The room was small. It was very cold. The walls were made of gray metal. There were no windows. In the center of the ceiling, a single light bulb hung from a black wire. It swung slowly back and forth. Creak. Creak. Creak. The light was a harsh, stinging yellow. It made the shadows in the corners look deep and hungry.Evan was tied to a chair. The chair was bolted to the floor. His arms were pulled back. His wrists were locked in "Time-Cuffs." These were heavy, vibrating rings of cold steel. Every time Evan moved his hands, the cuffs hummed. A small red screen on the cuffs showed his time.[DRAIN RATE: 1 HOUR PER MINUTE]Evan looked across the small space. Marco was there. Marco was also tied to a chair. He looked bad. His face was covered in bruises. His blue coat was ripped and dirty. His head was hanging down. A single drop of blood fell from his chin and hit the floor. Plink.In the corner of the room, Silas stood in the shadows. He still wore the glass mask. The yellow light refl

The golden grass turned into gray ash. The blue sky cracked like a mirror hit by a hammer. Evan screamed. He did not scream with his voice. He screamed with the purple fire in his soul.“This is a lie!” he thought.The beautiful house vanished. His mother’s smile turned into a mouth of jagged glass. The Architect’s mirror face shattered.CRACK!The world snapped. The smell of fresh apples was replaced by the smell of burnt hair and old blood. The peace was gone. The silence was replaced by the loud, screaming alarm of the Neon Spade casino.Waaa-ooo! Waaa-ooo!Evan blinked. He was back in the real world. He was in the hallway outside the interrogation room. He was not standing in a field. He was standing on a cold, metal floor. Marco was next to him, leaning against the wall. Marco was shaking. He was gasping for air."Evan?" Marco whispered. "You... you were gone. Your eyes went white. You just stood there.""It was a trap," Evan said. His voice was thick. He wiped his face. He was b

"I'm a partner," Evan said.He grabbed Marco. He didn't walk. He used the Spark to shift. They appeared at the end of the corridor, near a heavy metal door.Evan didn't use a key. He used the rifle. He fired three shots into the lock.BANG! BANG! BANG!The lock shattered. Evan kicked the door open. They were in the kitchen.The kitchen was giant. It was a forest of stainless steel and copper. There were rows of ovens, giant walk-in freezers, and tables covered in knives.But the chefs were gone. In their place were the Scorpions. They were waiting."There!" a guard yelled.Evan pushed Marco behind a giant soup pot. "Stay there!" Evan ordered.Evan turned to face the guards. There were six of them. They had surrounded the exit.Evan checked the rifle.[AMMO: 9 ROUNDS]He looked at his wrist.[BALANCE: 7,000 YEARS]He was losing time too fast. Every big burst of power was eating decades.The guards fired.Evan used a Flicker.[3... 2... 1... 0]He slid across a metal table. The kinetic

Evan began to arrange the sticks in neat rows. He needed to be organized. Marco always said that a grifter who doesn't count his money is a grifter who gets caught.He put the gold sticks in one pile. The black ones in another. He took the three crystal drives and put them in a lead-lined box he found under the table.One, two, three...Evan stopped. He looked at one of the black credit sticks. It looked like the others. It was long, thin, and had the golden hourglass symbol of the Bank. But something was wrong.Evan leaned closer. He used a Flicker.[OBJECT: BLACK CREDIT STICK][STATUS: ANOMALY][VIBRATION: 60 HZ]The stick was vibrating. It was so fast that a human hand couldn't feel it. But the Engine in Evan's head saw the blur.Evan picked it up with a pair of metal tongs. He turned it over.On the very bottom of the stick, hidden under a fake serial number, was a tiny, red light. It wasn't glowing. It was pulsing.Pulse. Pulse. Pulse."A tracker," Evan whispered.His heart began

The rain outside the safehouse did not stop. It was a cold, heavy sound that filled the silence of the room. Evan stood in the middle of the small safehouse. He had returned from the church, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had escaped the hungry crowd of the South District, but he felt smaller than he ever had.In his backpack, he had twelve thousand years. On the table lay thousands more. But the room felt like a cage.Marco was still lying on the mattress. His eyes were closed. The stasis mist on his shoulder was a hard, gray crust. He looked like he was made of stone. He was breathing, but it was slow. Too slow.Evan looked at the note he had left on Marco’s chest. He picked it up and crumpled it. He was back. They were together. But they were not safe."Marco," Evan whispered. "We have to move. I shouldn't have come back here, but I couldn't leave you."Evan began to shove the remaining gold sticks into his bag. His fingers were clumsy. He kept looking at the heavy steel