Tim lay on the couch, tossing a rubber ball up into the air, with one hand squeezed between a pillow and his head. He caught the ball, but instead of tossing it back up, he tossed it away from him. The ball landed towards the elevator, not breaking any bottles on the shelves.

  He groaned and sat with a slouch, rubbing his face with his palms. “Do I have to be here?”

  Ding!

  The elevator opened. Out came an enthusiastic Ruben, his arms around two brunettes dressed in red. They looked similar to each other. Almost as though they were twins.

  “Timmy boy! Here,” He pushed the ladies gently out of his arms. “Got you a present.”

  Tim stood, confused. “That being…?”

  Ruben pointed at the two women with all his fingers. “These beautiful women. Claire and Mouka. I’ll be back at the club, so the room’s all yours. Have at it.” He pointed a finger at Tim. “If fluids are released, then simply clean up after yourself.”

  “Hey, what…?!” Tim briefly scanned the ladies, then shook his head. He couldn’t get distracted by the bigger issue. “I don’t want this. I—I—No!”

  Ruben scoffed. “Look, Timmy. It is my duty to keep you safe and locked in this penthouse until your guardian picks you up. Now, I don’t particularly enjoy running a daycare, nor do I know how. You have two gorgeous women in your sights with an unlimited supply of alcohol. No university student would turn that down.”

  “I can’t do it, though.”

  Ruben read Tim’s face and came to a ridiculous conclusion. “Ah, can’t get the little guy up? Not to worry, it affects more men than you think. I’m sure these ladies won’t mind. Right, ladies?”

  Tim didn’t understand what hypnosis Ruben had on women. He could say the wildest things imaginable, and they wouldn’t bat an eye.

  “Hey, it’s not that! Jill, Roger, and Sydney are in danger, and I’m over here not being able to do anything.”

  “Ah, that’s what this is about.” He adjusted the cuffs on his suit and looked around. “Ladies, would you be so kind as to head to the bedroom. I would like to chat with my friend in private.”

  They smiled and waved at Ruben before disappearing into the other room. Tim still didn’t know how Ruben had such charm.

  Ruben sat Tim down on the couch, while he sat straight ahead on the glass table.

  “Let me tell you something, Timmy——Tim. You are not to worry. Sydney, especially Sydney, and Jill are capable of handling themselves. Best part is that they have two elite fighters with them. If anything, anything goes off a cliff, Alice and Fernando are there to clean up.”

  Tim shook his head, speaking quietly. “I’m not there. What if… that goodbye to Jill is the last? I’m stuck here, not knowing whether they are okay or not. How do—how do you expect me to feel about that?”

  Ruben stared at Tim for a long moment. The charm drained out of his face like someone had flipped a switch.

  Then he exhaled. “You want to know how I expect you to feel?” Ruben said, leaning forward. “Useless. Helpless. Terrified. Because that’s what this is. This isn’t a movie. This isn’t some heroic moment where you rush in, adrenaline pumping, and magically don’t die.” He tapped Tim’s chest once, firm. “Out there, you’d be dead weight.”

  Tim opened his mouth—

  “No,” Ruben cut in immediately. “Don’t. I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m saying it because I like you enough to be honest. Besides, you took care of Macy that day, so this is the least I can do.” Ruben softened his tone. “You care. You care deeply, and I sincerely respect that. However, caring doesn’t make you useful.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Tim swallowed. “So I just sit here?”

  “Indeed,” Ruben said bluntly. “You sit here. You stay alive. You don’t become another variable they have to protect.” He crouched in front of Tim, lowering his voice. “Let me tell you something you don’t want to hear but need to. Jill didn’t go out there, so you could feel brave. She went out there so you wouldn’t have to. And Sydney? Sydney doesn’t back down. Alice doesn’t fail. Fernando doesn’t miss. If there is any group of people I’d trust to walk into hell and walk back out… it’s them.” Ruben straightened his suit cuffs again, visibly annoyed. “So stop torturing yourself with ‘what ifs.’ If you really want to help them… then be here when they come back. Alive. Useful. Not a corpse they have to mourn.”

  The room went quiet. And for the first time, Tim didn’t argue.

  “Alrighly then. I’m off. Stay put. Order food if you’re hungry; groundfloor security will cover the cost. As for the ladies, keep ‘em or kick ‘em. Dealer’s choice.” He walked to the elevator and gave one last wink before disappearing behind the door.

  He stayed seated for a moment, Ruben’s words echoing in his head. Tim laughed quietly to himself, rubbing his face. “Yeah. Easy for you to say.”

  His eyes drifted to the large window, the city beneath him in glowing lines and towers. Everyone was there to save Roger.

  And he was here.

  Tim stood slowly. “…Man,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “If only I could fly with the SCAR suit.” Tim stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed. “This is stupid,” he muttered to no one. “Wishing for armor like I’m in some damn movie.” He exhaled, staring out at the skyline. “Still. Wouldn’t hurt.”

  Some time had passed as he stared through the penthouse’s window. He refused to go on the balcony because of the wind.

  More time passed.

  Nothing happened.

  Of course not.

  He exhaled, turning away.

  And then the air hissed.

  A sharp howl tore through the night, growing louder by the second.

  “What the—”

  The window exploded inward, shattering the glass and letting the wind enter.

  There it was.

  It was like a prayer was answered.

  The suit unfolded in front of him. Bits and pieces of the suit clamped onto his body. Plates snapped around his arms, legs, and torso, locking and sealing to him in seconds. The impact knocked him back a step as the final chest piece slammed into place.

  The helmet hovered in front of his face. Then it closed. The world changed.

  A HUD came to life, marking the city in data. Systems scrolled faster than Tim could read.

  PILOT IDENTIFIED: TIM.

  CALIBRATION COMPLETE.

  Tim’s breathing echoed inside the armor.

  He looked down at his hands. They didn’t shake.

  “…You really flew all the way here,” he whispered.

  The suit responded with a manly, robotic voice. “Warlock, at your service.”

  Tim didn’t recall the suit having a name.

  “Warlock? That’s a… name, alright. How did you know to come—why did you come?”

  “You are the primary owner of the suit. I will arrive on your command, no matter the circumstances.”

  “My command…?” Tim thought about it for some time and recalled when he wished for the SCAR agent. “You heard that?”

  “I am connected to you neurologically. In short, I don’t wait for spoken commands.”

  “Hey, like mind reading?”

  “Your neural activity creates patterns: intent, stress, instinct. When those patterns reach a calibrated threshold, I respond.”

  “So I thought about needing you,” Tim said slowly, “and that was enough.”

  “Correct.”

  Tim let out a short breath. “That’s… scary.”

  “You were not in danger when the signal was detected. But your cognitive stress markers matched those associated with imminent action. I interpreted that as authorization.”

  “So it’s not voice-activated. It’s… me.”

  “Correct.”

  “And you just fly across the city when that happens?”

  “Across Ionia,” Warlock corrected. “Range is not a limiting factor.”

  “Then you know where I want to go, right?”

  “Of course. Scanning Avery’s location…”

  Outside, wind rushed through the broken window. Tim stepped forward, glass crunching beneath armored boots, and stared out into the night.

  Ruben had said to stay put.

  Tim clenched his fists.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “That window’s already broken.”