I thought I was dead. In my mind I thought this had to be it. There it was, shining, at the end of the tunnel, just like everyone said it did. But it was him.

- Anonymous

Luck Lockyer. As a boy, talented, determined and one of the best pupils he had ever had. The child was one of the most stubbornly mirthful people he had ever taught. His eyes glowed with ideas and notions that Etsuji's had alighted upon all those years ago.

Breaking that idealism was just another weight on his soul.

He had thought he had crushed that, so the boy wouldn't have to go through what Etsuji did. It was so long ago that the same happened to him. He didn't have the luxury to see how the world really was. He stopped himself. Those thoughts only led to darker ones. The whispers, the 'what ifs' and 'maybes', so he stopped. That pain that he so wanted Luck, the man he had come to know as Mr. Lockyer, to never experience.

And yet the day he officially came into the underground world, the boy had set up an information dump. Of course Etsuji noticed this, he was his handler of sorts, the one teaching him. It took two days for Mr. Ark to realize the connections between those he allowed access to the spot. The good hearted, the pure. He was planning to cut the whole operation short. It would only lead to failure and regret. And he would've too, if it weren't for one small problem. A small detail that meant much. A detail, just a small one, that was everything.

It was working. The damn thing was working.

A cook, a man who was a drug dealer, began to hand out food in his alley. A woman, a prostitute, helped other young women out of that life. A businessman, given money, started fundraisers for the homeless. Other people, somehow connected to the underground all had similar changes in their lifestyle. Until one day, a poltician, one even Mr. Ark thought crooked, was led to the info dump. And at that point Etsuji thought, this was it, Luck's mistake. But against all reason, the man walked out and in the following months put into action various good will projects. Large projects that helped improve the city, in whatever way they could. In the end it had little impact, but something was better than nothing.

All the while, Etsuji Ark, Luck's handle and uncle, gaped in awe.

That was the day he realized, that Luck might've passed even Etsuji's skills. He tried, he tried extensively. Checking Luck's schedule, watching him between deliveries, his interactions. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing that revealed how Luck was communicating with these people. More than that, the people Luck chose were seemingly random, whether they were perceived as crooked or pure hearted, it didn't matter. No one betrayed the system, and Mr. Ark had no idea why.

No idea at all how the Amber Demon had pulled it off. How he had found kindred souls.

All under his nose.

He had even tasked Ernie, his most trusted and beloved cook, to delivering the note in his hands. And Ernie was always close at hand, the man had never visited Luck's drop off. To his knowledge, at least, which was, truthfully, quite vast. Mr. Ark knew many things, yet Luck had operated completely outside of his sphere.

"Transported to another world." He read gently, fingering the ribboned note.

Caligraphy was not one of Luck's many skills and Etsuji allowed himself a small smile at that. It was why, fanciful as it may seem, he dared to believe. Rick, his best friend, was alive. Laura, Tate, all of them. Alive. Somewhere. Somewhere in another world.

Masa Toro with Caviar. It was Luck's favorite dish and parting message. An expensive dish, but Luck rarely dined during the night. Looking back, the message was likely the reason Ernie had insisted to cleaning the kitchen so late into the night. Etsuji stayed most nights, looking through the window of his restaurant. It was no secret that he did, though none were normally around to witness it. Ernie himself had already left a time ago, the man had a family to get to, and thus never saw Etsuji during these moments.

"Oh, wherever you are Luck, I wish the best for you. Stay safe Mr. Lockyer." 

They were the lonely words of an old man in his restaurant. Words spoken more to fulfill a respect for people not present than to be heard by them. They were words to fill the silence. A nod to the future. A conversation with himself. Etsuji Ark was not one to cry. He never had been. But a sadness enveloped him that he had never known before, the knowledge that another set of loved ones had left his life. That he was truly alone once more. His solace, that at least they were together.

His words rang out, knowing that a response wasn't coming. There was a dish at a nearby table, missed by the staff. Groaning as he stood up to pick up the dish, a sound he wouldn't utter in the presence of others, he made his way over. Taking the plate, held gently in his two hands, he noted it was the daily special. His favorite, unfinished, barely even touched. He took his time washing it, the grime and food of past service in the sink. And in the end, the dish came away sparkling clean. He had been in the restaurant so long that he even recognized it among many, it was the one that was chipped. There were only a few others like it.

With that done, he sat back down.

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Now it was only Mr. Ark and his food.

 Masa Toro with Caviar. Luck's favorite.

He took his time eating. Pausing to stare out the window occasionally, reminiscing. Thinking of times long gone, the happy moments, the untarnished ones. But even they had a flavor of sad sweetness, coated in a tint of blue. He used the napkin gently, whenever needed. The dish was one meant to be enjoyed, to be tasted, to last. And so he did. He took his time. Thirty minutes passed in quiet. Thirty minutes. A measured amount of time that seemed to stretch even as Etsuji neared the end of it. As if even the clock refused to face the present.

Gently, Etsuji wiped his mouth clean, having finished.

And when his eyes rose, prepared for the chaos that would follow the assassinations of the night, he instead saw a figure clad in white, sitting across from him. 

A normal man's attention would be drawn to her eyes, a soft emerald. A man of lust, her slim figure. A bachelor might note her face and hair, her beauty. Luck, no doubt, woud be drawn to her dress, her clothing. A loose white that hugged her frame and accentuated all of them at once. 

But Etsuji was an old man. Those things meant little to him. The first thing that drew his gaze, even now, was the way she held herself. The way she was sitting. Elegant and compassionate. Patient. Her face, however, was tired. Dispirited.

"It is wholly unhealthy for someone to exert so much power for so long." She said, voice like a bed of clovers. Heaven for a man with as many aches as Etsuji Ark.

 "I regret to inform you but my restaurant is closed.", was his mechanical answer. Less from not knowing how to respond and more for opening up a dialogue.

The lady took a deep breath, exhaling as she looked around, as if a slow moment was a luxury she was not accustomed to. "So it is." She said finally, unbothered by Mr. Ark's scanning eyes. "Etsuji Ark.The Light." She said as her eyes found him again, a piercing green.

"Mr. Ark will do, miss." He replied, not a trace of sorrow on his features.

"Mr. Ark then." She corrected. "I've need of someone like you."

Normally, he would deny anything that suggested he was anything more than a simple restaurant owner. But... Etsuji the Light was not a man any normal person knew. If she knew that, then she knew who he was.

"I'm afraid I must prepare for the ramifications put into motion by one Luck Lockyer. I will not have time for anything else. My time is not my own for these next weeks." He replied, reasonably.

She smiled lightly, as if she had found what she was looking for. "Luck Lockyer, " She continued, her eyes lightening almost imperceptibly, "is a very resourceful individual. You want to stay here, to limit the lives lost, soothe accusations made, save those that are innocent. But I am somewhat in tune with fortune, you see. And surrounded by cynicism, by all this negative, I would certaintly not blame you for not believing me. But Luck Lockyer, The Amber Demon... that young man, has set this city on a path brighter than it has ever walked." And her eyes shone green, greener than should've been possible.

It hit Etsuji in that moment. Who this woman was. He had assumed she was someone of extreme skill. Somehow gaining entry to Ark's Dishes in his lapse of attention. But he had chosen to believe hadn't he? 

He looked down to the note laying gently on the table.

'Eyes a green deeper than the ocean is blue.' it read.

She was Leah. Leah, The Goddess of Fortune. It was written right here, in his hands. The words as true as they were sloppy. The woman Luck had talked of, the one who would transport him to another world. The one that had transported him. There were few people Mr. Ark could ever afford to trust. Very few. And there were only a handful of individuals he would act for without pressing any further. Whom he would trust implicitly and without doubt. Of those, half were dead, while the other half, had been given a second chance somewhere new.

The Lockyers. 

Then, realizing his pause, he hastily replied, "Forgive a man of age. I've not been in the presence of gods before." He bowed respectfully.

 "Mr. Ark," she began, "the truth of the matter is this; your presence is not needed here anymore. Money is in the hands of those who are competent and mean well, as the Amber Demon had intended. No more do you need to pass 63rd Street, to head to the bank every Saturday, to discount your meals on Mondays. To press the men of Blaine Street, or cow the thugs of 23rd. Others have taken responsibilty of positions no one ever knew were manned. Of jobs no one thought were ever done."

Mr. Ark's face was passive. The mask of a pondering man, a slow nod that could mean either slow consideration, or the humoring of a lunatic.

"My world is on the verge of... something, Mr. Ark. An event that will change the landscape, a wave of misfortune so pure and chaotic my influence does naught but buy us a second. I know not what it is, only that a more direct approach is necessary to combat it. I've been looking for people Mr. Ark. I seek not the strong. Nor the fast, or the smart. My eyes skip the tough, uninterested. The wise go unnoticed, unchosen. No, they may have those qualities, but it is never why I choose them. Aerae is on the verge of something, Mr. Ark. A darkness. It will need those willing to do good. And more than that, they need to be extremely capable of pulling it off." The goddess' hands rested gently on her lap, her spiel done. A small silence in a large restaurant.

Mr. Ark smoothed his clothes. And he answered, though it pained him to say it. It was a concession, a surrender. He could not save the people here, but now, in this moment, was another opportunity at saving many more lives. 

The eyes of a goddess were upon him. "Then they will need a light, Leah. However small it may be."

Etsuji Ark looked around, at the lights that popped into existence like magic. His control, an easy hurdle for the childlike awe plastered onto his face. First there was one, then two, then ten, until there were too many to keep track of. But among them he spotted the goddess' face.

She was smiling. Her face a little more hopeful than it had been. "Good fortune to you, Mr. Ark." But she added something else, not happy with her parting. "Etsuji. Etsuji the Light." And in a twist of roles, The Goddess of Fortune bowed.

It was the last thing he saw.

Multicolored motes assaulted the dim lighting of Ark's Dishes. It's owner dissapeared with them, on a journey to another world.

The restaurant would continue to serve food. Not a trace of the man who was its namesake. No history of his deeds, no record of his doings. Not a single reward for what he did, not that anyone knew what exactly it was.

What remained, however, were thanks. They came in waves from an orphanage on 63rd. From a charity house by the bank. The hungry on Mondays. The whole neighborhood down Blaine Street, and the women on 23rd. Many more from different spots across the city. But, curiously, most of them, the majority, really, came from around a small restaurant.

And yet, those thanks never found the man they were meant for.