The detective handed Nick a cup from the pot of coffee that had probably been sitting all shift, but at least it was warm. The young man's hand, pale and trembling, appeared from under the blanket. "OK, son," the cop began after Nick had drained half the cup. "I need you to tell me how you ended up stark naked and tied to the park monkey bars again because, to me, it's still as clear as that cup of joe in your hand."

"This is it!" He rolled the map out on the table and then weighted the corners down with what was at hand - the plates and crockery that their meal had come on.

"I can't believe you paid seven lions for that," Marah sighed.

"Have faith, I got a look at it in the store. It is worth far more than the paltry gold I spent on it. Look," he said as he pointed to the map, and the three others crowded around to get a better look.

This ship lurched under him. The guardsman grunted. "What's the meaning of this, if you're trying something funny..." Suddenly Rex appeared beside the Imperial and pressed a device to the man's neck. There was a snap, a whiff of ozone and the inspector toppled to the deck.

"Change in plans, we've worn out our welcome," Rex said as he began to reach for the man's arms. He looked up at Dean. "Are you going to help or not? Grab his legs."

The thing skittered along the wall towards him. It had way too many legs and eyes to be friendly and he pulled the trigger on his blaster, sending a searing bolt into the chitinous monstrosity.

Perhaps all the acronyms and numbers really represented arcane formulas that, if used in the right order, would summon a mystical beast, elemental, or, more likely a demon from the pits. No, his imagination was on the loose again, the presentation was really all gibberish, he was sure of it. Nick sighed and cradled his head in his hands while the speaker droned on.

Something sharp stabbed him in the shin and he sucked in a deep breath. The shirt and tie next to him threw him an annoyed glance before turning back to the glowing screen. Nick rolled back from the table and nearly fell out of his chair when he saw his right leg. A finger length round sliver of wood pierced his khakis - he was bleeding. He yanked the object from his skin and held it up to examine it, it looked like a miniature spear.

The wind howled and the rain lashed at the window. Nick turned up the radio - one of his favorite songs was playing. Then the world turned upside down: the lights went out with a flash and pop, the house shook, and the windows shattered. Nick hit the floor and threw his hands over his head.

"You, yes you, young man!" a rich voice beckoned. Nick froze, a shiver running down his back, and he turned to face the well dressed man that had called to him. The man tipped his dark fedora, a long feather shot back from the band like a felled exclamation point. "Young man, you look like a connoisseur of fine time pieces." His wide, white smile contrasted his raven black goatee.

"I, I don't wear watches," Nick stammered.

"Exactly my point. An aficionado knows the value of a good pocket watch." He opened a gloved hand and a silver watched dropped to dangle and twist in the afternoon sun.