Chet stood next to his throne, admiring the massive mural behind it. Specks of white dusted his hair, and would have his beard if he did not prefer to be clean-shaven. Chet wore a clean-pressed black suit, a black shirt, and a black tie. Although he liked the suit, he would need another tailored soon when he advanced to the next level.

He had spent a fortune creating the masterwork of art, between the artist who painted it, the Illusionist who added depth and presence to the piece, and an Artificer to ensure the magic in it did not fade over time. By all estimates, the piece would outlive him. The result was a view of outer space so clear that anyone looking at it would swear they were standing on the edge of the vast universe itself.

The awe of standing next to the piece and perceiving the vast openness and distance, had worn off for him long ago. Even after all this time, he could still pick up small little details in the work that he had never noticed before.

Many people had told him over and over that it was a waste of money, that his pride was getting to him, and questioned how he could dump such large quantities of resources into something so frivolous.

They will never know the true power this piece holds, Chet told himself. The result of having to stare into the darkness, the sense that there was so much more than yourself, the sense of being a small ant in the larger events that were happening. Chet had been able to leverage it all to his advantage.

A knock sounded at the large wooden doors across the room. He was in the larger of the receiving rooms he had at the base, so he could not be sure who would be bothering him so early in the morning. Chet made sure he sat on his throne before responding, “Enter.”

The blood-red throne stood slightly higher than the rest of the room and just large enough to be a presence, but not make the man who sat in it look small. A Naturalist had grown the frame, then it had been intricately carved with depictions of animals in this new world.

“We have the report you asked for sir,” said a man. Where Chet preferred a crisp traditional suit, this man had a slightly looser cut. Broad shoulders and a bald head made the man a presence. Without knowing the man, Chet would not have assumed much from Samson other than brute force, but no one got to the top of Chet’s organization without brains as well.

Samson was flanked by two others; a man and a woman. All three were roughly the same size, it took hard work to get to the gang’s upper management, and Chet did not acknowledge anyone below level 8.

Only those that spent most of their time in the city wore the standard black and white. Chet had always been a proponent of a well-made suit, even in his previous life, and he required all his upper commanders to wear them.

The woman wore a sleek green suit made for the forest; various greens were intermingled with earthy browns. Her auburn hair was tied up so that it could easily be covered by her hood and mask. Chet was not enthused with this part of the garment, but he knew he had to make changes for this new world. Her skills and class as a Hunter helped her greatly in the forests.

The other man wore an almost mirror suit of hers, but with sandy gray and browns in place of greens. Whereas green would help in the dense mountain forests, grays would help in the desert. The man had a bulbous nose and an unreadable face. He carried himself with what some would say indifference, but Chet called unwavering single-minded determination. The mindset helped him greatly with his class as a Trapper, lying in wait for the right moments.

“He is not in the city sir,” said Samson, as he stood at attention, his voice gave a slight echo in the large empty room. “I’ve put a bounty out on him and backed it with my own money. Not quite as effective as an official P.A.T. bounty, but with the reward that I put on the contract, everyone in town is searching. But I have heard nothing yet.”

“I want Bran alive Samson,” said Chet. “I hope you made that very clear in your bounty.”

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“I did sir.”

Samson’s class as a Controller had always given him hesitation with the man. Controllers grew stronger the more people they had below them, which would make the man want Chet’s position as gang leader more than anyone else, but with risk came reward. The man was too valuable to allow anyone else to use. Chet merely had to ensure he handled Samson correctly.

“And what of the deserts, Higgins?”

“So far there is no sign of him,” said the man in the sandy suit, standing just as rigid as Samson. “From what we learned he had some help to get into hiding.”

“Obviously,” said the woman in the green suit.

“You will have your turn, Adrien,” said Chet. Normally Chet encouraged a little dissonance between his lieutenants but now was not the time.

“It would be suicide for him to go too deeply into the desert,” Higgins continued. “Anything out of sight from the town would be suicide for someone his level. I have my men searching the fringes and scouts set on the top of the tallest buildings, searching for anything that is making its way out into the barrens.”

“And what of the forests, Adrien?”

“Nothing,” said Adrien. She stood with a more relaxed stance than the other two.

In anyone else, Chet would call it insolence, but in the case of Adrien, it was bravado. She had proven herself repeatedly and as long as she did not step too far out of line Chet could ignore some things.

“There is no way he has made it past the tree lines,” she said. “I have my best hunters searching for tracks leaving town, and there is no sign of him.”

“I am very disappointed in you three,” said Chet. “Times like these are ideal to prove yourself. If you are not careful others may show themselves more useful than you. I don’t want to see any of you until you have better news for me. Dismissed.”

“Yes sir,” all three said in unison. They turned and left. Chet was notorious for going from calm to dangerous when displeased, and none of them wanted to stick around for longer than needed when there was bad news in the air.

Higgins and Adrien lagged as Samson hurried down the halls of the base. When Adrien was sure that no one was watching she flashed a hand signal to Higgins. Without saying anything she broke off from the other two. Everyone went their separate ways to do what needed done.

***

Two hours later, Adrien stood in a building with a single room, across town from the gang’s base. Higgins stood across from her. She paced back and forth on the dirt floor, chewing on one of her nails. Higgins stood and watched her with a blank expression on his face as always.

“You were right,” said Adrien. “I never thought we would see him again, but Bran is back.”

“I was there, he goes by Brandon now,” said Higgins, stone-faced. It had been a while since the two had met in the safe house. But from all accounts, no one else in the clan should know about it still. It had been years since they had been spies for Bran’s organization, and any time they met like this, it would be risky.

“That could have been a ruse, from what I heard there were more than a hundred people there waiting for him.” Why now, thought Adrien. There is no way this can be a coincidence with the purge coming up as well.

Higgins grunted. “Don’t know what to tell ya.”

“We need to track down whoever we can that has not moved on yet, and deal with this soon. The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be to keep ahead of anyone, let alone Chet. Can you think of anyone that is still around?”

“Tony, but that is the only one off the top of my head. The problem is that a good few of them will be part of that Outsiders organization. Any one of those could easily be more loyal to that organization or the new Brandon than the old Bran.”

“Bran is going to need all the help he can get,” said Adrien, ignoring what she did not want to hear. “We need to track down whoever we can from our old team and find Bran before Samson does.”

“I’m not so sure he is the same man anymore,” said Higgins. “Maybe there is something to those fresh start people.”

Adrien stopped pacing and stared at Higgins, shocked. “I never thought you would go soft on me, Higgins. Even if you are having second thoughts, Bran is back. That means that eventually, someone will figure out we were with him. We need to get ahead of this, or a swift death and a fresh start will be the best we can hope for.”

Higgins grunted in assent as he turned to leave the building. He had spent a lot of time considering if he should have gone through the portal in the last few iterations. It had been a fear of the other side that had kept him here. As he felt everything falling apart around himself, he wondered if that was the worst in a lifetime of bad decisions.