He rushed home as quick as he could from Garland’s. The exchange with Don Waters had sobered him up pretty quickly and he was suddenly very aware of everything that had happened, everything he had done and the feelings he now felt.

Was it too late to go back?

Can this be undone?

The streets were packed with people and Lucas unapologetically pushed past anyone in his way. He couldn’t hear any protests as he did so, his mind seemed to be blocking out the world around him.

He pushed through the doors into his apartment block lobby, not aware of the concierge’s greeting, and went straight for the elevator. Anxiety and guilt were at the forefront of an already scared and fraught mind.

It felt like the elevator took ages to arrive and luckily when it did, it was empty. Lucas slammed against the back of it, and shut his eyes.

His head pounded.

His chest tight.

His legs weak.

The small confines of the escalator offered a sense of safety. A tight encasing that blocked the stress getting its way to him.

The doors pinged open.

He stepped out.

Now he was almost running down the corridor to his door. He fumbled for his key, and hastily jammed the key into the lock.

It dropped. Damnit!

He tried again.

It went in.

He went in.

Door closed.

Calm.

Safety.

He paced around the living space.

Did he want to sit down?

Or stand?

Break something?

Carry on pacing?

Lights on or lights off?

His heart was still beating fast.

His cell. It started ringing. It was Holt. He was no doubt checking in on him after being in LA. He had offered to go with him, but Lucas had declined. He felt it was something he had to do alone. Lucas regretted that decision now. Just one of the many decisions he failed to make correctly. He ended the call. He couldn’t speak to him now. Not after what he did. He didn’t deserve Holt or his kindness. Could he tell anyone? No, probably not. They’d all have the same impression of him.

The cell buzzed again.

Holt again.

Just a message this time.

HEY LUCAS, I HOPE YOU’RE OK AFTER TODAY. CALL ME BACK WHEN YOU GET THE CHANCE. X

I don’t deserve him.

He hadn’t deserved Ahmed either. Oh, Ahmed. After the earthquake, it took a few hours before they were reunited at last. He and Harriet had made it out relatively unharmed and were seeking refuge in an American Red Cross medical tent set up to triage people and help reunite those separated. But Brad’s accusations of letting Tiffany die had burrowed deep into Lucas’ emotions and mental state.

In the weeks that followed the events of LA, Lucas had managed to push away Ahmed and shut him out. Their relationship became toxic and irreparable. Ahmed tried his best, but Lucas was too consumed by grief, by trauma and by guilt to let him in.

Lucas spiralled further into a deeper depression, and drove Ahmed into a life with someone else. His boyfriend packed his bags and left, not able to take anymore.

It took the best part of a year for Lucas to rebuild his life but he could never quite come to the realisation that he had done everything he could for Tiffany and Russ, and to realise that Brad was just talking out of his own grief. The blame had already been laid at his door, and it wasn't going anywhere.

Lucas had ended up on the sofa, exhausted by his thoughts and his panic, sprawled out in complete darkness. The lights from the surrounding high rise buildings cast the only light in the apartment. The serenity was welcomed and Lucas bathed in it, but he could do nothing to keep out the could the negative energy, thoughts, emotions and recollections that reared their head at this most vulnerable time.

***

The Facility. Two months ago.

“Kansas, this is Mindy. It’s a large Peacekeeper carrier ship. They have not engaged yet and we are observing for now.”

“Copy that. Keep us updated. Kansas out.” Lucas replied. He leaned over and pressed the PA system. “Code Red- Our space birds have company re-entering. I repeat, Code Red.” Madam Secretary and Brad came running through.

“Is everyone ok?” asked the Secretary, checking the screens.

“Things have escalated up there-” he paused as some communications were being patched through to the control room. “Yeah, they have some interference from an other-world third party threatening to enter our orbit.” The Secretary swore under her breath and instructed a technician to alert US Space Force.

“Ok, get kitted up and in the sky ASAP. I need everyone in the sky who can be, five minutes ago,” she barked.

“Sure, let’s go then,” Lucas said, getting out of his chair.

“Really?” Brad asked watching him. "Surely you don't think you can do anything out there."

“No, I need you here Lucas. They need you to organise things on the ground. I need to make some calls. Brad, you should have gone by now.” Both Brad and the Secretary marched out of the room. Lucas didn’t have time to smart from that exchange as he caught sight of the radar system on the screen.

“This is Kansas. We estimate impact in London,” he advised the others, before adding. “We’re sending the others to help!”

He slumped back in his chair, severely narked off. He was just as useful and just as able as any of the other technicians in the control room- so why did he need to stay here? He could have helped out there.

Right?

***

San Francisco. Four months ago.

“Wasn’t that incredible?” Dylan asked excitedly, a massive grin on his face. Lucas wiped his forehead having worked up a sweat hurdling walls and running alongside a giant bear and a rare Maltese tiger. Not something he imagined happening to him in his life. Ever.

“Yeah, what an experience.”

“Look, I am sorry about not involving you about Grizzly George’s appearance. I know what your argument was but I… I…”

“It’s ok Dyl. I guess you were showing initiative. Besides, it all paid off, right. I just don’t like being blindsided, or feeling like I’m not being listened to.”

“I get that. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you next time I go behind your back!” he said cheekily, walking off.

***

Mernario, Buenos Aires. Argentina. Three and a half years ago.

The rain lashed down on the old Argentinian streets, flowing through in streams. Flashes of lightning illuminated the skies whilst the thunder clapped and boomed, almost helping Proten and Network to disguise their entry.

A Purist cell had been located after a series of high profile attacks and killings had occurred in South America, with enhanced citizens being the victims. When two of the killed were American nationals, Madam Secretary authorised Collective intervention.

“The building is up there on the left with the red door. I’m sensing a strong presence of technology which I’ll hack into and shut down,” informed Network, whispering. Proten nodded his understanding. “Done.”

With that, they began their stealthy approach up the street to their target building, hugging the wall and keeping low. Proten gave the door a gentle push but it wouldn’t budge. The noise of the rain was loud enough, but a door being forced could be heard over it from the inside. He needed to time it just right, waiting for a crash of thunder. There was a flash in the sky…. Wait for it…. thunder roared across the city and with that, Proten forced the door in, no one any the wiser.

Only, except, the door opening triggered the ringing of an old dinner bell- a tactic used to provide inhabitants an alarm system that cannot be technologically deactivated. By Network.

Network and Proten froze, trying to work out if the ringing bell had been heard and to find out who was going to come for them. Network looked at the stair case in front of them expectantly. It spiralled around the walls in the middle of the block and they were likely to hear someone before they saw them.

Proten extended his neck up into the free space, going up through the middle of the staircase to check out any threats. His neck and head elevated beyond the second floor… the third floor… and then he paused. A guard was sat in front of a door for the flat where The Purists were occupying. He hadn’t heard the door get forced in. He probably hadn’t heard the bell ring. But he definitely saw Proten’s head on the end of a very extended neck looking right at him.

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

“Hola señor!” greeted Proten.

The man started to shout, but didn’t get much out before Proten went in for a head butt, slamming his own head into the guard’s, like a giraffe fighting for a mate.

Network could see the body of his friend on the ground floor where they were still stood, swaying around, and so he started to head up the stairs himself. As he climbed, he saw the head of Proten recoiling back down to meet its body on the ground floor.

Reaching the third floor, Network saw the crumpled body of a guard sprawled on the floor with a bloodied nose, and another man now coming out of the apartment itself, armed with a machete.

Network pushed on, wanting to narrow the space between them and showing he had no fear in this situation.

The angry Purist swiped out with his machete. Network arched his back to dodge it but then with momentum of correcting his posture, he hit out with a hard fist. The assailant dropped to one knee but lashed out again with the weapon, aiming for Network’s abdominal area.

An arm snaked past Network and grabbed the machete man’s arm, preventing him from following through with the attack. Proten used his other arm to whack the guy in the face. Network ducked under Proten’s arms like he was playing with a skipping rope and made a hard entry into the room.

Two other Purists came through from an adjoining room, but by now Proten had finished with the assailant outside and was stood side by side with his friend. They stood to face the abruptly woken Purists and the pairs charged at each other.

To the soundtrack of the storm outside Proten and Network hit out and ducked, synchronising their movements with each other as if this had been choreographed for the stage. The two Purists were soon out for the count, one laid out in the shattered remains of a wooden side table and the other with the contents of a kitchen cupboard emptied out on top of him. Exhilarated and out of breath, the friends high-fived.

“We’re unstoppable! Good job bro,” praised Proten.

“Damn right!” panted Network. “Let’s get The GRAB Team in and get what we came for.”

“Excellent plan.”

Lucas woke up with his neck aching from the position he was in on the sofa. It was three eighteen in the morning on his phone.

One missed call from Holt. He’ll be asleep by now.

Lucas swung his legs round and sat up, putting his head in his hands. What could have happened to Perry Ferguson by now?

It would have been all of his fault.

He felt awful. Awful about himself, what he had done. Awful because he had a blinding headache and because he was exhausted. I can’t bare this anymore. I’ve absolutely had enough.

***

San Francisco. Ten years ago.

Lucas looked around the internet café and pressed SEND. Job done.

He packed up his laptop and logged off the café’s computer that he was only pretending to use. Laptop in bag, he shouldered it and left through the back way while no one was looking. He walked through the staff area to the fire doors and then out into the alley.

“Put your hands where I can see them! NOW!” shouted the police officer, pointing her gun at him from the cover of her open car door. “The game is up, Lucas!”

“Sergeant Black, you say that every time,” he called back.

“Walk towards me with your hands up!” she barked. Lucas began to oblige but he was already planning his next move out of this.

He activated a smoke bomb from his left jacket sleeve and took his chance to turn and run back through the doors he had come out of, back towards the café. Black gave chase, swapping her firearm for her taser. Lucas ran down the staff corridor and back out into the café itself.

The patrons all turned, but Lucas ignored them. From the front entrance across the other side, two uniformed officers came through with their weapons drawn. Lucas slowed. He had nowhere to go.

Luckily they weren’t going to be able to link this cyber blackmail he had just completed on to him, but the feds still had lots of other felonies on him.

Lucas turned the way he came and saw Black now approaching, taser still drawn. He turned back to the cops. He went into his pocket for his smoke bomb in the hope of creating another distraction, but Black, not seeing what he was reaching for, shot him.

The metal prongs from the taser shot through the air at his back. One landed in his back between his rucksack straps and the other went through the bag, hitting his laptop. The charge went through him and his laptop, causing him to go rigid and fall forward.

Reaching out to support himself as best he could, he unknowingly grabbed hold of some wires from out behind a computer terminal next to him. The charge that went through him, the laptop and the computer cables intensified the shock he got.

His laptop started to fry within his bag and he screamed out in agony on all fours. Sergeant Black looked on in horror. She had used the taser on people so many times but had never seen anything like this before. She disengaged the cartridge and went over to Lucas, who was now out unconscious on his front, his left hand still holding the computer cables and his rucksack smoking.

“Get me EMS now!” she instructed one of the uniformed officers.

***

Quarter to five. The sun will be rising soon. Bringing a new day. He dropped an envelope on the coffee table and walked to the full length windows, where he stood for a bit. Just losing himself in the sprawling city scape of the place he loved.

“Thank you,” he whispered to San Francisco, and walked to his bedroom.

***

“Have you heard form Lucas, Terri?” Holt asked over the phone at lunch time.

“Nope, I’m afraid not, Holt. Not since a couple of days ago at The Facility.” Holt didn’t answer. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

“No go on, tell me. Have you not heard from him?”

“Well, no. See he hasn’t picked up any of my calls or responded to my messages.”

“Yesterday will have been tough on him, and especially after his run in with Brad at the grave.”

“What run in? What happened?”

“Oh, bollocks. Well Brad said that him and Lucas had a confrontation and that he was feeling bad about it. Lucas had pushed him, and then he punched him back,” Terri explained.

“And that doesn’t worry you, Terri?”

“Well a little, I guess. They do this quite a bit every so often, Their relationship is very hostile.”

“But is it always so physical? You’re ok with that?”

“It isn’t no. And no," she admitted. "No I’m not ok with it. It’s just..”

“It can’t be excused. Don’t make excuses. I’m even more worried about him now.”

“Ok, I hear that. But he’ll be ok. Lucas just broods for a bit and then he picks himself up again. I’ll tell you what, I’m in Cali now looking for Don. I’ll swing by Lucas’ later today. Will that be ok?”

“Yeah, that would be great. I get that he broods, I can’t stand when he does that, but tell him he just needs to send a message. That’s all I want.”

“No worries, I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, see ya.”

Terri arrived in San Francisco later that afternoon and texted Holt to let him know. She rode the elevator up to his floor and walked to Lucas’ door.

She knocked.

No answer.

The concierge downstairs had said he hadn’t gone anywhere. Maybe he was in the shower. He’s got nothing I’ve not seen before, she chuckled to herself and tried the door handle.

It was unlocked.

“Lucas!” she called out, giggling to her self. “It’s me, Terri. Make sure you’re decent when you come out of the shower otherwise I’ll see your wiener again!”

Silence.

She looked around, tilting her head to check out the half nude male on the cover of the magazine on his breakfast bar. She carried on pottering around and came to the sofas.

“Lucas!” she sung out again.

Nothing.

She spotted an envelope on the coffee table.

Please read it said, in his handwriting.

Terri frowned, opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. She began reading and it dawned on her very quickly what it was that she was reading.

She swore out loud, her eyes filled with tears, and her stomach dropped.

She ran towards his bedroom, shouting for her friend.

“LUCAS! LUCAS! TALK TO ME!” she shouted, thrusting the bedroom door open.

She stopped.

She was too late.