“I don’t play the odds, I play the man.”

  —Harvey Specter (SUITS)

  /* Pre-entry Tag */

  function annotate002(){ codex.updateEntry(“Consent by Proxy | Some contracts are signed before the pen touches paper.”); }

  // Odds are neutral. Statistics don't bleed. Don't beg. But people, and those they love—do.

  There are moments during a trial where everything slows down, and Dorian became hyperfocussed. When during an opening or closing argument, he can see a juror lean towards belief. When, during cross, a plaintiff wanders into a carefully laid net of questions.

  It was that same predatory stillness, the reflexes that made him dangerous in court, that clicked in now. Dorian’s field of vision narrowed. His world shrank. No longer was there an outside world, only him and this man who had gotten into his car.

  This stranger claimed to know his brother. Dorian wasn’t sure if this was true. Knowing his nickname was shocking, yes, but it wasn't impossible to explain. There were a dozen ways to learn it, and none of them required even meeting Remi.

  Dorian tensed and turned to face the man beside him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this is inappropriate, even if you know my brother.” He reached down, unclipping his seat belt to free his upper body. If there was going to be violence, Dorian would be unencumbered when he met it. “So, I would kindly ask you to please get the fuck out of my car!”

  The man seemed to flicker. Shifting from permanence to a more transparent image of himself. It appeared to punctuate his laughter, but Dorian got the impression that it was calculated to quickly reinforce that the man himself wasn’t actually there. “Easy, tiger! I will not hurt you.” He rippled again. A line of waveform traversed his body, like the distortion on Dorian’s grandmother’s TV before adjusting the antenna. This time he knew the effect was for sure on purpose. “Nor are you going to be able to hurt me. No matter how much you might want to.”

  Dorian’s fists tightened on his steering wheel.

  The man smiled in response. He snapped his fingers. The locks on the Mercedes snapped on, and all outside noise snapped off. The regular garage sounds were gone; even the hum of the engine could no longer be felt or heard. Dorian looked at his console and was surprised to see the colon on his dash clock was no longer blinking.

  “Don’t be surprised. We needed a moment, but I don’t have a lot of time, so I carved us out our own little pocket of it. We are essentially in that moment right in the middle of a page flip. Before the old page disappears, and the new one begins. I have taken the liberty of pausing for a sec so we can talk. Which is good for me, as I know your billable hours are quite high.”

  Dorian wasn’t sure if he was supposed to smile at the lame joke, but even if he had found it funny, he wasn’t in the mood. Not to mention the years of not laughing at Remi’s jokes helped him to keep his straight face.

  The man looked a bit disappointed. “Well, we should get to it. Even though I have frozen time, my absence will eventually be noted. I have some demanding colleagues. I’m sure you can relate.”

  “I can’t. My colleagues are great, but I agree that time is pressing. I’ve got a slumlord to bring down, so if there's something you need to tell me, let’s get on with it so I can go do that.”

  “Perfect,” Archie replied with a smile. “I knew we would understand each other.” He snapped his fingers again, and a manila folder appeared in his hands. Crucible Case File was written in large red letters on the cover. “Given that we need to be brief, I decided the best thing to do was provide you with one.” He passed the folder to Dorian, who reluctantly took it.

  “What is it?” The folder was thick, containing hundreds of pages. Unconsciously, he had labeled it exhibit A in his mind.

  “Think of it as discovery. Something you can look at later, when you have more time. Basically, neither of us has time to go into the details of what is going to happen right now. So let’s just say the world is going to end, some people have a chance to save it, and your brother is looking like he will be one.”

  “What—?”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Archie held up a hand. “No, we don’t have time for all of that. Hence, the file; read it later. You will not believe me right now anyway. It's going to take the start of the end to do that. What I need you to do for me right now is assume that what I am telling you is true. You will get all the details when you read the file. What we really need to use our limited time for is to discuss what you are going to do when it happens.”

  Dorian looked at the man skeptically, and then back down at the file. A quick flip and glance let him see the words Crucible, Narrative Rewrite, and salvage earth’s story. There were schematics, and blueprints, and planning documents. He continued to flip, his eyes landing on the words SLEEP AGREEMENT PROTOCOL. Knowing he wasn’t going to get the time to read it all now, he snapped the folder shut. “Fine. I will assume the world is ending. What else do I need to know to contextualize this conversation?”

  Archie nodded. “Good. I knew you would be practical about this. My preliminary research on you showed you would be. I’ve thought about how this would work most efficiently. I think we do this like a TV courtroom drama. Put me on the stand. I will answer honestly and truthfully.”

  Dorian’s smile became slightly predatory. “Okay. What is happening right now?”

  “The world is ending. I am trying to get you to help prevent that.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Not as often as some would like, but I take my job seriously.”

  Dorian flipped the folder over and pulled a pen from inside his jacket. He clicked it and proceeded to take notes. “How am I going to do that?”

  Archie reclined his seat a bit. “Every person who is battling against the end can get help from the people connected to their lives. If they agree, then they will enter the Crucible too. They can help, or hinder when in there. What matters to me is that there is a good story.”

  In depositions, Dorian had learned to listen for the moment a witness stopped answering the question asked and said more than they needed to. Archie had just done exactly that. Dorian made a mental note of the information but didn't react. Not yet. In a good cross-examination, you don't pounce the moment you see an opening. Better to keep the witness talking, let them get comfortable. Then you circle back.

  He pretended to make a few more notes. “Why me and why Remi?”

  Archie put his hands behind his head, like he were rehearsing a script. Dorian made a note: too comfortable. He thinks he's in control. Let him.

  “Remi wasn’t my first choice,” the man said.

  “Mine either,” Dorian cut in, hoping to throw the man’s cadence off. It didn’t seem to work.

  “We’ll see, hopefully. It will be up to him.” Dorian felt his heart constrict. He’d been trying to unsettle the man, but it was he who felt off balance. “What do you mean, hopefully?”

  Archie returned his seat to the upright position. “Well, that depends on if you agree or not.”

  “Sure. How do I agree?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. When the time comes, you will be asked if you want to be a secondary thread; you will say yes. Then something else will happen, but we can talk about it that later.”

  “Why later,” Dorian responded.

  “Because yours is the only agreement, I still have to get.” Archie leaned in. “And right now, you don’t need to understand what’s happening. You don’t even need to understand why it's happening to your brother, or why I need you. I will explain all that in a minute. The question you really need to know is, why.”

  Dorian's pen stopped moving. There it was—the weak spot. He ignored where the conversation was being steered; it was time to attack.

  "Let me make sure I understand," Dorian said, keeping his voice flat. "You froze time, broke into my car, passed me a folder thicker than my brother’s novel, all hoping to recruit me, a corporate lawyer with no connection to you, to help with whatever bullshit my brother has gotten himself into." He put the pen away, feigning disinterest. "That's a lot of work for someone who doesn't matter."

  Archie's smile flickered. Was that in approval?

  Dorian pressed. “You need me,” he said. It wasn't a question. “I don't know why, but your bad luck, now I know you do. If I don’t agree, I can simply wait out this apocalypse living my regular life?” He'd caught that detail earlier. “I also gather that agreeing during sleep is standard, and because you’ve approached in a parking garage, that you don’t have time for the traditional route. Or, I’m special. Regardless.”

  Sometimes in a cross, you need to weaponise silence. Dorian let the statement hang, letting the silence become heavy. He reached for his door handle before speaking again. “I’ve got a defense to give upstairs in a few minutes, but I think you are under more of a time crunch than I am.”

  “You're good,” Archie said. The playful banter was gone from his voice. “I thought it was your brother who would be the intuitive one.”

  "My brother is a stubborn, dense moron." Dorian picked up the folder and held it out. “So you can say that I learned from the best. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to take this back, unfreeze time, and get out of my car. I’m going to win my trial, since I don’t have time to deal with whatever shit you and my brother have going on. After which, I’m going to go home, watch some Suits, and eat a sandwich.”

  Archie didn't take the folder.

  "I'll take my chances," Dorian continued. "Whatever's coming—a world ending, a narrative collapse, a Crucible, whatever—I think I’ll take my chances. I’ve survived a divorce. I’ve survived my parents and sanctimonious brother. And I love them.” He again thrust the folder toward the man. "Take it."

  Archie still didn't move. His expression had shifted to something Dorian couldn't quite read. Sadness? But that was wrong.

  "You're right," Archie whispered. "I need you. More than I want to admit. I also can't force you." He looked down at the folder still held before him, still refusing to take it back. “But you still haven’t asked me that why question. A good lawyer, especially a corporate one, should know how he’s getting paid.”

  Dorian blinked. Confused. “Fine. I’ll bite. Why should I help?” he asked, deliberately calm. “What is stopping me from saying no and letting this whole…Crucible thing of yours collapse?”

  The man’s smile saddened further. “Nothing. Except your daughter Bea.”

  At the mention of her name, Dorian’s body lit up with panic. He hadn’t been this terrified since Remi had lost her in the mall. “What do you mean except for Bea?”

  Out of nowhere, he could smell strawberries as a vision of Bea’s ponytail bouncing as she left him for class this morning appeared in his mind. His eyes shifted to his rearview mirror without thought, and even though the world had been stilled. The ornament of Remi and him still spun lazily in a circle. Shield, sword, shield, sword. Around and around the brothers went.

  The man’s voice snapped Dorian out of his reverie. He reached over and tapped the folder still clutched in Dorian’s hands. “What I mean is, if you don’t want her to die. Then you should probably say yes.”

  by Rowen_Kun

  With two bodies, they will rise above all others — twice as strong, twice as unstoppable.

  Justin was just an ordinary college student when the world ended. In an instant, civilization collapsed — and the planet was overrun by monsters, blood, and ruthless rules of evolution. Now, he finds himself trapped in a brutal sort of tutorial, where surviving means hunting, fighting, and learning faster than anyone else.

  But Justin carries something no one else does: he awakens in two different bodies, both sharing the same mind. Each one feels, sees, and experiences the world from its own perspective — and coordinating both is an almost insane challenge. One mistake, and he dies twice.

  To master this impossible condition, Justin will have to learn how to control two lives at the same time. If he fails, he’ll be torn apart by his own confusion. If he succeeds… he might be able to perceive and act beyond any human limit.

  And perhaps this new world was made for Justin — and for his strange condition.

  New chapters are released 5 times per week Monday - Friday