1:17 a.m, December 23rd, 2028

"Well, that takes care of that," was O’Brien’s mutter, smoking a premium cigar and looking out the window of a chartered aircraft as they soared in the early morning skies.

He turned and looked at the tightly bound captives, now on a drug schedule to stay asleep until the end came.

Ah, shedding all pretense and stopping the act of a nervous teenager unloaded a large burden off his shoulders.

O'Brien lived for 15 years in the apocalypse, in that dog-eat-dog kennel of a world. Of course, lost dogs like him were not spared. Their personalities were farthest from the word 'pleasant'. He was even one of the more reasonable of the bunch, but their values of efficiency and oneself above all, regardless of human life and feelings, were cemented to O'Brien's very core.

There were many ways he could have convinced the women, but they were all temporary and required repeated assurances and fake evidence to back things up.

In addition, he truly hadn't given much thought to his plan of capturing them. Perhaps a few hours at most. His mind was full of the Apocalypse and whether he would make it past the first hurdle because he had placed a certain 'weight' on that hurdle. That alone occupied his thoughts, almost every waking hour.

Weariness spread from his heart to his limbs as he slouched in his seat, puffing smoke.

Ah… These days, with no danger around him forcing him to be alert 24/7, were heavenly. No drug could replace the inner peace he felt at this moment.

Sadly, it was broken too soon.

Bzzz…

Bzzz…

Feeling a vibration in his pocket, he slowly picked up the phone.

"Hm. What do you mean the two spices burst in transit? Scoop them up and put them in another bag or whatever. Just deal with it! It's what I'm paying you to do!" he yelled into the device.

"I don't care if the chili powder and paprika are burning your eyes! Are you a toddler? Don't you have helpers? Earn your fucking keep!"

O'Brien angrily hung up the phone. Of course, of all the things on his list, it wasn't the expensive alcohol, renovating a barely released RV worth 30 million dollars, or buying tons of weed and cigars that were causing persistent problems, nor was it convincing quirky patent-holding inventors to help with his RV renovation for a substantial sum or even any of the other risky to very risky regulated items that were causing the biggest headache.

Instead, it was the seemingly insignificant spices for his food that he on his tall high horse, wanted to get straight from the source in the remote and not-so-remote islands!

Had he known it was going to be such a headache, he would have taken the factory spices grown by companies instead!

Fast and easy!

Cheaper even!

Six times! Six times he was bothered by the twat he paid in the region that was supposedly 'experienced' in the business and could get several tonnes packaged and delivered to the location with no problem he said! What a load of BS!

Google reviews meant shit!

Taking a deep breath, O'Brien sat back and relaxed, eating his favorite kind of spicy chicken and a full-course meal being laid out before him by a hostess.

"This would have been worth a…" he paused, then nodded, "Well, this will be worth a fortune in the end times, provided you could swallow the profit, you can even get a few grams of energy crystals. Maybe even a One-Star grade resource, if someone was desperate enough."

Popping a blood vessel from some peasant angering him was not worth his time. Happy thoughts, O'Brien. Happy thoughts.

Bzzz…

Hearing that annoying sound once more, O'Brien ignored it for a while, trying to savor his feast, but after a few persistent rings it started to feel like his eardrums were being scraped.

"For the love of God, you incompetent imbecile, what has trumped your great abilities and experience this time?!"

If society wasn't still standing tall, and the idiot didn't have his uses, O'Brien was tempted to wring that chicken-headed fool's neck.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Even though the end wasn't here, he'd try to teleport over there just to strangle him like he incarnated into a Hidden Void Ghost Walker, and imprison his soul to torture him like a Dream Eater Spider. Just after slapping him in the face several times courtesy of O'Brien Hall!

"Um… Am I calling at a bad time?" A different voice than O'Brien expected coughed after a few seconds of silence.

"Who are y— Oh, Shadow." Realization clicked and O'Brien sat up. "Silly me and my memory... Yes, it's about time for your first call, granted there was a reason for your calling. Hopefully, you don't — Never mind."

He stopped eating and paused, his ears perked up in a slightly anxious manner.

From lazy, to annoyed, to anxious, his mood within the last half an hour was turbulent, to say the least.

The previous imbecile was washed from his mind completely with this call.

This call meant one of two things. The likely thing had happened at last. Or it hadn't.

Oddly enough, even at this very moment, he still didn't know which option he should want in reality.

He had avoided thinking about it, but he had already made plans, evident in this call being made in the first place.

Three months of preparation time does that.

As if sensing his anticipation, Shadow cut the small talk and got to the point. His voice was deep but powerful, with a drawn-out tone and focus on every syllable.

"She started acting weird four days ago. She was cooped up in a hotel for a while, missing her classes and not continuing her daily yoga and martial arts classes, or meeting up with her friends. Then one of her friends came up to the hotel yesterday and they spent a while inside. After that, they both rushed out urgently to do something, splitting up. I followed her and found that she was examining the layout of someplace down by 53rd and Beckam. I went back after she left and turns out it's just an unfinished shelter or something."

O'Brien froze, not daring to even suck in a breath, as if it breathing would cause him to miss out on crucial detail.

"Anyway," Shadow continued. "They met up and talked for a while on a balcony in a high-class restaurant. I managed to overhear them talk of ‘trucks and supplies,’ ‘Mom and Dad,’ and so on before I had to leave to avoid suspicion. Do these count as weird and abnormal behavior? I still don't get why I had to watch this rich girl and her friends for three months. Is that worth 20 G's a fortnight?" He voiced his confusion but he didn't seem to be all that concerned in truth.

O'Brien remained silent, an unreadable expression covering his reaction.

After a while, Shadow spoke up, hearing nothing from the other side. "Hello? Hello…? Say, Boss, are you still there?"

She did come back as well.

Plans were in place, but should they be carried out…?

‘She and I… What are we? What will we be? Do we have to be something?’

The New Roselee City's opportunities, just how valuable were they?

No, just how valuable was she?

How dangerous was she?

"Shadow."

O'Brien got up and stood at the window in the one section of the plane he could stand upright.

His hands rhythmically tapped on the inner edge of the plane's window.

"Listen closely," he commanded. "From now on, you'll be on a very important mission that will benefit you and me a lot. I've already paid you and shown you my sincerity, but the real payment will be in knowledge. Don't get me wrong, while this fragile peace lasts I will still pay you, but afterward… I will give you something worth even more than a hundred million in today's cash. Until then, stand by and complete your mission, know her every move. In three days, it will all end. No, in three days, it will all begin."

Click.

Without giving Shadow time to respond, O'Brien ended the call.

He paused in silence for a few minutes, deep in thought. He felt a smile creep up on his face uncontrollably.

‘My, oh my. Lady Celes. Goddess of the Blue Flame. Blue Phoenix. Humanity's number one. Despite your many names and previous feats, you were unlucky this time. Now I am the one with the upper hand. Or to be more accurate, my luck exceeded yours!’

O'Brien had half-forgotten her in the past month. He checked on her himself at first, as they went to the same university, but even at this time, they were in different worlds.

He was a struggling aspiring entrepreneur and she was a second-generation nouveau rich.

Normally, they would not have any interaction on such a large campus with different majors and schedules, but he went to test her out. She did not respond to any trigger words or events. He was sure of it.

So, he judged she did not regress. Excited, he jumped up and down like a buffoon, losing control, thinking he was the chosen one, but a day later logic overcame him. The sequence of events pointed to that crystal being the trigger, and they both were holding it. So the more likely scenario was that...he returned first!

She was merely late for some reason.

The crystal likely sent them both at the same time, but although their departures were the same, their arrivals were not. He wasn't well-versed in Time Attributed Cards or Monsters, so he didn't have much to go on but his logic. He felt this was likely the case.

Realizing this, he advanced all plans by a month, trying to get ahead quickly before she came to. Eventually, he forgot about her in all the excitement of winning the lottery and buying supplies to stockpile heavily.

To think he was here three whole months earlier!

She was just now arriving from the future!

This privilege of going back to the past was already a godsend, but the gap between a week and three months before the end was as large as the previous gap between him, a Tier Two Card Master, and her, a Tier Four Card Lord!

It was like the gap between the Heavens and the Earth!