Available Darkness Season 1

thick black framed glasses, and a big beer gut greeted John. He wore blue boxers and a faded black TOOL shirt.
    THIS is the man holding the key to my past?
    “Well, holy shit,” the man said, his eyes wide, joined by a smile even wider, “John!” he said as he opened his arms to embrace him.
    John tried to step back but hedged a second too long.
    The man squeezed John like an old pillow, but didn’t burst into flames.
    John was baffled, but allowed the stranger to continue with a lingering hug that threatened to last forever. There was something deep in the embrace; the sort of affection you saved for long lost friends or family members.
    “You sure as hell took long enough,” the guy whistled, standing back and looking John up and down. “Shit!”
    “What happened?” John asked. “Why aren’t you burned?”
    The man flashed a smile that John felt he should recognize.
    “Come in, come in,” he said as he escorted John into a dimly lit space that was about as clean as a cramped dorm room shared by a pack of messy freshman. Empty pizza boxes and soda cans littered the room while stacks of white cardboard file boxes were stacked ceiling high like Doric columns supporting the motel’s ceiling.
    The bed was the only clean spot in the room. Across from the bed, on top of a long dresser, was a large TV, now turned off, a video game console, and a stack of at least 50 video games.
    Who the hell is this guy?
    John made his way past the first wall of mess and noticed a door to his left, slightly ajar, revealing an adjoining room bathed in the blue light from a bank of computer and TV monitors. Only then did John notice the man was holding a black gun in his left hand.
    “Just in case you were someone else,” he said, noticing John’s surprise. The man gently set the gun on a stack of boxes and led John towards the other room. “Actually, it’s for the rats, you should see the size of the fuckers here.”
    As the man walked two paces ahead, John considered grabbing the gun, given that his one defense had no effect on the man. He resisted the urge, though his instincts were screaming for him to do otherwise. Besides, the man wasn’t exactly screaming danger, what with his messy hair, flabby gut, and cheeky grin.
    “Hey, lemme put some pants on,” the man said, “I don’t wanna’ get you all hot and bothered with these sexy legs.”
    The man paused, as if he were waiting for John to laugh. When no laugh came, the man disappeared back into the first room. John stood in the adjoining room with its bank of monitors, confused and trying to make sense of his surroundings.
    The second room was equally messy, though more organized, and seemed as if some sort of work was being done inside. Long folding tables with television and closed circuit monitors lined three walls. There were two wheeled office chairs, one at a computer station, the other sitting in front of the row of monitors. Rows of computer hard drives with different colored lights, blinking and steady, lined the floor beneath the farthest table. The room seemed like some kind of secret headquarters.
    But headquarters of what?
    The man returned, now dressed in black jeans and black biker boots, holding two cans of Mountain Dew. He held one up, offering it to John, who declined with an absentminded shake of his head.
    “What is this place?” John began, then asked, “Who are you? ”
    “Larry Keriowski at your service,” he said, extending his hand and smiling a huge grin. “It’s okay, I’m vampire proof.”
    John shook his hand. Larry’s soft hands matched the mush of his midsection. John noticed the tips of his fingers were coated in an orange powdered residue. “Sorry, I was eatin’ Cheetos; want some?”
    John shook his head and repeated his first question.
    “This,” Larry said, waving a hand around, “is the war room. I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”
    John circled the “war room,” his confusion doubled.
    Larry explained that he was using the equipment to track any sort of news which would let him know when John had returned, in case John hadn’t found his way home.
    “I figured I might get some unexplained deaths from some small town news a month or two from now. Little did I know you’d be all over CN-fucking N.”
    John looked up just as a handful of screens began a video of John from earlier. He stepped closer to the screen.
    “Oh my God,” he said.
    Though he had vague memories of the man he drained on the