Bushra insisted on driving us, and I didn't put up too much of a fight. Passing out had shaken me up. Even though I could see my Focus slowly climbing in my status, I felt it was the smart play to take it easy. People were starting to stream out from the event upstairs by the time we made our exit. I was extremely conscious of the papers in my pocket the whole time we were there, and kept expecting the security guard to appear again.

I sat in the back during the trip, while Iter and Bushra chatted softly up front. I leaned back and closed my eyes, feeling the mental exhaustion fade away. After a moment, my curiosity exceed my tiredness, and I tried to listen to what they were talking about. But it was disappointingly mundane, as Bushra pointed out different parts of the area she was familiar with to Iter, who mostly responded with one or two words of acknowledgement from time to time. I opened my eyes, and saw Bushra looking at me in the rearview window with concern. I shifted upright and put on a small smile to put her mind at ease. She turned away to glance at Iter, but I caught her looking at me a couple more times while we made our way to the restaurant.

Bushra's izakaya was fairly close by, but it took a while to park. It was called Nobuya, and it shared a strip mall parking lot with a couple of other bars and restaurants. Fortunately, we were able to find a table for the three of us almost immediately after we arrived. If this was the power of Luck, I'd consider pouring all my attribute points there in the future. The smell of charcoal and sizzle of grilled meat permeated the din of the busy bar/restaurant. Bushra checked in with us, then ordered us a bunch of different skewers of meats, mushrooms and vegetables, with sides of edamame, gyoza, and some grilled onigiri to share. We all stuck with water to drink, though I wasn't sure what Iter was going to do with his. My appetite had returned with a vengeance once my Focus pool was restored, and I was looking forward to the food.

When the server left, I took the opportunity to take out the papers I'd found and pass them across the table.

"I found these upstairs at IHS."

"Oh my God, Mai," Bushra looked at the papers, then looked at me incredulously. "Is that what you were doing?" She threw an exasperated frown in my direction. "I thought you were taking a break somewhere because you weren't feeling well."

"Honestly, I'm fine," I started, then saw her expression grow ominous, "well, I might have overdone it a little." I went on quickly to forestall further scolding. "I didn't have time to look closely, but this one looks like the invoice they showed me in the, uhm, exit interview," I pointed to the one with my name on it, "and this one has Jon's name on it – look at the amounts."

"Wow," She breathed. "If Jon was running the scheme you were accused of, he was getting a much bigger payout." The frost in Bushra's voice was chilling. "What's this other one?"

"I hadn't had a chance to read it closely, but it seems like some kind of contract between IHS and Complyze. Maybe it's related to the things you were hearing from the sales engineers you talked to?" I took a couple of the top pages and took a close look while Bushra looked through the rest. It seemed like a multi-faceted partnership agreement at first glance. There were clauses about volume discounting, guaranteed minimums, distribution, and support. But the volumes were pretty outrageous. I handed back the sheets I looked at, and picked up the remaining packet. I saw standard terms about supplier agreements, essential personnel, and intellectual property, but in the payment terms were batches of private stock purchases at scheduled intervals. What the hell? Was Complyze really buying them out? Why?

"How did you find these?" Bushra asked, bewildered.

"I heard some folks upstairs mention Complyze, so I followed after and found these in the mailroom." I extemporized. "They must have been planning to shred them. A stroke of luck, right?" I kept my face directed at the papers, avoiding Bushra's eyes. I checked, and the agreement hadn't yet been signed, or at least, this copy hadn't.

The waiter arrived with our food, conveniently interrupting Bushra's line of questioning. It smelled amazing, and Bushra and I started pulling skewers onto our plates and digging in. Iter watched on, making no move to interact with either the food or the papers.

"Well, as interesting as it seems, I'm not sure how any of it helps us," Bushra said between bites.

"Yeah," I agreed, then added "Though now we know Jon is in deeper than we thought. He wasn't only blackmailing you, it seems he was involved in the theft part as well." I paused. "And we know that this deal is big enough to involve the executive leadership and the board. You don't enter into partnerships like this, whether a straight up acquisition or not, without board approval." I thought for a moment as I chewed on a pork belly skewer. It was absolutely delicious. "But the two don't have to be directly related. The other execs and the board could know nothing about the blackmail and theft."

"Thorsten is in on it, too" Bushra accentuated with a stab of her skewer. "He lied." Her eyes burned with remembered anger and shame.

"Yeah," I nodded. "And Thorsten is an officer of the company, so he's in a position to influence things at the board level." I wondered about Ben. In my memory he was all sneers and malice, but I admit my rage may be coloring my perceptions. "Still doesn't explain why they framed me, though. I'm not directly connected to Jon, Thorsten, or the deal." I looked over at Iter, and he seemed to be watching me closely. I wondered what he thought of all this. Human frailty, greed, and malice. Did gods lie to each other? "I was a point of contact for IHS, I wonder if that's enough?" If they needed someone to be the fall guy for the theft, I was a convenient person to pin it on. Was it that simple?

"Should we confront Jon? Shove these in his face, and see how he reacts?" Bushra offered. It might shake some things loose. But it also might bring down action we aren't prepared for.

"Maybe," I responded noncommittally. I wasn't sure about kicking the hornets' nest before we knew how big it was. But we were going to have to decide soon. "We have some axes hanging over our heads with that exit paperwork. If we sign it, it's as good as an admission of guilt. But if we don't, they may feel pressured to cover themselves. It may be worth letting them know some of what we have so they don't go to the police." I bit into one of the charcoal grilled onigiri, and was immediately distracted by the sweet and smoky flavors. The rice was so soft and crunchy at the same time, and the charcoal smoke perfectly complemented the soy sauce-based glaze on the outside. I don't get to Santa Clara that often, but I had to remember this place. The food was simply amazing.

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Bushra went silent for a moment, hand paused holding a skewer of grilled vegetables and tofu. She finally looked across the table at me with a scrunched up face. "Are you going to sign the agreement?"

I'd been avoiding thinking about it, to be honest. It was the easy option, but it wasn't without significant cost. With what amounted to a signed confession in their hands, we were completely at their mercy. Which was likely their intent. But there was no reason it would have to go past that – simple insurance to ensure good behavior. A unique kind of Non Disclosure Agreement, in familiar terms.

Ben's contemptuous gaze flashed in my mind. No. I wouldn't be signing anything that face put in front of me.

"No, I won't." I replied. "But we're going to have to negotiate some new kind of agreement, before things escalate further. Just ignoring it won't make them go away."

Bushra's mouth twisted in distaste, but she nodded in agreement. "On a different topic, I brought the AR glasses with me, they're in my car. You can take a couple pairs back with you for testing."

"Great, thanks," I grinned. "I was planning to check in with an acquaintance of mine to see if I could borrow theirs, but this works better." I popped the last bite of rice ball into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully, considering the large man and his store. "Though I may reach out to them anyway. They're big into AR/VR games, they might have some ideas for other markets for ARC." I hesitated. "I've also talked with my friend Kris a little about the finance side. She's a corporate controller, and knows this stuff a lot better than I do." I looked at Bushra directly. "Do you mind if I share some details with her? She's a close friend of mine, and she already knows about my circumstances. I can leave your name out of it, but it may start to get harder to explain without your side of things."

I waited while she looked inward, wrestling with the decision. Finally she grimaced, and looked up. "I expect Thorsten and Jon are already spreading their version to cover their asses, so maybe it's good for some other people to know the truth." She breathed deeply, and looked at me steadily. "Go ahead. Tell them what you need to." She grabbed the last mushroom skewer, and took an aggressive bite.

✦ ✦ ✦

Bushra drove us back to my car, where she also handed over the AR glasses she'd brought with her. I took the boxes and thanked Bushra for the meal, and for helping me out tonight. Bushra waved with a bouncy smile, and drove off. She seemed satisfied with the night's events at least. I was trying to juggle the boxes to get my keys, when suddenly their weight was removed.

"Let Us take those for you," Iter stated.

"Ah, thanks," I replied, then opened the back door for him. He placed the boxes on the seat, and leaned back out of the way while I closed the door. I looked at him. Standing in glare of the parking lot lights, Iter seemed otherworldly and ethereal. The contrast between that image, and of him offhandedly putting cardboard boxes into the rear seat of a car was just so… off-putting. "This must seem quite different than what you expected," I reflected. "I mean, the hero business in this world must be boring, compared to the magical world you planned for."

"We do not think so. You are proving to be quite an interesting Hero, Mai." Iter moved around the car and entered the passenger door.

I opened my door and settled in the driver seat, while looking at him incredulously. "Interesting?" I shook my head and started the engine. "All you've done since you came here is follow me around to places to eat, talk about starting a company, and sneaking into offices. You played video games all night. A god stayed up all night on my couch playing a video game!" A harsh laugh escaped my lips. "I can't think of a less heroic way for a god to spend his time." I don't know where this frustration was bubbling up from, but I couldn't keep it down. It was as if all the strangeness, doubt, and fear were rising up to pull me under.

"You are wrong," I heard the strength of his conviction, but also a slight confusion in his voice. In my peripheral vision I saw him facing me, but I stayed looking straight ahead. "We find these activities and experiences to be most stimulating. They would not have occurred at all without your existence." He paused. "Are you unsatisfied with the Communion, Mai?" I felt his gaze, searching, uneasy.

I watched the road, avoiding that stare, trying to sort through my own unsettled thoughts. "I'm not unsatisfied," I replied slowly, choosing my words carefully, like stacking a tower of misshapen glassware. I didn't dare turn. "But this," I continued, "was not what I expected a hero to be like – for my life to be like." It was coming out wrong. "It sounds like I'm blaming you," I tried to reorient, "but I'm not." I bit my lower lip, "I just," … the words weren't there. Everything was confused, what I was doing, what I wanted, what was happening to me. All jumbled up inside, blocking any forward motion or thought. Until it all came out in a rush, bursting from inside like a shaken soda from a can, "I just haven't a clue what I'm supposed to be doing!" At last, I looked at him, pleading. "Is this," I waved my right hand feebly, taking in the entire universe of magic-less heroes, tech company conspiracies, and fasting gods, "really what I'm supposed to do?"

Iter didn't respond immediately. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, and realized I was holding my breath. I let it out shakily. When he finally spoke, it was in a softer, apologetic tone. "We do not know, Mai." I waited. But there was nothing but silence. No answers, no direction.

I laughed darkly, suddenly, shaking my head. "Great. Yeah, I should have guessed." I rubbed my face and let out a long, slow breath to release the frustration and embarrassment I was feeling. The freeway flew by. I looked down and found my speed was approaching 90 MPH. I had to consciously lift my foot off the pedal to begin decelerating. The street lamps slowed their headlong passage, bright against the impenetrable blackness of the night sky.

Iter hesitated, frowning, then licked his lips and started again. "In choosing Our Hero, We must choose to disrupt the natural course of Our Hero's life. Your Fate, altered, irrevocably. The weight of that one choice, larger than all others." His voice was hushed. "We support, We watch, We inform, where We are able." He was quiet a while, and I found myself shaking my head slowly, in confusion or denial, I wasn't sure which. "But once Our Hero is chosen, We give over the act of choosing – it is, it must be, yours thereafter." I glanced quickly over at Iter, and saw him looking clearly and unblinkingly in my direction. I had to turn back to the road to avoid being blinded by that gaze, brighter than the piercing streetlamps passing by. "We must have Faith," his voice rang with a frightening conviction, "in the Hero you are to become."

I had no answer to those unwavering eyes. The road flowed by relentlessly in silence. I felt the drag of his expectations, his faith, like a physical pressure. It poured down on me in an unceasing waterfall, majestic and powerful. I was swept away and submerged in its bright and suffocating waters.