Earth-31/45, 2010 AD. January 18th.

A fierce winter storm had recently swept through Southern California, leaving behind residual waves that rhythmically lapped against the steel hull of the ship. Originally designed for a paramilitary defense contractor, the behemoth-carrier now resembled more of a luxurious yacht. Despite its size, lifeboats were only equipped to accommodate a hundred people, including the ship's crew and a limited number of guests. The owner ran a tight ship, maintaining strict control over who could come aboard. The winds were subsiding, but the flags above the bridge fluttered steadily.

Beneath the water's surface, seven men and three unmanned lifter subs were engaged in extracting a rare ore that had fallen to Earth thousands of years ago—a meteorite with immense value. This ore, known as Crynadium, fueled the cutting-edge technology of the Pax Concordat and was in high demand. The U.S. government had also developed a keen interest in acquiring Crynadium, further intensifying the race for this precious material. Lance, the head of the Combat department, was present as a defensive measure, prepared for any potential threats.

Over 300 feet below the surface, encased in a thin Gortex suit, Lance stood near the matter converter that utilized an energy beam to extract the valuable material. His monotone voice betrayed a hint of tiredness as he inquired about the situation above. Lance secretly hoped for some action to break up the silence and monotony. A computerized voice responded, indicating zero threats in all quadrants. The retrieval operation proceeded without incident, and after four hours, the team gathered in a lavish meeting room.

Asche, shorter and less physically imposing than Lance, but with a deep history between them, maintained a measured gaze, assessing the moods of the seven men. The captain, a seasoned leader, remained unfazed. Lance, adopting a slightly patronizing tone, couldn't help but express his dissatisfaction. Asche, in a controlled and firm tone, reassured them that they still had a significant portion of the Crynadium and faced minimal competition from the U.S. for now. He emphasized the absence of any imminent threats and granted the team twelve days of leave, encouraging them to explore the new world and enjoy some time away from the usual operations.

While some groaned at the prospect of idleness, Asche understood their mindset and aimed to offer respite from the constant planning and missions. As the leader and ultimate commander, he felt the weight of responsibility, knowing he was the last of his people. But in this relatively peaceful moment, he found solace in the belief that the world would be fine with or without the Company they represented.

The team members had been handpicked by Asche, spared from the fate that befell the rest of mankind. They harbored deep respect for him, understanding the sacrifices he made. Asche, after a brief silence, informed them that he would go ashore himself to prospect certain anomalies he had detected. He planned to visit the Northwest, starting with Seattle, followed by a short visit to New York. Gwen, his trusted companion, would act in his stead until his return. With no urgent projects, he anticipated uneventful days. Asche's suggestion to go ashore was met with heckles and friendly banter, but his genuine concern for their well-being was evident.

Within moments, Asche prepared to leave Lance's team. He briskly traversed the steel-lined hallways and stairwells, arriving at his Spartan yet functional quarters. The room, originally intended as a holding cell, served as a formality. It was a place to arrange meetings, a space he could call his own. Asche's thoughts were calm, despite the uncertainty of the future. He had spent ample time planning and anticipating this day. The energy readings he had detected signaled forthcoming changes in the local cosmology, but they were not as catastrophic as the life-ending Rend that had plagued countless systems before. Whatever lay ahead, Asche and his team were prepared to face it.

Gwen, his closest companion for over six decades, had received advanced conditioning known as 'Lonn-Tech.' She was human, yet something more—an augmented being with enhanced abilities. Asche's presence on this planet was primarily driven by his desire to offer Gwen some peace. After thirteen months of relative tranquility, this planet could become their home if the following weeks turned sour.

Earth-31/45, 2010 AD. January 18th

Clad in his customary brown leather jacket, black button-up shirt, and boot-cut dark-blue jeans, Asche made his way to Gwen's room. His attire was completed by a slim PDA-like device, a replacement for his watch, on his left wrist. Concealed beneath his sleeve, the device served various purposes as he traveled. Other than that, he carried no bags or equipment. Asche and Gwen had a brief encounter that evening, exchanging declarations of love and discussing their future plans. Asche deliberately kept his responses vague, providing enough conviction to satisfy Gwen without divulging any concrete details. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms while Asche telepathically eased her mind before leaving.

Dressed and ready, Asche observed Gwen's serene beauty for a moment before teleporting away. Instantly, he appeared in a dim Seattle alley, donning a light brown leather jacket. Ensuring his arrival went unnoticed through a brief telepathic scan, he confidently strode out of the alley. As expected, he emerged from the delivery drive of Microdynamics' Seattle branch—a four-story building serving as a facade for a Pax Con safe house, emergency equipment storage, and a laboratory equipped with a quantum spectrum array. The array was his current objective.

Despite the unsettling comfort of finding this familiar place in an adjacent earth, Asche dismissed the possibility of his existence in this world, attributing it to temporal paradox. The changed security codes and the presence of data spanning several decades reinforced his theory. Entering the building and activating the array marked the initial step in determining whether the detected energies were related to the Rend or an unknown force within this dimension. In a matter of hours, he would have conclusive answers. As the scanner performed its task, Asche sank into a state of introspection and near-meditation. The beeping of the sensor snapped him back to the present. The evidence was clear—the current time and space were free from the danger of the Rend. However, there was something else.

With swift movements, Asche ran his fingers over the computer console, activating various programs. Deep in outer space, beyond human detection capabilities, a rift had opened. The remote relays and probes he had launched months ago now confirmed the presence of several life-forms near the closing rift. Realizing that his pursuers had sensed their detection, Asche had to act swiftly. He began contacting Gwen and his team telepathically, even though he knew it might already be too late. His enemy had somehow followed him, detecting his telepathic signature as he reached out to his team. Cutting off the mental links, Asche hoped for the best while sensing a presence in the room with him. Cursing his own failures, he telekinetically depressed a sequence of keys on the console, turning around to face his visitor.

The draconian humanoid, towering over Asche and armed with a crystalline spear, lunged at him without a word. Asche had no time to avoid the impact, so he decided to meet force with force. Using his legs' strength and increasing his momentum psychokinetically, he collided with the dragonman with tremendous force. Although the reptilian creature had the advantage in size and strength, Asche's impact prevented him from crushing the computer console. Before the giant reptile could regain position and launch another attack, Asche swiftly rose to his feet, stepping back. Observing that the computer had completed its task, he propelled himself through the wall. Skillfully controlling his descent, he landed without impact using his psychokinetic abilities. Checking behind him, he confirmed the Pultyte was following before sprinting down the alley.

Asche ran with all his might, heading towards the sea, knowing that he wouldn't reach it without facing another confrontation. Swiftly turning a corner to evade an energy blast from the Pultyte's spear, Asche paused to summon his sword, Eon, from his orb. And that was the last thing he remembered in that world.

Earth ??/?? January 18th, 2010

Location: Seattle

Asche found himself transported elsewhere due to the energy implanted in his orb. Between it foreseeing a fatal blow and a power snare Ba’laan and no doubt installed to trap Asche when he used a power. Wrap that all up with the Good O’l Paradox that followed Asche and he had no idea what planet he was on if not an alternate earth.

Immediately, he reached out telepathically to Gwen, Lance, Victor, and Eve, hoping they were safe. There was no response. Tapping a sequence of buttons on his Cistron (wrist-comp), he saw no signs of MoonDark or Juntha II either.

With a deep sigh, Asche hoped that the Pultytes had left the innocent planet and that his final message reached his team. If it did, they would meet again on another world. For now, he needed to acquire the resources and facilities necessary for building the technologies required for world hopping. Using his powers was not an option until he was confident that this Earth was far enough away from his enemies' watchful eyes. Now the concern for Gwen mounted as well.

Looking around, and into the night sky, he was able to triangulate himself in the Universe he knew. Asche found himself still in Seattle at sunrise, precisely mirrored where he had been transported from, minus the chase. He decided to search for a newspaper or an Op terminal to determine his current location and timeframe.

Earth ??/?? January 18th, 2010, 5:30 am

Location: Seattle

Asche continued his leisurely walk toward the shore, now on Union Street. The coast was visible a few blocks away. At this early hour, not many establishments would be open, so he followed the enticing aroma of strong coffee. Caffe Ladro answered his olfactory quest, and upon entering, Asche became aware of the presence of novas on this planet. A newspaper dated that morning carried a headline about "new discoveries" in the case of Jennifer Landers' death. While it didn't bother Asche that her demise had been averted in his world, he found it disconcerting that people couldn't let the dead rest in peace.

"I'll have a Hammerhead, please," Asche ordered from the barista, his slight Russian accent apparent. The choice of drink seemed fitting for this early morning—a quad shot of espresso mixed with caramel, chocolate, and steamed milk. The young man behind the counter silently stepped back, preparing Asche's drink without confirmation. Asche took a moment to glance at the only other person in the small shop, a dock worker who stared at him as if he had never seen someone of such height. After a brief pause, the barista delivered the coffee, standing in front of the cash register with a vacant stare. Asche tasted the concoction, then returned the stare silently.

"Sir, how will you be paying for that?" the barista eventually asked.

"Credit, I hope. Try this one," Asche replied, handing over his only card. It was a test to see if his parallel world's accounts lined up in this world. After multiple unsuccessful attempts, Asche pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the counter.

"Cut that card for me; that account is closed. Keep the change," he instructed before taking a seat at a small corner table, delving into the local papers. Determining his next destination to earn some quick cash seemed easier than expected in a world brimming with novas. As he perused the coffee shop, Asche synchronized his wrist comp with this world's Op net, hacking into various sites and public registries. His findings revealed a larger number of novas than he had anticipated, although still fewer than in his home world. Many

 of the novas he and his company had "re-educated" remained unchanged here. It was a disheartening realization to witness all their efforts undone and sacrifices in vain. Choosing acceptance, he decided to take the path of least resistance this time.

In need of fast cash, several thousand dollars to start but ultimately more, Asche logged into a public ad site. He posted an advertisement: "TELEPORTER FOR HIRE. No distance too large. When you need a package delivered safely and swiftly, call 981-987612-44. Will transport security personnel for package safety if required." Equipped with a hacked op-phone via his wrist comp, all he had to do now was wait for it to ring.

Earth ??/?? January 19th, 2010,

Location: Seattle - then Las Vegas

The wait for his first message regarding his teleporter service seemed longer than Asche had anticipated. Initially, he received a flurry of trivial messages, jokes, and tardiness excuses. But what he sought were the privacy-minded individuals, those who valued the discretion his service offered. Finally, his first paying customer emerged—a man who insisted on being called Mr. Jones. Paroled recently after serving twelve years for grand theft, Mr. Jones desired to acquire certain possessions despite a restraining order forbidding him from being in a particular part of the state. Willing to pay a handsome sum of $20,000, Mr. Jones's request held no concern for Asche. The nature of the items he sought mattered little to Asche; he was more interested in the cash it would bring. The implications of assisting someone with a dubious background did not faze him, for his own past provided some weight to his words. However, Asche made it clear to Mr. Jones that he expected a referral from the underworld contacts within two weeks, lest he orchestrate the man's arrest. This conversation, devoid of mind-influencing tactics, carried the weight of sincerity and purpose.

"Absolutely, eh, Asche, is it? Can I provide the same contact number for the referral?" Mr. Jones inquired. Asche agreed, and within a brief thirty minutes, Mr. Jones found himself comfortably seated in his living room, relishing his newfound spoils. Before he could express his gratitude, Asche vanished from sight, reappearing in Las Vegas. Now, he aimed to multiply his $20,000, assuming there were no countermeasures in place on this planet to stifle his nova intelligence.

Earth ??/?? 7:30 PM, January 19th, 2010,

Location: Las Vegas

Asche typically eschewed such methods, but his long-term objective necessitated his interaction with some unsavory characters. Gaining the attention of individuals tied to the criminal underworld would expose him to those who could be divested of their wealth and influence without a pang of conscience. In his view, it would be far too simplistic and destabilizing if his powers were to be wielded indiscriminately and without restraint. He relished the notion of a more intricate approach. Hence, he materialized near the service entrance of the MGM, a secluded spot he had diligently surveyed in an alternate reality where pedestrian traffic was sparse. The absence of any immediate witnesses did not deter him, yet he took the customary precautions to ensure his recognition remained elusive.

Walking down the alleyway, he advanced onto the service driveway and eventually onto Las Vegas Boulevard. The strip teemed with activity, even on a Tuesday evening. Most pedestrians hurriedly navigated the sidewalks, sidestepping the throng, while others chose taxis and cabs as their mode of transport. Asche's perceptive gaze caught sight of a Nova descending about a mile north, likely drawn to a show since gambling remained forbidden for novas in most public casinos. He lingered near a fountain, observing the ebb and flow of people passing by. Some met his gaze, but most were either too intoxicated to care or engrossed in the clamor and distractions of the crowds. Asche planned to remain in this vicinity, biding his time until he ventured to the next block, strategizing the optimal starting point for his impending "attack."

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Each day was a struggle, filled with uncertainty and despair. The dilapidated hotel room she called home was a stark reminder of the bleakness that surrounded her. It was a small space, cluttered with worn-out furniture, stained walls, and a musty odor that seemed to permeate everything. The room was shared with four other girls, all trapped in similar circumstances, their hopes and dreams fading away in the dimly lit space.

The morning sun peeked through the tattered curtains, casting a feeble glow on the worn carpet. Sophie stirred from her restless sleep, her tired eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. She pushed aside the thin blanket that barely provided any warmth and swung her legs over the edge of the creaky bed. With a heavy sigh, she rose to face another day.

As she navigated the cramped room, stepping over discarded clothes and empty bottles, Sophie couldn't help but feel the weight of her situation. Her dreams of a better life seemed like distant memories, overshadowed by the harsh reality she found herself in. She glanced at the worn-out mirror hanging on the wall, catching a glimpse of her reflection. Her once vibrant spirit seemed to have dimmed, replaced by a weariness that etched lines on her young face.

The bathroom shared by all the girls was no better. It was a grim space with chipped tiles, a leaky faucet, and a perpetual dampness that clung to the air. Sophie splashed her face with cold water, trying to wash away the heaviness that seemed to settle within her. She fought back tears, refusing to let her circumstances define her.

Breakfast was a meager affair, consisting of a stale piece of bread and a cup of instant coffee. Sophie sat at a worn-out table, the surface scratched and faded, joining the other girls in the room. Conversation was minimal, the weight of their struggles hanging heavily in the air. They exchanged knowing glances, understanding the unspoken bond that connected them. In the face of adversity, they found solace in their shared experiences.

The day stretched ahead, a seemingly endless cycle of survival. Sophie ventured out into the city, her worn-out sneakers carrying her through crowded streets. She navigated through the hustle and bustle, a face among the countless others struggling to make ends meet. Odd jobs and menial tasks were her lifeline, offering a meager income that barely sustained her.

Amidst the noise and chaos of the city, Sophie found moments of respite. She would sit in a small park, her sanctuary amidst the concrete jungle. The sound of chirping birds and the rustling of leaves provided a temporary escape from the harsh reality that awaited her. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to dream of a different life, where possibilities seemed within reach.

As the day wore on, Sophie returned to the hotel room, the weight of exhaustion settling upon her shoulders. She longed for a safe space, a place where she could find solace from the hardships she faced.

Asche walked past a group of women, some of whom disguised themselves as ladies but clearly lacked any semblance of virtue. They were criminals, yes, but mere victims of a cruel world that denied them opportunities. These were the individuals who couldn't secure respectable employment as escorts or find work in the legal brothels outside the city. None of them warranted more than a fraction of Asche's attention. As he approached the next intersection, a commotion caught his enhanced senses—a limousine parked by the curb with voices raised inside.

"Bitch, you better get out there and earn me some money! I don't care if you're 13 or 23. I took you in when you were starving, and this is how you repay me? Trying to run away? You can't escape your debt. My people will find you, and if I have to chase you down again, I'll offer you as a plaything. Understood?" The tirade was followed by sobs and a barely audible "Yeah."

"What was that, whore? I didn't hear you!" The voice grew louder, crackling, and desperate. "Yes, I won't run again. Please, I can get you the money. Let me try again..." more sobs ensued.

The door flung open, and a young girl almost fled the car, but not before a heavy-handed slap from the man in the backseat nearly knocked her into Asche. She couldn't be more than 14, dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl with a small red backpack and an Invader Zim doll peeking out of one of the zipper pockets. After sobbing once more, she straightened herself and mustered a tentative smile. "Uh, hi. Sorry."

Of all the crimes and misdeeds Asche had witnessed, mistreatment of women and children had no place in his tolerance. This girl was both, ensnared in a dire situation she didn't choose. As she bumped into him, he made sure to carefully hold her and cast a withering glare at the man responsible.

"It's alright, little one." Asche's words, coming from his towering 6'10" frame, might have seemed incongruous from anyone else. Nevertheless, he did his best to sound reassuring. The girl's momentary disquiet subsided as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with profound sadness. Asche couldn't help but hesitate, having witnessed enough child abductions, rape, and ruthless exploitation to last several lifetimes.

The barely teenage girl said nothing, quickly averting her gaze and starting to walk away. She was likely heading towards her designated corner, wishing she were anywhere but here. Asche caught her scent and discreetly glanced back at the limousine. Adjusting his vision to pierce through the tinted windows, he sought a glimpse of the other occupants.

The man with the ponytail, whom Asche despised, displayed a sneer, confident that the window tint shielded him from any direct confrontation. "Next stop, Joe. I need to see a certain person about money."

The driver seemed to know the destination already, as the car departed without further inquiry. Ponytail appeared to be preoccupied with the upcoming collection.

Asche longed for full satellite surveillance online; it would have made tracking the car much simpler. Instead, he decided on a first step to make Ponytail's day a bit more troublesome. Extending his telekinetic abilities, Asche exerted just enough pressure on the right rear tire of the limousine to cause it to blow. This setback would delay their arrival at the next stop.

Turning around, Asche began trailing the young girl who had left the vehicle earlier. Asche maintained a careful distance, making sure not to startle or intimidate the girl further. He observed her as she walked with a sense of resignation, her small form seeming even more vulnerable against the backdrop of the city's cold concrete and towering buildings.

Asche's thoughts churned with a mix of anger and empathy. He knew that intervening in such situations required a delicate touch, as simply rescuing her would likely lead to further repercussions from her captors. He needed to gather more information and formulate a plan to help her escape this harrowing existence.

Keeping his senses sharp, Asche followed her as she navigated the busy streets, occasionally stopping at corners or alcoves where other women—likely victims like her—were stationed. Their eyes met, and there was a shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of their shared plight.

In a moment of serendipity, the young girl paused near an alleyway, her gaze fixed on a flyer taped to a lamppost. Asche took this opportunity to approach her cautiously, stepping into her line of sight without alarming her. He kept his expression soft and concerned.

"Excuse me," Asche said gently, his deep voice carrying a soothing tone. "Are you alright? Is there something troubling you?"

The girl startled, her eyes widening in surprise. She looked at Asche, unsure of how to respond, but the weariness in her eyes was impossible to hide. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "I... I don't know. Everything's just... so messed up."

Asche nodded, understanding her words all too well. "I can see that. No one should have to go through what you're experiencing. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She hesitated, a mixture of fear and desperation evident in her expression. "I... I need money. I owe... I owe someone, and if I don't pay, they'll... they'll hurt me."

Asche's heart sank, but he remained composed. "I understand your predicament. But there might be a way out of this. A way for you to escape this dangerous situation. Would you be willing to trust me?"

The girl's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but the glimmer of hope in her gaze couldn't be denied. "I... I don't have much choice, do I? If there's a way out, I'll take it."

Asche nodded reassuringly. "Good. We'll need to be careful and make a plan. But first, let's find a safer place to talk. Somewhere away from prying eyes."

He gestured toward the mouth of the alleyway she had been eyeing earlier, a secluded spot shielded from the bustling street. The girl hesitated for a moment, then nodded, taking a step forward.

As they moved into the relative privacy of the alley, Asche's mind raced, considering the risks and possibilities. He knew he couldn't tackle this alone and that he would need assistance. But for now, he focused on the girl in front of him, determined to offer her a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounded them both.

In the secluded alley, Asche and the young girl found a momentary respite from the chaos of the city. Asche leaned against the graffiti-covered wall, creating a physical barrier between them and the outside world. He studied the girl's face, noting the exhaustion etched into every line and the flickering flame of hope in her eyes.

"First things first," Asche began, his voice steady. "What's your name?"

She hesitated, as if uncertain whether she should reveal her identity. After a brief pause, she whispered, "Sophia. P-people call me Sophie though,"

"Thank you, Sophie," Asche replied, his tone gentle. "Now, tell me more about the situation you're in. Who do you owe money to, and how much?"

Sophie’s voice quivered as she spoke, her words laden with fear. "There's a man... they call him Nico. He's part of a criminal gang. I owe him a thousand dollars. I thought I could pay it back quickly, but the debts kept piling up."

Asche's expression tightened with concern. He knew the dangers of crossing paths with criminal organizations, but he couldn't turn a blind eye to Sophie’s plight. "Sophie, we'll find a way to help you, but it won't be easy. We'll need to involve the authorities, but we have to be cautious to protect your safety."

Her eyes widened, and panic flickered across her face. "No, please! I can't involve the police. They won't understand. Nico has connections, and if they find out I talked to the police..."

Asche interrupted her gently, his voice filled with empathy. "I understand your fear. We won't involve them right away. We'll explore other options first. But you must promise me that if things escalate or you're in immediate danger, you'll trust me enough to seek help."

Sophie hesitated for a moment, her fear warring with the desperate need for salvation. Finally, she nodded, a glimmer of trust returning to her eyes. "Okay, I promise."

Asche's resolve strengthened, knowing that time was of the essence. He pulled out a small notepad and a pen from his jacket pocket. "Sophie, I need you to tell me everything you know about Nico and his gang. Any information could be crucial in formulating a plan."

Sophie hesitated, her eyes darting around as if searching for hidden threats. With a deep breath, she began to share what she knew, recounting fragmented details about Nico's operations, his associates, and the locations he frequented.

Asche listened intently, scribbling down notes as the child spoke. He knew that uncovering the right information could provide leverage or lead them to potential allies. As he absorbed the details, his mind started to map out a plan—an intricate web of strategy that aimed to dismantle Nico's hold on Sophie and the countless others trapped in his grip.

"Sophie, I can't promise an instant solution," Asche said, his voice filled with determination. "But I will do everything in my power to help you and put an end to this cycle of suffering. Together, we'll find a way out."

Sophie's gaze met Asche's, gratitude mingling with the flicker of hope in her eyes. It was a small step, but it marked the beginning of a journey—a journey toward freedom, justice, and a future where Lea and others like her could reclaim their lives.

Asche roamed the streets for approximately 20 minutes, traversing a distance of eight blocks, until he detected signs of the illicit flesh trade. In Nevada, distinguishing such activities was challenging, as prostitution, though not legalized, was largely tolerated. There were no immediate signs of Larry or his henchmen, but Asche overheard someone discussing Larry's recent car trouble. He proceeded towards a pair of women, seeking refuge behind a strip joint during their break. These women were older than Sophia, though likely in their twenties. While they possessed a certain attractiveness, Asche could discern the wear and tear that life had inflicted upon them. Their vacant gazes and pallid complexions revealed the toll of excessive pharmaceutical consumption.

"Excuse me, ladies," Asche interjected as he met their eyes in the alley. "I was wondering if you could assist me in locating a man named Larry. He mentioned that I could meet him in this vicinity to arrange for some young companions. I've been searching for him for the past 30 minutes, and I'm quite eager."

Asche, well-versed in the workings of the human mind, skillfully provided the women with the cues necessary to briefly focus their surface thoughts on his target. Neither of them wished to speak openly.

"Larry? I don't know anyone named Larry," the first woman responded.

The second woman followed with a timid and vacant gaze. "I usually don't ask for names anyway, just how much money you have."

That was all Asche needed. It was akin to instructing someone not to think about a pink elephant. He delicately delved into their surface thoughts telepathically, extracting a few addresses and phone numbers. Unfortunately, he also became aware of Larry's preferred sexual preferences, further fueling Asche's determination to bring him to justice or use him to impart a lesson to his henchmen. In either case, Sophia would find solace.

"Very well, ladies. Thank you, nonetheless," Asche replied, walking away until he disappeared from sight. He then teleported back to Sophia, planning to apprehend Larry while he slept around 10 am. Tomorrow would mark a turning point in several individuals' lives. Asche shared his plan with Sophia, who was half-asleep on the couch, donning a bathrobe and mismatched socks while watching the Disney channel. They conversed for another 20 minutes or so, after which Asche tucked her into bed and retired to the balcony to observe the remaining hours of the night in quiet contemplation.

Having spent the night in thoughtful silence, Asche was keenly aware of his next steps. However, these actions would require time, and until he could trust the assistance of a few novas or scan the solar system for Pultyte energy signatures, he needed to maintain a low profile. Expending primal energy or indulging in excessive displays of power was strictly prohibited. The lives of many on this alternate Earth were at stake, and he couldn't afford to jeopardize them. Thus, he patiently awaited Sophia's awakening.

The young girl had slept relatively peacefully, interrupted only a few times by sudden gasps or startles, momentarily confused about her surroundings. However, reality quickly settled back in within moments. Her new life was now at the forefront. Asche had monitored her breathing, heart rate, and restlessness during her slumber. His newly adopted daughter required stability, and he couldn't deny that keeping her with him at this time was not purely altruistic. In a few months' time, she would be ready for a new transition. In the meantime, they both needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Good morning, little one," Asche greeted with a grin as Sophia emerged from her room. "

I arranged to have the French toast you enjoy so much brought in for you."

They engaged in a brief conversation while Sophia eagerly devoured seconds and thirds. The teenager was already displaying signs of withdrawal from the drugs Larry had addicted her to. Her speech exhibited slight tremors, and she experienced headaches and shaky hands and feet.

"Sophia, I need to administer some medication to you. Just one shot, I promise, but it will help you resist the effects of drugs in the future. I'll also eliminate any remaining drugs from your system. You may end up sleeping for the rest of the day, but when you awaken, it will all be over, and your life will truly be yours," Asche explained, his concerned expression conveying how deeply he cared.

"Okay, I trust you, Asche. Let's do it," Sophia replied, exhibiting a hint of fear but also a willingness to undergo Asche's treatment.

Asche proceeded as promised, injecting her with a minuscule amount of what appeared to be antifreeze into her arm. The sting subsided quickly as Asche reached down and held her hands. Sophia's body grew heavy, and fatigue enveloped her. The last sensation she experienced was being lifted and carried to bed. She heard the bedroom door close before fading into a peaceful slumber.

Asche descended the stairs and hailed a taxi, instructing the driver to drop him off a few blocks away from Larry's acquired address. He carried no weapons, wallet, only clad in a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black steel-toe work boots. In his ordinary guise, he appeared like an average individual on the street, intentionally projecting a quantum signature that did not make him particularly memorable or intriguing. Committing Larry's address to memory, he strolled leisurely through a thirty-year-old housing tract to the west of the Las Vegas Strip. At 10 am, the neighborhood remained relatively quiet, with most houses boasting at least one car in the driveway, evidence of multiple incomes or none at all.

Larry had a long night that extended until nearly 5 am. One of his girls had gone missing, and the police had apprehended a couple more. Consequently, he had to tap into his reserves, conducting auditions and initiations. Moreover, someone had been asking about him. Larry had barely slept a couple of hours when the sound of wood splintering and thuds against his bedroom wall jolted him awake. He sat up and listened, but silence prevailed.

"Danny?! Eric?! Pauly?!" Larry's voice faltered upon receiving no response. He reached over, retrieved his .38 from under the mattress, and pulled on his pants. Opening his bedroom door, he cautiously peered down the hallway toward the living room, where the commotion had originated.

"Guys, what's going on?!"

Anxiety gripping him, Larry ventured into the living room, shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the absent front door. The broken pieces of the door rested atop Pauly, who appeared lifeless. Danny and Eric lay slumped on the floor beside an upturned couch and coffee table. Danny bled from an upper arm wound, with a compound fracture exposing a section of bone. Larry checked the safety on his pistol, ensuring it was ready, then proceeded into the kitchen, where he heard the sound of utensils being moved. The last sight imprinted on his memory, according to his subsequent confession, was that of a massive man wielding a large butcher knife. Larry never had a chance to fire his weapon.

Asche dispatched Larry's lackeys swiftly and lay in wait for the boss himself. When he was finished, Larry would be rendered impotent, incapable of reproduction or arousal. The butcher knife guaranteed that outcome. While Larry remained unconscious, Asche telepathically programmed him to go to the nearest police station and confess to all his past crimes and connections. Though the detectives considered Larry inconsequential, his associations helped them fill in some gaps in other cases they were working on. Larry and his five henchmen would spend a lengthy period behind bars. Larry, a scrawny man who would now need to sit down to urinate, was in for a particularly harsh time. Asche regarded this as a lesson learned for the former pimp and drug dealer.

Date: February 18th, 2010

Location: San Francisco

In the past weeks, Asche and Sophia had found themselves in the vicinity of San Francisco. It was an opportunity for Sophia to witness the renowned city she had always dreamed of visiting, while also allowing Asche to pitch his ideas to a handful of smaller computer software developers. These ideas were nothing short of groundbreaking inventions he had crafted on his home Earth. With a touch of caution, he diluted them slightly before presenting them to developers who possessed more extensive resources than he did at the time. He exercised careful restraint, never employing any overt displays of power, relying solely on the subtle touch of a handshake or a pat on the shoulder. These touches were reinforced telepathically, ultimately paving the way for crucial meetings that would determine the success of his plans. A few million dollars later, along with residual profits, Asche and Sophia found themselves residing in a penthouse suite overlooking the grandeur of Golden State Park and the mighty Pacific Ocean.

Additionally, Asche had recently acquired the keys to a massive 16,000-square-foot warehouse. He and Sophia inspected the space, commencing the process of transforming it into a secure production facility for the rebirth of Lonn Medical Technologies. The proceeds he would receive from the sales of security software and encryption technologies would sustain the fledgling company for a considerable period. In the meantime, they assumed low-profile lives within the San Francisco area. Asche made it his mission to ensure that the young girl experienced joy during her fleeting years of childhood.