When I’d glanced over the contract, I’d read the number as twenty-thousand, and was more than happy with that number considering we didn’t know what the ability did. Somehow, I’d missed the extra zero.

Kinsley and I bickered for a while—I accused her of doing the new-money thing of throwing money around irresponsibly, while she insisted two-hundred thousand was chump change, and to consider it a retainer.

I left the majority of my User cores with Kinsley when we parted ways. It was common sense to leave the majority of them off my person, considering their inherent value to the Suits.

Back at the apartment, I used my vocational ability once more. Iris had stopped in to visit Sae, and I took my sister aside and ran the ability, with the foreknowledge that I needed to sit down first. She was pushing level 5 already, and there was an upcoming feat at level 7 called that would grant a more detailed understanding of the underlying mechanics of items and structures she created, helping to ground any overly fantastical designs she came up with.

She vented for a while about the sudden entourage of grizzled mercenaries that followed her around. After hearing her main complaint—that they mean-mugged anyone who came too close and intimidated people around her, I tuned out of the conversation and let her vent. Even if Iris didn’t like it, it was for the best, and I was glad that Kinsley’s personnel were taking the assignment seriously.

I knew that everything that happened in the lithid’s clutches wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that it was hard to look my sister in the eye.

After Iris left, I went to the Adventurer’s Guild headquarters and searched for Tara—the waitress who’d left me her name—on the social interface. There were multiple Tara Stricklands in Dallas, but only one who lived in region 14.

The request pended for less than a minute before it was accepted. I was halfway through writing a meticulously edited introduction message when a notification dinged. Tara had messaged first.

I stared at the message log, not entirely sure what to do now that she’d beat me to the punch.

It was common knowledge that I lived here now—a new reality that irked me to no end—but it still felt strange confirming my location to a stranger. So, I did what I always did when a line of questioning made me uncomfortable. I dodged the question, employing some of Sae’s earlier advice and keeping it casual.

There was a long pause between the messages, and I scowled. Somehow I’d managed to screw this up already. Before I could beat myself up more, another alert dinged.

What the fuck did being in the same building have to do with coffee? And did liking variety mean boba or tea would be a better option? How was I supposed to read between the lines here?

What the hell? In something of a panic, I left my room and banged on Sae’s door. Sae answered half-awake. “What—Christ, what happened in the dungeon? You’re white as fuck.”

I shook my head. “The dungeon went fine. I messaged Tara.”

“How’d that go?” Sae asked, her expression a mix of amusement and irritation.

“Not great.”

I read the conversation verbatim.

Once I’d finished, Sae stared at me in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

“I know. How the hell did we get from coffee on the weekend to ‘send the elevator down for me?’”

“You being this naive is the bullshit part. Your girl’s down-bad. Wear a rubber. Guess I’ll go to the money grubbing imp’s for a bit.” Sae grabbed her overcoat.

I blocked the doorway. “That was not the intended outcome here.”

Sae studied me confused, until her eyes lit with realization. “Oh right, you’re a prude. Why did you opt in, then?”

“When the fuck did I opt in?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“I mean, it’s kind of obvious. You didn’t say anything when she offered to skip the coffee, and when she asked if you were kinky, you said you were flexible.”

“No one was talking about being kinky!”

“Come on, Matt, what did you think “mix it up” meant in this context?”

“I—fuck me.” I trailed off as I read through the messages again.

Sae snorted. “She will if you send the elevator down.”

“Not helping.” I didn’t like feeling this incompetent. And it wasn’t like I was bad at reading social cues. If Nick had come to me with the same string of messages, I would have seen it clear as day. It was just harder to read between the lines when I was a part of the equation.

There was a pause and Sae’s expression softened. “Look, relax. It was a miscommunication. Right now, she thinks you’re down for a hookup. And yeah, she’s being a little aggressive, but we’re in the middle of a sustained crisis. There’s probably a ton of people looking to relieve stress. Just don’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. If you want to salvage this, just tell her you’re wiped out but still down to meet for coffee over the weekend. Also, send that message soon. Otherwise, it’ll feel like a flake.”

“Okay.” I walked away, already working on the reply message. I turned back and looked at Sae suspiciously. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Sae rolled her eyes. “That your dating game is abysmal? Even if we weren’t friends, Helpline, you dragged me kicking and screaming out of the darkest place I’ve ever been. And I’ve been to some dark places. Your secrets are safe with me.”

The contemplative look Sae gave me made it clear she wasn’t just talking about Tara. And she wasn’t wrong. I’d given her a lot of information for the sake of convenience that painted my history in a questionable light. At first, I’d though she was too absorbed in her circumstances to take the reveals at anything apart from face value. But she had noticed. She was just waiting for the explanation.

“Thanks, Sae. Just give me some time. I’m spinning countless plates right now.” I finally said. Sae closed the door and I returned to my room, deep in thought.

I needed to decide—either deal her in as I had Kinsley, or come up with another lie for the pile that would better explain the inconsistencies. The main concern holding me back from the former was that I didn’t know what Sae wanted, and there was a good chance with all the chaos, she didn’t either.

Kinsley was safe because of her father. That bond was solid. She’d never leave him behind, and the Overseer had emphasized that only one person could escape the game entirely by killing me. As far as I could tell, Sae hadn’t even contacted her parents, and there were hardly any people left in the city she had a real connection to.

For now, it was better to keep the role to myself.

Taking Sae’s advice, I shot Tara another message.

The resulting message didn’t come in until I was already in bed, falling asleep.

/////

The day of the meeting dawned. Kinsley doored me from the apartment to the hideout as we’d planned, and I’d walked from the hideout to the park.

I was initially worried that my mask’s effectiveness had taken a hit and people might recognize me from the video, but the Allfather’s Mask still worked perfectly in that regard.

There was no need to scout Lakeside. I knew the park like the back of my hand. It was a perfect place to study, plenty of space and greenery, and the lack of a playground meant no screaming children.

I stuck to the rooftops instead, and spent the lead up to the meeting time scouting the surrounding streets, scanning faces, and looking for any out of place vehicles lingering around the spot. The park was large and winding, with multiple discrete exit points—so if they did intend to ambush me, they’d need more than a few members deployed on the ground.

Only, nothing stuck out. Not a single person, Escalade, or suspiciously parked van. Every random passerby passed a quick scan, even as my title grew crankier by the minute.

An oddly dense section of grass within the park stirred. If hadn’t screamed bloody murder, I might have dismissed it as an animal. I pulled out a pair of binoculars from my inventory—a new acquisition from Kinsley’s payday—and kept them centered on the oddly shaped mound.

My heart raced as I realized it was breathing. The camouflage was insanely good. I could barely make out a forearm and leg. Everything else was a green blur that blended into the grass perfectly.

I spotted several more similarly dense patches of grass behind it, spread out around the park.

I circled again, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

A thrill of anticipation went through me as I spotted a Silver Benz on the top-level of the hospital parking garage, one street over from the park, ten minutes after noon. Clearly out of place, as there was plenty of parking on the lower sections. The lower levels wouldn’t provide nearly as good of an overlook. It must have pulled up in the last few minutes while I was scouting the other side. Two people—a man and a woman in plainclothes exited the back seat and discretely shut the doors behind them, descending the stairs and taking the crosswalk across the street, entering the park as a pair.

I didn’t recognize them. More importantly, they didn’t carry themselves with the same air of professionalism as the Users in the tunnel had. That, combined with the utter lack of surveillance, told me the Suits were treating this like a simple meet. Sending lackeys to deliver a message.

My focus returned to the Benz. It was still running, front windows cracked slightly open.

If there’s leadership present, they’re behind the tinted windows, calling the shots from a distance.

It was time to flex a little.