Five minutes. Every nerve in my body was tingling, every part of me on the verge of panic. I considered putting on <The Allfather’s Mask>  more than once, but I wasn’t certain how it worked. It wasn’t something I felt safe testing, even with any of my allies. If I put on the mask, and someone saw me, would they be able to logically deduce it was still me? Or would I just fade into the backdrop, an unknown person taking my place. 

Couldn’t risk it. No way in hell. Especially in a crowded public place. 

Where the fuck was Swat Guy? He wasn’t a User, and he was dressed like the Unabomber, so why couldn’t I find him?

The simple answer was that there were just too many people. My conversation with Estrada hung heavy in the back of my mind. Any outbreak of violence here, especially with the swift repercussions it would meet, would be irrevocable. People would see first hand the damage and violence Users were capable of, and the inroads the groups were making would shatter. 

Maybe that was partly a good thing. It was a given that most of them weren’t good people. Exploitation of labor and indentured servitude were both serious possibilities. But it was a far cry from the possibility of genocide. 

The word ticked something in my brain, sending my thoughts down a distant path. Perhaps I’d been too hasty, thinking that Swat Guy wouldn’t mess with other cops. Cops cooperating with Users might be worse than the actual Users in his mind. 

I doubled back, heading towards the Dallas Police Department recruiting table. Swat Guy wasn’t there. 

Iris was, though, sitting on a bench, doodling into her sketchbook. A middle-aged female officer with a kind face was sitting beside her, looking over her shoulder. A half-dozen faces tracked me as I headed straight to her.

Iris spotted me and waved. To anyone else, it would look like a normal greeting, but her index finger was bent. It was a non-emergency signal that basically meant, “I’m stuck, bail me out.” 

Iris quickly scrawled a message on the notebook as I approached, showing it to the lady cop. The woman glanced it over, a strand of salt-and-pepper hair falling into her face. “Your… brother’s here?” 

“Finally found you,” I said, “Ready to go, kid?” 

Iris nodded vigorously. 

“Is everything alright?” The woman asked. She had a young face, and an almost regal bearing that threw me off. Not a typical cop. 

”This is my friend, Yulia.” Iris emphasized the word friend, as if she was expecting me to be rude. 

I shook Yulia’s hand quickly, “Hi Yulia, thanks for keeping an eye on my sister for me.” 

“She’s very talented. And it’s easy for the little ones to get lost in a crowd.” Yulia said, a slight European accent evident on, “little ones.”

“I really can’t thank you enough.” I could, and I had. 

Four minutes, twenty-five seconds. 

Yulia looked between the two of us. “Iris said she couldn’t without permission, but now that you’re here, why don’t you come have something to eat with us? We might not have anything gratuitous—“ Her eyes flitted to the Local Relief table. “—but we have plenty to share.” 

Four minutes even.

“Going to have to pass,” I said. And I didn’t have time to delve into her with <Cruel Lens> but I was pretty convinced this was the beginning of a soft sell. 

Yulia’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why the hurry?” 

Fuck. Another bind. If I wasn’t under a time limit, I might have actually sat down with Yulia and had a conversation. She seemed decent enough, had looked out for Iris, and hadn’t come off as overly judgmental towards me for losing track of her. 

“Look, I’ve been through enough tables today that I know the deal. You wine and dine me.” I glanced at the coolers behind the tables. “Or beer and snack me, then you pitch me on recruitment.”

“That’s not—“ Yulia started. 

“And yes, there are obvious benefits. The camaraderie, being a part of an established institution, and so on. Trust me, I get it. Our father was an officer. But it’s… not for me.” I let a touch of sadness color my expression.

The best lies are closest to the truth. It was a touch dramatic, but I was in a hurry. And now I’d given her the perfect excuse for why I was rushing to get away from a table full of cops. 

Yulia was fast to pick things up, her scowl fading quickly. To her credit, she looked genuinely empathetic. “Best of luck. Our door is always open.” 

“You too.” I extracted Iris, forcing myself to walk at a normal pace. 

Once we broke line of sight, I pulled Iris aside. Now that her sunglasses were off, she stared at me, horrified. 

”How bad is it that you’re willing to bring up dad?”

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“Really bad. Stay on the sidewalk and run that way.” I pointed down Akard Street. “Find a place you can sit down. Inside, but next to a window. I’ll come get you soon.” 

Iris took off running, her shoes hitting the pavement. 

Two minutes.

I pushed my way through the crowd, feeling like I was retreading the same ground for the hundredth time. 

What if he’s not outside? 

It hit me like a sledgehammer. I ran up the stairs into one of the side doors, barreling into it and throwing it open. He had to be here. The interior was slightly less packed, but no less littered with people. 

One minute.

I was running now, the white walls blurring as I accelerated. I cast <Probability Spiral> on my legs and took the stairs three at a time, my momentum carrying me through a hairpin turn at the top of the stairs. 

It led me into an open space, lined with countless bookshelves. There were a half-dozen people in the room. I found someone too large to be anyone but Tyler, chatting with Sara. Tyler was positioned in such a way that his associate was blind to the hooded gunman walking towards him with clear intent, hand reaching towards his holster. 

I hit Swat Guy with <Suggestion> infusing the sentiment of caution with a massive helping of fear. Swat Guy paused, mid-step, then started forward again. 

I reached out to Sara, and felt my attempt shredded to nothing. The rejection wasn’t as strong as it was against the wolf, but it was close. 

Finally, out of options, I shouted for help, and rammed shoulder first into the gunman. He collided into the bookshelves, catching himself, and attempted to draw his weapon. Regimented polymer bit into my palm as I trapped the gun in the holster, using every bit of my strength to keep it there as he struggled. 

His jagged scar was inches from my face as he turned his head to see me. “You—“

Tyler’s meaty fist slammed into Swat Guy’s jaw, dropping him. A cold red sphere extended around us. I looked behind me and saw a younger looking, dark-haired man with a grim expression on his face. Every other person in the room had disappeared. 

“Shit. Accidentally caught the kid.” The man said. 

“Dammit, Arthur—This is amateur hour,” Sara rolled her eyes. “Do we need a new shared instance?” 

“The kid’s fine.” Tyler caught my eye, and gave me an appreciative nod. “Person of significance, indeed—saved my ass. You did me a solid, so I’ll do you one back. Can you walk out of here and pretend you didn’t see anything?” 

It sounded like a friendly question. But <Ordinator’s Emulation> was tickling at the back of my mind, subsequently warning me that an ability was being used. 

Lie detection?

I saw the man behind me grow closer out of the corner of my eye. 

“One hundred percent.” I said. If Tyler had a way to tell if I was lying, it had the convenience of being the complete truth.

“He’s good.” Tyler said to the others. Tyler took Swat Guy’s aviators off. “More importantly, Sara? This him?” 

Sara bent down to look, and her lip curled. She drove a foot into Swat Guy’s stomach, the blow landing with a loud thud. “Yeah. No question. He killed Logan.” 

The man Sarah called Arther hoisted me up abruptly, light blue eyes taking me in derisively before he shoved me away. “Come on, kid, get outta here.” 

I stood, my heart racing, and approached the end of the instance. Unlike my first encounter with an instance when I met Daphne’s group, this one was imperfect, showing a shimmering black surface where the instance ended. 

The smartest thing, short-term, would be to leave. Tyler had some manner of detecting the truth, which put me on shaky ground at the best of times. Add in the fact that Swat Guy nearly shot me, and succeeded in killing other Users. He was a problem and an unaddressed threat. If this instancing worked the same way, they could effectively deal with him and leave no trace. It was a win-win. 

But I had to think long-term. And the more I thought about it, considered the circumstances at the hospital, and what had nearly happened here today, the more it felt like a terrible move. I turned around.

“The fuck is he doing?” Arthur said. 

“Saving your ass,” I said, directly to Tyler. “Again.”

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