One lone man stood in the training dojo. The muscles beneath his brown skin tensed and rippled as he breathed and stretched, his head bowed. Slowly, he exhaled and once he did, sprang from his stance into a spinning aerial kick.

He landed in a fighting stance, then almost instantly pivoted on the ball of his foot, launching his opposite leg into a series of rapid kicks at different heights.

Another turn, now into a complicated kata comprising punches, elbow strikes, and palm chops. He concluded with one last jump, a spin, and then landing in a crouch.

The sudden sound of one lone person clapping shocked him. He stood and cast his gaze around the small dojo. His eyes fell on a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a crinkle-free black suit with a fedora who moved forth from the shadows, his clapping ending gradually with each step.

“Ethan Jackson,” said the man in the suit.

The young Black man walked over to the side of the mat where a towel and a squirt bottle waited. He picked both up, then wiped the sweat from his face with one hand as he drank water from the bottle with the other.

“Who wants to know?” asked Ethan.

The man stepped into the light. His craggy face had the marks of age and battle and Ethan could see some gray hairs at the temples beneath the brim of his hat. He reached inside his jacket and took out a small silver card case. From that, he produced a single business card and handed it to Ethan. The young fighter was apprehensive as he took the card with one hand and examined it.

“‘The Quantum Group’?” asked Ethan. That name and a phone number in a smaller font were the only things printed on the card. “What’s that?”

“You can think of us as a sort of NGO,” said the man. “And we’re interested in recruiting you.”

Ethan held the card out to return it. “Thanks, but I can’t see how you’d have much use for me.”

“We’ve actually had our eye on you for some time. You’re one of our prime candidates for an exclusive project.”

“What sort of project?”

“The sort of project that benefits the entire world.”

Ethan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Right. Thanks for thinking of me, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“It’s been ten years, hasn’t it?” asked the man.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Nobody believed you when you tried to explain what you saw that night. After half your life, you’ve probably managed to convince yourself that you were just…hallucinating. In a state of panic.”

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’ve had just about enough of this.”

The man was unfazed, not even as Ethan took a menacing step towards him.

“We’re the ones who can help you understand just what exactly it was that killed your family.”

“And how will you do that?” asked Ethan.

The man turned towards the door. “If you’re interested, call the number on the card. When you’re prompted, give your name. Further instructions will follow.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Just pretend this never happened. But if you do that, you’ll never know the truth.”

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Located in Tampa, Florida, the Shady Oaks Retirement Community went above and beyond by offering constant care to its residents in need, while simultaneously supporting the independence and capabilities of its other residents. They also had a volunteer program for students, which is what drew this particular University of South Florida student.

Olivia Reyes had light brown skin and long, dark hair that she kept in a ponytail. She came to Shady Oaks about three times a week after class for two hours each day. Olivia would come and play games with them, read to them, or just listen to stories about their lives and see photos of their children and grandchildren, most of whom lived out of state. The residents had taken a liking to the young pre-med student, and spending time with them was worth more than a college credit and something to put on her resume.

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She’d completed her duties for the day and bid farewells to the residents and the staff. Olivia left the retirement home and walked to the nearby bus stop, when she saw the bus had been early and was already pulling away.

“Oh crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!”

Olivia ran for the bus, waving to flag it down. The driver didn’t see her and just kept on going. Olivia tried to chase after the bus, but it proved to be a futile gesture.

“Damn!” She kicked a nearby fire hydrant to vent her frustration.

“Don’t you hate when that happens?”

Olivia turned around at the sound of the voice. A broad-shouldered man in a suit and fedora sat on a nearby bench, peering over an open newspaper. All she could do was just nod. She went into her purse for her phone.

“Guess I’ll have to call an Uber…” she muttered, wondering if her strained bank account could afford the charge.

“How about I do it for you?” he asked as he folded his paper and stood from the bench.

Olivia felt put off by the stranger. She gave him a forced smile and shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

“It’s really no problem. And maybe in return, you could do something for me.”

Olivia took a few steps away from him as he approached. “Umm…no, that’s okay. I’m not interested.”

“I think you are, Olivia.”

Olivia started to get defensive when she heard her name come out of the stranger’s mouth. “Okay, who the hell are you? I swear, I’ll call the cops right this instant if you come any closer!”

“Calm down, I’m a recruiter. I represent an NGO called the Quantum Group.”

“Never heard of it,” said Olivia.

“Look us up later. But for now, all you have to know is that we’re interested in having you join us.”

He took a silver case from his jacket. When he opened it, Olivia could see a collection of business cards. The man took one and handed it to her.

“What’s this number?” she asked when she read the digits beneath THE QUANTUM GROUP.

“That’s how you get in touch with us if you’re interested in moving further,” said the man. “We can give you an opportunity to do a lot more good than reading bedtime stories to a bunch of old farts a few times a week.”

Olivia waved the card in his face. “You creep up on me, you insult my work, and you think I want to have anything to do with this Quantum Group?”

The man didn’t seem stunned or taken aback by her reaction. Instead, he just spoke very matter-of-factly and said, “Yes, I do.”

“Don’t count on it,” said Olivia.

“Must be tough,” he called after her. “Working three different jobs and taking out insane amounts of student loans just to afford a decent education. We could help you with that…” The man crumbled up the newspaper and tossed it in a nearby garbage bin. “But like you said, you don’t want anything to do with us.”

Olivia stared at him as he walked off into the distance. That was when the sound of a car horn startled her. She turned around and saw a car waiting at the curb with an Uber sticker on it.

“Are you Olivia Reyes?” asked the driver. “I’m your Uber.”

Olivia looked down at the card again.

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The young twenty-year-old woman stood on the Michigan Avenue Bridge overlooking the Chicago River. Her burgundy hair, cut in a short bob that just reached the bottom of her ears, framed her face as she stood on the Michigan Avenue Bridge overlooking the Chicago River. Her green eyes absorbed the sight of the sun reflecting off the river’s surface. She wore a GoPro strapped to her head.

One of the Chicago tour boats moved towards the bridge and with a burst of energy, Alexa Monroe leaped onto the upper deck. The passengers gasped and made room for her. Her feet had barely touched the surface before her legs propelled into a run.

A member of the crew shouted at her, but Alexa just smiled and jumped onto the railing, using it as a launching pad for a gravity-defying vault. Her nimble body propelled through the air, soaring to the edge of the Riverwalk.

With catlike precision, Alexa landed on an empty patio table that belonged to one restaurant along the riverwalk. She pounced from one obstacle to another, seamlessly flowing through the urban landscape.

Passersby paused in awe, captivated by Alexa's agility and fearless spirit. Pedestrians and diners at riverside cafes cheered and applauded as she effortlessly leaped between lampposts, showcasing her mastery of the urban environment. Her parkour moves blended seamlessly with the rhythm of the city, creating a mesmerizing dance between the human body and the architectural landscape.

As she reached the end of the Riverwalk, Alexa executed a perfect backflip, landing on the concrete steps. She took a moment to catch her breath, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, and smiled.

“Not bad.”

She stood to acknowledge her admirer. Applause was common, but few people hung around for a chat after one of her escapades. There was something odd about the man in the suit and fedora, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Thanks,” said Alexa.

“You’re Alexa Monroe.”

Alexa raised a brow. “Yeah…and who are you?”

“Someone who’d like to offer you a job and an opportunity. To do something more with your skills than just conquer urban playgrounds.”

She gave a shrug. “What if I like conquering urban playgrounds?”

The man gave a cryptic nod. “I know you do. Adrenaline junkie, right?”

Alexa balked at the man’s brashness. “Excuse me?”

“What I’m offering you is the change to do something more. To be something more. But even if it’s just adrenaline you’re interested in, then…”

He reached into his jacket, took out a silver case, and produced a single card, which he handed to her.

“We offer that, too.”

Alexa looked at the card with the words THE QUANTUM GROUP embossed on the front with nothing other than a phone number.

“Call that number if you’d like to know more.” The man touched the brim of his hat and then turned and disappeared into the crowd.