Amber could still remember the text message she'd received that morning. Predictably, it woke her at an early hour.

Meet me at the Castle Island dock at noon today, Chris had told her.

Amber had yawned at first, but then she'd realized that there had to be something to this. There was a reason Chris wanted to see her in person, and Amber figured that reason was probably related to her mission.

Maybe he'll give me a lead of some kind.

Indeed, Amber had spent the better part of yesterday afternoon puzzling over why Danny Sham might be missing if he were already dead. She'd elected to keep this from Chris, because if she made him angry, he might renege on his end of the deal, which would land both Amber and Rachel in hot water.

Something just wasn't quite right. Either Chris was lying, or someone had fabricated Danny's records. Or maybe both. Whatever the case, she was likely to find out at noon.

Amber ate no breakfast that morning - her excitement precluded even the tiniest bite of the tastiest morsel imaginable from Starbucks. Instead, she pored over the files of the Sham family, though she remained unable to find anything that cleared the fog in her mind.

At last, there came a time when calling the Uber wouldn't get her to Castle Island with hours to spare. So Amber had done the same thing she'd done numerous times; she opened the app and selected a ride.

Traffic was fairly heavy in the city, and it was already a quarter to noon when the driver dropped Amber off at the entrance to Fort Independence. "This is as far as I can go," he told her.

"That's okay" Amber insisted, resolving to pay him a generous tip later. Of course, given what was about to go down, that might end up being the least of her worries.

So Amber made her way along the seaside esplanade, where numerous people were enjoying their Monday. Children too young to be in school, college students who were savoring time off from classes, couples holding hands on the beach…the sight was surreal when you considered that none of them were about to receive earth-shattering information that would rock their world.

Of course, the New England Aquarium structural failure had not entirely faded from headlines. It had happened only yesterday, after all; the victims' bodies were still being removed from the location from what she remembered. But just as the country moved on from episodes of gun violence, placing them in the memory-hole to be conveniently forgotten about, they would move on from this in no time at all.

When Amber reached the dock, she checked her iPhone. She only had two minutes to spare.

Well, it's about to be the witching hour. Come to think of it, I don't know what Chris looks like. I guess I'm going to find out momentarily.

It was then that she glanced at the dock and saw a scene that would have raised eyebrows in a remotely sane country.

"It doesn't matter!" shouted a familiar voice, one carrying a vague Southern accent. The man bearing the voice wore a CIA jacket and carried a spherical device in one hand, gesturing at a tall young man with fluffy brown hair as though he were about to throw the device at him.

Amber's legs then shifted to autopilot. Before she knew it, she was sprinting down toward the dock; despite nearly tripping at one point, she was by the man's side before long.

The man was Chris Courtland. Judging by his voice, he had to be. While Amber hadn't given his appearance much thought, she hadn't pictured Chris being bald with a slight white beard. But that hardly mattered, because the man he was accosting looked just like the person featured in the file she'd taken yesterday.

Amber processed all of this in the handful of seconds it took to sprint toward Chris. When she finally reached his side, this is what she said:

"I don't understand, Chris. I was supposed to find Danny Sham. So why did you do it for me?"

Now it was Danny's turn to frown. "Who's Chris?"

Later, Amber would be ashamed of what she said next, but she wasn't able to help herself as she snarled the following:

"How do you not know who Chris is?"

"It's a pretty common name, isn't it?"

As Chris Courtland wagged a finger (no, not that finger) at Danny, Amber's mind raced a mile a second. Perhaps Danny really didn't know this man's identity, or didn't understand that he was a marked man.

No matter what, however, one thing was clear: Amber had expected to feel relieved, maybe even elated, when she finally found Danny. Instead, she'd been thrust into a deep, dark land of confusion. The answers she thought she had were replaced with questions.

"But you're supposed to be dead, Danny!" Amber exclaimed. "Clearly, you're not dead!"

The young man narrowed his eyes. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

Chris glanced back and forth between the two young adults. He was plainly enjoying this, so he saw no incentive to defuse the argument. He just held his Pokèball out, moving his hand back and forth as though trying to decide whether to use it on Danny or Amber.

"No!" Amber shouted angrily. "Why would I threaten someone I don't even know?"

"But you do know me," Danny responded, somewhat more softly. "Or at least, you seem to know my name." Like a storm blowing itself off or a balloon running out of air, Danny had evidently lost the will to fight any longer.

"It's a long story," Amber muttered. "But Chris here taught me a valuable lesson: Nothing is ever private on social media. If you say something in a public forum, it's bound to come back and haunt you eventually."

"I don't even have social media."

"Well, I do," Amber replied sharply. "And it's gotten both of us into this mess. Chris told me that's how he found me."

"But why did he want to find you?" Danny wondered aloud.

That's when Amber knew that the young man was not feigning confusion. Danny seemed just as bamboozled as she felt. The only lingering question was: When will Chris speak up, and what will he say?

That first question was answered a few moments later when Chris placed the Pokéball in his pants pocket and sighed. "I suppose I should explain some things," he said.

"Yes, please do" Danny told him weakly. Pointing directly at Amber, the young man asked "Is she part of the Lobster Mobsters?"

Amber grimaced. She'd heard that name yesterday, of course, while searching the library. This was the second time in as many days that someone had accused her of being an ally to that gang.

"No," Chris mouthed. "But I am."

The contrast between the dock and the fort was incredibly stark. Scores of people were soaking up the Castle Island sun at high noon without a care in the world. Meanwhile, Amber and Danny could not have been more shocked even if Chris had told them they were standing next to a francium bomb.

"Excuse me," Danny retorted, suddenly energetic again. "What?"

"Or at least, I used to be part of the Lobster Mobsters" Chris responded calmly. "You see, they allow non-Pokémon in their ranks, even if their organization mostly consists of Crawdaunt."

"But I still don't get it," Amber mouthed. "If the Lobster Mobsters are real, you're admitting to a serious crime. If the police catch you, you're toast. You're saying this so casually, like you aren't worried about getting caught."

Chris smirked. "That's because I'm not."

"Why not?" Amber asked.

"Well, I have been caught before. It's hardly a secret to the authorities that I once worked for the Lobster Mobsters."

Danny gasped. "But you said they were brutal gangsters who would kill you just to watch you die. You worked for them?"

Chris put his hands in the air. "Hey, we all do things we're not proud of. If everyone were judged only by the worst things we've ever done, half of us would be in the slammer."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I'm not sure about that, but okay.

"You said you were going to protect me from the Lobster Mobsters," Danny continued. "That's what you told me three days ago in my apartment!"

"I know, and I'll get to that part in a moment" the older man replied. "But first, Amber…my name isn't Chris Courtland."

After the revelation about the bald man's time working for the Lobster Mobsters, nothing could surprise Amber anymore. She hardly even batted an eye at that information, just like a certain former President had made half the country numb to his numerous breathtaking scandals.

"Then what is your name?"

"Clint Cargile," he replied simply. "That's part of being in the CIA. You get familiar with fake IDs quickly, and you assume several yourself over the course of a career."

Well, I guess those are the same initials at least.

"I will admit; I'm in my fifties now and I've gotten a bit sloppy. The phone I was talking to you on, Amber - it's a burner phone. And I gave myself a number that should have been a dead giveaway. It was (555) 227-4453 if you'll recall…".

"What about it?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Clint said mockingly. "You're too young to have texted the old-fashioned way. In the past, each digit on the phone's keypad would have given you a set of letters; 2 was ABC, 3 was DEF, and so on."

Amber's mouth hung open. "So you made your last name, your phone number?"

"Yep. Speaking of things I'm not proud of, my burner phone's number is in fact 555-CAR-GILE. But I make up for that security lapse in other ways."

"Such as?"

"For one," Clint continued, "yesterday you asked if I could FaceTime you, and I said that it was against protocol."

Amber narrowed her eyes. "I guess that's because you're not allowed to show me what you look like unless absolutely necessary?"

Clint nodded. "The time of absolute necessity has come. So here I am."

Danny appeared to have regained his composure. "That still doesn't explain why you're here and not in prison."

"Well, I've been in prison before, Danny," Clint explained. "They sent me there on a lifelong hitch for my membership in the Lobster Mobsters. Now, how much do you know about prison?"

"I lived in one for fifteen years," Danny snapped. "I think I have a good idea."

"Well, as awful as the Sacred Heart Institute was, prison makes it look like a walk in the park. The food there is ass, it smells like ass, it's so hot you get swampass, and the people are assholes."

"Serves…you…right!" Danny told Clint, gritting his teeth. "You're a criminal!"

"Hear me out, okay? That is all I ask. Your curiosity will win the day, I just know it."

As much as Amber hated to admit it, Clint was correct. Both youngsters were now staring intently at him. Like news about a massacre or hurricane, you just couldn't look away even if you'd rather not know the details.

"Okay," Clint continued. "Danny, after some time in prison, I don't blame you for wanting to escape the Institute. Even if the way your brain works meant you needed to be there, it's still no fun being captive. That's one thing we have in common."

"But I'm not a criminal," Danny insisted, his face turning red. "That's one thing we don't share."

"The other thing we share in common is that we escaped our captivity. I escaped prison once, was caught and sent back there, and then escaped again. After the third time this happened, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts said, 'three strikes, you're out'."

"So what did they do?" Amber asked Clint irritably. "Put you on death row, and then you escaped that too?"

"Not exactly," Clint said with a smile. "The Commonwealth decided that I was more useful to them on the outside than on the inside. Something about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. Anyway, they cut a deal with me."

"Which was that if you helped bring other Lobster Mobsters to justice, you could stay out of prison" Danny spat. "That's the coward's way out. You are a coward, Clint."

"I realized my mistakes, and I sought to correct them as best I could. I couldn't bring back the Lobster Mobsters' victims, of which you would have been one of many, Danny. I couldn't undo all the harm caused by that gang of Crawdaunt. But I could do my best to reduce the harm perpetrated in the future."

"The first thing you should do," Amber all but shouted, "is own up to your mistakes!"

"I did that, though! Didn't I?"

"If you were truly sorry," Amber replied coldly, "you'd be willing to accept the consequences of your actions. If it means prison time, then it means prison time."

Clint gave the youngsters what can only be described as a "shit-eating grin." Unfortunately, he was not actually eating shit, either literally or metaphorically. He deserves that, though.

"Well, Danny," Clint said eventually, an evil glint in his eye, "I've got a little something hiding in my other pocket. Do you want to know what it is?"

"No!" Danny shouted. He probably meant to sound badass, but Amber could tell he was actually scared shitless. So was she. It was clear that Clint could cause both of them a lot of pain if he wanted to…which, of course, he did.

"Danny, I don't care what you want - quite frankly, you deserve to face your consequences as well. As for that little something hiding in my pocket, it's a Pokéball, but it's not for capturing Amber. It's for holding my friend Tai - he's a Raichu, and he's going to electrocute you so that you've got no choice but to submit!"

Amber could only watch as Danny balled his hands into fists. "I'm gonna get you, Clint! I bet I could beat you in a fight!"

"Now, now," Clint responded chidingly. "This does not have to become a fight. I told you that it could still turn out okay in the end. And I still mean it. But because you're so resistant to the deal I made with Amber the other day, I'll sweeten the deal for her."

Amber's blood boiled at that. Not only was Clint trying to manipulate her, he wasn't even being subtle about it. He'd just shown his hand (hell, he'd shown the entire deck), and was flat-out saying: I've got this to offer you. You can accept my offer, or I'm going to make your life a living hell.

"Here's the deal, young lady," Clint announced. "If you can get Danny to turn himself in, he will not be harmed, I won't tell the world Rachel's secret, and you can return to your life in the North End and pretend none of this ever happened."

"Wasn't that already the deal?"

"He will be treated leniently, I assure you" Clint told Amber. "But why do you even care? You just met Danny Sham, and all you know about him is that he's a criminal. Why would you be attached?"

Amber, admittedly, didn't have a good answer to that other than standing her ground.

"Well, Amber, you only have one option. And one option is not really a choice. It's more like take it or leave it. "

Much like on Friday, the start of this roller coaster of a weekend, Amber was faced with a choice. But now that she'd met Danny, she was no longer the blind statue in front of the Supreme Court holding up the scales. She was a human with thoughts and feelings, and she had more information than before, too.

She could either leave Danny be and throw Rachel to the wolves, or she could turn Danny in to protect Rachel. Amber allowed herself no more than twenty seconds to consider both options.

On the one hand, if she didn't turn Danny in, if she ran from the truth, Danny probably wouldn't be able to escape Clint's clutches. In that case, in shoving Rachel under the bus to protect someone she'd just met, she might end up losing both of them to prison. Two minus one would equal zero.

On the other hand, Clint had already lied to Amber once. Who's to say he wasn't lying to her again? She couldn't be certain that Danny would actually be treated in a lenient fashion if she gave him up to the CIA in an effort to hide Rachel from the law. Besides, Clint had admitted to having once been a member of the Lobster Mobsters. How much was his word truly worth?

There was a third option, however. As Amber locked eyes with Danny, she became more and more certain that this was the "least worst" choice.

"I'm sorry," Amber replied eventually, "but I don't think I can trust you, Clint. I don't intend to leave Danny at your mercy."

Danny may have sensed some hope, as evidenced by the glimmer in his eyes, but any such hope was short-lived.

"In that case," Clint replied, "you give me no choice. Tai Raichu, stand back and stand by!"

Clint pulled a Pokéball out of his pocket and slammed it on the ground, which created a flash of cyan-colored light.

"Run!" Amber barked at Danny.

Unfortunately, since they were at the end of a dock, there was nowhere to run. The Raichu materialized on the dock and started spitting jolts of electricity at Amber and Danny.

"We're going to have to jump!" Amber commanded. "Can you handle that, Danny?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think I ca-".

Danny was interrupted by a buzzing sound, which resulted in a grimace, followed by a howl of agony emanating from his mouth. His face was curled up in an expression resembling absolute pain; it evidently hurt so much that it couldn't possibly hurt any more.

"You were shocked!" Amber realized aloud.

"Right in my - ow! - bad leg, too" Danny moaned.

"Then climb up and fling yourself over the side! You can tread water without your legs!"

"But - ".

"Danny," Amber commanded. "Just do it!"

The pair of youngsters balanced precariously on the dock's railing, then hurled themselves over the edge. There was the sensation of falling, then the impact with the water.

Amber swam back to the surface, spitting up a small amount of water. Danny resurfaced beside her, coughing far more and grimacing again.

"Swim!" Amber shouted. "We've got to get to shore!"

But Danny was clearly struggling. Every few seconds he grimaced, and his head was barely above the water's surface. The tall waves, which contained numerous white caps, didn't exactly help matters either.

"I know it hurts, Danny, but read my lips: You will live out the day!"

Danny nodded.

"Don't waste your energy nodding. I'll help you swim to shore, and then we can head to my place."

The pair swam awkwardly for about a hundred yards, by which time Amber was starting to get slightly panicked herself. The current was no joke, and it was pushing them further out to sea. Their only hope might be to stay afloat until the Coast Guard found them, but who knew when that'd be?

And then, as though it had been sent down from the "big man upstairs" to save them, Amber spotted something about thirty yards away.

"We're almost there, Danny!" Amber panted. "Looks like there's a buoy we can cling to!"

Danny nodded a bit, but the poor guy was clearly taking on water, as evidenced by how much he was spitting out with every stroke. Amber wanted to yell at him to conserve his energy, but she didn't feel great either.

And then she saw that the item floating in the harbor was not a buoy, but rather a personal watercraft. Ordinarily, she would have been irate at the thought of someone leaving such an item to litter the harbor, but not when it might save their lives.

And so, treading water and barely keeping their heads above the surface, Amber and Danny swam to the jet ski. "I'll climb on and you can grab my leg" Amber said in one breath before gasping again.

It took much of Amber's remaining strength just to mount the jet ski, and the rest of it (and then some) to pull Danny into the seat behind her. Quite frankly, given how much smaller she was than Danny, it's a wonder she was able to achieve that. Maybe she could win a gold medal in the next Olympics for Weightlifting.

In all seriousness, once Danny was on the back of the jet ski, he wheezed even more and coughed up a significant amount of water. "Thanks" he gasped eventually.

"Don't thank me yet" Amber told him. "We still have to get to my apartment complex in the North End. I'll drive this thing, and you just need to hang on."

Danny wrapped his arms around Amber's back, a surprisingly intimate gesture for someone for whom, less than an hour ago, Amber had partaken in a manhunt. How quickly things could change.

"And I mean hang on tight," she muttered. "Because it's going to be a wild ride."

There was still the million-dollar question hanging in the air, which Danny plucked from the ether and posed.

"Do you know how to drive a jet ski?"

Amber turned to face Danny and forced a smile.

"If I'm being honest with you, I don't. But now's a good time to learn."