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Chapter -17- With a Little Help from my Friends

Friday, August 27, Sunrise... Spain ...

Karla Loupe gazed down at a faded photograph then stuffed it into her purse. She adjusted the shoulder strap and approached a man slumped at the bar. The succubus closed her hand to hide the pink glow of her palm, and used telekinesis to hoist him up from his bar stool. She feigned a grunt to make it appear as though it took some measure of effort to lift him to his feet.

The man grumbled and sat back down on the bar stool, looking at her with a wan smile. "Ah mira qué bonita señorita. Dime, ¿Quién eres?"

Karla sighed in frustration. "Soy su sobrina. Katurah."

Raul laughed. He didn't appear to believe her at first, taking a moment to admire her youthful appearance. "¿De verdad? Te tengo un acertijo. Soy mejor que Dios, peor que el diablo. Los pobres me tienen, y los ricos me quieren, pero el que me come se muere. Dime, que soy...?"

Karla grinned, amusing herself with a wrong answer. "Hope."

Raul blinked, confused. "Hope? Como puedes morir de comer Hope?"

Karla's grin broadened. "Te puedeo decir historias sobre esa muchacha ... decimos que ella necesitaba usar mas jabon."

The drunk man shrugged a bit, rolling his shoulders. "Me entretienes, diablilla. Pero violas mi lengua. Ingles por favor. ¿Qué tipo de dialecto es eso? ¿Mexicano del Nor-Oeste?"

"I lived in California, Uncle Raul. And the real answer to your stupid riddle is 'nothing.' I was being a smartass when I said Hope. Can we go somewhere more private?"

Raul spoke with a Spanish dialect, but not nearly as heavy as Karla expected. In fact, his English was surprisingly good, especially considering the advanced state of his inebriation. "You just said you're family, now you're coming on to me, señorita?"

"I'm your niece, I just told you that. We need to have a conversation somewhere that is private."

"No one here speaks English ... Keturah was it?"

"Dios mio, Raul, I just told you - I'm Keturah, your niece. Are you so drunk you forgot you have a sister who had a daughter?"

"My sobrina was a succubus and that was a very, very long time ago. Succubae and incubi, as filthy as they are, live a long time, considering their sexual filth. But ... they do not live _that_long."

Karla smacked him across the face. The bar grew quiet. Everyone in the room stared at them. "I'm not filthy.You are. A filthy drunk womanizer - I don't care if you thought low of me. But you will respect my father."

Raul slumped back onto the barstool. "Azazel was a sex demon and..."

"Listen, you drunk asshole ... you may hate my father for fathering a child with your sister. But, at least my father was there for me and raised me. What did my mother do? What did you do? You two were too goddamn busy for children who didn't meet your prestigious expectations. Now get your ass out of this bar, sober up, and talk to me. It's goddamn important."

Raul lifted both of his hands as if surrendering. He slid off the barstool and trudged to the door. "Follow me. What year are we in, that you're still alive?"

"It's 2049, you dope. I'm still alive, and so is my father. Why do you think my mother slept with him? He wasn't just some run-of-the-mill incubus who dies every twelve-to-fifteen decades. Neither am I. Now ... I'm going to need you to sober up, you pig."

Raul lifted his left index finger and placed his right hand against the wall. He slowly sat down on the sidewalk in front of the bar. "Just give me a moment, then, señorita."

"Me llamo Keturah, you drunk moron. Christ, why did they send me to find you?"

"Just give me a moment," he repeated then closed his eyes as if going to sleep, sitting against the wall outside the bar.

Facial stubble began to grow on his face, right before her eyes, as though he aged himself a day in seconds. A moment later, Raul stood up, eyes squinted. "A bit dehydrated. Could use a..."

"You'll get water. Did you just sleep, right there on the sidewalk? A full day?"

"Nearly so. Only a full day for me. It gave me a chance to sober up, Karla."

Karla paused and eyed him. "How did you know what I call myself now?"

"Nathanial Carrington told me a few years ago. He had respect for you, señorita. Pardon my drunkenness. I'm hung-over. I need ... something to drink. We should talk in private. I, ah, did not say anything inappropriate, did I?"

"Just that a succubus is filthy. I slapped the ever-loving-shit out of you for it. Loud enough that everyone in the noisy bar stopped what they were doing and grew quiet."

Raul laughed in amusement. "Good. I deserved it. Mm, look at you. You look like a blond version of my sister. If it's not too much to ask, is it true that a succubus will sleep with anyone?"

"Don't even pretend to want to have sex with me," Karla said, eyes narrowed. "Even sober, you're a womanizer."

"I never flirted with two women my whole life. My mother and my sister. You are neither. So it is fair game."

"Christ Almighty, you're worse than I remember. Gather your things, Raul. We're going to America. You don't have a choice in the matter. You owe me this favor for being a sleazy piece of..."

"Wait!"

"...What?"

"Will Nathanial be there, or did he die yet? I never bothered to read up on the finer points of history for this time period."

Karla sighed. "He died twenty-five years ago. You're going to meet his protégé, Reno Nevada. Let's gather a few of your things, then we'll get going."

"I have no need or space for personal possessions. I can't bring such things through time and space. I've learned to live without..."

"Do you own another set of clothes?"

"Oh. I see what you mean. Yes. I have a drawer with some clothes in it."

Karla sighed. "Nevermind. I'll get you something a little nicer when we get to San Francisco. Are you okay with flying?"

"A plane? Why? Time and space are..."

"We're not traveling like that. Not right now. We're going to get on an airplane like normal people. I'm going to take Dramamine. We're going to fly to California. There's a nonstop flight from here to San Diego. Then we're going to take the Mag-Lev train up to San Francisco."

"You're doing all this for a nonstop flight?" he asked.

"Yes. I hate layovers. I hate waiting, or being in any kind of a holding pattern. And right now, I'm waiting for you to get your act together. So ... no more hitting on me. You're going to come with me to the airport and we're going to fly to California. Are we clear?"

"Si, señorita, we're clear as crystal."

"Good." She gestured towards the sidewalk. "Let's start walking. I'll find you some water on the way there. You can walk off your headache."

"Actually, it would help more if I drank a..."

"You're getting water," she said in a firm tone.

"Dios Mio, you're as mean to me as your mother."

"I can see why she treated you like that," Karla muttered. "You act like a child, so it comes natural for me to treat you like one." She paused as they began walking together, and then she inquired, "Why did you ask me a riddle when I first found you?"

"Oh, did I?"

"Raul ... you goofy drunk, you said to me, 'I am better than God, more evil than the devil. The poor people have me, the rich people want me, and if you eat me, you'll die. What am I?' I've heard that a million times so I was being a smart ass and said, 'Hope.' Then you asked how someone can die from eating Hope, and I said because the girl needed to learn how to use some goddam soap down there. Look, I just want to know, why did you ask me a stupid riddle? The real riddle, here, is why are you drinking this early in the morning?"

"I, uh ... look, I was very drunk, Karla. What was your real answer?"

"Nothing." Karla folded her arms beneath her bust line. She stole a glance at her uncle, who appeared in his early twenties, then she gazed down at the sidewalk. "Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't. I'm sorry I wasn't being a gentleman. My sister would've been really upset with me for coming on to you. Can we not tell her that?"

"My mother has been dead a long time. It's 2049, you numbskull."

"Si, right ... my apologies. So why are you seeking me out? Why are you taking me half-way across the globe this year?"

"Because there's a man using temporal abilities to kill people. He's not nearly as refined as you. He can't do all the shit you claim to do. So if you want to prove you can do all the crap you claim, you'll come with me to California, and you'll stop time or something. Now, I never believed you - just for the record. Not until a few minutes ago."

Raul tilted his head. "A few minutes ago? Why a few minutes ago?"

"Because I watched you grow a day's worth of stubble in less than a minute."

"Oh. Si. That is how I sleep off my drunken stupor without losing any time in my day."

"Well, let's get a move on. We have to be to the airport two hours early."

"I thought you said you have a killer on the loose?"

"Yeah, we do."

"Then why waste time to fit in and appear normal? Do you know why the Esoteric Council _really_died out? Because they were so rooted in the old ways. They could not adapt."

"Uh, no. You're wrong," she sneered. "The old school EC members killed off the esoteric youth. They did a sort of cleansing and with minimal collateral damage."

"Still. Those in charge at the time lived by antiquated means. Come on." He reached for her hand and, all at once, they were walking in downtown San Francisco, but it was night.

She glanced at her smart watch. The date backed up to Thursday, August 26, Pacific Daylight Time.

Karla jerked her hand out of his and gave him a shove. "We need to blend in. What if someone saw us blip out of Spain?"

"So what? You think they can catch me? I'll outlive them in the blink of an eye. I'll go back to when they were born and romance their mother so she never meets their father."

"Christ." She looked around to make sure nobody was watching. "Come on, we need to head to Pacific Heights." She snatched his wrist and they teleported from the quiet street corner.

X

X

Thursday, August 26 - Night San Francisco, California ...

Reno Nevada's gaze met and locked with the man. "So you really thought you should attack me, huh? How exactly did you know I'm hunting for you? And who told you?"

"Information is out there. Information on anything, Special Agent Nathanial Carrington."

Reno frowned. "Not many people know me by that name ... or by that title."

"And now they won't get a chance to, Agent Carrington."

"Alright, well, let's rumble then. I don't have all night."

"Fine by me." Without further warning, the man disappeared. His movements became a mere blur. He approached at a speed Reno was never ready for.

By the time a charge began to appear in Reno's palm, the man had already crossed the room.

And then, all at once, the man slammed into something and stumbled backwards as though he'd hit a wall. However, there was nothing that appeared between the man and Reno.

Nevada stepped forward, but there was no wall or telekinetic force holding him back. "Karla?" he asked, assumptively.

An average built black man stepped from the hallway. He wore a classy suit, dark blue - nearly black, with faint purple pinstripes. The man offered Reno a smile and, in a calm, friendly tone, announced, "Mister Nevada."

"Wait ... Trajen?" Reno looked down at the man on the floor, who rolled over, dazed. The man had a broken nose and his eyes were half-lidded. "What the hell happened to him?"

Trajen smiled. "When you move that fast in that short of time, while still entangled with the linear time stream, you build up something called inertia ... momentum. And at that speed, he increased the weight of his body. Most likely, he was hoping to clothesline you, in order to put you on the floor and subdue you. He hit my wall with all that force."

"How did you know I'd be here?" Reno glanced back down at the man then looked back up at Trajen. "How did he? Did you tell him I'd be here? If so, how is it that you knew I'd be here, man? And where the hell is Lance Patterson?"

A sly smile slid across Trajen's face. "You're right, I told him you'd be here. Very good. The mind of a detective. You're not as smart as Patterson was; you don't have the imagination of Karla, or the focus of Kalen, or the book smarts of Wilfred, but you were very quick to figure out that this man bought his intelligence from me. I knew he'd be here because he bought that intelligence from me. So I followed my client."

"So how did you know I'd be here?"

"Because Lance Patterson is dead. You're a homicide detective. You arrived a little sooner than I anticipated, but not by much."

Reno ran his fingers through his hair. "I came to check on Methos because I was the closest one. You know for a fact that he's dead? Lance I mean?"

"Yes. Unfortunate. He would have been the right leader for the job. I do not yet know who killed him. I deal with the flow of information all the time, and watch as it shapes reality. Disinformation creates an illusion of reality. But in the end, perception is reality. That is why I prefer to deal in such. I buy and sell..."

"I remember. That's why I came to you all those years ago."

Trajen knelt by the man on the floor and used a thumb to push the man's eyelids open. "Mm, I suspect it wasn't all that long ago for you. Also, our little friend, here, didn't listen to me very clearly."

"How so?"

Trajen looked up and smiled again. "I told him you're an FBI_Supervisory Special Agent_. He called you Special Agent. It's all in the details, Mr. Nevada. Details can mean the difference between reality and an illusion. Details are the difference between what is seen, and what sleight of hand is. It's what we perceive, or do not."

"So, I don't have cuffs. How should we detain this guy?"

"You cannot detain him. You have to fight him on a fair field. He can become un-entangled from the time stream, he can move forward through time and, to an extent, phase out of simple handcuffs. The cuffs must become entangled to him. It's somewhat complicated. However, Karla is seeking out her uncle, whose mastery of temporal entanglement far, far exceeds the ability of this man."

"What's his name?"

Trajen stood up and folded his arms across his chest, overtop of a silk dark-purple necktie. The tie matched the pinstripes. "Mm, I buy and sell information. Your question has a cost. I owed you a favor twenty-five years ago. That favor is repaid. So let's discuss a price."

Reno knelt over the man and checked him for identification. For the first time, he took notice of what the perpetrator was wearing. The man had a Starter brand breakaway jacket with the Cowboys logo on it. Nevada lifted the jacket up, exposing the man's torso. Reno shifted the suspect and checked him for weapons, regardless of the fact the man would have no need for them. Nevada paused and looked at the logo on the man's T-shirt, beneath the windbreaker.

Trajen remained quiet.

"Iron Maiden? What's this zombie-looking-guy on the front?"

"It's a band. That's Eddie. Karla would know more about them. She loves metal."

Reno furrowed his brows. "She does?"

"You should learn more about your friends, Mr. Nevada. That man's shirt is what he wore the day he move forward in the time stream. That jacket is the first thing he stole in the early 1990s. Dallas won championships twice in the 70's, and three times in the early 90's. That made this man a fan."

"What's his name, Trajen?"

"Mr. Nevada, I run a business."

"So do I. I'm conducting an investigation."

"Aren't you going to ask my price?"

"No. So where's Lance? Where's the body? And who killed him?"

"I can look into the details. Again, it will cost you. And there will be no chain of evidence. You'd be operating backwards, creating a chain. Then again, you wouldn't really need one, working the Esoteric Division. Not in the same way you would, back with your old employer. So ... price?"

"Just give me a lead and I'll work the case myself. I'm not going to play these games unless I absolutely have to."

Trajen shook his head. "If only you knew what I know. No matter. Do you still have the thumb drive?"

"Excuse me?"

"The one you found in the glove box of your Chevelle before jumping into the supernatural world with both feet. Do you remember? Where did you put it?"

Reno thought for a moment then shrugged. "I couldn't see what was on it. Wilfred accessed _some_stuff on it but ... that was twenty-five years ago. He couldn't get much."

"Try it now. Plug it into any computer and open the file tree. A lot of your questions will be answered."

"Who wrote the files?"

"Nathanial Carrington left all his personal notes on that drive. He started writing them in the year 2000, and added document files up until 2023, shortly before his death. He's the one who put that thumb drive into your father's Chevelle."

"What? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

"How come I couldn't open it on a computer?"

"It's complicated, Mr. Nevada. The computer code and format used to access that drive is, shall we say, something a modern computer can easily access. You won't understand some of what's on that drive. For that, I am sorry - you'll need to discuss a price to ask me those questions. And so far as our friend, here - let's call him _Eddie_for the sake of his shirt - he'll escape shortly."

"How do I detain him?"

"You can't. At least not without finding a way to entangle him to a certain time or object - like handcuffs. You'll need Raul Poliandro's help. Karla will find him soon."

Reno sighed. "Fine." He paused, then, "Speaking of Eddie ... Trajen, you're a classy man. Why did you surround yourself with people like your doorman - Fast Eddie?"

"I watch over my descendants, Mr. Nevada. Edward was such. I stepped into his life and helped get him away from the gang world. I gave him the opportunity to get his life back on track. You met him, as my doorman, before he was fully rehabilitated. So far, none of my descendants have been born with an ability, or as immortals. It's my curse to bear alone, I suppose."

"I ... I see. So Eddie made something of himself?"

"He became a father, Mr. Nevada. Not nearly as good of a father as his second son. I had great, great respect for Edward's second-born son, Travon Kamiel, or TK as his friends called him. Travon went on to have an impressive education. First he went to Morgan, in Baltimore. Then he went to Perdue. Enough about my family, though. Let's talk about yours."

"Let's not."

"Fair enough. I'm glad your brother is alive and well. Mr. Nevada, you should leave soon. Eddie, your perpetrator, will be waking up momentarily."

"I need to find something to help me figure out why Methos died."

Trajen picked up the tablet computer from the floor, adjacent to the over-turned coffee table. "Have Wilfred figure out how to get into it. The last thing Lance was researching was the Crystal Skulls. I'm afraid they're not quite as exciting as their role portended in the Indiana Jones movie. However, all twelve of them were stolen twenty-five years ago."

Reno frowned. "By Doc Falcon?"

"Indeed ... by Aris Falcon. Lance was researching where a fabled thirteenth skull was hidden."

"Please tell me you're joking. The Crystal Skulls? Seriously? That's been used in so many comic..."

"Mr. Nevada, stop. Just follow the lead. It doesn't matter if they have legitimate value or purpose. It only matters if Lance Patterson's killer thinks they did. Or if Lance thinks they did. Or if Falcon thinks they did."

"So they're not just a fancy paperweight?"

Trajen smiled. "No. They have purpose. But that sort of information will cost you. Now ... leave before your new friend wakes up."

Reno pursed his lips then tucked the tablet under his arm and walked out of the living room. "You still at that nightclub?"

"If I know you're going there, then yes - you will find me there. Good luck with your investigation. Also, you should take your own advice."

Reno stopped at the front door and glanced back over his shoulder. "What, exactly?"

"To work together as a team. You told everyone else to pair up so nobody dies, and then you go gallivanting off by yourself. See what happened? You got attacked. Find Karla so she isn't by herself. Tell Raul I said hello. Then tell him to hasten Conner Parker's injuries."

"Raul a friend of yours?"

Trajen grinned. "Don't be surprised if he mistakes you for someone else. He, ah ... loves to drink. You may need to sober him up for him to be of much help."

"Great. Not looking forward to that." Reno stepped through the door and pulled it shut behind himself.

X

X

Friday, August 27 - Midnight Washington State ...

"Hold still, weremutt." The voice sounded familiar to Rufus Darken. He couldn't recall where he'd heard it - at least not right off the bat, but he definitely knew it from somewhere.

It was the voice of a man, and were it not for being lightheaded, Rue would have opened his eyes. Consciousness came in short waves. The man spoke again. "I can't believe you haven't learned your lesson about this. Why on Earth didn't you transform? Ah well, you can thank our Founding Father, Ben Franklin, for inventing the flexible catheter. Or, rather, I suppose I should thank him. Don't want doggie pee on me while I operate on your gut ... again. We really need to stop meeting like this. Did you know the bodies of ten British people were found in Ben Franklin's London home on Craven Street? I'm pretty sure they were already dead when procured by William Hewson, though. But you never know, right? After all, Franklin was, technically, a fugitive from the law after breaking a Boston Apprenticeship beneath his brother. Wouldn't it be a hoot if a prestigious founding father turned out to be a serial killer?"

"Gawd," Rue murmured, groggy. "Shaddaup, son."

"Oh. You're awake. Mm. I usually talked with nurses and surgeons during surgeries because it calms my nerves. It's distracting to others, but helped me to focus. Go back to sleep. I'm not finished. You really should have just transformed. You nearly wound up dead, just like..."

Void. Darkness. Rue fled back into the depths of unconsciousness. Where had he heard that voice before? He couldn't recall, and conscious thinking was difficult at best for the moment.

X

X

Twenty-five years ago...

_ Evan Balmoral went to the ground hard. He got to his knees with a grunt and looked up at Johann's hand. Evan took it and pulled himself back to his feet then turned around. The two boys faced a man in flack gear. He was the last man standing in a group of mostly-unconscious attackers, all wearing black uniforms._

The man, Wilhelm Snipes, looked around at his disabled unit. He glanced down at the cracked glass handgun on the ground then he lifted his gaze to the boys. "Evan, age twenty, African American. Johann, age twenty, Caucasian. You two boys have caused my people a LOT of trouble." Snipes opened and closed his right hand three times. "And I'll make you boys pay."

"Pay? Pay what?" said Johann with a smirk.

Snipes motioned to the men on the ground. "Do you see these men? Do you know how much it costs to train them? Do you see this weapon?" he picked up the useless glass handgun. "Do you know how much this costs, you little shit? Do you know how much these flack pants cost? I have a budget, and I have a unit to..."

Evan turned to Johann and shrugged. "The pants cost a lot?"

Johann furrowed his brows. "Do the pants really cost a lot?"

"Yes, you little morons. This operation isn't free! These pants are specially designed as flame retardant and they're designed to safeguard my kind from people like you."

Johann glanced at Evan, shrugged back, and then asked Snipes, "It protects against fire and raises your defense?"

"You stupid child ... the pants are a thousand dollars per pair and you ripped mine."

Johann furrowed his brows. "A thousand bucks for a stupid pair of pants? What enchantments are on it?"

Evan snickered softly. "Johann, I used to enchant pants in 'WoW'. Wait ... that sounded far dirtier than I intended."

"Yeah it sort of did," Johann agreed.

Evan and Johann both turned back to Snipes. "How about you send a message," Evan said. "I want you to tell the people for whom you work that you guys would be better off if you canceled your operation. That's it. Simple as that."

"You boys think this is a motherfucking game?"

Evan flinched at the cussword then cleared his throat. "Yes, soldier-man who quotes cat memes. Unlike grammar, we think this is a game. And we're prepared to win it. So go home. Quit playing, man. Look around you; see those men?"

"Yeah, men you've killed in the past."

Johann cut in. "A few. It wasn't intended, but they left us with no choice. Those guys attacked us first. Hell, they shot FBI agents to come after us. This needs to stop, pal."

Even added, "But look at your buddies now. None of them are dead. We've refined our fighting tactics. We have figured out ways to take people down and minimize the bloodshed. So go home. This is our team sending a message to your team ... stop playing this game."

Snipes balled his hands into fists. "Did it hurt when I punched you in the face a few minutes ago, kid?"

Evan shrugged. "I was bullied in high school. You're just another bully."

Snipes narrowed his gaze. "I'm not a bully. I'm the alpha dog, you stupid kid. I'm a group leader. And if the Doc lets you live, I'll spend the rest of my life making YOUR life miserable. Do you understand me?"

"Yup. Sure do." Evan waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. "Now go away."

X

X

Present date, 2049 - 6pm New Atlantis City

** Evan Balmoral opened his eyes with a start.** On the other side of the laser bars stood Wilhelm Snipes, who hadn't aged very much since that day, twenty-five years ago.

"Hey, Balmoral. Quittin' time. You sleeping on the job? It's time to go home to your wife and kid."

Evan lifted his gaze then lowered it, as if sizing the man up. "A little bird told me you went topside for a job recently. It was refreshing to have someone else as my security escort for a change. What's it like up there?"

Snipes smirked.

Evan frowned. "I've known you for twenty-five years. I let you go the day we met; I could have hurt you. C'mon, man. You've made good on your promise and made my life hell all this time. Just tell me what it's like outside in the 'Overworld.' Please?"

Snipes sighed. "My promise, huh? Did I really say that?"

"Yeah. We made fun of you for being a bully and you said you'd make the rest of my life a living hell."

"I thought you didn't cuss?"

"Hell isn't a cussword. It's a place. It's a noun, an adjective, and a metaphor. So, what's it like up top? Has Global Warming taken over? What's going on?"

Snipes stared at Evan for a moment then said, "Where I was, you'd need a jacket for most of the year. Seattle. Why didn't you ask before now? I've been back for a few weeks."

"I was trying to mind my own business, but curiosity got the better of me." Evan stood up, turned away from Snipes, and put his hands behind his back.

Snipes disengaged the laser bars, stepped forward, and put handcuffs on Evan's wrists. "Patience picked up your kid from school, because she got off work twenty minutes early. So I'm taking you straight to your house today."

"Fine by me."

"How do you do it, kid? Sleep all day, then sleep at night with her?"

Evan glanced over his shoulder, briefly, then forward again, staring at the wall. "I barely get to spend enough time with my wife being here. So I stay up fairly late and just stare at my family. I just ... I look at them and I remind myself what I've sacrificed my freedom for. Y'know, racism is nearly non-existent in this city. Yet I'm a slave to it. Funny how that works."

"Yeah, well, you keep your head down and your mouth shut. And if you do, you and your family will all live very good lives. But before we go, I have a question to ask you."

"Sure."

Snipes moved close, behind Evan, and spoke so that his security detail wouldn't hear him. "I recently learned you were approached by the Parker twins. Now, I don't hold it against you for not turning them in. You're loyal to your little friends. But why didn't you escape with them? Why didn't you help them find their children?"

Evan cleared his throat, swallowed, and licked his lips. "You have surveillance in this room? Why? And if you saw it, do you have audio? If you did, you'd know that I put my family over my freedom. Okay? I won't get my wife's hopes up over fighting a machine we can't beat."

"Yeah, kid. I heard every word. Why not escape?"

"Because. So, the twins haven't been by to visit. Did they escape?"

"Escape? No, Evan. We caught them. They're gone. They played the game and lost. They should have quit. Just like you should have quit all those years ago. But now I've leveled up and I'm the boss you'll never battle. See that? I know a thing or two about games. Now, answer my question - why didn't you help them?"

"I owe it to my family to keep my head down and sleep in a jail cell every day from 8am to 6pm. It keeps my family safe. I told the twins if they saved the day ... then, and _only_then, should they come back for me."

Snipes smirked. "They never came back for you."

Evan nodded. "I know better than to get my hopes up anymore. And I know better than to try and think I can save the world. All it ever got me was a few broken bones and a small jail cell with laser bars."

"Yeah. You remember that kid. By the way, the sunsets are the best parts up top. It's the only thing you're missing. That and the cold." Snipes walked away from Evan and opened the door leading out of the room housing the high-tech jail cell. "C'mon, Evan. Let's go."

Evan followed Snipes out of the room. "Why do you call me kid? You age slowly. I look older than you, now. So why do you call me kid?"

"Because you still think life is a game. So you're a kid."

"No," Evan replied in a firm tone. "I know better than to think life is a game. Life is a hard world full of sacrifices and heartache, where hopes and dreams are crushed - and the dreams that do come true ... they're miracles. Like my daughter. She's a miracle in this underwater world without hope. My wife - she's my other miracle. So let's go. I want to get home. I've put in a hard shift of staring at the walls."

Snipes smirked, coming alongside of Evan. "You used to stare at the walls, Evan. But you haven't done that since seeing your Parker pal. Now you sit in here and workout all day. Sit ups, pushups ... you make glass weights and a glass treadmill that seems to be powered by one of the laser bars. Quite ingenious. Not quite sure how it works but I've allowed it because exercise is good for you. Everyone should be doing it. But why? Why now? You said it yourself, hope is gone. There's no hope for you. So why work out every day, all day?"

Evan shrugged as they left the prison room together. "Solitary confinement every day has me depressed. Exercise helps endorphins and I managed to lose seven pounds."

"Water weight, Evan. That's the easy part."

"No, I don't eat salty things. I've always managed my water weight. This is from working out. I want to be back in shape. My wife appreciates it."

"Mm, I'm sure she does." They walked down the hall, through another door and out to an electric SUV-style vehicle, together. "Evan, are you holding out hope to be rescued? Because I told you the Parker twins are gone. They didn't escape. They simply didn't make it. Think about your wife and daughter. Remember what you've got right here. Remember that you're not going anywhere. And if you try, you risk losing everything that is important to you."

Evan licked his lips and nodded. He slid into the backseat of Snipes' SUV, sitting on his cuffed hands. Balmoral closed his eyes and waited to be taken home. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Snipes. Same Bat-Time. Same Bat-Channel."

"See you tomorrow, Evan." Snipes shut the door to the SUV while it pulled away from the curb, headed back to Evan's home with Patty and their daughter...

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Next Chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/759498