Book (No Title Yet)

Arthur leaned over the solar carburetor, his grease-streaked fingers meticulously tightening bolts and aligning circuits. The faint hum of the S8 engine under his hands was a comforting reminder of simpler things—machines that followed rules, systems that could be fixed. Unlike people. Unlike the world. The rhythmic pulse of the engine matched the pounding bassline in his headphones, a steady anchor in the chaos of his thoughts.

"Shoutout my label that's me. I'm in this bitch with TB. I'm in this bitch with Four-Trey…"

The music thumped, drowning out the clatter of tools and the occasional shout from the other mechanics in the shop. Arthur nodded along, his head bobbing to the beat as he adjusted a fuel intake valve. The shop was a symphony of noise—grinding metal, hissing hydraulics, and the occasional burst of laughter—but Arthur was in his own world. Here, he was in control. Here, he could fix things.

"ARTHUR!"

The voice pierced through the music like a bullet through glass. Arthur blinked, pulling his headphones off and glancing up. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Carlos, his coworker, standing in the doorway. Carlos's face was pale, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something sharper, more urgent.

"There's a fight in the main lobby!" Carlos shouted, his voice cracking under the strain.

Arthur frowned, wiping his hands on a rag. "Carlos, I've been on this carburetor all day. Why would you distract me for—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his ears catching the faint echoes of shouting from the lobby. His brow furrowed as he recognized one of the voices. It was high-pitched, furious, and achingly familiar.

"No way… Eve?" he muttered under his breath. The name tasted strange after so long. He glanced at his watch—29 January, 100 AC. She should've been at the Academy. The second semester had definitely started by now.

Shaking his head, Arthur dismissed the thought and turned back to his work. But then, he heard it.

"ARTY!"

His heart skipped a beat. That nickname—it could only be her. He handed his tools to Carlos without another word and bolted for the lobby, his boots leaving smudges of motor oil on the concrete floor.

The scene in the lobby was chaos.

A petite girl in grey jean shorts and an orange "Keep the World Clean" shirt stood at the counter, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Her brown hair framed her face like a storm cloud, and her eyes burned with barely contained fury. She was a whirlwind of energy, her presence commanding the room even as she stood still.

"Let me in! All I want to do is see Arty!" she shouted, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel.

The receptionist, Cherie, stood her ground, arms crossed and lips pursed. "Look, if you want to see Arthur, you'll have to wait until after his shift. He's our best mechanic. We can't have him wasting time on—"

"ON WHAT, BITCH?!" Eve roared, interrupting her. Her voice echoed off the walls, drawing the attention of every mechanic and customer in the lobby. "Are you calling me a waste of time?"

Arthur pushed through the crowd, his hands still smeared with grease. "Eve, calm down!"

She spun on her heel, her fiery gaze landing on him. The tension in her shoulders melted instantly, replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable.

"Arty!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking with relief. She darted toward him, burying her face in his chest. Her hair tickled his nose, and her scent—warm, earthy, familiar—washed over him.

Arthur placed his hands gently on her shoulders, his touch steadying. "Eve, I'm right here. No need to fight Cherie. Though, I must admit, watching beautiful women argue over me is a nice change of pace."

Eve pulled back just enough to punch his arm. "Dumbass. This isn't a joke. I need to talk to you. It's serious."

The room was silent now, every eye on the pair. Eve glanced around, her cheeks flushing as she realized the scene she'd caused. Without another word, she grabbed Arthur's hand and yanked him toward the exit.

"Eve, what the hell is going on?" Arthur demanded as she dragged him across the parking lot with surprising strength. "Why aren't you at the Academy? And what's so urgent that you had to start a war in the lobby?"

Eve didn't answer until they reached her bright yellow buggy, parked haphazardly in the corner spot. She turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I need you," she said, her voice trembling.

"For what?" Arthur asked, exasperated. "You're not making any sense. And you do realize kidnapping is a Grade A crime, right?"

"Avery…" Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "Avery is… part of the CLF."

Arthur blinked. "The CL—what?"

"The CLF!" she snapped, her voice breaking. "The ones who shot up the airport in Marietta last week. I haven't heard from Avery since, and I know—I know—he was there. I saw his eyes, Arthur. I know my brother."

Arthur stepped back, trying to process her words. "Eve, that's insane. Avery just graduated from the Academy. He's a good guy. Passionate, yeah, but—CLF? Terrorists? You don't even have proof!"

Eve looked down, her hands trembling. "I don't need proof," she whispered. "I need you to trust me."

Arthur stared at her, his mind racing. The weight of her words pressed down on him, suffocating, inescapable.

And then, something extraordinary happened.

Eve placed her hand on the buggy's dashboard. Her eyes flared, glowing like molten gold. Arthur felt the air grow cold, as though the sun itself had vanished. The buggy's solar gauge, previously empty, surged to full.

"Eve…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Your eyes just—what the hell was that?"

She smiled, a cocky, radiant smirk that sent a shiver down his spine. "You wanted to know how we're going to stop the CLF? This is how."

For a moment, she seemed to shimmer, her entire being radiating with an unearthly light.

Arthur took a deep breath, his resistance crumbling. "Fine," he muttered, circling around to the passenger side. "But if I die, I'm haunting you and we need to go by my house first."

Arthur shares a meaningful glance with Eve, "Plus Charlie would love to see you."

Eve slid into the driver's seat, her smile turning watery. "She's probably so big now."

The drive to Arthur's house was quiet. Eve hummed to herself, hands steady on the wheel, as Arthur stared out the window. The streets were lined with old-world ruins, their broken silhouettes a reminder of a time long gone. Solar lamps dotted the sidewalks, casting a dim glow over neighbors returning home from communal duties. The buggy's quiet hum matched the weight in Arthur's chest.

They pulled up to a modest house on the edge of the district. Its exterior was well-kept but weathered, a testament to his mother's efforts to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Arthur stepped out, glancing at Eve. "Stay here for a bit. I'll let you know when you can come in."

Eve nodded, leaning back in her seat.

Inside, Arthur's mother, Helena, was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. Her auburn hair, streaked with silver, was tied back in a loose bun. She turned when the door opened, a warm smile lighting up her tired face.

"Arthur? You're home early," she said, her voice carrying a hint of surprise. But her expression shifted as she noticed his tense posture. "What's wrong?"

Arthur hesitated, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Mom, I need to talk to you. Can we sit?"

Helena frowned but nodded, pulling out a chair at the small kitchen table. "What's going on, sweetheart?"

Arthur sat across from her, his eyes heavy with unspoken words. "I have to leave… for a while."

The silence between them stretched thin. Helena's hand instinctively went to her wedding ring, twisting it as she searched his face. "Leave? Where? Why?"

"Eve showed up today. It's… complicated, but she needs my help. It's serious, Mom. I can't say much, but I have to go."

Helena sighed, leaning back in her chair. Her gaze dropped to the floor before returning to his. "I knew this day would come," she murmured. "Arthur, you've been here for so long, holding everything together. For me. For Charlie. I've been so grateful, but I've also hated myself for letting you carry so much. You've given up so much of your life."

Arthur shook his head. "Mom, it wasn't like that. I wanted to be here."

"No," she said softly. "You needed to be here. And I let that happen. But you're not the one who needs this conversation. You know that."

Arthur swallowed hard, nodding. He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'll talk to her."

Helena's eyes glistened as she watched him leave the kitchen. "Arthur… just be gentle. She adores you."

Charlie's room was a colorful explosion of stuffed animals, toys, and dolls. The five-year-old was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her curls bouncing as she chattered to her dolls. She didn't notice Arthur and Eve at first.

Eve stepped in first, crouching down with a wide grin. "Charlie! Oh my gosh, you've grown so much! Look at you—you're beautiful!"

Charlie looked up, her face lighting up with recognition. "Evie!" she squealed, launching herself into Eve's arms. Arthur leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold. His throat tightened as he saw Eve twirl Charlie around, her laugh filling the room. It struck a nerve deep inside him—how much he'd missed moments like these, how much he loved the women in his life, despite how much he hated being stuck here while Eve was living his dream and seeing the rest of the world.

He cleared his throat, snapping himself out of his thoughts. "Eve, can I talk to Charlie for a second?"

Eve nodded, gently setting Charlie down. "I'll be right outside, okay?" She brushed past Arthur, giving him a brief look before closing the door behind her.

Arthur knelt down, his broad frame suddenly seeming small in the glow of the soft lamp in Charlie's room. She looked up at him, her curls bouncing as she tilted her head, clutching Scamper the stuffed penguin to her chest. Her big, innocent eyes searched his face with the kind of unfiltered honesty only a child could manage.

"What's wrong, Arty?" she asked, her voice soft and careful, like she could sense the heaviness of his heart. She held out Scamper with both hands. "You can hold Scamper if you want. He always makes me feel better."

Arthur's breath hitched as he reached out and gently took the penguin, squeezing it. The fabric was worn, a patch on the belly stitched with the unskilled but loving hands of a five-year-old. He smiled despite himself, even as his chest tightened.

"Thanks, Charlie," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Scamper's the best, huh?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing. "The bestest."

Arthur set Scamper down gently on his knee, meeting her gaze. "Charlie, listen to me. I need to tell you something really important, okay?"

Her smile faded, her little brows furrowing. "Okay…"

He reached out, brushing a stray curl from her face, his hand trembling slightly. "I have to go away for a little while."

Charlie's face fell, her lips parting in confusion. "Go away? Why? Did I do something bad?"

Arthur's heart broke at the question. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame. "No, Charlie. Never. This isn't about you. You're the best little sister anyone could ever have. I'm going because… because I have to help someone. It's like when I go to work to fix things, remember? But this time, it's bigger. It's something only I can do."

Her small arms tightened around his neck as she pressed her face into his shoulder. "But I don't want you to go," she whimpered. "What if you don't come back?"

Arthur closed his eyes, his tears slipping free as he held her closer. He rested his chin on her curls, inhaling the scent of strawberry shampoo. "I will come back. I promise. You know I never break my promises, right?"

She sniffled, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. Her cheeks were wet, her lower lip trembling. "Promise, Arty?"

"I promise," he said firmly, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "You're my number one, Charlie. I could never leave you forever. Not in a million years."

Charlie hesitated, then glanced at Scamper, still perched on Arthur's knee. She picked up the penguin and held it out to him again. "Then you should take Scamper. He'll keep you safe."

Arthur's throat tightened, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking down. He took the penguin carefully, cradling it like it was the most precious thing in the world. "You're so brave, Charlie," he whispered. "I'm going to miss you so much."

Charlie started to cry harder, big tears streaming down her cheeks. She grabbed his leg, holding on as tightly as her little hands could manage. "Don't go, Arty! Please! I'll be really good! I'll even eat my broccoli!"

Arthur couldn't hold back anymore. He scooped her up again, pressing kisses to her forehead as he rocked her gently. "Oh, Charlie…" His voice cracked as he whispered, "I love you more than anything in this world. But I have to go. Just for a little while."

She sobbed into his shoulder, clutching his shirt with tiny fists. Arthur stayed like that for what felt like forever, letting her cry as he tried to memorize every detail of the moment—the warmth of her in his arms, the sound of her voice, the way her small frame fit perfectly against his.

Finally, he gently set her back on the ground, crouching to her eye level. "You're my brave girl, okay? And I need you to take care of Mom while I'm gone. Can you do that for me?"

Charlie sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She nodded slowly, though her tears didn't stop. "Okay… but you have to come back."

"I will," he said, his voice resolute. He kissed her forehead one last time, then stood, his legs feeling like lead as he turned to leave the room.

"Arty!" she cried, her little voice breaking. She threw herself onto the floor, sobbing, "Don't go!"

Arthur closed the door behind him, leaning against it as the sound of her cries pierced his heart. His own tears fell silently, streaking down his face. When he finally found the strength to move, he wiped his eyes and headed down the hallway, where Eve was waiting.

She didn't say anything, her eyes glancing at the tear tracks on his face. Instead, she simply started walking toward the front door. Arthur followed, his chest hollow and heavy.

In the kitchen, Helena stood by the counter, her expression soft and understanding. She placed a hand on Arthur's arm as he passed. "She'll be okay," she said gently.

Arthur nodded but couldn't speak. His throat was too tight. He just shared a meaningful glance with his mom and handed her Scamper.

His mom began tearing up as she took the doll from him, now understanding the potential danger he could be facing but says nothing as he walks away.

Arthur and Eve stepped outside, the air suddenly colder than before. He climbed into the buggy, settling into the passenger seat as Eve started the engine.

Arthur turned to her, his voice low and raw. "Tell me everything, Eve. No half-truths. No secrets. I need to know exactly what I'm getting into."

Eve's hands tightened on the wheel, her jaw clenching. She nodded, her face serious. "You deserve that. I'll tell you everything."

The engine roared to life, while the faint sound of Charlie's cries echoed in Arthur's mind as they drove into the night.