"Hey Atlas! Can you take table 3's order?" Mrs. Moore asked. Waiting tables was technically her job, but Atlas grabbed a notebook anyway.

"Hello there, may I take your order?" Atlas asked, the saccharine smile that he had developed for customer service lodged firmly on his face. The couple sitting at the table debated for a while, not having thought about their meal beforehand, eventually settling on an overly expensive pepperoni pizza. Once he had their order, he walked back into the kitchen and set towards cooking the food. Martello's had always had a high turnover rate, but once Atlas had joined, his manager had stopped hiring beyond the essential roles Atlas couldn't fill. It was tiring, but he got paid far more than a minimum wage job had any right to, so he kept at it.

He threw together the order as fast as possible, and rushed it out to the couple. Once that was done, he went back to cleaning the counters. They got surprisingly dirty over the course of the day. He had always enjoyed cleaning. There was always something soothing about wiping away grime and leaving behind sparkling trails of cleanliness. His serenity was interrupted by Mrs. Moore reappearing, hauling a mop and bucket that a woman as old as her had no business carrying.

"Thank you dearie. You really are such a nice boy." Mrs. Moore was the sweetest old lady Atlas had ever known. She had to take care of her grandchild, so she worked full time at Martello's. Even Mateo, penny pincher that he was, couldn't justify firing her. Though her eyesight was fading, she was a fantastic cook, which certainly helped her case. Atlas had learned every recipe he knew from her.

"It was no trouble, Mrs. Moore." He smiled, the softness in the expression directly contrasting to his customer service façade.

"I keep telling you, call me Molly!"

"And I keep telling you no." Mrs. Moore chuckled, shaking her head with false reproach.

"There's only one more customer out there, and then you can close up for the night."

"I couldn't leave you here on your own for the rest of the shift."

"Don't you worry about it dear, it's Christmas break. You've got that sister to care of, right? Just make sure to pick up Evie for me, won't you?"

Atlas sighed. He couldn't argue with that. she really was too nice. "Fine, but I'm closing for you next time."

Mrs. Moore just chuckled and waved him onto the floor. He snagged his notebook as he passed, and then began walking towards the customer. He tried to guess what they would order based off of how they looked, but stopped short as he saw what they were wearing. Sitting in the booth was a very tall man. He wore a well trimmed mustache and goatee, and was dressed in an expensive looking suit that would have looked rather fancy if not for being entirely the same shade of blood red. The tie even had splatters of darker red all across it. Resting atop his head was a bowler hat, in the exact same colour. Atlas jolted, realizing that he had just been standing there staring, and moved towards him.

"Hello there, may I take your order?" He forced the customer service smile back onto his face.

"Oh, yes, yes you may. Do you serve foie gras?" The strange man said. Atlas couldn't place his accent. It was a weird mix of high class British and a growling cockney that Atlas really couldn't understand all that well.

"Not that I'm aware of. We have a chicken caesar salad, if you'd like?" He hid his confusion as best he could. He had seen weirder things over his career than someone assuming a second rate date spot would have goose liver on the menu.

"Hm. Anything with panda?" Atlas chuckled politely at that, in order to hide his rapidly increasing confusion.

"Not that I can recall. We have barbeque ribs if you'd prefer something more meaty. I highly recommend the extra spicy ribs."

The man chuckled lightly. "That sounds lovely. Make them extra spicy, if you would." Atlas noted it down, and then hurried over to the couple he had served earlier before the man could say anything weirder. He handed them their check, and then headed back into the kitchen to prep the man's meal. At the same time, he threw together a dinner for him and his sister from the leftover ingredient. He had negotiated with his manager to take food home instead of a portion of his wages a while back. He rushed to finish, dropped off the order, and went back behind the counter to wait out the last customer. He swept and mopped and scrubbed until he heard the door chime, upon which he hurriedly pulled off his apron. He bid Mrs. Moore goodbye, and then hurried out the back door.

Out in the alley, tied to a lamppost, was his bike. Little more than a rusty piece of scrap, he had gotten it for essentially nothing off of Craigslist, and it had served him okayish for the following 3 years. It was barely worth the amount of repairs he had put into it, but it got him to work and back, so he saw it as worth it. He hopped on and pedaled his way home, balancing the takeout box on the bike's handlebars.

As he closed in on his apartment, he turned off the road and parked his bike in front of the daycare nearest his home. After tying up the bike, he walked through the doors and up to the office. He waited for a couple minutes before his charge appeared sprinting at full speed down the hallway.

"Evelyn!" Atlas called out, waving vigorously at the energetic 8 year old. She waved back, just as excited, and turned her sprint into a charge directly at his legs.

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"Atlas! Are we gonna see Art?" She grabbed his hand as they walked out of the school.

"We sure are!" He pulled his bike out of the bike rack and pulled it alongside, before crouching down. Evelyn, familiar with the routine, jumped onto his neck, her legs on his shoulders. He stood up, balancing her for a moment, and then began walking the bike towards his apartment.

"Guess what?" Atlas asked, looking up at Evelyn's looming face.

"What? What?"

"I brought pizza for us!"

"PIZZA!" Evelyn's scream of delight very nearly blew out his eardrums, but he didn't mind. He chatted with the child about her day at school (awesome), her friends (nice), and her other classmates (Aaron is dumb). He let her off his shoulders as they neared his apartment, and she ran to the doors as he parked his bike. He walked over to the doors, but before he pressed the buzzer, he crouched down in front of Evelyn and placed a finger in front of his lips in the universal shushing symbol. She nodded vigorously.

He clicked the buzzer, and heard his sister answer after a moment. He smiled when he heard her voice, as he always did. He had lived with his parents for 18 years, and got to see exactly how little they cared about him. Artemis, however, was only 4 when they up and left. She barely remembered them. She was all he had left, and the reason he worked so hard.

"Hey there Art! Can you buzz me in?"

"Atlas! Okay!" The door clicked open, and Evelyn giggled as she ran up the stairs. Atlas panted as he hauled himself up the last steps. He hadn't had much time to work out as of late. He knocked on the door, only once before Artemis dragged it open. She beamed at him for a moment, until she noticed Evelyn bouncing up and down behind him.

"Evie!" Artemis called out, charging her with a hug. Evelyn hugged back, and then they rushed into the apartment. Atlas smiled at their exuberance, and walked into kitchen. He placed the take out box on the dining table, and set the table for 3 people. Before the girls could get too into anything, he called out.

"Wash your hands for dinner, girls!"

"OKAY!" They echoed each other followed by a stampede of footsteps. They washed their hands as fast as they could, and after a reminder to use soap, they were all seated at the dinner table.

"PIZZA!" The girls yelled in unison, as was their wont. Atlas placed a slice on each of their plates, and they began eating with the enthusiasm that only a child with pizza could demonstrate. They enjoyed their dinner, and Atlas made sure neither of them stabbed each other for a few hours afterwards. He brought Evelyn home after giving Mrs. Moore some time to relax.

On the way home, he noticed the man with the strange red suit was walking down the street, looking straight at him. He was slightly unnerved, but still came when the man waved him over. The motion was weirdly jerky, as if he had never waved before. He pulled his bike to a stop, and then, against his better judgement, kept following the strange man into the alley. He remained ready to sprint at the first sign of danger, but something about the man was weirdly compelling.

"Hello, young lad, I'm glad you decided to follow me." The excitement in the man's tone would have been endearing if not for the supremely slimy undertones he was feeling.

"I'm- I'm not quite sure what you want from me, sir?" Atlas had found that, when in a situation he didn't quite understand, it was best to be as polite as possible. The whole situation was now striking him as awfully sketchy, and he definitely didn't want to piss off a stranger in a dark alley.

"Ah yes, of course, I have yet to introduce myself!" The archaic way of speaking was just one oddity among many, but it was the one that struck Atlas the hardest. Something was weird about this guy, and he felt strangely invested in finding out what. The man continued.

"My name is Luca Ferrell, it is a pleasure to meet you." Mr. Ferrell swept into an ostentatious bow, pulling the bowler hat off his head as he did so. Atlas searched his face, looking for any relation to the actor, but found nothing. Luca's face was small and angular, almost ratlike. Without the bowler hat obscuring his head, Atlas could get a full view of the used car salesman haircut he wore, dyed an unnatural pitch black for whatever reason. His eyes were the weirdest though. Most likely through coloured contacts, his eyes were the same blood red as his suit, but with a ring of fire running through the iris. Atlas found it oddly difficult to look away from him. It took him a moment to realize that Mr. Ferrell had stuck his hand out for him to shake.

"Atlas Ward. Have we met?" He responded, extremely confused. Mr. Ferrell shook his head, laughing.

"No, we wouldn't have. I am here, Atlas, to offer you the chance of a lifetime. Riches, power, anything you could ever want!"

"Is this like a lottery thing? A prank?" Atlas looked around for any cameras.

"No, there's no trick here. What I offer you is one hundred percent genuine. You have a sister, yes? You could have enough money to get here through college, enough power to protect her, I could give you Immortality, Atlas! Imagine, a world where she never has to go to your funeral, a world where don't have to worry. Never work again, live your life for yourself!"

Atlas had stopped listening halfway through the sales pitch, however. "How do you know my sister? What do you want with her?" He barely stopped himself from shaking the man, if only because he couldn't afford to get sued. "I don't care what happens to me, you do not hurt her." His voice shook with barely contained rage.

"I have no such intentions, I assure you. I'm here to give you the power to ensure no one ever hurts your sister. All you have to do is come with me, and she will have the life you want for her."

"And what do you get out of this?" Atlas hadn't known many rich people, but anyone this smarmy had to have some kind of ulterior motive.

"It is nothing strenuous, I assure you. All I ask, in return for eternal life, is a simple favour." Atlas felt every alarm bell he had start ringing in his mind, but he couldn't get Art out of his head. He imagined her, smiling and happy, in a huge house, much bigger than the shitty apartment she was stuck with. She could afford to go to college, something Atlas had all but written off after looking at his paychecks. Despite his every instinct urging him away from this sketchy man, Atlas couldn't pass that up.

"Ok. I'll do it." Mr. Ferrell smiled, or at least made an approximation of one. His lips curled, his face stretched, but the only mirth in the expression was mixed with an equal level of sadistic glee. The colour seemed to drip from his clothes, forming pools of blood at his feet. His shadow grew until it shrouded the entire alley in darkness, reflecting the image of something much more dark and powerful than the unassuming man that stood before him.

"Good." Atlas's vision fell as he sunk into the concrete. He tried to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips. He clawed at the air, desperately hoping to find purchase on anything, but his grip failed him. He watched in horror as he sunk up to his hips, then to his chest. Luca watched on with malicious glee, obviously reveling in Atlas's terror. Slowly, inevitably, his head dipped into the earth, leaving nothing but a slight ripple in the pavement, and a small pile of dust.