TWENTY

"All right, everyone clean up," said Hikaru, clapping her hands together. The door shut behind her and the others trailed into the small apartment. "I'll make us all some dinner. And—" Hikaru broke off and gave every last one of them a hard look. "You will eat. I don't want to hear a single one of you not being hungry. We need to keep up our strength."

The others murmured their agreements. Her gaze lingered on Zach the longest, her dark eyes filled with a challenging light. Zach smiled at her and nodded, lifting his hands into the air in a placating gesture.

While the other four went to the bathroom, chatting lightly with soft voices, Zach followed Hikaru into the kitchen. "I'll help you," he said.

"Oh, no," said Hikaru, shaking her head. "Out you go. You're just as dirty as the rest of them."

"And you're not?" asked Zach incredulously. He grinned at her. "I'm not the only one who needs a good shower."

Hikaru sighed. "I know, but I won't have much time if I want everyone to have something to eat before going to bed. It's late."

"Then, you can't decline my help," said Zach with a wry smile. He nudged her, a bounce in his step. "All right, Queen of the Kitchen!" he announced with an air of grandeur. He flourished an arm and bowed deeply. "What would you have this lowly servant do first?"

Hikaru laughed. He looked up, smiling widely. The others slowly trailed into the room, washcloths in hand, watching with curious eyes. Light chased away the darkness in their expressions. A thrill of hope sparked inside Zach.

And he put all of his energy into the act.

"I do live to serve, after all, my lady," said Zach, lifting out of his bow. He put a hand over his heart, a twinkle in his eyes. "The lady only needs to command and my actions are yours."

Hikaru put her hands onto her hips, giving Zach a fake stern look. She huffed, yet it sounded more of a breathy laugh. "Now how am I supposed to get anything done if you're messing around?" she asked. Something sparkled in her eyes.

Brielle let out a small giggle. She put a hand over her mouth, as if embarrassed by the sound. Zach's eyebrows waggled up and down, turning his gaze onto her. "And what of you, little lady?" he asked, still in that posh tone.

He strode to her with a light bounce and bowed. He grabbed her by the hand, wrapping an arm around her lower back. She laughed in delight as Zach swept around the room, twirling her a few times. He released her waist and whirled her around once more.

"Jacob, your turn with the little lady," said Zach, pushing her to Jacob. "Go on, take her hand—that's it."

Soon, the two of them were dancing. Zach turned to Sevati and, not giving her a moment to decline, grabbed her by the hand and waist. With a flourish, he danced around with her. Light flashed in her eyes, until she let out a soft laugh. With a twirl, he directed her into Drake's arms.

"Your turn, Drake!"

And off they went, dancing with the other two – with not a tune in the air.

Zach turned to Hikaru, a mischievous grin lifting his expression.

Hikaru laughed in exasperation. "Zachary Bennet, what on earth has gotten into you!" she cried.

"Sometimes, being spontaneous is fun!" said Zach. He sneaked up to her, playing it up like an old black and white silent film.

"You stay away from me," said Hikaru firmly, yet her lips were lifted in a smile. "I have dinner to make."

"But dancing must come first!"

Zach grabbed her around the waist. She shrieked. With his hand in hers and his other around her waist, he led her into the living room area, whirling and twirling her around as if they were in the finals of a dance show. Their attempts were clumsy. They bumped into Drake and Sevati, before bumping into Jacob and Brielle.

But no one minded it at all. Everyone was laughing.

Sweet music to the ears.

They were covered in soot. They were covered in dirt. Some had tears in their clothes, while others had blood stained on their clothes. Yet, this terrible day filled with blood, debris, and terror faded from the mind as they danced around the room to the melody of their laughter.

Zach twirled Hikaru around in his arms; she laughed with pure happiness, sending butterflies of delight through Zach's soul.

The moment didn't last forever, but it didn't need to – this brief moment in time, it was more than enough to change the melancholy and lift the heart. Once again, they could forget. No one else needed to exist. It was just them and their voices of laughter.

All six of them crowded into the kitchen and helped with dinner, giving Zach and Hikaru time to clean up a bit, too. Six pairs of hands weren't needed for something simple like rice with stir fried vegetables, yet every hand managed to touch something and help.

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Their small kitchen table was set with plates and silverware; food was placed on the table like any family dinner: stir fry over white rice and freshly cut apples.

The conversation was light and cheerful.

It had been a success.

After dinner, as the others went to bed, Zach and Hikaru stood in the living room. She gave him a hug, pulling back after a moment.

"Thank you," whispered Hikaru. She gave him a grateful smile. "I was so worried."

"About what?"

She sighed. "I thought I'd have to fight everyone to eat. I thought after today… everyone would be in a poor mood and it would be a struggle to get anyone to cooperate with dinner. I thought it would be like last time."

A gentle light entered her eyes.

"And then you surprised me. You were able to do something I couldn't and I appreciate that."

"We make a good team," whispered Zach.

There was a soft laugh and a tender gaze.

"Yes, I do believe so, too."

It was said in such an odd tone, one that Zach couldn't decipher. There was something more in her expression; there was something more in her voice. There was something in the way she held her lips, in the way the edges of her eyes creased. But what it was, he didn't know. The moment passed and Hikaru gave him another smile, before she turned away. She stopped at the girls' bedroom door and glanced back at him.

"Good night, Zach."

"Night," he whispered.

Don't go. Please…

And then Zach was left alone in the living room. Minutes passed as he stood there, waiting, listening. Snores echoed from the boys' bedroom. The girls would soon be asleep as well. The night was dark, the day coming to a close. Midnight was closer than he'd wanted it to be.

Zach wanted to join the sleeping requiem, but he had a previous engagement to keep.

Perhaps it'd been foolish not to tell them. Perhaps they could've been his support during this. The act of unburdening himself would've been a great relief. In the ideal, there would be no arguing. They would've been on board one hundred percent.

But he didn't.

Why not?

Zach turned away and picked up his laptop from off his desk, tucking it beneath his arm. He sat on the couch and set the laptop onto the coffee table. He curled his legs beneath himself, rested his hands onto his knees, and hunched over slightly.

Zach stared.

He checked the time.

Five minutes to midnight.

He had five minutes to decide. He could wake the others. He could avoid the call. Or… Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to play into the hands of this criminal, just for a sliver of information – just for the chance of it?

Zach thought about everything he had learned about this man. Falcon liked to play games. Why give the police that first tip? Why not remain silent? Why mess with them, if only to play games?

Then, silence.

A sudden attack.

It was a pattern of chaos.

So many questions, yet so little answers. Sullivan was just as bad, though. Sullivan had known some information beforehand and had chosen to withhold it. Why?

Why?

Zach growled. What was Sullivan playing at? Did he want to sabotage Unit Twelve more than he wanted to catch Falcon?

Irritation shot through his chest. Zach gritted his teeth. Wasn't catching a murdering terrorist more important? How could Sullivan jeopardize any chance of catching this man? The fury billowed upward further.

Four minutes.

The chief had lost all trust. Perhaps it was foolish to do this alone, but it was dangerous to inform anyone else. After tonight, Zach would tell the others. Right? Where would they go from here? What would they do? What secrets could Zach learn?

All of his uncertainty, all of his fear, they flooded his veins like a poison, destroying his mind. He couldn't defeat Falcon in a physical fight. The man was too powerful. Zach was weak; he was powerless. Maybe he should just leave that laptop lid closed. Twice, he'd been proven weak.

Twice!

He'd been at each location during an attack and yet, Zach hadn't been able to do anything. He'd been like everyone else, feeble in the face of tragedy and catastrophe. A hero? Hah. How laughable.

And Falcon escaped again.

Why couldn't he lay his hands on this slippery man who was far more oily than a stick of butter?

Zach exhaled, his breath ragged like a cornered, wounded animal. His fingers slowly curled into fists. His hunched body trembled.

No.

He couldn't back out.

This criminal had his phone number. Falcon knew. He knew who they were. He probably knew where they lived. Perhaps he knew everything about them. Somehow, they'd been compromised.

So, why?

Why would Falcon want to talk with him alone? Zach couldn't understand the motive. Had the man done this with the other leaders? There had to be some sort of angle in this. Falcon had to have a reason and one that gave him the advantage.

Three minutes until midnight.

Zach opened the lid to his laptop. The internal mechanics whirled softly, breaking the silence of the night. Its light illuminated the darkness. He pulled out his mask from his pocket and slipped the black mask over his face. He felt the taut fabric pull against his skin.

Two minutes.

Was he doing the right thing? Was taking a step into the void alone the right thing?

What was right?

And what was wrong?

He didn't know.

That line was far too blurry. The line between good and evil was thick and wide, yet the line between right choices and wrong choices was far thinner – transparent, even. Where was the guide? Where was the mentor? No one was there to help, to guide – no one to teach him what was right and what was wrong.

Zach, alone, had to fumble through the smog.

I have to be strong.

When would he become a cool, aloof, indifferent hero, one who could shove all uncertainty into the enemy's face? He wanted his own strength, his own power – and with that power, he wanted to be the one to take down Falcon.

Selfish? Arrogant?

Perhaps.

But if he had that power, then his body wouldn't be trembling. If he had that strength, then his heart wouldn't be terrified. If he were a hero, he would've been all powerful, filled with unbending strength. Pressure? Expectancy? Responsibilities? Easy. He could be the leader everyone expected him to be.

A madman loose in the city? Yeah, he could take him down.

Such wishful thinking.

Something moved on the screen. Zach stiffened. He hadn't touched his laptop. A waiting sign popped up in the middle. He sucked in his breath, staring at the screen; his heart thumped.

One.

Shivers shot down his spine; the hairs on his arms rose. A mixture of anticipation, apprehension, and pure antagonism whirled inside his chest. Fear pounded with every beat of his heart.

A trap…

Maybe.

There was still time to slam that laptop screen down. There was still time to avoid entering this game of cat and mouse – of prey and predator.

But the desire to be a hero rose above everything else.

He couldn't fail them.

The laptop screen went dark. A shadowed, masked face showed up on the screen and a smooth, taunting voice whispered in the night.

Game on.

"Hello, little Chief."