[UNKNOWN LOCATION — ISLAND]
"Isn't there a better way to do this?"
The speaker was a muscular, brown-haired man, his build more suited to battle than servitude. He stood a few steps behind his employer—thin, elegantly handsome, and noticeably younger—who was busy hanging photographs along a clothesline stretched between two poles.
"You know I'm just following family tradition," the boy replied calmly, clipping another photo into place. "Besides… if this succeeds, imagine the kind of power we'll have."
The brown-haired man was the family butler.
More than that, he was the boy's friend. He knew everything about this family—its secrets, its ambitions, and its madness.
"I know," the butler said, voice low. "But this apocalypse you're talking about… it won't spare anyone. It'll affect everyone. Including this island and us."
"Of course it will affect us," the boy said, not even turning around. "That's the point."
He smiled faintly. "Power. Control over the monsters. And not just that—I'll be able to bring the dead back, isn't that a good 'affect'?"
He finally glanced over his shoulder. "Isn't that a good thing? Don't you want to see your brother again?"
The butler's jaw tightened. He looked away.
This plan had been revised within the family for generations. Every flaw refined, every risk calculated. Years ago, it had almost worked. An apocalypse had nearly begun.
Almost.
For the world's sake, fortunately, and the family's disappointment, some mysterious group had appeared and stopped it.
"What if THEY show up again?" the butler asked quietly.
The boy chuckled. A smirk spread across his face. "Don't worry. I've hired top-tier investigators. They're already hunting that group down."
He turned back to the line of photographs.
"It's only a matter of time."
He held out his hand.
"Pass me another picture."
[KENTON CITY, IVER OPEN UNIVERSITY]
Riing
Riing
My phone buzzed in my pocket mid lesson. It wasn't my main everyday phone, it was the other one. That means they needed me.
Without wasting a single beat, I shuffled my books and tablet into my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Heads turned, murmurs began. I could tell the lecturer wanted to stop me, but she knew it would be futile, at this point everyone was used to my mid–lesson exits.
I walked out before she could change her mind.
The hallway hit me like a wall—noise, movement, bodies everywhere. I broke into a run almost immediately, weaving between students, dodging backpacks and elbows.
"Hey—watch it!"
"Sorry!"
I clipped a guy's shoulder, nearly sent another girl's books flying, but I didn't slow down. I took the stairs two at a time, burst through the main doors, and gulped in the cool morning air.
Only then did I smile.
My hand went back into my pocket, this time for my keys.
It wasn't unusual for university students to have cars, but it was unusual for a student to have a muscle car!
The deep black body gleamed even under the dull sky, crouched low like a predator waiting to pounce. I hit the unlock, slid into the driver's seat, and the moment I turned the key, the engine roared to life.
I peeled out of the parking lot and merged onto the main road, letting the car stretch its legs. Buildings blurred past. Traffic lights became suggestions rather than rules.
A few minutes later, I pasted by a police officer. He stood on the side of the road, speed gun raised. The flash went off just as I passed.
I didn't even glance back.
Ever since I got this job, little things like speeding tickets had stopped mattering. Someone else would deal with it.
The city thinned out quickly. Morning everyone was at school or work, the highway was free.
I pressed harder on the pedal.
One-twenty.
One-forty.
One-sixty.
The engine sang.
At one-eighty kilometers per hour, the world narrowed into a tunnel of asphalt and wind. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the city disappeared behind me.
My destination rose out of the barren land like a lone monument. A skyscraper with no neighbors, no signs, no reason to exist where it did. Flat dirt and dead grass stretched in every direction.
Military soldiers flanked the gate.
I didn't slow down though.
The second they recognized the car, the gate began to open. I shot through, lifted a hand in a casual thumbs-up as I passed them, and skidded to a stop right in front of the building's entrance.
I left everything in the car and I ran inside.
The lobby was silent, sterile, all white walls and polished floors. Waiting near the door was a man in his sixties, sharp suit, sharper eyes despite his age.
"Morning, Aris," he said.
"Morning, Mr. Reed."
He handed me a long, dark tactical coat. It was lighter than it looked, the fabric smooth and cool under my fingers.
"And this," he added, placing a gun into my hand.
I checked the weight out of habit and smirked.
I slipped it into the inside of the coat. It wasn't a real gun—not in the traditional sense. However it was a compressed dart system.
We walked side by side toward the elevators.
"You're cutting it close," Reed said.
"I left in the middle of a lecture." I replied.
One corner of his mouth twitched.
The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside. As soon as they closed, the hum of the building faded, replaced by a low vibration I felt more than heard.
Reed pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to me.
"I think you'll like this one, Aris."
I turned it over once before opening it. "Last time you said that, I found myself in the desert."
"You did like it. Eventually."
I slid the contents out.
Date: 1998.
I frowned. "Old man," I said, glancing at him, "what exactly am I supposed to like about going to 1998?"
"Check the profile," he replied calmly.
I looked back down.
Name. Background. Date, time and location.
Then the photo.
I stopped breathing for half a second.
Deborah Brown.
The woman who would become the greatest opera singer of 2027 was staring back at me. I immediately understood why Reed thought i might like this. Because he caught me listening to one of her songs that one time.
"Brown?" I muttered.
Reed nodded.
"Mark's already inside?" I asked.
"Entered an hour ago. Whilst Brown has twelve hours left," Reed said.
"Seriously," I replied, folding the file and sliding it back into the envelope. "Little time left." Although, my job was dangerous, this agency handled things slowly.
They know a person has twenty-four hours to be rescued yet they send Mark in later than that.
The elevator doors opened.
We stepped out into a short corridor. At the end was a single door. Reed keyed in a pin, and the lock clicked open.
Inside, the room was empty.
Except for the mirror.
It stood upright in the center, tall and perfectly smooth, reflecting everything except depth.
I shrugged into the coat and adjusted the collar.
"By the way," I said casually, stepping closer, "I like twenty-five-year-old Brown, not this lady here."
Reed snorted.
I grinned and stepped forward.
The surface of the mirror rippled as I touched it, cold giving way to nothing at all, I walked, sinking into the mirror.
Then I was gone.