hands, making contact with a red shield of light.  The prince bared filed teeth, smiling toward Random.  “Idiot!  You can’t fight without a magic sword or at least a talisman.  It’s a rule!”

     “EEEEEEEEEEEYAHHHHHHH!”  The woman leaped from her elevated saddle, sword poised for a downward strike.  Her blade was stopped short of the giant’s head, hitting a red-fire barrier that became visible as the sword slid down it.  The onyx ring created winds of shadow that smashed the sword-woman backwards into piled rubble.  She lay crumpled and stunned, mouthing a weak curse.

     The centipede wound protectively around her.  Random wasn’t so lucky.  The Dark One turned to him once more.  “Are you still here?  You must want to die.”

     While retreat was the sensible course of action, Random had never learned to run from a fight, even from someone four feet taller than himself.  All he needed to do was to equalize the situation, push a few buttons, get this guy too mad to fight well.  Random poured scorn into his voice.  “Some warrior you are, hiding behind protective shields and trinkets.  If you were a real man, you’d fight me like one.  But, I suppose you’re much too scared of me to give me fighting chance.”

“That’s not going to work!” Slim used a stage whisper.  “Let’s just get the heck out of here.”

     The Dark One’s smile widened, dominating his face as he answered Random.  “You think much of yourself, small creature.  Be careful what you ask for.  I can easily crush your bones to paste with my bare hands.”

     Random met smile with smile.  “Well, I suppose we’ll never really know, since you’re such a sniveling coward.”

     Slim yelled out again, “Mom isn’t going to like this!”

     “Fine,” the Dark One agreed, “we’ll do this on your terms. 

I will rip your still-beating heart from your shallow chest and sacrifice it on an altar to myself.”

     Random put his fists up, tucking in his chin.  “C’mon then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

     The first punch rocked Random’s head violently.  He never saw it coming.  The guy’s not only big--he’s fast!  Perhaps this was not my best idea.  The second punch grazed his shoulder as Random pivoted his hips, launching a jab of his own.  Hitting the Dark One’s abs was like punching a brick wall.  Gotta keep plugging away.  If I lose this fight, I’m dead!  This guy will use my skull for his morning coffee.

     He used his forearm to deflect another strike at his face.  As the big guy pulled his arm back, Random latched onto it, going along with the ride by springing into the air.  Time seemed to slow as they met eye-to-eye for a moment.  He planted his fist in the prince’s eye, opening up a cut on his eyebrow.  With any luck, that would crate a blind spot as swelling kicked in.

     Dropping to his feet again, Random tried to get some fighting room, but his arm was caught in a painful grip.  The giant stared at the fist that had just stung him.  “This hand has offended me.  I hope you weren’t fond of it.”

     Random tugged with all his strength, but was unable to prevent his hand from being inserted into the giant’s maw.  Those filed teeth closed like a bear trap.  The universe went red with anguish.  Random howled, pulling back a bloody stump.  The Dark One spat out the amputated hand and grinned.  “Needs seasoning.”

     Random tumbled back, unable to do anything but stare at the crimson streamers spurting from his wrist.

Fingers splayed, the giant reached for Random’s face, preparing to tear it away.  But the Red Centipede Rider had other ideas.  This time, she didn’t vent a battle cry to warn him she was coming.  Her blade buried its self in the Prince’s torso, emerging from his spine with a coating of black ichors that splattered the ground like ink.  Some of the weird substance sloshed across Random’s severed hand, staining it.
     A look of extreme irritation crossed the Dark One’s face as he died on his feet and collapsed.  The woman whipped her blade free and wiped it off on her brother.  She then kicked him a couple times for good measure.  “Hah!  This time I win.”

Random laughed, finding her actions hysterically funny-- until the Dark One’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, wounds closing.  What is he?  Immortal?  That’s not fair!
     The prince answered his sister.  “So, you won.  But you gotta admit, I die a lot better than you do.”

“Do not!”

“Do so!”

Clutching the gory hand, face pale and strained, Slim knelt beside Random.  “Don’t worry.  I’ve got the mirror open again.  We’ll put your hand on ice.  A good surgeon can reattach it, if we hurry-—“

The Rider turned toward Random frowning.  “Why aren’t you healing yourself?  That’s quite a mess you’re making.”

As Slim used his belt to tie a tourniquet, Random answered.  “Sorry.  That’s not something we humans do very well.  His vision began to gray.  He felt his thoughts slipping away with his life.

Then, new strength burned through him.  His vision cleared and he found the Rider staring into his eyes from an intimate distance.  Her hands glowed, hazing the air as she snatched Random’s hand and jammed it back on his wrist.  To his immeasurable astonishment, the hand fused back in place.  Tissues knitted and feeling returned.  “There!”  The Rider jerked away the unneeded tourniquet.  “Is that better?”

     “Yeah.  Thanks.”

     “You’re kinda cute, in a helpless, clumsy sort of way,” she said.  “Come back and play with us again, okay?”  She didn’t wait for an answer, spinning as her brother scrambled over vine-choked rubble.  “Hey, get back here!  I’m not done with you!”  She leaped onto the centipede and undulated in pursuit.

Slim helped Random to stand and led him to a plane of air that rippled with distortions.  They stepped through and emerged in the garage again.  Slim sighed in relief.  “That’s good.  I wasn’t absolutely sure we’d be coming back here, given the nearly infinite number of adjacent dimensions that are open to us.”

“Open to you.  I’m not going through that thing ever again.”

He stared at his blackened hand, wiggling his fingers.  They felt different somehow.  “I’m going to go wash this stuff off.”
     He went through the garage door, into the kitchen, and over to the sink.  Random stuck his hand under running water and used some of the dish soap to lather up.  Warm water sluiced the suds away and he stared in horror.  The alien blood had had a metamorphic effect.  Though still pliant, his hand had hardened, attaining a glossy crystalline surface.

In furious disbelief, he battered the edge of the sink.  There was no pain.  The counter splintered and the front side of the sink acquired accordion folds.  He sighed in despair.  There go my dreams of being a contender.  No one’s going to let me fight with a hand like this.

He returned to the garage and picked up a pipe wrench.  His brother was back before the mirror, staring contemplatively at it as Random approached.  He hurled the wrench into the mirror and flailed his fist against various pieces of equipment.

“No, Random!  What are you doing?”

“Sharing my pain.  That’s what brother’s are for.  If I have to give up on Golden Gloves, you’re giving up the Nobel Prize.  Fair is fair.”

Slim sank to his knees with tears streaming down his face.  “Not my new oscillator!  I’m going to tell Mom!”

Random dropped the wrench, producing a clatter.  “Oh, yeah?  Well, I’m telling her you’re punching holes in the universe!”

“She’ll ground us both.”  Slim warned.

Random dropped his scowl.  “All right.  I’ll forget it if you will.”

“Deal.”

        *  *  *  

     “And that’s the way it happened--mostly,” Random said, offering Angie a guileless stare.

     “Hmmmm, pretty far-fetched.  You wouldn’t want to take off that glove and show me your hand, would you?”

     “Not really.  I embarrass easily.”

     “Would you feel more comfortable if I took something off as well?”  She let the top of her robe slip down suggestively, uncovering bare shoulder and a hint of cleavage.

Finally!  A happy ending!  He eased toward her with a grin in place.  “I never argue with a lady.”
     She gave him a lingering kiss, a promise of more to come, and whispered in his ear.  “I was hoping you’d say that.”