There are a thousand stories that will never be heard, and a thousand more that will only be felt. Life is an ocean of chaos, and every moment brings you closer to the end of yours. Bask in the glory of our fleeting existence. Dance until the end of days.

  -Unknown-

  Starman takes a step forward, dust falling from his over embellished golden cape as he moves. There’s a massive golden star on his chest that sparkles in the low light of the broken building we are standing in. Lights flicker as electricity sparks.

  “Not a step further!” Greymore shouts, his weapon is raised, and his eyes are cold like steel as he stares down the sight of his rifle.

  “Always wanted to fight a hero,” Clayton says, twirling his ruby daggers, “Want to see what all the fuss is about.”

  Zero the silent archer sighs before cracking her neck. Her hand moves to her bow string, an arrow made from light nocks itself as she pulls back.

  Starman’s mouth flickers, not with fear, but annoyance as he musters his words, “I’m not here for you, I’m here for him,” he points a glittering hand towards…

  I blink. Not once, not twice, not even three times. I’m not the only one that’s confused.

  “About time someone noticed my talents,” Tran smirks, pushing through the group toward Starman.

  “Specialist Leeroy Tran,” Starman says with a strange half bow, then he opens his arms, “We’ve been keeping a close eye on you,” he winks, “and your talents.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Dorliac groans. I think she’s still tipsy. We didn’t expect anyone to be here when we arrived except the skeleton crew that Fisban left behind.

  “I figured this day would come,” Tran says, extending a hand outwards, he turns and looks sideways at Dorliac, “I’m glad other people can see my worth.”

  Starman ignores the hand and pulls Tran into a bear hug.

  “Does… does he think that Tran is you?” Cortez asks quietly.

  I don’t answer, I stare at Starman, from what’s exposed on his face, his complexion is flawless, like he spends hours everyday ensuring his skin is perfect. Slightly tan, and there’s a hint of a French accent. I think he’s speaking in French, hard to tell sometimes, Earth languages just kind of blend with the System translating it in our heads. Most languages do. Except goblin tongue, that shit is vile, and guttural, like a… it doesn’t matter. Fuck goblins.

  “You look well enough to travel,” Starman says, looking him up and down, “Do you perhaps want to come with little me?”

  “Sounds fun,” Tran shrugs.

  “Perfect, then, shall we?”

  “We shall,” Tran nods with a smile. They turn and start leaving, leaving us all dumbfounded, Tran stops and holds up a hand. “Do you think I could bring a few friends?”

  “Of course,” he pauses, “Em, but not the old man, I… don’t like old people.”

  Huh? Greymore spits on the ground with a grunt.

  “Oh, that’s too bad, he’s actually pretty cool,” Tran folds his arms and looks at everyone with a shit eating grin on his face, like he’s the team captain of an elementary dodgeball team, “Hmm, who should I pick, well, that’s easy.”

  Clayton coughs loudly, giving Tran an eyebrow raise.

  “Novak, Barlow and…” he looks at Dorliac then says her name, she steps forward, confused, “Just kidding, get back in line, Clayton, you can come too. Who else…”

  Starman chuckles at Tran’s power flex, “Four friends is plenty, I don’t have seats for more.”

  “Seats?”

  “Why yes my little friend, I only have seven seats.”

  “Who’s the seventh?”

  “My pilot of course.”

  “You have a personal pilot?”

  Starman puts an arm around Tran’s shoulder and turns him toward the hole in the wall that leads to daylight, “A pilot, a personal chef, an assistant, and many more, all standard if you work with the WHA.” He turns a disdainful eye backward at everyone else, “Our staff is prestigious, unlike the ones you currently have.”

  Barlow, Clayton and me follow after Tran. Greymore tries to say something, but I tell him to relax, this is a great opportunity to learn more about the WHA heroes, and for me to Soul Mark them. If I can keep tabs on them, my estimated value with the UWO might go up. Maybe even enough to get Mira back without having to burn bridges.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Em, also, apologies for what happened here, hopefully none of them were your friends?” Starman asks, as we step over groaning bodies.

  “Any of them in a wheelchair?” Tran asks, looking around.

  “No, of course not, what do you take me for?” he smiles, a radiant and practiced smile that makes me want to punch him.

  Maybe that’s just me, but fake people, they make me irrationally angry sometimes.

  When we get outside, there are fences with thick screens over them, the temporary rapid deployment fences they usually use to section off a gate from the public. There’s a wiry woman striding toward Starman quickly.

  “Lord Starman,” she says, giving him a strange bow, “The press is ready for a statement.”

  Lord? Fuck me. She must be his personal assistant, from the looks of her and how she’s frantically brushing off the dust and soot from his clothes.

  “Good, good, did you prepare a mask for my friend here?”

  “I um…”

  He puts his hands on his hips, “Jennifer we have talked about this, you must anticipate what I want, before I even know that I want it.”

  “Sorry, Lord, I will do better, Lord.”

  “Mm, see that you do,” he sighs, then turns to Tran, “Apologies, I spoke so highly of my staff, only to have them disappoint. My little friend, unfortunately you can’t come for the brief with me. WHA identity concealment is of the utmost importance.”

  “I don’t mind,” Tran says, yawning, “Where’s the plane, we can wait for you there?”

  “Splendid,” he smiles, then snaps in Jennifers face. She flinches and he smirks before whipping his golden cape and moving toward the fence.

  In a single leap he jumps the fence, there’s thunderous applause and cheers. Jennifer balls her fist and closes her eyes for a deep breath before ushering us to a blacked out SUV. I notice that the tires are the run flat kind and the glass looks extra thick.

  “Good security equipment, only positive I’ve seen so far,” Clayton says, moving into the seat next to me.

  Jennifer shoots him an appraising look, “We usually have much more staff on standby, but… Starman did not let us know he was coming here.” She looks at Tran, “I can assure you that the WHA normally takes security much more seriously.”

  Clayton tsks his tongue and shrugs, leaning back into his seat, at least one of his hands is always ready to pull his daggers. He acts relaxed, but I don’t know that he ever really is. I don’t think the WHA will hurt Tran or us. The vibe I’m getting is that they just want to collect us. Add us to their set.

  I should be upset about the idea, but with Senator Alveria and her unnamed boss cutting our deal to shreds, I’m not entirely against the idea of shopping around. At the end of the day, only one thing matters.

  Getting stronger, by any means necessary.

  ***

  On the way to the airport, Jennifer pulled up the press release that Starman gave, she bit her nails the whole time. Essentially he made up some bullshit about an anti UWO rebel faction holding some people hostage, and that the WHA came to help. He made it sound like they couldn’t have handled the fabricated situation without him. He was also sure to disparage the UWO, calling for them to reform, citing that the rebels had just cause to be upset.

  I don’t like him.

  The plane is a small private jet, there are more than seven seats, including the pilots. More than ten in fact. Yet another lie. That’s fine though, Jennifer told the pilot the itinerary was for the WHA headquarters in London. We’ve been waiting for nearly three hours. Starman is just now boarding. With an entourage of heavily armored WHA mercenaries.

  Clayton eyes them one by one, “I guess they do take security seriously.”

  Red lipstick gets wiped off Starman’s face by Jennifer before he sits across from Tran and sighs loudly, “They love me, apologies my little friend, they never let me go without a full interview.”

  Tran raises a half empty champagne glass, “No worries, bro.”

  Starman flinches at the word bro, as though he finds it off putting.

  “Pilot, begin the flight,” Starman says with a clap of his hands.

  I really don’t like this guy.

  ***

  The flight was shorter than I thought it would be, you never really think about how close Paris and London are. On a map, they always seem further. Guess that’s because the maps are a little skewed anyway.

  “Well, you are certainly… interesting company,” Starman says to Tran, putting his arm around him as they walk in front of us a few paces down the flight line. There’s another set of blacked out SUVs waiting with a small army of WHA suits.

  “Well, fuck me,” Clayton says with a grin, then quieter, “Stay close to me, godslayer.”

  Barlow hasn’t left my side either, he looks equally curious and worried. He’s also been very quiet.

  “You good,” I ask.

  He nods, eyes moving back and forth from the suits, “I’m good.”

  From the vehicles, a man with slicked back hair steps out, he’s wearing a nicer suit than the rest of them, golden cufflinks glitter in the light.

  Starman cocks his head to the side, like he’s surprised to see him, “Chairman, to what do we owe this…” he pauses, looking the man up and down, “pleasure?”

  A chairman of the WHA, I’ve never met one before. They are the upper echelon, directly below the president of the WHA. Each one is in charge of a specific section of management.

  “Oh shit…” Clayton grumbles, putting both of his hands close to his daggers, “Stay very fucking close to me.”

  The chairman slowly removes his shades and looks at Starman like he’s the shit that needs to be scraped from his boots. Already earning points in my books. Not sure why Clayton is… oh… oh fuck. My hands start to feel clammy as I realize something. A thing that I should have accounted for before.

  “You were not supposed to be here, Starman, Ajax and Vella were.”

  Starman shrugs, “Ajax did not want to do it, and Vella, well, she didn’t care either way, so I decided why not give our new fledgling hero a proper welcome.”

  The chairman adjusts his golden cufflinks and sneers at Starman, “Well, no harm done.”

  He moves towards us, looking at all of us before he stops in front of Tran, “My name is Chairman Olivers, head of Internal Affairs for the World Hunters Association. It will be my honor and pleasure to escort you today.”

  His eyes move from Tran and shift to me, a smile that reminds me of a goblin creeps across his mouth for but a fleeting moment, like he’s telling me he knows who I am.

  He may not know that I’m the Respec skill holder, but he knows me, and I know him too.

  It was foolish to come here.

  “Olivers,” Tran says, scratching his chin, “Your name sounds familiar, have we met?”

  Olivers chuckles, “No, you would remember meeting me. He motions to the cars, “Would you like a ride?”

  Tran shrugs, “Better than walking.”

  Barlow gives me a look before he swallows. He knows the name too.

  “I think we can find our own accommodations,” Clayton says, stepping forward to grab Tran’s shoulder, “We wouldn’t want to trouble a Chairman. Right Tran?”

  “Oh no, I insist, it’s no trouble at all,” Olivers says with a wicked smile.

  Tran shrugs off Clayton’s hand, but squints at Olivers, “You sure we haven’t met?”

  “Positive.”