Arthur stared at the glowing screen of his phone.
"The person who knows you shouldn't be alive."
The text felt like a physical weight. In his first life, Arthur had been a nobody—a sidekick to a villain. But now, by simply refusing to break his leg, he had ripples the pond. And something was staring back from the depths.
He looked toward the black sedan at the edge of the parking lot. The sun reflected off its windshield, making it impossible to see inside.
"Fine," Arthur whispered. "You want to play? Let's play."
He didn't run. He didn't call for help. He walked straight toward the car. The Arthur of the past would have trembled, but the Arthur of the future had already died once. What was there left to fear?
As he reached the car, the back window slid down with a silent, motorized hiss.
[The Encounter]
Inside sat a woman who looked like she was carved from marble. She wore a sharp, charcoal-gray suit and held an old-fashioned silver pocket watch. She wasn't much older than Arthur, but her eyes held a weariness that spanned decades.
"Get in, Arthur," she said. It wasn't an invitation; it was a command.
Arthur opened the door and sat. The interior smelled of expensive leather and something metallic—like ozone before a lightning strike.
"You're not Arthur Vance," the woman said, not looking at him. "Arthur Vance is a mediocre quarterback with a sub-par GPA and a desperate need for Julian Thorne's approval. The person who just destroyed Julian's ribs on that field... that person is a ghost."
Arthur leaned back, his face a mask of indifference. "Maybe I just had a good lunch."
The woman finally turned to him. She clicked the pocket watch shut. "Don't play with me. I represent a group that monitors 'anomalies.' People who shouldn't be here. People who have... returned."
Arthur's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't show it. I'm not the only one? "If you're here to kill me, get it over with," Arthur said. "But know this: I've already been through hell. Your 'anomaly' hunt doesn't scare me."
The woman laughed, a cold, dry sound. "We don't kill assets, Arthur. We recruit them. You think you're here to get revenge on a high school bully? How small-minded. Julian Thorne is a pawn in a game you don't even see yet."
[The First Trade]
She handed him a tablet. On the screen was a live feed of the crypto market Arthur had just entered.
"You put $540 into a meme coin," she pointed out. "A smart move for someone who remembers the 2021 spike. But you're missing the bigger picture. If you buy it now, you'll make fifty thousand. If you let me move that money through our private servers, I can make it five million by midnight."
"And the catch?" Arthur asked.
"The catch is that tonight, Julian's father—Senator Thorne—is hosting a private gala. He's going to announce a land deal that will bankrupt your family's neighborhood. You have six hours to stop him. If you join us, I'll give you the files to ruin him tonight."
Arthur looked at the tablet, then at the woman. "Why help me?"
"Because," she whispered, leaning closer, "Julian's father isn't just a corrupt politician. He's the man who ordered your death in the first timeline. And he's much closer to 'returning' than you think."
[The Decision]
Arthur stepped out of the car as it began to pull away.
"The name is Elena," the woman called out as the window rolled up. "Check your phone. I've sent you a gift."
Arthur pulled out his Samsung. The crypto app didn't show $540 anymore.
Balance: $50,000.00 (Pending)
And below the balance, a PDF file titled: THORNE_BLACKMAIL_SENSITIVE.
Arthur looked back at the gym where Julian was likely still crying for his mother. The high school games were over. The war had moved to the boardrooms, and for the first time in two lives, Arthur had the high ground.
He felt the "Right Hand" of fate finally turning in his favor.
"Tonight," Arthur said to the wind, "the Thorne empire starts to bleed."