“Why have you sought me out?”
The voice was like blistering molten coals against his skin. Powerful, unstoppable, unrelenting.
“Hmm,” he sat up and relaxed his shoulders, meeting the gaze of the man across from him. “‘Sought out’ feels desperate, ya know? I would describe it as being more… drawn to you.”
“Drawn to death.”
he chuckled. “Aren’t we all in the end?”
The older man didn’t move. He was so still that it reminded the younger man of a wax figure. There was no crinkle of the eyes behind his black spectacles, no twitch of his lips or jaw. His hands rested perfectly on his knees without the slightest movement. He had to wonder if the older man had simply ceased breathing but the smallest of movements around the man’s nose gave it away.
“Valentine.”
“You’ve heard of me?” Valentine felt rather surprised. Humbled even. “I’m surprised, I’m quite new in town. Place of second chances, eh? I had to come see it for myself.”
“A facade,” the man grumbled. “You have no one.”
Valentine inhaled sharply, crossing an arm over his chest as if wounded.
“Ouch, that cuts deep. If I had company, I would’ve bought them along. It’s a pretty nice city after all,” he said, looking around. He recognized the place as a nicely lit and well-maintained restaurant. However, it was void of any customers and the dining area had been mostly replaced with floor mats and small tables. “It’s a shame really. Much of the company I’ve kept hasn't been very keen on me.”
“And yet, here you are,” the older man’s head inclined and Valentine saw the tired, wrinkled eyes that had been hidden behind his spectacles.
“Here I am. Dining with death,” Valentine didn’t bother to suppress his smirk as he picked up his tea and took a sip. “Muerte. Grim,” he paused for a moment and studied the legendary elder’s reaction. “Feared across the globe, yet you’ve come here of all places? Strange, wouldn’t you say? You’ve even begun to put down roots.”
Grim was silent, waiting for him to continue. Valentine was happy to oblige. His mouth had kept him from death’s grip many times beforehand.
“A brotherhood. I don’t think the world expected that from you. What for?”
“I do not believe the answer would satisfy,” Grim said. “Humor me, for what reason would I make this group?” the older man stared impassively.
A test of critical thinking then. Mentalists all had unique ways of approaching these types of problems. Valentine’s approach was… unusual.
Time to change shoes.
He rolled his shoulders a bit and leaned back, allowing his mind to wander. The world before him rippled as his mind began to construct a false reality. The restaurant’s walls faded away to reveal snowy terrain, a valley surrounded by jagged mountains. A large shadow loomed over a small mining town in the heart of Siberia.
Dominating the sky was a metal structure, dwarfing the size of the mountains around it. The Asphodel, one of Ajax’s infamous warships. Hatches opened and thousands of machines spewed forth in a tide so thick it nearly blotted out the sun. They descended upon the town with merciless intent, only for a flood of darkness to rise up from the streets.
No.
The town suddenly blurred and vanished.
That’s not how the story goes. There was no town. Ajax did not attack first.
The scene shifted.
The flood of darkness rose first, only to be met by the machines. The darkness shredded the metal and crashed against the energy shield surrounding his enemy. Sirens echoed for miles as the darkness broke through the shield and flowed into the warship. It ate away at the structure, corroding all it touched and leaving nothing but dust in its wake.
Grim was the aggressor, the prey turned predator.
The illusion went no further. According to most, that is where the story ended. The outcome of that skirmish left Grim as the victor. Ajax had retreated with his warship and technology mostly intact. It proved Grim was strong enough to survive on his own. He could face down the strongest this world had to offer and walk away just fine. So why had he come here, to this place?
Why build a ‘brotherhood’?
Cain. Strange name. Misleading or is there a reason behind it?
There were pieces missing, large ones that could only be found in Grim’s obscured history.
Valentine eased up and the illusion receded, the restaurant snapped back to normal in the blink of an eye. His power was unmatched, undefeatable – so why, what for?
“You know the answer,” Grim said. “It is no secret. It is the very same reason you are here.”
Valentine felt puzzled. The conclusion didn’t seem quite right.
Weakness?
“We all like simple answers, no?” Valentine shrugged easily, hiding his dissatisfaction well. “Strength, for those like me, is best found in collaboration,” he then opened his arms and offered an easy smile. “So here I am. Not much to go back to for me, unfortunately.”
Grim muttered something in his native tongue.
“I’m afraid linguistics isn’t a speciality of mine,” Valentine chuckled.
“Mirage.”
His name – a moniker he had earned during desperate times, clawing for survival in places that rarely offered the change. The candles on the table in front of him flickered, the subtle heat reminding him of the agony he had once endured.
Water… wetness.
Constant bobbing up and down.
Unforgiving heat from above, baking him alive.
Lips cracked and split, his eyes burning and finding no relief.
He could feel it, his flesh bubbling across his body. All he had to do to escape this agony was to roll off his sanctuary and into the endless blue, then it’d all be over.
He couldn’t.
Death would not claim him.
“Don’t wear it out, amigo,” Valentine confirmed with a smile. “Didn’t pick it myself. I had other names floating about that seemed much more appealing but it seems that one just stuck, hm? I imagine you're quite familiar with that process.”
“Titles are meaningless,” Grim replied.
Valentine, however, disagreed.
“Ah, see, that's where I have to disagree. They’re a reflection of who we are, who we are seen to be – even better when they’re given to you. You earned your name, just as I earned mine. Everyone else?” Valentine waved his hand dismissively. “They think it’s all just one big game. They all prance around happy and ignorant until something goes wrong, really wrong, then they scream and shout about the fairness – the rules.”
Grim was silent.
Valentine took another sip of the tea, smacking his lips as he finished the cup.
He was parched, the world taunting him with the sound of water. What he’d give for a taste – a simple drop.
“This is not a game.”
“Never has been,” Grim murmured darkly. “Never will be.”
The older man picked up a cup and gently tapped it three times against the wooden table. A door at the back of the room opened and shut, accompanied by the sound of heavy boots. As Valentine turned, he could hear a familiar sound of bones snapping and shifting.
I know this man.
The restaurant once again fell away. He almost flinched as the sun bore down upon him, blinding him. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and Valentine could smell that ocean breeze. He could even hear the breaking of the waves as the ship plowed through them.
An American navy vessel from World War Two, hijacked by pirates. To both sides, he could see an entire fleet of them. Their leader stood before him, razor-sharp bones protruding from his arms that could carve through the toughest steel. His face was concealed in a white-bone mask with red tribal-like stripes. The familiarity made him hot and he could already feel the phantom sensations of his skin beginning to bubble.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Valentine was the first to speak.
Bonesmith snorted. “I’d recognize that smug tone anywhere. You’ve grown since last I saw you.”
“Can’t stay green forever, my friend,” Valentine said, his fingers curling. “I’m not the same boy you pulled from that plane. Can’t say I appreciated that very much. They were just about to bring me my steak.”
In the blink of an eye, Valentine found himself aboard that plane. Bonesmith stood at the same distance in the aisle. He could hear the subtle hum of the engines, heading toward a destination he knew he would never reach. Sometimes he still dreamed about this flight and how it had all gone wrong so quickly.
First, there’s a disturbance. Passengers notice ships below.
Ghosts of the passengers appeared in their seats, all staring out the window.
Not all of them, just a few.
Most looked away, while the rest were transfixed.
The flight attendants grow concerned. One of them moves down the aisle quickly to the cockpit.
She moved, walking right through Bonesmith.
She never makes it.
The entire front half of the plane was suddenly ripped to shreds. Valentine felt the air sucked out of him as Bonesmith continued to stand, entirely unaffected by the chaos surrounding him. He remained rooted to the floor, despite this half of the plane being thrust into a free fall. The wind was immense. People were screaming and a fire started cooking an unlucky few passengers.
Bonesmith gave an idle shrug. “Easy pickings. You know how it is.”
The ocean got closer.
Valentine resisted the urge to laugh.
“Oh yes. Yes I do.”
The illusion faded before he could impact the sea. Valentine didn’t know how that story ended. He just knew the next one began when he woke up on their ship, a prisoner. There had been others, but he had been the only one to escape.
“So what happens now, hm?” Valentine asked, eyeing Bonesmith’s arms. He looked ready less for a fight and more for an execution. “Are we fighting here? Excuse the criticism but it’s not the place I’d pick. I’d hate to try and get blood out of this carpet,” he turned his attention back to Grim and found himself amused at the lack of reaction. “And you strike me as a man that doesn’t like messes.”
“You two have unresolved business,” Grim said evenly. “Consider this your test.”
Grim’s body turned to smoke before his very eyes, the shadow sinking into the floor and dispersing. He had expected this, the test that is. Bonesmith had been a surprise, another person he hadn’t expected to run into down in this part of the world.
“I didn’t expect him to have such a flair for the dramatic,” Valentine chuckled, turning back to face Bonesmith. He hadn’t moved from his spot and he looked like he was almost inviting Valentine to take the first swing. “What do you want me to do, hm? Fight? Beg for my life, perhaps? Maybe you want me to try and run away, flee into the night to never be seen again!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bonesmith replied. “I never got the chance to repay you for crippling my armada. You weakened us.”
Valentine smirked. “I have to say, it was some of my finest work. You have to admit, impressive, no? Did it all on my own. I was worried I went a little overboard, but I couldn’t allow you to follow me. It would defeat the purpose after all.”
Bonesmith growled and stepped forward. “If there’s one thing I haven’t missed, it’s your voice!”
The ex-pirate lunged forward with a swipe but Valentine was able to dodge by diving backward over the table. When he landed, he didn’t hesitate to roll, locking eyes with Bonesmith as he did so. He left behind an illusion that was quickly skewered by the bone-blades protruding from the man’s forearms.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
He was quick back to his feet, staring at his unfortunate doppelganger illusion Bonesmith had pinned to the floor.
“I know this isn’t you. You’re not so easily caught,” Bonesmith sneered at the illusion.
He ripped his blades free and straightened up, ignoring the false blood that pooled on the floor. Mirage frowned, allowing the illusion to fade. The only thing that was left were two holes in the carpet where the blades had penetrated.
“Mirage,” Bonesmith turned to face him. “Always resorting to your little mind games.”
“Hey, we gotta use what we got to survive, yeah?” Mirage pouted mockingly. He raised his arms and threw a few punches at the space between them. “I can hold my own in a scrap. Not a stranger to playing dirty that’s for sure. Havana isn’t a nice place to grow up these days ya know? Lotsa people out to get you.”
Bonesmith attacked again, swiping his blade in wide arcs in the hopes he’d catch him. Mirage already knew this would be his strategy, and continued to leave illusions where he was standing. With someone like Bonesmith, he couldn’t leave his real form exposed. He had to keep moving.
“So what do you hope to achieve here? You know you can’t kill me,” Bonesmith goaded.
Mirage inhaled sharply as the memories manifested in the room. A young version of himself plunging a knife into the man’s neck. The scene quickly replaced itself with another of him shooting Bonesmith in the head. There were countless attempts, each illusion showing his younger self getting older. There was no way to physically destroy this man. He had tried before. Each time, he’d just put himself back together.
It had become a game for Bonesmith.
“You’re right. Fighting someone like you? Ain’t my style. I know where I stand,” Mirage chuckled. “But I don’t need to fight you.”
“So what, you’ll outlast me then? Run out the clock?” Bonesmith looked around, seeing nothing but empty air. “A bold move but we both know you’re not so patient and I’ve got all the time in the world. Grim said I can take as long as I like with you.”
Mirage laughed.
“All those years on that ship, with me as your pet prisoner. One would think you’d know more about me,” the world tilted on its axis and Bonesmith found the walls of the restaurant falling away. The illusion had grown and evolved. It built itself around him until he found himself back on his old ship. This time, Mirage wasn’t the only one seeing it. “I feel like I should be insulted. I am, actually. I. Fucking. Am.”
“What the hell is this?” Bonesmith muttered in awe. “Your power… it shouldn’t be able to do this.”
“Says fucking who?” Mirage snorted. “You?”
The ocean swelled and despite the clear skies, thunder boomed in the distance. A line of darkness on the horizon, sparking with the occasional flash of light. Bonesmith turned and stared, his eyes widening behind his mask. He recognized this day – the same day righteous fury had descended from the sky and obliterated everything he had worked for.
Their defenses had been down and Ajax had taken full advantage.
“Ah, I wish you weren’t wearing that mask,” Mirage clicked his tongue. “I bet you’re making the same face I did. When you open your eyes and realize that the life you had is lost forever. What does it feel like, hm? For me it was relatively easy to adjust. I didn’t much like my life before you scooped me up. But you? Ooh… I scarcely could imagine losing all the blood, sweat and tears that went into this.”
In the blink of an eye, the storm was upon them. The sun could no longer shine through and a ship, much like The Asphodel hovered above them, its hulking, titanic size silhouetted against the storm, only lit by the occasional flash of lightning.
Rain poured, splashing against the deck and drenching their clothes. The armada was unleashing their full might to no effect. A single bright pulse emitted from the warship above and a moment later their guns fell silent. The Mechakinetic adjustments had been rendered inoperable at best, and completely destroyed at worst. After that, they were completely defenseless against Ajax’s onslaught. In mere moments, most of the ships were smoking and another large chunk were sinking.
Ajax hadn't come to take prisoners.
“Oh, so this is what happened,” Mirage clapped, observing the chaos with a gleeful smile. “I thought you might have actually put up a fight, you know? This is a slaughter.”
“How are you doing this!?”
“This is your head,” Mirage laughed. “I never thought you would be so hung up on this. You always struck me as a person to go with the flow? This must sting, being back here.”
“You’re in my head,” Bonesmith breathed in realization.
Mirage pursed his lips. “Mm, close.”
He lunged again, but Mirage was faster. He left no illusions behind this time. All Bonesmith was able to swipe was the air where his target stood.
“Cold, colder! I’m over here!” Mirage called. Bonesmith charged again. “Hot, hot… you’re very hot now!”
He disappeared before the attack could connect.
“Oh… so cold now.”
The voice came from behind but before he could turn a missile exploded nearby and sent him flying. He heard the mad laughter of Mirage as he plummeted overboard. He managed to snag the edge of the ship to stop his fall.
“That was good. Really good!” Mirage applauded again. “I’ll give you seven for form. Eight for execution,” the man’s foot crashed down on his hand and kicked him off into the turbulent sea. “Man overboard! Man overboard. Quick, someone get help! Get me the life ring!”
He hit the water and all he could taste was salt, gasoline, and blood.
Resurfacing, he stared up at the boat, Mirage casually looking down upon him. The ship was in flames, casting the man in an ominous shadow. Bonesmith could barely breathe with all the smoke in the air, yet his fighting spirit hadn’t left him. Not yet. There had to be some sort of trick to all this, a weakness in the design of the illusion. Mirage’s powers had always faltered when he recognized he was in an illusion. So why wasn’t this one fading?
“Sorry, no life ring up here. Swim, my friend. Swim!” Mirage taunted.
Another warship had been knocked off course and was gunning straight for them. Mirage didn’t move, despite being directly in its way. Bonesmith tried to swim but the vicious sea would give him no respite.
Too late.
His head collided with the ship's steel hull and he was dragged under. The last thing he felt was water rushing into his lungs.
Mirage exhaled and allowed the illusion to crumble.
He found himself back in the restaurant with Bonesmith sprawled out on the carpet, his breath shallow, and his brain looking like it had been put in a blender. He’d put himself back together, most people were able to, eventually.
“A quick conclusion,” Grim’s voice sounded from behind him. Mirage turned to find the old man sitting exactly where he had been previously. “Are you satisfied?”
“Hm…” Mirage stroked his chin in thought, looking down at the mind-addled ex-pirate. “Satisfaction is a funny thing, ya know. We constantly seek it, but so rarely do we reach it. For me it remains elusive, I don’t find it in meaningless things like fights. Revenge is so petty. What he did for me,” he gestured down at the barely conscious man. “Some part of me appreciates it. I learned many things. Evolucioné. Conquisté. I evolved, I conquered.”
“And he did not.”
Mirage chuckled, giving the man’s head a light kick.
“No. I suppose he didn’t,” he crouched down and smiled at the man. “I’m captain of this ship now, amigo.”
----------------------------------------
Surviving on his own? He’d long since learned how to do that. Leading… now that was something new.
After some time, Mirage found himself trapped. There was a sense of unease within the brotherhood and almost everyone could feel it. Grim had become erratic for reasons that were unknown to him. Something had happened to the old man and it was starting to get noticed.
“He’s going senile,” Banshee said. “If we continue to follow him, he’s going to drag us down with him. I didn’t join to watch everything fall apart at the seams. This deal he’s made, he didn’t consult any of us!”
“Ah, the old man does many things without asking us,” Mirage said in response. “How long ago did you join? two, three months? You haven’t really gotten to see all of his quirks yet. He’s the muscle of our little organization, he doesn’t need to consult us on anything. We are but his little ducklings.”
“So you’re just content to go along with this?” Banshee asked with a sneer of disapproval. “I never took you for a—”
“Ah,” Mirage shushed her. “Fingers on lips, yeah?” He mimed the action until Banshee took the hint. “I never said I liked it. That may be the usual but what isn’t is his desperation. He never reaches out, he always lets others come to him. That’s the process. We were the ones in need of help and he had the strength to provide it. That way he always has power over us.”
Banshee was quiet, her eyes locked on the dimly lit road ahead. It felt like they had been walking for hours.
“But now, the dynamic has shifted. Can’t say when it happened, but Grim making the first move?” Mirage shook his head. “Red flag. I’ve been around long enough to know when they’re waving in my face.”
“So what do we do?” Banshee asked. “Just… sit around and wait for the ship to sink?”
Mirage didn’t resist the urge to chuckle.
“No, we’re doing something about it now.”
“What…?” She looked confused. “Recruitment?”
“In a manner of speaking. Boss man has a long history, no? Mother fucking Ajax couldn’t put him six feet under. You can’t kill Death, you understand?” Banshee nodded slowly, while Mirage just smiled. “What we need is strength, unrivaled and unquestionable.”
“Where the hell are we supposed to find someone like that? Those kinds of Evohumans are either contracted to the ECU, narcissistic like Gaea, or losing their minds like our boss,” Banshee countered. “The chances of running into someone like that are astronomically low.”
They turned a street corner and arrived at their destination. A building with Victorian-era architecture stood quietly against the pale moon's light. A whistleblower had revealed that there was something going down here tonight, a sneaky little trade between a local Mechakinetic and some shady arms dealers. It was as one might say… easy pickings.
“Don’t sound so hopeless, sister,” he placed a hand on her shoulder. “The situation is not as bleak as it seems.”
She shrugged his hand off. “Ugh, don’t call me that. You remind me of those Pandora freaks. Can’t stand them.”
“Ah, apologies,” Mirage offered a very insincere bow. “Sometimes I forget.”
Cain gangsters emerged from the shadows when they spotted Mirage and Banshee. There were about a dozen of them, all armed and ready to cause some havoc. They met up outside the house and waited for the order to go in. They weren’t exactly soldiers, but Grim had instilled fear into them so that they’d only take orders from those whom he trusted.
“Well?” Mirage looked around. “The fuck are you waiting for? Go on,” he waved his hand as if to shoo them away. “We don’t have all night.” They herded together and rushed toward the door without hesitation. Mirage just clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I bet they wouldn’t shit unless they were told to.”
“I’m going to have a look around,” Banshee said, her powers hiding her from sight. “See if I can find anything interesting.”
“If you get lost, don’t be afraid to call!” Mirage exclaimed, snickering when he received no response.
He watched from the sidelines as the assault started. A few probably died but that was nothing unusual. There had been a secret getaway tunnel that the dealers had used which led Mirage to believe that this wasn’t the first time they had done business here. Who exactly these dealers were was a mystery. They weren’t affiliated with Pandora and they didn’t strike him as the type to be working for Gaea.
They were working for someone else.
A mystery! He thought gleefully. He loved mysteries.
Banshee had managed to snag the super who had been selling to them. He had tried to make a getaway in his car but didn’t make it very far. With the house being too much of a hotspot, Banshee would probably take him to a nearby safehouse to interrogate. She wasn’t very intimidating and he had more experience with that sort of thing anyway.
So, he headed off once Banshee texted him to confirm.
He found her leaning against the doorframe of the safehouse. To his surprise, the car in the driveway was still running. Its lights and engine were still on, which prompted him to poke his head inside as he walked past. Nothing extravagant, but fresh Mechakinetics were always like that. Limited by the resources they had to work with.
“Couldn’t turn the car off?”
“It’s got something built into it. I can’t even wind down the windows,” Banshee shrugged. “Nothing else in the car either. No ID, wallet or anything. Kid was prepared.”
“Oooh, I like a good challenge,” Mirage hummed with a smile. “He inside?”
“All tied up,” she replied. “I used that stuff you gave me. It might’ve been too effective. He’s still out of it.”
“Better than a broken neck or oxygen deprivation,” Mirage shrugged. “Hard to get people to talk when they're dead.”
Banshee ignored the jab as he strolled past her.
Their captive was sitting in a room. All he had to conceal his identity was a scarf and some sunglasses. It was telling. He really was new, and probably only had his powers for a couple of weeks, two months at most. Mirage smirked as he walked into the room.
It felt almost… nostalgic.
The room fell away as he circled the boy in the chair, the kid’s features shifting until they showed a younger Valentine. It had happened just like this. He remembered opening his eyes and looking up to see Bonesmith walk into the room. He had been tied to a chair, yes, but there was a different smell in the air. Gunpowder, gasoline, metal, and the unmistakable taste of blood in his mouth.
“G’morning sunshine.”
The words had come from Bonesmith but Mirage felt his lips mime the words. A laugh escaped his throat.
It always started the same way.
Except the interrogation didn’t go the way he expected. Most in his position lost all their nerve and sought to bargain. Fear overwhelmed them, which only led Mirage to disappointment. None of them had any bite, no will to survive.
For a moment, the boy looked like he was going to be just like them. But with only a little pushing he bared his teeth and showed his bite – his will to endure. It was entertaining, Mirage thought. Finally, there was someone that reminded him of himself all those years ago. Someone who looked hopelessness in the face and chose to reject it.
Then, everything went wrong with a single ring of his phone.
The voice that came through on the other end greeted him in his native tongue. Nobody spoke to him in Spanish, at least not here. He should’ve known from that first second that something was off, but it had thrown him off balance.
Banshee saw his discomfort and was quick to interject.
“Who is it? Grim?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he exited the room. He couldn’t afford to show his new captive a sliver of weakness.
“You have my attention, compadre. Might I ask who this is?” Mirage asked curiously. The call had been convenient and he had long since come to learn that convenience and coincidence were words the ignorant used to explain away events they had no control over. There was no such thing. There was always someone or something to blame. “You seem to have caught me at a bad time.”
“Have I?” The voice replied. “I would beg to differ. Now was as good a time as any, I think.”
“Ah! So you must be the third party, hm? I was wondering who those people were working for. Bold of you to operate in our territory,” Mirage chuckled. “If you have any sense, you’ll stop your operations and get out of Bayside, capiche?”
“You are brave, Valentine. I’ll give you that much.”
The line went dead and Mirage lowered the phone to stare at it.
“What did they say?” Banshee asked.
Mirage wrinkled his nose. “They didn’t want to talk. What a shame.”
He turned back and entered the room again, only to find their captive gone. The ropes used to bind him were lying in a pool on the floor, the chair empty, and the window behind it wide open. Mirage let out a curse as he turned and ran for the front door.
The two supers stumbled out onto the front porch just in time to watch the car drive away. Mirage raised his gun to fire but stopped himself, knowing that it’d be pointless. Besides, firing off a gun like this would only draw unnecessary attention.
“Shit!” Banshee hissed in aggravation. “I wrapped those around him three times. How the fuck did he get out?”
“Resourceful,” Mirage nodded slowly, impressed. The kid didn’t look like he had it in him to escape, despite showing his bite. Clearly, there was more to him than meets the eye. “Well, it looks like we’re done here for tonight.”
“We aren’t going after?”
“Nah,” Mirage chuckled, reaching into his pocket and retrieving the kid’s phone. He tried to fiddle with it some more to get the screen to light up, but even that proved to be impossible. Good. He hated when things like this were too easy. “What’s the point in chasing when there’s every possibility he’ll come after us?”
Banshee didn’t look convinced. “He’s a Mechakinetic. He can just make a new phone.”
“Perhaps,” Mirage said, his smile widening. “But at the end of the day, it isn’t really about the phone, or this,” he retrieved the taser he had taken and examined it briefly. It definitely had signs that it was Mechatech. Pretty basic stuff, but identifiable nonetheless. “We’ll see him again.”
“If you’re sure,” Banshee sighed. “Though, it feels like we wasted our time.”
Mirage chuckled. “Not at all. He’ll come. People like him always do.”
He was certain of it.