254 Kidnapping Attempt
254 Kidnapping Attempt
When I thought we would have a brief respite, something normal to anchor ourselves to, I was instead staring at a wound carved into my own world.
“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” I said as I sat at the open edge of the helicopter, boots dangling over empty air.
Below us, the ocean was wrong.
Nicole stood beside me, coat whipping in the rotor wash. “Why?” she asked evenly. “Did you see something in it?”
“Yeah,” I replied, narrowing my eyes. “Spatial fluctuation. Subtle, but consistent. That’s not just displacement. It’s organized. Chances are it’s some kind of portal hub.”
The missing section of ocean formed a perfect, colossal triangle. The water had not flooded inward. It had not collapsed. It simply… wasn’t there. The seabed lay exposed to open sky, glistening under harsh floodlights from temporary installations.
Nicole crossed her arms. “It’s designated Devil’s Triangle. Joint authority between us, the GDF, the SRC, and the NSD. Quarantined zone. We decided to keep it away from the public.”
Panic was the least of our concerns.
Over the past months, this world had undergone accelerated growth in power manifestation. Ratings climbed. New abilities surfaced. Activity spiked globally. With that kind of volatility, all it would take was one overeager rookie, one extremist, one opportunist, and this place would become a battleground.
It was an unsettling sight.
An enormous triangular space carved cleanly from the ocean, its edges unnaturally precise.
“Let’s take a closer look,” I said.
Nicole did not argue. She moved closer instead and wrapped an arm around me. I placed a hand at her waist and stepped off the helicopter.
We fell.
The wind roared for half a second before I phased us into controlled descent. We slowed to a gentle hover just above the exposed ocean floor. Sand and coral formations lay scattered like fossils of a forgotten world. Temporary scaffolding rose in the distance where a facility was being constructed at the triangle’s center.
Nicole spoke as we floated.
“Researcher-class capes from all four factions are rotating in shifts. The SRC provided spatial analysts. We contributed structural and AI support. The GDF is handling perimeter enforcement. The NSD insisted on observers.”
I snorted softly. “Observers.”
A Company employee in a black suit approached with an SRC trooper at his side. When the employee recognized us, he leaned toward the trooper, whispered something, and tactfully redirected him elsewhere.
I appreciated the discretion.
“How certain are you that this is the Entity’s work?” I asked quietly.
Nicole exhaled, tension seeping through her posture. “Chances are high.”
She moved slightly away from me, gaze fixed on the triangular void.
“According to Phasecrash, the group she encountered is a cult. More specifically, they worship an apocalyptic end that they believe will liberate them from this world and bring them into some ultimate afterlife. We’ve traced them through fragments in the criminal underworld. They call themselves the Cult of the End.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Paleman?” I asked.
“He’s a major figure,” she confirmed. “There are three other executives we’ve identified. One of them is Master Sequence.”
That name was not inspiring any confidence to me.
“We’ve been conducting joint crackdowns with the GDF,” she continued. “The NSD wants in, but they would absolutely leverage it for political gain or infiltration. I’ve kept them at arm’s length.”
Smart.
“And Huston?” I asked.
Nicole’s lips thinned. “His people established an embassy on Markend. They claim they’ve founded a sovereign nation called Eden.”
Of course they had.
“The SRC is stretched thin,” she went on. “They’re juggling diplomatic talks and military containment with Huston’s forces while still maintaining operations against the cult. Now this appears.”
She gestured toward the empty triangle.
“It’s a circus, Nick,” she admitted, her voice finally betraying fatigue. “The Entity, a cult trying to accelerate the end of everything, Huston building paradise with teeth, the NSD posturing, the SRC playing chess on multiple boards… and somewhere in that chaos is our son.”
I felt her exhaustion through more than words. Stress radiated off her in tight, brittle waves.
I reached for her hand and squeezed gently.
“We’ll make it work,” I said. “I’m here.”
Nicole turned to me, her expression composed but searching. “What’s your plans with the SRC? I believe you have a closer relationship with them than you let on. Nick, I won’t pry on your decisions, but they are dangerous. They keep too many secrets. We don’t really know their endgame.”
The truth was, I knew more than I ever admitted.
I could have learned even more if I pressed Guesswork. He would have answered, or at least given me pieces. However, now was not the time to tug at threads that could unravel entire structures. The implications buried in the Archives alone were frightening enough. I had seen projections. Contingencies. Fail-safes that did not differentiate between ally and asset.
I exhaled slowly.
I could not lie to Nicole. She would see it immediately, not through psychic intrusion but through familiarity. She knew the cadence of my hesitation.
“They recruited me,” I said carefully. “Their leadership has a vacant seat. They offered it to me.”
Her eyebrow arched slightly.
“I rejected it,” I added. “My place is here. With you.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Awww. You’re making me blush.”
“I’m serious,” I replied. “Also, can you look after Guesswork’s family for me? No need to be secretive. Make a donation. Set up something stable. Just make sure they’re taken care of.”
She frowned, displeasure flickering across her face. “You’re not thinking of leaving that seat to me, are you? I mean, the Company’s great, but… I enjoy being the boss, sure, but that’s your organization, Nick. Something you built with George.”
I shook my head. “It’s something George and Guesswork built together. I came later. George decided I had a stake in it, and that’s how I ended up as the so-called big bad boss.”
Nicole folded her arms, listening.
“Listen,” I continued. “I like wearing the suit and acting intimidating, but I’m terrible at management. I don’t even have a degree. You don’t either, technically, but you’re far more composed and structured than I am. I’m a hammer, Nicole. I solve problems by hitting them. That’s always been my role.”
She did not interrupt.
“On top of that,” I said, “I still need to travel. Other worlds. Raise my ratings. I don’t feel comfortable unless I’m pushing toward the theoretical peak of my class.”
Strength was assurance. Strength was leverage. Strength was the only guarantee that when something like the Entity emerged, I would not be swatted aside.
Of course, that path was dangerous. If I climbed too far, too recklessly, I might end up becoming something unrecognizable. Dr. Time had stopped at Rated-30 for a reason. I still did not know how he restrained himself at that threshold, or what mechanism he used to avoid cascading evolution.
“Wait,” Nicole said suddenly.
Her phone vibrated sharply against her palm. She slipped it from her jacket and glanced at the screen.
“Please tell me it’s important,” I muttered.
My thoughts drifted briefly toward strategy. The alliances forming between factions could become the skeleton of something larger. A coalition of worlds. A stabilizing network that did not rely on the NSD’s authoritarian grip, nor the SRC’s shadowed chess games, nor Huston’s polished utopia.
Perhaps Lockworld could serve as a public-facing partner. Perhaps I could scout additional worlds suited for cooperation.
The framework was there.
It just needed careful hands.
Nicole had gone very still.
Her eyes scanned the message once, then again. The color drained from her face, replaced by something far worse than panic. Fury warred with fear behind her composure.
I sasked softly. “What’s the problem?”
She looked up at me.
For a fraction of a second, she was not the calculating executive or the poised leader of the Company. She was just a mother.
“R-Ron’s missing,” she whispered.
The world seemed to constrict.
“He’s been taken.”
It did not take long to reach the Company building.
I expected damage.
Explosions. Scorch marks. Shattered glass. Some visible sign that a battle had taken place and we had simply arrived too late.
Instead, everything was immaculate.
Security personnel stood at attention. Systems hummed. Elevators functioned. The facade of control remained perfectly intact.
Nicole and I moved through corridors in silence until we reached the secured chamber where Abner and Spoiler waited. Both looked troubled, conflicted. Loyal people forced to deliver unacceptable news.
I reined in my anger. They were not the enemy.
Abner bowed his head the moment he saw me. “I apologize, my lord. If it means anything, please kill me—”
“Don’t waste my breath, Abner,” I said, my voice colder than I intended. “What happened?”
Spoiler stepped forward before he could continue spiraling. “It’s Dullahan.”
Onyx manifested beside Nicole in a burst of light. “Fuck! I knew we couldn’t trust that bitch!”
Nicole laughed.
It was not amusement. It was fracture.
“Ha ha ha… Really? Dullahan?” she said, hand rising to cover her mouth as if the absurdity might spill out. “We got fooled by her of all people? She claimed she was George’s friend, and she pulls this? I suppose it’s possible. She’s special even among technopaths.”
Her mind was racing visibly.
“Should we put a bounty on her? No, that alerts rivals. Griffin? Yeah, we could rely on her. Dullahan. Dullahan. There’s definitely someone behind her. Yes, that makes sense.”
Silver appeared beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, Nicole. Think this through properly.”
“It’s not that simple,” Spoiler interjected quietly. “Abner, show them.”
Abner activated his tablet. “This was left in the room. The system alerts triggered only after Little King vanished. I believe Dullahan intentionally tripped them once she was already clear.”
The video began.
A headless woman stood in the nursery chamber.
Dullahan’s black coat flowed unnaturally, circuitry glinting beneath synthetic fabric. In her arms, she carried a transparent containment tube. Inside, suspended in stasis fluid, was my son.
Ron.
My fists tightened involuntarily.
From the open space where her head should have been, a projection flickered into existence. A familiar voice resonated through the speakers.
“Eclipse,” Dullahan said, her tone strangely composed. “I have a message for you from George.”
The projection stabilized into a facsimile of a face formed from data streams.
“We had to do this,” she continued. “If we did not, they would have taken him from you in a far worse manner. The Company is no longer safe for Little King. Forces behind the scenes have begun moving in earnest. You cannot see them yet, but they are already inside your walls. They call themselves the Cult of the End.”
The projection flickered again.
“You will want to chase me,” she added. “Restrain yourself. This is not betrayal. This is extraction.”
The video ended.
Silence followed.
Nicole turned to me, disbelief etched across her face. “Nick. She took our son.”
“That’s George,” I said evenly.
Everyone stared at me.
“She’s manipulated us before,” Nicole argued. “You can’t possibly—”
“My power has evolved,” I interrupted quietly. “I can see through tangible and intangible qualities now. Essence. Structure. Intent. A part of George exists within her. I’m certain.”
That did not soothe the rage coiling in my chest.
If anything, it complicated it.
By principle, Dullahan was untrustworthy. Her history demanded skepticism. Yet she had cooperated for months, filling the void George left, earning trust through competence. She had stabilized systems we did not even realize were fragile.
Now she claimed to be protecting my son.
And part of me believed her.
That did not mean I was not furious.
“Nicole,” I said, forcing myself into strategy. “You need to purge parts of the Company. Quietly. Assume infiltration at mid to upper levels. We cannot underestimate whoever is moving behind the curtain.”
Her expression sharpened instantly, executive instinct overriding maternal panic.
“I’ll begin internal audits,” she replied.
“Spoiler,” I continued, turning to her. “Track Paleman. Cooperate with other organizations if necessary. Spread word that he’s mine. If you get his location, call it in immediately. I’ll respond personally.”
Spoiler nodded. “Understood.”
“Abner,” I said, “lead me to the portal site.”
He straightened. “Yes, my lord.”
I looked back at Nicole. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave Abner to handle the situation with that other world for now.”
She frowned. “What’s your play, Nick?”
I held her gaze.
“The nature of George’s disappearance always bothered me,” I said. “You told me he vanished under threat of death. That never sat right with me.”
A mind like George’s would not disappear without layers of contingency.
“I think,” I continued slowly, “we need an expert third-party consultation.”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “From who?”
I felt the weight of the decision settle into place.
“Someone who understands death and machines at a more intimate manner than any of our personnel,” I replied. “We’ll need Krissy.”
I stepped through the Company’s portal band and into a world that still smelled faintly of salt and decay.
The air felt heavier here, as if it still remembered Rodney’s reign. The abandoned factory where Krissy and I had constructed the portal ring stood exactly where I left it.
It was no longer abandoned.
Floodlights illuminated the yard. Scaffolding hugged the exterior walls. Cables ran in organized lines instead of desperate tangles. The ring I built had been reinforced, plated, stabilized. What had once been a prototype now looked like the foundation of an industry.
People noticed me almost immediately.
“It’s him!”
“The Grim Reaper’s back!”
“He came back already?”
“Didn’t he just leave two days ago?”
Several workers dropped their tools and rushed closer, though they maintained a respectful perimeter. Their souls flared bright with recognition and gratitude.
An older man wiped grease from his hands and laughed. “We were just arguing about whether you’d ever return!”
A woman pointed toward the portal ring. “We’ve been improving it like you showed us! It hasn’t exploded yet, so I think we did okay!”
I nodded faintly, though my mind was elsewhere.
“Where’s Krissy?” I asked.
Before anyone could answer, a familiar blond blur descended from above.
Richie hovered upside down in front of me, grinning. “Whoa! I didn’t expect to see you this soon.”
“I need Krissy,” I replied.
His grin softened slightly when he caught the tone in my voice. “Serious business?”
“Yes.”
He flipped upright. “Follow me!”
He led me across the yard and into a neighboring factory that had been converted into a proper workshop. The interior buzzed with activity. Worktables lined the walls. Half-assembled drones hung from suspended rigs. Technicians debated schematics projected in midair.
Krissy stood at the center of it all, barking instructions while tightening a bolt with her prosthetic hand.
“Recalibrate that stabilizer before you fry the whole grid!” she shouted. “And if you melt another capacitor, I’m docking your dinner rations!”
She turned mid-rant and froze when she saw me.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, lowering her wrench. “If it isn’t the Grim Reaper himself.”
The workers followed her gaze and murmured excitedly.
Krissy clapped her hands sharply. “Alright, folks, take ten. I need to entertain our guest.”
Groans and playful complaints echoed as people dispersed.
She approached me, wiping her hands on a rag. “You look like hell,” she observed bluntly. “So, what do you need?”
I did not waste time.
“What do you think about a field trip?” I asked. “I need your help with something.”
Her eyes lit up instantly.
“Oh?” she said, tilting her head. “Cross-world trouble already?”
“Yes.”
She leaned her hip against a workbench, studying my expression more closely. The humor in her face faded a notch.
“This isn’t about rebuilding,” she said quietly. “This is… something else.”
“My son was taken,” I said.
The workshop seemed to grow still despite the lingering background noise.
Krissy’s jaw tightened. “Taken how?”
“By someone who claims to be protecting him,” I answered. “Someone who may be partially inhabited by a dead man I trusted.”
She blinked once. “Well. That’s a sentence.”
“I need an expert perspective,” I continued. “You lived under a god of the dead for eighty years. You built tech to survive him. You understand the intersection of soul, system, and anomaly better than most Researcher-class capes I know.”
She stared at me for several seconds, prosthetic fingers flexing thoughtfully.
“You want me to help you evaluate whether this ‘dead man’ inside her is genuine,” she said slowly. “And whether your kid is safer with her than with you.”
“Yes.”
Richie, who had been hovering awkwardly nearby, piped up, “You’re going to fight another god?”
“Hopefully not,” I replied.
Krissy snorted. “With you, that’s optimistic. Of course, I might just be imagining it.”
She pushed off the workbench and grabbed her heavy tool belt. “Alright. Field trip it is.”
She turned to her workers. “Listen up! I’m stepping out for a bit. Don’t blow up the grid. If you do, at least document how.”
A chorus of acknowledgments followed.
“Let’s go.”