"Oh my gosh, a thief!" The shrill cry pierced the air, jolting Cyrus from his uneasy slumber. In his startled state, he smashed his head against the unyielding surface above him, pain exploding behind his eyes.

"Whoa, hold up! I'm no thief!" he sputtered, hastily waving his hands in a gesture of surrender as he tried to extricate himself from his makeshift hiding spot.

Earlier.....

Cyrus found himself trudging down eerily quiet streets, his body wracked by violent sneezes that left him tugging at his light shirt for warmth. His mind raced, grappling with an internal debate.

What should I do? Should I call her?

He shook his head forcefully, as if trying to dislodge the very thought. "I'd rather go down like an end boss than grovel for her help," he muttered defiantly, only to be betrayed by another sneeze. A trail of white substance drooled from his nose, earning him disgusted frowns from the few passersby, who hurriedly crossed to the other side of the road.

"What?" he glared at them, indignation rising in his chest. "Have you never been down on your luck?"

The familiar broken sign of Lork's shop soon came into view, eliciting a bitter smile from Cyrus. As he stepped forward, his eyes caught a shadow – a client leaving the shop. A spark of recognition flared in his mind.

Isn't that the man from earlier?

Paranoia surged through him. "Why would they tag along with me? I'm broke, unless..." He jolted in fright, stumbling backward on instinct. His sudden movement nearly collided with a small figure zipping past on magical skates.

"Damn goblin, can't you be more careful?" Cyrus snapped, his nerves frayed.

"Sorry, old man," the kid replied cheekily, already floating away. Cyrus blinked, and the child had vanished, resuming his journey as if nothing had happened.

Deep in his gut, Cyrus felt something was off. He retreated carefully, eyes glued to the approaching figure that seemed far from ordinary. "I guess Lork will have to wait," he murmured, fleeing as fast as his legs would carry him.

Cyrus found himself before another imposing building, lungs burning as he caught his breath. He rushed to a specific apartment, fumbling maniacally for keys in his pocket. Rhythmic footsteps approached from behind, their owner's identity all too clear in Cyrus's mind.

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His hands trembled violently as he gripped the key, only to have it slip from his grasp. The footsteps drew closer. He leaned down hastily to retrieve the fallen key, his heart nearly stopping as a pair of polished black shoes entered his field of vision. He remained frozen, not daring to look up.

"You shouldn't stay in the way. It's dangerous," a man's voice echoed above him. Cyrus raised his head slightly, relief flooding through him as he heard the creak of a nearby door closing. The man was just a neighbor.

"Maybe I'm getting a little paranoid," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

Finally grasping the key, Cyrus let himself into the apartment. The temperature shift inside was immediate, causing him to shiver and hunch his shoulders. He made his way to the kitchen, crawling beneath the table and clutching an apple. Exhaustion overwhelmed him. Holding his mother's image close to his heart, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, the day's chaos fading into darkness.

An unknown amount of time later, Cyrus was startled awake by a woman's frightened cry. "Oh my gosh, a thief!"

His eyes flew open, and in his haste to orient himself, he smacked his head against the table. "Damn," he groaned, rubbing the sore spot as he crawled out from his hiding place. His eyes widened at the sight of a knife pointed in his direction.

"Hey, easy! I'm not a thief!" he insisted, hands raised placatingly as he backed away.

The woman looked as if she'd just rolled out of bed, her hair in utter disarray and her eyes still misty with sleep. She glared at him, her small hands gripping the knife with surprising steadiness.

"What's going on here?" A familiar voice cut through the tension. Dan entered the kitchen, his eyes widening visibly at the scene before him. "Hey, darling, calm down," he said soothingly, stepping between Cyrus and the woman.

"Do you know him?" she asked suspiciously, peering around Dan's protective form.

"Yeah, kind of," Dan sighed. "Why don't you get ready for work?" He gently cupped her chin, and after firing one last wary glance at Cyrus, she begrudgingly left the room.

Dan dragged out a chair and sat down heavily. "So, you still have that key."

Cyrus attempted a casual grin. "Like always, man. I came for some game action. Get the console fired up!"

"Things are different now, Cyrus," Dan said, shaking his head wearily.

"Come on, dude. Don't tell me you've let her soften you," Cyrus pressed, clapping Dan on the shoulder. But faced with his friend's stoic, lifeless expression, he relented with a sigh. "Okay, I just need a place to crash while I figure something out."

"You can stay as long as you need," Dan offered. "But you can't beat me anymore."

"Guess we'll have to wait and see about that," Cyrus replied, finally allowing himself to relax.

With Dan's help, Cyrus got cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes. Feeling renewed, he ventured out into the city, determined to find work. But everywhere he went, he received the same disheartening response: "Sorry, we don't need anyone right now."

After a day of fruitless searching, Cyrus found himself no closer to employment. It seemed as if his very face was a deterrent to potential employers.

That old bastard from my last job is really pushing it, he thought bitterly. He's practically begging me to go hungry. But how did he pull this off so fast? And what's with the ban from the buildings?

An unsettling feeling crept over him, as if invisible eyes were constantly tracking his movements. Everyone he encountered seemed eerily similar to the mysterious man from earlier, feeding his growing paranoia.

Don't be stupid, Cyrus, he chided himself. Your brain is just fixated on that guy. Is he even real, or have I finally lost it? Whatever the case, I can't stay here.

With renewed urgency, Cyrus rushed towards Lork's shop. He burst through the door, nearly colliding with the shop owner.

"Hey, dude! Are you really getting serious about this sport?" Lork asked, leaning on his broom with interest. "I'm intrigued. Spill the details!"

"Shut the door, shut it quick!" Cyrus gasped, ducking behind Lork's larger frame.

Frowning in confusion, Lork swiftly complied, closing the door and lowering the blinds. "Did something happen?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but the Bureau is after me," Cyrus explained, slumping to the ground in exhaustion.

Lork's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "And here I thought I was the one obsessed with taking down the Bureau. Sounds like we've got ourselves a pair of relentless rebels, huh?" He leaned on his broom, a smug look playing across his features.

Just as Cyrus opened his mouth to respond, the air in the room seemed to distort, shimmering like heat waves rising from sun-baked asphalt. Both men froze, their banter forgotten as they stared at the bizarre phenomenon unfolding before them.