"I am so, so sorry again, sir! It's just that there's been a lot goin' on, but I promise you this ti-" Enjō's hands trembled as he held his phone to his ears.

"It's fine, it's fine, my brother! Just give me another time we can meet up. I leave Shacia in a couple months, but I don't perform for a while. " Spade Mask laughed as he left the studio. "Tonight then! That's fine, isn't it?". Spade rubbed the material of his hot motorcycle-like helmet and groaned softly, "Uh, alright. I can make that work. Come by the address in an hour."

Enjō knocked on the door of the condo, still surprised from seeing the shockingly low quality of the building. How does a popular musician live in a place like this? He thought. The door opened slightly, and Enjō realized what he was about to see— Spade Mask's bare face. A drumroll sounded in his head as the door creaked open even slower- until he saw him. Dressed in a thick trench coat and a motorcycle helmet over his head—Enjō could barely see an inch of his skin. The drumroll dissipated to disappointed trumpets. "Not exactly what you expected, huh?" Spade Mask chuckled, "Gotta keep my face away from the prying eyes. Good evening, Enjō."

Enjō's straight face of disappointment was covered by a hearty smile, though it wasn't necessarily fake. "Good to see you, sir!" He bowed. "Pfft, man, get in here." He let the door close by itself as he entered the room, "Welcome to my temporary humble abode. I didn't bother doing anything with it, since I won't be staying long. Make yourself at home." The place didn't look much different than his own, "You're alright with this?" Enjō asked as he sat down on a couch. "It's not much different than my own house. Anyway, you like my music?"

"Huh? Oh, I guess I do—I mean I really do! I've always wanted to play guitar, but I never had the money for one." Enjō laughed nervously.

"You mean bass, right? I'm a bassist."

Get me out! Just get me out already! Enjō's mouth stayed agape for a moment, until he finally responded, "Yeah—Yeah! I am so sorry about that—so sorry! I don't actually know that much about music."

"You wanna learn?" Spade Mask offered, and Enjō could feel the mischievous grin under his mask. Even still, he felt confidence slowly flowing through him.

"Alright, I'll do it!"

———

"Uyama?" Omega knocked on Uyama's door, the TV running in the back. The door opened and a sliver of his room peeked through the crack.

"What's up?" Uyama sounded rough, yet calm at the same time.

"I wanted to talk about something with you. If you don't mind, of course."

"Yeah, sure. Come in." Uyama's door opened further and revealed quite a messy room, but it had a sense of order in it all.

"I'm still anxious about what that man told us the other day—that there's another person like me somewhere." Omega slumped down on a chair.

Uyama remained silent- but sat down on the floor next to him.

"But I don't know why. Maybe, I feel like there's even more. Then that wouldn't make me a special case..." Omega remembered Steele calling him the special case. "...But that can't be right. Steele said I was a special case—That I was unlike the rest!" His weak shout made him look down at Uyama in surprise. Uyama was staring at the wall, unfazed by his sharpness.

"I'm sure you remember when you told me that you wanted to be able to do things by yourself. You said that was the reason you were there but that was only a half-truth. You felt that all the pieces connected- and that if you went to "face your fears" in the garage, you would find something to lead you towards the other case." Uyama looked up at him, "So what you really wanted was to find him. You're searching for someone like you—someone to call family."

Omega stared at him in silence.

"Do you remember anything from the Hatchery?"

"...Not much, I don't, but some of my memories come back at times: a superhero graphic, the food in the cafeteria, and a specific man that I can't describe. He was not an Artificial." Omega creaked down into the chair even more, looking up at the dark ceiling.

Uyama got up and walked to his desk, fiddled with some papers, and sat down.

"Is that your work?" Omega asked.

"Yeah, but it's not important stuff. I have another question- if you don't mind. Your end goal, is it what I described to you?"

Omega looked down at his socks, still dirty from the rubble. "I'm...I'm not sure."

"Ding-ding-ding, correct. What I think is important for you is to sit down, think everything through, and then ask me. That way you'll know for sure what you want. One thing I'll tell you now though..." Uyama tapped his pen on the table, his head resting on his palm. "Your goal, Enjō's goal, and my goal. They're all different, but we're fighting together, aren't we? That means that, ultimately, we all want to do the right thing. That's my tip for you." He returned to his work, licking his dry lips at times.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Doing the right thing? Omega thought back to when he encountered the woman in black- when his anger and frustration overcame him, That's a lie.

Omega continued to stare at Uyama doing his work and absorbed his words. He decided to bottle it up, "Do you know anything else about all this?"

Uyama spun his chair and leaned forward. "There's one thing for sure. Whether this brings your hopes up or down, there are undeniably more than two special cases out there."

———

Enjō quickly caught on to the guitar with Spade as his guide. As they wrapped up the session, Enjō noticed something strange about Spade's mask, "Spade, why is that mask so different than the ones you got on stage?"

Spade was standing beside him, fidgeting with his bass guitar, "What? They're all pretty normal aren't-" He halted and froze, then felt his dark motorcycle helmet on his head, "Oh. I guess it is pretty different. ". He paused again, "Doesn't mean anything really. It's sort of a, uh... sneak peek to my style for the next album."

That's so sarcastic, Enjō thought, and surprisingly pushed forward as he was leaving through the front door, "Sorry if this is something you get asked a lot by paparazzi, but when are you gonna do a face reveal?" It almost sounded funny in his head, but he couldn't tell if he should laugh due to Spade's anonymity.

"Maybe we can...talk about that some other time. When I'm ready to, I guess." He sounded awkward and much smaller than he originally appeared.

Hit something sensitive, huh?

"Ah, sorry, sorry! I'm sounding like a bad fan. I didn't mean to intrude," Enjō waved his hands apologetically.

"It's fine, it's like the top ten asked questions of all time," Spade shrugged it off, "Goodnight, student."

The door closed and the room returned to silence. Spade stood still.

"Wrong mask."

———

The phone rang for a moment, as Sheba waited for an answer in her new cheap hotel room. The phone was picked up, with silence on the line.

Sheba interrupted the awkward silence, "Izaak?"

"Izaak," He affirmed.

"How is your political campaign going?"

"Oh! It's you, sis!" He made playful kissing sounds into the speaker, "How've you been for the last decade?!"

Sheba sighed, "After hearing your public speech, I thought that you would sound more mature."

"I can be mature when I want to be. Plus, it's been ten years, you didn't expect me to be excited?"

"Anyways, I'm calling to convince you to reconsider what you're doing."

"What?" Izaak suddenly sounded serious.

"It's gotten worse here, and it's very possible that you might die before you even arrive."

"Well, you're calling me while I'm at the airport, so it's too late for me to reconsider-"

Sheba slammed her fist into the rugged table, splintering it. "No! They'll say the engines busted, the wings were faulty, anything! They won't allow you to actually win."

She heard sounds of the airport buzzing into the microphone, "Izaak?" She massaged her slammed fist.

"Sounds like you're gonna have to trust me on this one, sis. I'm sure leaving the country was harder than coming back, right? See ya at the airport!"

"What?! No-" The phone beeped as the call ended. Sheba groaned to herself, "What airport?"

Izaak proceeded to board the plane with little caution. He even fell asleep in his seat. A sudden yelp woke him up suddenly. Water spilled on his suit before he yawned and rubbed his eyes. A person covered in a mask rushed past his seat and into the cockpit. Izaak laid his head back and groaned, "Oh brother." He looked to the seat beside him, "Excuse me, miss." He awkwardly got out of his seat, "And excuse me, sir." He shook the hand of the baby in her lap with his finger. He awkwardly went into the lane, and walked towards the cockpit. The curtain-covered window of the door didn't do well to conceal the man beating the pilot out of their seat. Izaak's pace didn't quicken, Alright, time to take care of this.

"Hello, gentleman? Mind opening the door for me?" Izaak yelled through the window to no response. "Ugh, fine." He bent down to pick the lock, and a gunshot rang out from behind. Glass falling on his shoulder, he guarded his face. That's the window taken care of. Now I just have to climb through...

He heard a gun jam from behind and he snickered as he climbed in and out of the window, "Phew! Lucky me."

"Oi, get out before I make ya!" The man turned from beating the resisting pilot and patted his hip with his free hand, "I wanna save my bullets."

Izaak looked around, and he could see the nose of the plane starting to go down. "Oh boy," He quickly sat down in the pilot seat and fiddled with the sticks and buttons.

"Hah! Thanks for making my job easier, idiot!" The man went back to beating the pilot, and the man with the gun was now trying to open the locked door. Izaak murmured, pressing random buttons until the door busted open and a bullet ricocheted around the cockpit. "Woah!" Izaak lowered his head, just in time for the bullet to go past it.

"God! What the shit?! You shot my leg!" The man on the ground yelled in pain as he held his leg. The pilot on the ground—weak, but still awake—threw a right hook in his face, knocking him to the ground. Izaak was still focused on the ship's controls, luckily hitting the right buttons to get the plane stabilized again. "Phew, that was easy." He got up, unbothered by the gun pointed at him.

"What is up with you?!" The man shot multiple times at him, but Izaak dodged all of them almost obliviously. He picked up the unconscious hijacker by the collar and used him as a body shield. "You wanna shoot now?!"

The gunman whimpered, shakily touching the trigger. Izaak suddenly rammed him, tumbling them both through the cockpit doors.

"Thank-thank you, sir." The pilot slowly got off the ground.

Izaak sucked his teeth, "What're you doing, dumbass?! Steer the damn plane!"

"Sorry, sir!"

Izaak turned around to face the rest of the plane. The passengers, in their panicked state, were staring at him quietly.

Oh, I guess I did do that. He chuckled softly and looked down at the two hijackers to make sure they were knocked out.

"And where is my applause..?" He mumbled under his breath. Awkward silence filled the room until the woman that was seated next to him started clapping shyly—her baby in her lap.

Izaak grabbed a bottle of water from another passenger, snapped his fingers in the air, and moonwalked back to her seat. With a dramatic spin, he held out the bottle to her baby, "You have my thanks, missus. Just don't let him ruin another man's suit." He said in a Johnny Bravo-like voice. She accepted the bottle with a nod as he moonwalked back to the two hijackers.

"Now what should we do with these two..?" Izaak whistled as he looked around the plane, "It's fine if I throw them out the window, right?" There was no response. "Guess we're going with The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly style."

———

"Ah," Izaak kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him, "Finally back to normal. You enjoying your time up there?"

The muffled hijackers yelled as they dangled by their leg-tied rope.

Izaak sighed and closed his eyes.

Now that's some white noise.