AN: Once again, the Loud Sisters aren't tagged in this story for a reason. We will see hints of them throughout the story, but they won't appear until much later.

Guest: I hope I see this story through all the way as well. I'm very serious about this project, and while it's still in its very early stages, I'm excited to bring more.

Guest N.O.1: I appreciate all reviews, even the long and/or late ones. I read all of 'em, even if I don't manage to reply.


A tornado of nervousness twirled within Lincoln.

He passed many offices on the top floor of the central building. Just yesterday he spoke to Lenora in another part of the building. The talk was excellent and straightforward, but it might not be so today with Atlas. It was dreading to think about.

When he reached the end of the hallway, one last office door—a bit larger than the others—stood in his way. After a few knocks, a voice from the other side permitted him to enter. He opened the door and went through.

Two steps in, Lincoln could tell that the large office had been renovated. The red carpet floors, burning fireplace, and fancy gold chandelier didn't suit Dr. Barker.

Opposite the fireplace was a section elevated by a couple of carpeted steps. In the section sat a fancy, long navy-blue desk. It looked expensive; the handles of the drawers were lined with polished dark wood. Sitting behind the desk, Atlas licked a finger and flipped a page in his stack of papers.

Atlas' usually slick hair had a few strands sticking out, and his suit wrinkled here and there. He noticed Lincoln staring at his unprofessional form and chuckled with a smile.

"I know I don't look my best," he said. "These past few days were quite long."

Lincoln nodded, smiling back. "I heard."

"Shade told you, I presume? She's also been working hard, but at least she gets to have fun with Ray now."

Atlas dropped the papers on his desk several times to align them, then placed them on the table and out of the way. "I can't wait to move past physical paper. What about you, my boy? Do you have something on your mind?"

Lincoln had a lot of things on his mind.

"I'm… questioning things."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Lincoln moved his eyes as if he could find a different way to put this. He couldn't. "You."

The words escaped so nervous, and Atlas seemed to catch on. He gave a smile. "Questioning is a part of life, Lincoln. You can't help it."

Atlas reached under his desk and opened a small cabinet. Hidden behind the standard door was a fridge. He pulled out a bottle of the orange alcohol he loved and began pouring a glass, tall and fancy-looking.

"Questioning can lead to arguments, which leads to conflict. Since it's me you're questioning, let's sit down," he said, offering a glass to Lincoln, "and have a nice chat between friends, hm?"

An empty seat in front of the desk matched it in color.

Shade probably sat in it most, Lincoln thought.

Lincoln smiled in appreciation. Despite his concerns, he liked talking with Atlas. He took his seat and accepted the drink, holding it in his lap.

Atlas also poured himself a glass, asking, "So, what about me are you questioning?"

There were many things, but Lincoln focused on the main point. "I think…" He sighed. "I think this needs to stop…"

He paused and took the tiniest of sips. While the burning sensation was unpleasant, the milky taste was surprisingly to his liking. He expected it to taste like oranges—the reason he even attempted a sip in the first place—but this was also fine.

Atlas kept quiet. He probably expected he wasn't finished or was waiting for more context.

After that pause, Lincoln continued. "Maybe you can't handle Fortune by yourself?"

Atlas nodded. "A valid doubt. I'm asking myself the same question." He smiled, looking down at his untouched drink. "But with Shade and the other Assistants lending their help, I'm positive I can adjust to these new responsibilities." He raised his glass and drank.

"What if that takes too long, or… what if you never adjust?" asked Lincoln.

Atlas finished with an exhale. "You'll have to trust me for that not to happen," he said. "I've already started backup plans if that will comfort you—a council for starters. You know what that is, don't you?"

Lincoln nodded. While he never met one personally, he saw them in movies, TV shows, and comics. He eventually associated councils with being evil because the troupe was constantly used. A thought like that probably wasn't good at a time like this.

Atlas was silent again, staring at Lincoln like he expected another question.

Lincoln didn't disappoint. "Why are you threatening the other Assistants using their family?" His tone was much more assertive.

"Lincoln…"

Atlas trailed off, and Lincoln was ready for some lame excuse. He leaned forward in his seat a bit.

A sigh left Atlas' mouth, and he quickly sipped his drink. "I would never wish to hurt any of them. Do you truly believe I would do such a thing? A lie is powerful."

"That wasn't just a lie. It was a threat."

"A threat I would never act upon, as long as they don't wish to cause harm to me, Shade, or Ray. I wouldn't graze them; you have my word. I need their support. As you can see, it's a hard job even with them helping out."

Lincoln frowned. "Then why did you kick other families out?"

"The young and old are too incapable to be a threat, but young adults have more impact than they realize. They are the immediate future of life," Atlas explained. "Everyone was warned from the beginning. Anyone getting kicked out would be given supplies to find another home. Did you think I just tossed them out the city's borders without a thought?"

Lincoln's back touched the seat. His expression calmed. Why did that thought never occur to him? Atlas compensated them. He didn't leave them to fend for themselves. Not entirely, anyway.

It was understandable, to say the least. If someone threatened Lincoln's home, he'd also boot them out the door, probably give them what they needed until they found a new home.

Still, it gave him an odd feeling.

"What about the Big Bosses? If you spoke to them about your plans for the future, they would have helped you."

"I'm not so certain." Atlas shook his head, looking disappointed. "They were so attuned to their old system. They wouldn't have listened to someone so new to the position."

"But you could have argued like we're trying to do now. They could have been convinced."

"Maybe so, but you've met them yourself, Lincoln. You can tell how stubborn they are. I'm sure you met others in your life that are the same."

A group of girls flashed in Lincoln's mind like a lightning strike.

He furrowed his brows, looking down at his drink. He barely touched it, while Atlas—in the middle of another sip—nearly drank half of his.

No, Lincoln wouldn't start thinking about them right now.

"You rigged it all from the start," Lincoln said before looking him in the eyes. "Shade told me you were the one who overpriced her tech. You told me someone else did that. Why did you lie to me?"

Atlas hummed, looking at Lincoln and then gazing at his drink. An excuse this time? Lincoln wondered.

"I did so because I was desperate. When I first met you and Mikey, I saw you both as the tunnels of light to a great future."

Lincoln's heart panged. "Is that all we were to you?"

"No. Of course not." Atlas said, looking a little offended. "Mikey didn't care about Fortune, and I thought you were the same."

Lincoln couldn't deny those points. While he didn't hate him for it, he could admit Mikey didn't have a drop of concern for anyone. Mikey just wanted a good fight, an exciting day, and he took off and left once that seemed gone.

"I wanted to do anything for a better future, and I'm glad I met you, Lincoln. You hold the same ideals as I do. You care about the well-being of others, no?"

Lincoln shifted a bit. "So did the other Big Bosses. I learned that before Evan became a Big Boss, this city was in a state of depression. He fixed that. What if it turns back?"

Atlas scoffed. "Evan Medy? Do you realize how ridiculous it sounds that one person changed the entirety of Fortune? There are plenty of other entertainers that can fill his role."

Lincoln frowned a little. He wasn't particularly fond of Atlas downplaying Evan's achievements. "What if that doesn't work?" he asked with a raised brow.

Atlas raised his voice a tad, leaning over his desk. "It will work."

"You don't know that."

Moments away from getting even louder, Atlas stopped, breathed through his nose, and leaned back. "Of course…"

Feeling his throat turning dry, Lincoln took another swig. He still disliked the burning feeling, but it helped.

Atlas drank with him, and with an exhale, he said, "Of course I don't know. But even so, I will keep charging towards my desire. A paradise. I just need time."

"You keep saying that. How much time?" Lincoln asked. He nearly stood right then but kept himself seated with his glass in his lap. "Until you kick out the last decent person in this city?"

Atlas didn't answer, staring at his desk rather, notably keeping his sights off of Lincoln. Was it shame?

"You rigged everything from the beginning." Lincoln became louder. "Raising the prices on technology, withholding all of the newer tech from the other Big Bosses. Why do you even want to control the city? Is it really to make it a paradise?"

"Yes." Atlas snapped his steel eyes at Lincoln. "Everything I do is for a perfect paradise."

"And why do you want a paradise?"

"Do I need a reason to work towards a great future for all of us?"

That made Lincoln pause for a moment.

Are there reasons to be good? To be bad? Not always. Morales didn't have a constant. There was no way to properly explain how they came to be—let alone have a child try to explain it.

Lincoln sighed. "I guess not."

The room went silent, neither person moving from their seat. Atlas' glass was empty at this point, and it surprised Lincoln to see his own nearly to the finish line—about a quarter left. Thankfully, he didn't feel drunk in the slightest. It must have either been his powers or the enchantment he received months ago from that Magic Principal he met.

If Lincoln had to comment on their talk so far, he'd say it was calm—maybe a little tense at the very least. But the next question he wanted to ask made his stomach feel funny.

"Was there anything else on your mind, Lincoln?"

And there was the push Lincoln feared. Would his theories be confirmed tonight? He wished they wouldn't.

"I was told you only became a Big Boss a month and a half ago."

Atlas nodded, looking to the right of his desk. With a smile, he stared at the picture of him and Shade officially becoming Big Boss and First Assistant. They stood with the other city leaders as they signed important documents. "That's about the time I met Shade and Ray. We helped each other greatly until we grew and became the fifth main industry."

Lincoln couldn't see the picture from his position, so his eyes never left Atlas. He locked onto Atlas and refused to look away.

"And what were you doing before that?"

Atlas didn't immediately reply. His smile got a little smaller.

Lincoln was sure Atlas was getting irritated at his prodding. Nonetheless, he continued. "Everyone has a reason for what they do. That's why I want to know why you care so much about Fortune's future." He leaned forward a bit.

"Especially since you weren't even in Fortune until a month and a half ago. Why do you care about a city you've only just met?"

Lincoln's heart started to quicken to the point where he noticed it was there. He felt it against his chest, and the funny feeling in his stomach intensified.

Atlas closed his eyes, placing his empty glass on his desk. He rubbed his baggy eyes past his glasses and sighed, looking out the window in the distance. Like in his other office, the glass covered the entire wall.

He stared at it for some time as Lincoln waited in his chair, who wished he was holding something less breakable to ease his nervousness.

"That's correct."

Lincoln felt sand in his throat. He didn't take another sip of his drink, too stunned to do so.

Atlas kept looking at the window, recalling past events. His eyes turned distant as he started to forget Lincoln was in the same room as him, memories pouring through like a virus.

"But I can do better than he ever did," Atlas breathed. "Much better."

His voice dripped with venom—as if that certain "he" didn't deserve to be named.

So, of course, Lincoln asked, "Who?"

No answer came. Atlas continued to stare outside with eyes that looked like they were gazing into a different world.

Lincoln didn't move a muscle, raising his brows as he watched Atlas. He wondered if asking that question was somehow selfish of him.

Atlas sighed, turning back to the clueless boy sitting before him. "When I first arrived in Fortune, I saw the staircase that everyone stood upon. Every step a giant leap. The Big Bosses at the top above the clouds, and the rest scrambling for air at the bottom. That sight is very familiar to me, you know. And I'm not living at the bottom anymore."

Lincoln narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, Atlas?"

Instead of replying, Atlas stared at his empty glass.

Lincoln frowned more. "Some people calling themselves 'The Other' appeared around a month ago. Only a few weeks before that, you showed up in Fortune."

Atlas stayed silent.

"Are you one of them too?"

Lincoln waited for an answer for some seconds. It shouldn't have confused Atlas that he came to that assumption—the time frame was narrow enough.

Atlas sighed, then exchanged eye contact.

"I am."

Those two words of confirmation made Lincoln go wide-eyed. Behind his closed lips, clenched teeth threatened to burst out. "I knew it," he whispered, primarily to himself.

"My full name is Atlassian, and I'm not a bad person, Lincoln. I can promise you that even though I'm from The Other."

A massive stack of realizations dropped on top of Lincoln, realizations he should have thought about earlier. "W-wait a second! So the soldiers that appeared in Club Volcano were sent by you?!"

Perhaps it was because his theories were now confirmed that he realized that.

Atlas seemed taken aback momentarily before he closed his eyes and regained his composure. "I had Shade scout for candidates that could help me in my endeavors—if that's what you're asking. We were looking for anyone strong. No one would have gotten hurt on her watch." He looked at Lincoln. "I paid Flare in advance and warned him, so he had preparations on the small off chance Shade couldn't protect everyone. On top of that, he has healing magic, so." He shrugged—oddly unprofessional-looking.

Lincoln stood up—pushing his chair back—and pointed a finger at him, looking baffled. "This entire time, you… You led me here!" That statement was more a confirmation to himself.

"When you appeared in Fortune, Shade told me everything that happened at Club Volcano. We were content with those who would only use their strength to defend themselves, but you jumped in the moment the army appeared. You didn't hesitate to help the innocent. But I didn't lead you here. You came on your own. Shade didn't think you had what it took back then, but you showed us how intuitive and strong you were at the tournament."

"And then you used me so you could take over the city!"

"Lincoln!" Atlas said demandingly before leaning back and blowing an irritated breath. "I have Fortune's best interests in mind!"

"And why would I believe you? The Other attacked a village near where I live. They hurt innocent people—even kids!"

"You're blaming me because of what they did?" His irritated look flashed into shock as if he realized something, and his voice turned soft. "You think I'm like them?"

Lincoln didn't reply. He didn't even notice the change in Atlas' tone or hear half of what he said as he glared at his glass.

His heart started racing. Something like this was happening again so soon—too soon. Someone he chose to trust. Someone who earned his trust.

Someone he thought he could trust.

However, Atlas' stunned silence didn't last, turning into the beginning of anger. "All of us aren't crooks or evil! Just like all groups, there are bad mixed with the good!" However, his glare—although still present—softened when he noticed Lincoln was paying more attention to his trembling hands than him.

The glass Lincoln held cracked a bit as he tried to think straight.

Friday, April 13th, 2020.

Every time he thought back to that dreadful day, his headache returned.

"Life repeats itself."

He hated to think about it, but that popular saying on Earth seemed true. Even though the current situation was different, the definition was the same. It ultimately came down to one word.

Betrayal.

Lincoln turned his glare at the one who deserved it. "Look at everything you've done since you've gotten here! Tell me how this isn't just some lame excuse because you want power! These people have done nothing wrong!"

Atlas scrunched up his nose. "Ah, so abandoning poor children to the wayside is 'nothing wrong?' Do you really think I'm the bad guy here, Lincoln? You can't even begin to imagine how much worse there is out there!"

"And why should I believe you?!"

Giving off a sluggish sigh, Atlas removed his glasses, put them on the desk, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Lincoln, will you just listen for one fucking second? Maybe if I explain it differently..."

But Lincoln was too deep in his crushing thoughts to listen.

Atlas earned Lincoln's faith, and the man took advantage of that.

Lincoln would never forget the last time he poured his trust on the ones he loved, and they threw all of it away. The ones he knew for his entire life. His family.

He nearly died.

It hurt to think you could believe in someone—in multiple people—to care about them and expect the same back, only for them to turn around and make you regret it for the rest of your life. But this time, he wasn't the one in danger. It was other people. Innocent people.

Now, he had the power to make a change, to fix things. He wasn't going to let another tragedy happen—not to him, not to his friends, not to anyone.

Lincoln splashed the rest of his drink into Atlas' eyes, earning an aggravated cry.

Atlas cursed his lack of rest and shut his eyes. He reached around for a napkin—or anything within range—and managed to grasp the last of his patience to appear calm. "Lincoln, please…" he strained, still somehow sounding gentle.

Lincoln jumped on top of the desk. He grabbed Atlas' wheelchair on one side, lifted it, and made Atlas fall to the floor. Turning his other hand into a fist, he smashed the console on Atlas' wheelchair and—in one motion—grabbed the keycard inside and ripped it out, some ripped cords still attached.

Groaning, Atlas pushed himself up, opened his burning eyes, and looked around.

Lincoln was gone.


Sprinting down the hallway, Lincoln insulted himself. He should have smashed through the window in Atlas' office.

His mind was rushing too much to think straight, and it did nothing more but make him angrier. Gritting his teeth, he stuffed the keycard in his Inventory.

Up ahead at the end of the hallway was a duo set of glass. His way out was right in front of him.

The alarms blared in the building, and red signal lights scattered throughout went off, making the hallway flash red.

He sprinted faster and widened his eyes when hard metal doors closed off his exit.

Looking in the offices he passed, he saw glimpses of their windows rapidly closing as well.

"Lincoln has stolen the keycard!" Atlas yelled through the speakers. "He's currently on the top floor! Do not let him escape!"

Rearing a fist, Lincoln reached the set of metal windows and punched.

He gasped when the metal didn't even dent.

Clenching his jaw, Lincoln geared up another punch.

Suddenly, he got grabbed by an unknown force that pulled him backward. He managed to keep himself from going far by touching the ground with his feet.

Turning his head, it was Tamesha down the hallway, hand outstretched. Around a dozen officers accompanied her, and they started sprinting towards him with energy pistols and tasers.

Grunting, Lincoln sent a blast to the ground in front of them. Dust flew and blocked Tamesha's vision. The officers around her halted.

The telekinesis on him vanished, and he took this chance to blow a hole in the ground and jump inside.

Tamesha stood still as he disappeared behind the smoke. After a hesitant second, she took a deep breath and jogged after him. The officers around her followed closely.

Lincoln kept barreling down floor after floor, startling many employees behind their computers. Using his senses for energy, he ensured he didn't accidentally drop down on someone.

After creating holes thirty-three times, some thin energy blasted him in the side, sending him flying sideways into a wall.

Standing in an open elevator, Melina walked out as she flipped a playing card.

Lincoln frowned. "Melina, let me leave! I don't want to hurt you!"

"But Atlas will hurt my family," Melina said with a frown.

"I'll help you protect them!"

Melina paused and scanned Lincoln, contemplating taking the offer. After a few seconds, she sighed, coming up with her reply. "Too late for that."

Lincoln dashed back and ducked behind a fallen table as several cards whipped past him. He slapped a hand under the top of the desk and energy-coated it, letting it tank some hits.

Peaking out for a moment, he fired a blast at Melina. While she dodged it, he looked down and slammed a fist, destroying the floor below him.

He didn't stop there, destroying floor after floor and continuing to descend another forty-seven levels. This time, he was interrupted by a new face he hadn't fought before.

Lenora grabbed him as he fell through the forty-eighth floor and tossed him into the middle of the locker room.

Lincoln went to his feet, putting his hands up. "Lenora-"

"I live for my family, Lincoln," she said, wearing a nurse outfit, as she stared at him. Her eyes held something of regret as she closed them and sighed heavily.

She raised her hands, looking at them one at a time for a moment. They were gentle, relaxed, and clean.

Lincoln paused, confused and anxious. He looked on with cautious eyes.

Another sigh came out of Lenora, and she turned her hands into fists. Slowly, she lifted them in front of her face, steadily walking towards him. "I'm sorry—"

Lincoln prepared himself.

"—I'm just a simple doctor."

When the first punch came, Lincoln widened his eyes in shock. He moved to the side, and the mere wind from her punch threatened to defeat him.

He heard a crack behind him, presumably the wall, but didn't have the time to look at it. A second starting punch came flying, and he blocked it with both forearms covered, the force still sending him sliding back.

"Who do you think trained Edward?" She advanced and delivered punches. Did she ask that rhetorical question to fill him with dread!

He dodged a few but had to block the fourth, making his arms bleed Life. "Give me the keycard, and I'll let you escape."

Lincoln growled and sidestepped two rapid punches before pushing her with a bursting wave of energy. But to his utter shock, she didn't budge while he shook the room and pushed back the benches and other stuff lying around.

She resembled that of Dr. Edward Barker.

He blocked the next incoming punch with both arms, getting propelled into the wall. If his arms took any more, they would break.

Digging himself out of the wall, he ducked under a fist that made the crater in the wall grow.

Moving quickly, he dashed to the other side of the room. A locker came flying, sparing him only a second. Catching the locker, he held it above him, looking at Lenora, who took slow steps towards him—fists still raised.

"Lenora, please…"

She didn't stop.

Furrowing his brows, Lincoln threw the locker right back at her.

It didn't make her flinch as she struck out a hand, grabbed a flat side of the locker, gripped it, and crunched it like paper before throwing it to the side.

Lincoln assumed something like that would happen, but it didn't stop his heart from picking up. Gritting his teeth, he moved his eyes for a way out. He didn't need to fight her.

Suddenly, Melina slammed through the door to the hallway, and Tamesha levitated out of the hole Lincoln made.

Both drew gazes to Lenora, who turned to them with a sharp eye, her fists still clenched.

They didn't move a step.

Lincoln presumed they were leaving it all to Lenora. Perhaps they were confident, or it was something about honor. Whatever it was, he was grateful he didn't have to fight all three of them at once.

Lenora took a few steps forward. Lincoln took some back. Not a word was said as they continued to move steadily. Lincoln prepared for the moment Lenora would engage, and she seemed to be waiting for the perfect time.

Eventually, his back hit a wall, and he decided to get mad at it now.

Keeping his eyes on Lenora, Lincoln placed a palm on the wall and blew it apart with energy, revealing an office room. A couple of workers were inside. They scurried off with only their footsteps.

Lenora rushed him, fists raised, and gave a couple of quick jabs at Lincoln, who covered himself in energy and weaved around them.

Then, she brought up a foot and stomped on the ground, a tremor of violet energy expanding and hitting Lincoln's feet, throwing him off balance.

With this chance, she delivered a blow straight to the side of his head, sending him flying into the far wall. Computer parts and desk supplies were scattered around.

Lincoln felt immense pressure where he was punched. He couldn't take any more direct hits without healing himself.

As Lenora charged at him, he dropped down, grabbed two desks nearby with each hand, and threw them at her.

The desks broke against her skin one by one as if she were running through the finish line of a race.

Lincoln evaded a grab from her, dashing away once more.

She stared at him, now across the room. "Obviously, you don't want to fight. Is it because you are fond of us? Or is it because I'm a woman?"

"Both." Lincoln's eyes didn't waver for a second, drawing his honesty.

Lenora gandered at him, letting nothing escape but a sigh after a few seconds.

Lincoln's eyes softened. "If I had a taser or a weapon, I wouldn't mind fighting a girl. But something feels off, hurting them with my bare hands."

Lenora quirked a brow. "But you fought a woman at the tournament."

"In a contest, sure. It doesn't take away from that feeling, though. It just feels, I don't know, wrong. We didn't sign up for this."

"You signed up for this after you took the keycard." Lenora looked him over for a bit before shaking her head. "You were raised well, Lincoln"—she began walking towards him—"but the world of survival doesn't care about such trivial things."

As Lenora neared, Lincoln blasted her with an orb of energy from his palm.

As expected, Lenora ignored it like a gust of wind. She stepped forward, faster than before, and grabbed him with her arms.

Hugging Lincoln to her chest tight, she locked Lincoln in her hold, keen on never letting him leave without permission.

Lincoln didn't squirm. He wasn't able to go anywhere anyway. He felt the grip around him tighten and the pressure along with it, but all he did in response was look up at her with hard but begging eyes.

She locked gazes with the same type of eyes. "Tell me where the keycard is on your body, and I'll let you go. You should leave the city."

Hearing that, Lincoln closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. He charged his energy and placed his palms on Lenora's sides.

"I'm sorry."

Lenora didn't expect anything to come up from this attempt. She didn't know what the boy was thinking. He clearly noticed how she shrugged off his earlier attacks.

But then she turned stunned when she felt a sharp burst of pain.

She gave out a quick yell and dropped Lincoln, holding her sides where she got hit, groaning. Her confusion slowly faded as she began to realize how it felt.

It didn't shock her that she took damage. What did, however, force her to go still was one shocking fact.

Lincoln made her feel pain.

Looking up, Lincoln was no longer in the room; a hole in the doorway was there instead.

Sighing, she looked at her fists one last time before relaxing and dropping them.

"Lenora…" Melina said, reminding Lenora she was still in the room. Her voice was a low whisper as if she had seen someone pull off impossible odds at the casino. "Was that… pain?"

She looked over to them with a serious eye, nodding once.

The other two stared at her silently, still as Lenora was.

They contemplated chasing Lincoln when their pockets buzzed.

Taking out their phones and flipping them open, they read a text from their newest and youngest colleague.

"Stay out of this."


Outside, Terry reclined in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table where his finished food sat. With a smartphone against his ear, he looked off aimlessly at the city, focusing on the call.

Stacey and Tristen watched him, still finishing up their meals. They ignored the restaurant owner's protests, who shouted at Terry to take his feet off.

"Yeah," Terry said.

He went silent to let the person on the line speak. It was a long pause.

"We're still on that. Some things happened, so we were delayed a bit. Don't worry about it. Bye."

Terry hung up. "The Captain," he said, looking at the other two. "He was worried something happened to us."

Stacey sighed. "Jermaine's always so worried."

"He cares." Tristen took another bite of his pasta.

She nodded. "Yeah."

Terry blew out some air and took his shoes off the table. "It's time to move. We'll wait for the right chance and proceed. Ever since the Big Bosses disbanded, there's been a ton of 'em."

"We've wasted some time relaxing," Tristen said.

Terry shrugged. "'Wasted' is pushing it. Captain won't mind us taking a short break." He stood up and walked out of the restaurant's borders with the other two in tow.

He stared far across the main road in front of him, aiming his gaze right at a tall building about ten blocks down.

"We'll camp out near the building," Terry said. "No more wasting time. It'll be a bit boring, though. Stacey, go buy us some cards."

She frowned, raising an eye at him and crossing her arms.

Sighing, Terry dramatically dropped his arms. "Please?"

Like a light switch, her frown quirked into a smile, and she walked off. "Sure thing, Chris."

Terry's nose scrunched up in annoyance. "Emily," he mocked.

Tristen frowned. "Careless."

Chris sighed, looking off to the tall building again. The sign at the top read, "Luck's Bank."

"It's fine. Nobody important is listening anyway. Let's go."


Lincoln dropped to the first level of the building.

No one seemed to be in the lobby at this time. The lights were all off, and it was too quiet after what happened earlier.

He reached into his bag, taking out a cylinder bottle filled with glowing blue liquid the size of his hand. After popping off the cork, he drank it and felt the pressure on his head and sides disappear. He sighed in relief.

The front door was right in front of him.

He didn't waste a second, starting a sprint.

Slow footsteps echoed.

He stopped when the lights flicked on.

Shade appeared around a beam next to the front entrance. She wore a black suit and pants, just as professional as her others. When she appeared, she looked at the ground, which, judging from her dull eyes, wasn't interesting.

Looking tired or unimpressed—Lincoln couldn't tell—she raised her gaze to lock eyes with him.

"Shade!" Lincoln yelled across the lobby. "Come with me! We can stop this if we work together!"

No reply came to his ears. Instead, metal sounds rang through as a chrome rod extended from Shade's grasp. One end almost touched the floor, and the other reached slightly above her head. The end, looking at the ground, sparked with electricity.

Lincoln gave a sorry expression; he had received nothing like that back.

Shade took an energy pistol from her back with her other hand and stalked toward Lincoln.