~Prologue~

"Take a seat."

I do as I'm told.

Behind his mahogany desk, Master Hand clasps his fingers. "How have things been for you this week?"

"Everything's been fine."

"You have your PREVIEW interview tonight. Nervous?"

"A little."

"The press hasn't been hounding after you?"

"No."

"Brace yourself. They grow thirsty." Master Hand raises a finger. "I've put you in an uncomfortable position. Ness has been giving you a hard time - yes, I've noticed," Master Hand says, and I look up, startled. "I'll have a serious talk with him soon. Harassment is not tolerated in this Mansion, and as a member of the Twelve, he must take full accountability for his actions. On the other hand, his unrequited feelings for you are affecting his performance. If they continue to persist-"

"You'll fire me."

"No," Master Hand says, sounding startled. "But one of you may have to forfeit the upcoming Winter Tournament." He closes his palm. His voice turns surprisingly gentle. "Listen, I like you. You're not a troublemaker. You follow the rules. But this is indeed a problem I can't ignore. Ness is one of the Original Twelve. His status holds greater weight than you can imagine. If this persists, if you two can't sort out your differences in a timely manner, the press will catch on, and I will be forced to take action. Unfavorable action. Whether it be paid Leave of Absence or temporary dismissal, between the two of you, you have more to lose. Do not enable his behavior. Take action if you must. All I ask is not to let the situation escalate on your end, and I will deal with Ness presently. Please don't force me to use that hand."

A bubble of fear clogs up my throat. I can't risk getting cut. I need the money to support my dad. "I understand."

"Good. But this is not why I brought you in." He pushes forward an expensive-looking crystalline bowl with the tip of his thumb. "Make yourself comfortable. Take a mint."

Something about his soft tone puts me on guard. "Is something wrong?"

"Take a mint, Lucas. It'll feel better."

I shake my head.

"I insist."

Reluctantly, I unwrap one and pop the mint in my mouth. A fresh taste explodes onto my tongue when I breathe in, trying to stay calm. The sharp edges of the candy wrapper dig into my palm.

As if resigning himself to bad news, Master Hand pushes the phone towards me with the tips of two fingers. "Line 1. It's on hold."

Bottling up my rising trepidation, I pick up the phone.

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~Chapter Eight~

Finding Yourself

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Ness's nightmares are growing worse.

Whatever sleep he gets is fitful. Whenever I'm awake, I've noticed how Ness never is at peace. He'll frown and struggle in his sheets before flashes of his nightmares explode into my own, short bursts of running from a relentless pursuer, memories of fear and terror that prey on his mind like hunting dogs on the loose. Even now, I can feel that his hand is unusually cold and clammy against mine.

I wonder if he's haunted by his dad's departure.

Closing my eyes, I try to block out his breathing. Things will return to way they've been before his parents' divorce. I can be patient for him. Wait for him. Ness's feelings for me are fleeting, as is everything else. His sudden clingyness. His mood swings.

I love you.

Even if his words were genuine, would accepting his feelings really make him happier? Something tells me that it wouldn't. No matter how hard I try, I know that I can never replace the gaping hole his father left behind. I can never make Ness happy. Not in the way that he wanted.

Ness only thought that he loved me. He didn't actually mean it.

Look at me, he'd said.

My eyes travel up his face.

His eyes stay shut. Cold sweat drips off his hair and trickles down his cheeks.

I can't love him back. I can't falter, not when I've already rejected him once before, but I hate shooting Ness's confidence down. I don't want to see the way his face would fall again, or the way his eyes would lose a bit more of their fervent spark. I miss his weird optimism. I miss his sarcastic wit. I miss the boy who said, It'll be okay, Lucas, then gave me a goofy grin with a gap between his front teeth.

Ness has always looked out for me. Constantly. Consistently. Even when I hadn't needed his help, he'd gone out of his way to insist that I eat more, that I wear more layers for winter, that I get a safe ride home from school. His concern's almost overbearing to the point of exasperation, but I let him into my life. I let him grow fond of me. It was my fault as much as it was his.

I think about it. The flash of desperation across his face before Ness pushed me out of the way. The determined spark in his eyes that dissolved into relief. The selfless ease at which he sacrificed himself for me in the Ruined Zoo.

He reminds me too much of Claus.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grip Ness's hand tighter. I've lost him once. I don't want to lose him a second time. I fall asleep, confused and bothered by my own feelings.

The dream starts off innocently enough. We're flying kites, chasing each other down the swaying grassy fields of Onett. Ness runs behind me, shouting and yelling something I can't hear.

I shove him aside. "You're it!"

"Cheater," Ness cries back, puffing up his cheeks. He looks so indignant and childish with his oversized baseball cap that I grin. With a frustrated noise, Ness twists his fists into my shirt. "I tagged you first!"

"I tagged you back!"

"No tag backs!"

Pleased by my victory, I raise my head. "You're it-"

Ness yanks my head over, kissing me. Stunned, I feel my eyes widen before Ness pulls away, gripping my shoulders. A triumphant blush dances on his cheeks. "Got you."

I wake up in a jolt of panic, one hand flying to my mouth. Twisting around, I fall off the bed with the sheets tangling my legs and hit the floor back-first with a strangled shout.

The lights flicker on. Ness's confused voice breaks into my reverie, but I push him aside. Now's not the time for talk. Out of habit, as I do whenever I'm rattled or upset, I stumble into the nearest refuge and slam the doors shut behind me.

"Lucas?" Ness sounds alarmed. I hear the muffled sound of his footsteps before the wardrobe rattles. "What's wrong?"

"Just…" I wheeze, clutching my ribs. "Just a nightmare. Go back to bed-"

"You don't sound okay-"

"I'm fine-"

"I'm not going back to bed until I figure out what's bugging you!" Ness flares up in worry before rattling the doors of the wardrobe. Thankfully, the doors refuse to budge. "Lucas? Lucas, talk to me!"

"I'm... I'm going to Narnia."

"Ha. No really, what's - oh. Oh."

The wardrobe falls still. When a terrible pause sinks into the room, my hopes shatter like fiber glass. There's no way that Ness couldn't have known. Not when we shared the same dream.

My breathing sounds too loud against my ears, so I curl my knees up to my chest. As psychics, our dreams are highly receptive to the minds of those around us. Ness's feelings must have escaped from his mind and changed my dream into… that.

Ness's voice echoes outside the wardrobe. "Lucas?" A hesitant knock of his knuckles. "Hey, it's... it's okay. It's only a dream."

I understand him all too well. Over the years, Ness has had his own share of wet dreams that I unfortunately had a front seat to. It's happened so many times by now that he'd admit it, scratch his head sheepishly, then share a good laugh or two at his own expense before letting it slide. Wet dreams are a part of growing up. They're normal.

That doesn't make them any less embarrassing.

I bury my head into my hands in shame. In the split second we were dreaming, I'd felt Ness's intense infatuation. What I thought had been a matter of a simple crush was something else entirely. Something raw and primal. I've underestimated Ness's feelings to relieve himself, and now I'm paying the price.

I want to crawl into a hole and die.

The walls shake around me with a hard thonk. From the sounds of it, Ness has hit his head against the wardrobe. "Luke, for crying out loud, it's three in the morning, and you're making a bigger deal out of this than you should."

Debatable. It wasn't your wet dream.

"Come back out. It's fucking freezing outside," Ness whines, hopping on foot to foot. "I won't make fun of you, I swear."

I experimentally crack the wardrobe open by a sliver.

Catching my eye, Ness hurriedly averts his own eyes to the floor and bites the corner of his lip. He's trying not to laugh. "Congrats for coming out of the closet."

Nope. I slam the doors shut behind me.

"Lucas? Oh goddammit, I didn't mean-"

"I'm sleeping here."

"You're kidding!"

"No, I-" Catching a stray thought from Ness's mind, my cheeks flare up. "Are you growing hard?!"

"Uh…," he squeaks. His feet shuffle uncertainly. "…no?"

A strangled noise escapes from the back of my throat.

Outside, I hear the muffled sound of someone swearing loudly. "It's not what it sounds like!" Ness wails, pawing at the door. The wardrobe shakes like an earthquake when he tries to pry it open, but I yank the doors back. Like hell I'm letting him in! "Lucas? Fuck! Lucas, it was an accident! Please, come back out-"

Speechless, I bury my face into my hands again, feeling myself grow hotter by the second. I'd gotten a wet dream, and now my best friend wanted to bone me. How can this possibly get any worse?

"I'm sorry," Ness says meekly.

"…"

"I-I'll sleep on the couch-"

"Don't." I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to breathe in. "Don't talk about it. It's... it's okay, Ness."

There's the sound of more shuffling, and Ness's footsteps awkwardly retreat away from the wardrobe. "Okay. Then I'll go and do… stuff."

The back of my neck burns.

Ness catches himself. "No! No, I mean I'm going to sweep! Sleep. In the bathroom. The b-bathtub," he stammers. "I promise I won't do anything funny, so don't hole yourself up in there for the whole night. I know you're not... so I'll, um... go over here..." Ness shuffles away, and the bathroom door clicks shut.

My mind blanks out.

My best friend likes me. My best friend likes me. Physically. Sexually. In whatever other way people like each other.

Stuffing my face into my hands, I try to breathe in. This is... fine. This is more than fine. None of it should've come as a surprise. Ness has said that he likes me. He's said that he likes me more than a friend.

But I've forgotten that liking people more than a friend involved having certain... urges.

My face feels like it can fry an egg. Two eggs. An entire carton.

For the next few minutes, I keep cracking the closet open to check if the coast is clear. Ness keeps his word. He's nowhere in sight, and the bathroom door stays closed. Taking a bold risk, I crawl out of the wardrobe for a fresh change of clothes, and pulling on another pair of pajamas, I fold my soiled clothes into the hamper. When I steal a furtive glance at the bed, I'm relieved to find Ness's sheets and mattress intact.

I knock on the bathroom door, letting him know I'm dressed, but Ness doesn't respond. I think he really has resigned himself to a night in the bathtub.

Shivering on my bare feet, I grip my temples. This isn't Ness's fault. Feelings are unfortunately unpredictable, and I know that he's trying his best to keep it together.

This isn't a big deal.

This shouldn't be a big deal.

Scrambling back into the closet, I brace myself for another long night.

Morning arrives with birdsong. Blinking in disorientation, I hold my ringing head and grimace, aching all over from my cramped entourage of the closet. When I stretch my legs and sit up, smacking my head into the low wooden ceiling, I rub the throbbing bruise away and kick the wardrobe open. To my relief, the empty bathroom hangs ajar. Ness is gone.

He's avoiding me again.

My relief vanishes as quickly as it had come.

In hindsight, I overreacted badly. While Ness's behavior might be getting out of hand, it's no excuse for me to dump my frustration onto him. Our friendship's already treading on a thin line as it is.

I groan. Despite his tendency to jump into trouble headfirst, Ness didn't mean any harm. He was going through hard times with his family, and I understood that he needed time to get a grip on his emotions.

Small wonder his feelings kept escaping into my dreams.

Tossing in my flip phone and keys, I tuck my schedule into my pockets, ready to start the day. I have to stay strong. I have to stay strong for the two of us. Moreso, after last night, Ness might think that I have feelings for him, and false hope isn't something I want to encourage. Then replaying the dream in my head reminds me of Ness's mischievous grin, over how stressfree and happy he looked in my dream, and the back of my neck burns. I guess on the grand scale of everything bad ranging from spoiled milk to the world crashing and burning to the ground, kissing Ness doesn't rank that badly-

That's it. I'm going crazy. Groggily, I turn into the cafeteria with fervent hopes that Ness isn't there.

He's there.

Nope, nope, nope. I whirl around to leave, but he's already spotted me and shouted out my name. Hoping that he's caught onto the hint, I stay silent, but Ness refuses to give me a single second of peace. Tagging by my heels like a lost puppy, he ends up apologizing left and right over his unfortunate mishap.

"Lucas-"

"It's okay."

"I swear I didn't jack o-"

I cough loudly.

Not getting my gist, Ness desperately speaks up. "I swear-"

I cough again.

By this point, Ness is almost shouting. "I swear-!"

"Ness," I say quickly, cutting him off. "It was my dream. Don't apologize."

"But I got-"

"I had a dream last night. Nothing else happened."

"But-"

"Okay, I forgive you!" I burst out, feeling my mortified face flame up like a bonfire. "Now can you stop bringing it up?"

Ness snaps his mouth shut. For some stupid reason, the movement draws my attention to his lips. At the way they move-

I choke on my toast, and Ness thumps me in the back.

"Thanks," I mutter, embarrassed. Once I'm no longer in danger of choking to death on my breakfast, I reach for my half-empty glass of orange juice-

"Can I kiss you?"

I almost spew out my orange juice.

"See, I would've asked." Ness cracks a sad smile. "Lucas, whatever happened last night doesn't mean anything. It was only a dream. So don't worry about it, okay?" He ruffles my hair and walks away, leaving me alone in the cafeteria.

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~oO0Oo~

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Done with the call, I push the phone away. "Is he...?"

"Your father doesn't want you to leave the tournament, but seeing as he's your only living relative, I'd like to offer you a paid leave of absence. It'll be temporary, under one condition: You won't tell anyone where you've gone. Word spreads quickly around smash mansion, and I think you'd appreciate some privacy from the media. As the only other Earthbound representative, it's natural that they'll start asking you questions-"

"Questions I don't have answers to," I say, unable to hold back the bitterness in my voice.

Master Hand stills. "You want to know."

"I still do."

"Even after all these years..." Master Hand sags. "My response stays the same. It's not in my place to tell you what happened to your brother."

"After Subspace Emissary, you promised me the truth-"

"You were too young to know back then. You still are."

"Don't tell me that I'm too young." My shoulders shake. "You filter my mail. You censor the Internet. You restrict the questions reporters can ask me. Why was Porky after me? What happened to my brother? I want access to my game cartridge-"

"You request that which I can't grant!" Master Hand raises his voice to a boom, slamming his fist against his desk. "You heroes are all the same. You insist on searching for the truth. You insist on embarking on quests that prove more harm than good. There's a reason my contract of employment shelters minors, and you know that you fall under that category." He rolls out a long scroll and highlights a quote with a glowing finger. "Read! Clause 3, subsection 7: it is prohibited for the employer - ME - to publicly divulge any information concerning canon timelines unknown to the Smasher in question that may sacrifice the physical and mental wellbeing of the employee - YOU - unless the employee turns of age (Eighteen Earthling Years) or divulges this information to the public themselves. See subsection 8 and 9 for restrictions on Advertising and Curfew." Master Hand snaps the scroll back into his hand. "I want to protect you. Why do insist on being unhappy?"

"I want to know where you're hiding my brother."

"I've told you! I can't - and refuse! - to breach our contract-"

"He's dead... isn't he?"

Master Hand falls silent.

Taking this as a tacit agreement, I unsteadily rise from my chair. "Then I'll find out what happened to my brother. Don't stop me."

He doesn't.

I reach for the door. Before I leave his office, Master Hand speaks again. He sounds sorrowful. "Lucas."

I halt.

"...Good luck."

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~oO0Oo~

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I squint to make out the letters on the subway map. Hyrule, Dreamland, Mt. Silver-

Onett.

Hitching on my bag, I set off to the nearest escalator.

The Interdimensional Subway Station's packed with people. I mind my business and keep my head down. Despite wearing sunglasses, I doubt that anyone'll recognize me, but my presence outside the Mansion's supposed to be a secret - a secret I'm all-too-happy to uphold.

To say that I'm relieved about my leave of absence is an understatement. I wanted to leave earlier, but the SkyTrain to Onett had been delayed. As soon as Master Hand notified me of another SkyTrain, I'd hoisted on a backpack, grabbed my keys, and set out for the station right after breakfast. There was no time to reserve seats, and the flight was over-booked, but I was fine with paying a cheaper ticket and standing so long as I caught any flight.

A sign above my head flashes for the incoming subway.

"Welcome to the SkyTrain. Please stand behind the yellow line."

As if on cue, people begin to bustle.

It's difficult to explain how my telepathic powers work, and for a fair reason. Telepathy's not tangible. It's not something I can physically hold or touch. The best analogy to telepathy, I guess, would be a radio. Within a working radius, I can (accidentally) tune into someone's mind and "tap" into their thoughts.

If I want to dig a little deeper, all I have to do is look them straight in the eye.

...Except I have trouble looking people in the eye. Frankly it seems rude, if not daunting. I'd be a little short of nervous if someone kept staring at me like I was a criminal, and experience quickly taught me it was best to avoid eye contact anyway. You never knew who might be looking around for a reason to pick a fight, and while the station's nothing like the streets, I don't want to trigger the wrong person for looking at them "the wrong way."

I rub the goosebumps away from my arm. I've taken the Mansion for granted. Except for the stray thought or two, surrounded by strong people with even stronger minds, it's the one place I can feel a little normal.

Unfortunately, not so much with this particular crowd. Their thoughts swamp over me in a stampede.

my legs hurt im tired when is the train coming-

-fired me this is the absolute worst day of my life what will my parents think where can i find another job with my degree-

-can't wait to surprise my girlfriend.

The last is followed by a fleeting afterimage of an engagement ring and a beautiful bouquet of roses, and I'm filled with an infectious warmth. The owner of that thought's unmistakably happy.

Then I think of Ness and his sad smile.

I love you.

The happy thoughts fade.

With a high-pitched whistle, the bullet train blurs to a stop by the tracks. I do my best to ignore the mental clamor and climb aboard.

Despite the grim circumstances, there couldn't have been a better time for a leave of absence. Ness could use the space. I'm sure that he'd be relieved to have the room to himself for the time being.

I grab hold of a handle swinging on the ceiling and brace myself for the initial jerk. Like a million times before, the doors zing shut, and the bullet train screams into the underground tunnel. I pass the time with music, plugging my headphones on and scrolling through the playlist on my old beaten mp3 player. My feet start feeling sore from standing when another bright light finally scatters across the windows.

A woman's cool voice echoes through the speakers. "Please close your eyes. Now approaching... Onett."

I close my eyes. A bright flash pulsates outside my eyelids. Once the intercom turns on, reiterating announcements for landing, I take it as a safe cue to look out the window.

A cloud lazily drifts past the window. Tiny houses dot the dark landscape. Somehow, after taking off underground, we ended up whistling through the sky. I don't understand the physics behind the SkyTrain, but after multiple attempts to rationalize it in past travels, I let it go. We live in a world of magical spells and futuristic technology. Some things can be accepted without explanation.

"Prepare for landing. Please hold onto the nearest handrail."

There's a rough jostle as the SkyTrain touches down. When it pulls up at the Onett Station with a hiss of brakes, I shuffle off. A minute later, the SkyTrain shoots back into the air with another loud whistle, and I watch the trail of steam disappear behind the moon.

Crickets chirp. Owls hoot.

Night has long since fallen in Onett.

Stuffing my headphones and phone into my pack, I follow the lamplights home.

While I live a block down from Ness, our neighborhoods couldn't have been farther away. Ness's house rests in the northern side of town, the safer district. As I plod downtown, the roads turn chipped and beaten. Ancient streetlights flicker with spent bulbs. Shadows dart over the road like tongues of darkness.

I live in the poorer part of town. Mugging and other crimes are commonplace in the slums.

The local Onett police force used to believe in a false sense of security, so the Southern side of town had once been overrun by Sharks, a ruthless street gang that once terrorized all of Onett. Fearful for their own safety, the police cowered under their thumb, acting as informers to these gangs. The Sharks despised snitchers as much as double-crossers and frauds. Walking home from school, I learned pretty quickly to keep my head down and pretend that nothing was going on.

But years ago, right before setting out on his adventure, Ness forced the Sharks to disband.

Things have gotten better since.

Still, there's the odd person or two more than willing to rob the unsuspecting pedestrian. As a general consensus, no one wanders around the streets in the dead of night. It's a bad omen. And plain stupid. To draw attention in the slums is to blare out a huge distress signal. You might as well ask someone to mug you.

A loud noise shatters the silence.

Alarmed, I fumble for my bag to silence my phone. I catch the caller ID flashing on the screen before my fingers freeze over the cancel button.

It's Ness.

The memory of Master Hand's warning echoes into my ears.

"You won't tell anyone where you've gone."

Still, I hesitate. There's no harm in telling him where I went, and with the PREVIEW match at hand... I wonder how Ness is holding up with his nerves. A simple explanation couldn't hurt.

The flip phone buzzes more insistently in my hand.

I cut the call.

A sudden flash of movement catches my eye. Battle reflexes kicking in, I duck underneath the first swing just as the fist sails past my face and stumble backwards, bag over shoulder, phone in hand.

Something cold touches my temple. Without looking, I know exactly what it is.

"Empty your pockets," comes the harsh voice.

I was ten the first time I was mugged at gunpoint. Unable to stand on my shaking knees, I'd cried and broken down in the middle of the street. It was over. I was going to die, I'd thought. I'd sworn that I could feel that bullet tearing through my head until the Shark pick-pocketed everything I had and left me alone. But I was small and timid back then. An easy target. I knew better than to carry hard cash since.

But I'm surprised that a Shark targeted me now, especially since I dwarfed him considerably. He must've been desperate. Even better, he hadn't recognized me as a Smasher in the darkness. I relax. With or without my psychic powers, I have the upper hand here.

Unfortunately, I'm trying to stay undercover. So as far as the Shark knew, I was supposed to be some stupid teenage kid who wandered into Shark territory.

My masked assailant digs the gun deeper into my head. He, for the voice is unmistakably a he, turns impatient. "Empty your pockets!" he barks.

Without hesitation I play along. A couple of quarters. My keys. The SmashCT metro pass.

The Shark inspects the items. He snorts in disgust and pockets my flip phone. "Chicken fodder." He pokes my bag with his gun, and something inside rattles. Evidently curious, he tears the flap of the bag off and picks out the source of the rattling. With a satisfied smile, he dangles the medicine vial to his eyes. "What have we got here?"

"Pneumonia pills," I say. Frost slowly creeps up the barrel of his gun.

He cracks a toothy grin. The air whistles between his yellow tobacco-stained teeth. "Bet this could bang a buck or two at the drugstore-"

The gun crumples in with a crunch of brittle metal. Before the Shark can realize what I've done, I pull him over and punch him in the stomach. He's flung onto the ground with a gasp. "Get 'im, boys!"

More Sharks materialize out of the street.

Snatching the pills from his hand, I curse myself for not sweeping the area and turn tail. They're yelling, shouting out threats, and I can hear them echo against the streets like a pack of wolves.

They're closing in.

Another hand grazes against the back of my shirt before I do a judo flip, wrenching him off and slamming him against the concrete. There's a glint of something silver before a blade flashes across my cheek. Whirling around, I seize the wrist of Shark Two and twist it, cracking the bone and forcing him to drop the knife. His face turns pale with pain before I chuck the knife over a rooftop and send him sprawling straight into Three and Four. Brandishing his own fists, Five screams out a curse and dives forward, but I duck and sweep his ankles with a low kick that connects solidly with his shin. Howling in pain, he crumples onto his knees. A quick elbow dispatches Six and when Seven tries to make a grab for the pills in my hand, I bring my other elbow down on his head. Babbling, he sprawls unconscious onto the road.

Shaking, Eight falls to his knees. "P-Please," he cries, clasping his hands. "Don't hurt me!"

Don't hurt me.

Those words hit home. Catching the terrified look in his eyes, I hesitate.

And Nine chooses that moment to strike me from behind.

Staggering away from the dirty blow, I manage to put up a convincing fight until someone roughly shoves me in the back. I lose my balance and topple backfirst into the concrete. Others soon surround me in a circle, jeering and shoving me around like a rag doll.

The first Shark steps forward, spitting on the ground. "We'll teach you not to mess with us the old-fashioned way."

I've been in enough fights to know where this is headed.

He pulls his leg back, and I brace myself for the hit. Despite my foresight, the impact still leaves me winded and gasping for breath. It hurts. It stings. A second blow. A third. Curling up, I bite into my knuckles. I won't give them the satisfaction of making me cry.

Laughter and mockery ring in my ears.

When the Sharks finish their fun, they take everything except for my keys and leave me lying on the road.

I don't regret holding back. The Sharks had been more interested in my property, and I hadn't been carrying anything of value. I dispatched their arms. I hadn't been in any immediate danger. They didn't want to kill me, and they hadn't recognized me. Better to let them think that they'd won than suspect I'm a Smasher.

My only regret is the lost vial of pneumonia pills.

Furious with myself for being distracted by my phone, I wipe my split lip with the back of my bleeding knuckles. My stupidity cost me my medicine - I could've avoided a fight altogether. My bruises flare up with pain when I haul myself onto my feet, but regaining my balance, I stagger off in the direction of my apartment. The drugstore isn't going to be open until tomorrow morning. We'll have to make do without the pills until then.

My anger dissipates into a weary bitterness. Stumbling into the door, I slot my keys into the lock and push my way in.

"Dad, I'm home."

Author's Note:

*In this fic, the corruption of the Onett police force is partly based on the situation in modern Venezuela (2018 as of now). Intimidated by gangs, the police often act as informers to the gangs themselves.

*The SkyTrain (though the same brandname exists in real life) is meant to be a fictional train in this fic that I based off of trains in Europe/SE Asia.

Happy reading! :)