When Luke asked what would happen to him going forward, having swallowed his frustration over them blaming him for their own mistake of sending a damn nuke to wipe Relian out, every eye turned to Agent Halstrom, like she was a judge about to pass down an execution.

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?" Luke asked.

  "Nothing?!" Burt, the CIA agent, screamed.

  A cacophony of voices filled the small interrogation room. Halstrom sat there, ignoring the onslaught of curses, questions, and arguments, waiting until the room fell silent enough for her to speak without raising her voice.

  "Mr. Quinn is a US citizen. I'll not go into the options we explored with various judges, but there is no lawful way for us to... dispose of this problem."

  "Who cares about that in a situation like this?" Burt asked, his voice low and menacing.

  "Oh, shut up, Burt," Halstrom said, her voice tired, like they'd had this argument before. "The law still matters. If I see you interfering in this, there will be hell to pay, and I will be watching."

  "This is an outrage!" Burt said, turning to walk out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

  Luke swallowed hard, unsure what to think. "So... I'm free to go?"

  "I'm afraid it isn't quite as simple as that. Your release will hinge on your agreeing to some conditions."

  "Figured," Luke said, still breathing a sigh of relief. "Let's hear them."

  "You can't leave the country," Halstrom said.

  "Done," Luke agreed. "That doesn't include dungeons and the like, right?"

  Halstrom eyed Linden, the DIA agent, who shook his head. She turned back to him. "I'm afraid that includes portals and things of that nature. We can't have you risk setting off the weapon."

  "What?" Luke blurted out.

  "You will not touch your inventory for any reason," Halstrom continued. "You will be relocated to a house far from any town. I'm sure you understand. We can't take the risk. Supplies will be delivered to you."

  "That's just jail with extra steps," Luke said, shaking his head in disbelief. "What am I supposed to do?"

  "We will provide you with people to heal," Halstrom said, her voice without inflection.

  Luke raised an eyebrow. "Will you now?"

  "We are grateful for what you accomplished in terminating the threat designated 'Fallen Shepherd'. This deal is a result of that, and your actions leading up to it. Do you accept?"

  Luke: "OK. I could use that help, Alan."

  As if prompted, someone new entered the room. Halstrom, Linden, and everyone else eyed the newcomer, a nondescript man in his forties with short brown hair, thick eyebrows, and a sharp chin. Above all else, his eyes drew Luke's attention. They looked dull. Dead, almost.

  "Leave," the newcomer said, addressing the room in a low voice that brooked no argument.

  That didn't stop Halstrom. "The FBI has jurisdiction here. I don't know who-"

  He handed over a single sheet of paper with, as far as Luke could tell, only a single paragraph printed on it. The indignation and authority drained from Halstrom's face the moment she read whatever it said, and she handed the paper back with a slight shake of her head. "This is highly unusual."

  The newcomer didn't answer her, and soon everyone else filed out of the room. Halstrom gave Luke a look, but didn't say a thing. Once they were all gone, Luke turned in his chair to face this enigmatic stranger.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Who are you, then? Another CIA agent?"

  He didn't wear a tag, like Halstrom and Linden, so Luke didn't have a clue as to how to address him, so he tried a different tactic.

  "Want me to heal your cancer?"

  The newcomer didn't even blink. He knew of the illness, but the possibility of being healed did not make him show even a glimmer of emotion, and late-stage pancreatic cancer was no joke. Instead, he seated himself across from Luke, on the other side of the table. For a moment, he just sat there, watching Luke, then he interlaced his fingers, leaned forward a little, and put the cards on the table.

  "You are free to go on one condition."

  "I'm not living like a hermit as the government’s own private heal-boy," Luke said.

  After watching Luke in silence for another couple of seconds, the stranger ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them, and blinked once. "Join Integrated Solutions Group."

  "...What?"

  That one came out of nowhere. Or did it?

  Luke: "Is this guy sitting across from me one of yours?"

  Alan: "Yes."

  Luke: "And this is your way of forcing me into your guild?"

  Alan: "You said you wanted help. This was the only way I could make it happen. A lot of people wanted you gone in one way or another. With none of their solutions very good for you, I called in a lot of favors and greased even more palms. Having that man sitting in front of you to make you this offer took a lot of work and a lot of funds. Even then, I've made promises about keeping an eye on you. Having you join my guild was a way of appeasing the opposition. You are still not forced to join, of course. I'll understand if you choose to go with the FBI's solution."

  Luke leaned back, considering, his thoughts circling a bad feeling in his gut, until he found words to put to that feeling.

  Luke: "You're not responsible for them sending the nuke, are you, Alan?"

  Alan: "That got a chuckle out of me, Luke. I'm your friend, not an evil mastermind."

  The assurance fell flat and did little to ease the strangeness surrounding the whole situation. Even if Alan didn't have anything to do with the events leading up to this moment, the strings he would have had to pull to work the government into agreeing with his suggestion. Well, it was staggering.

  "Who are you?" Luke asked the stranger. "How do you know Alan?"

  No reply.

  The heavy feeling in his stomach got worse, not better. Luke felt trapped and, even worse, he didn't know if it was in a prison of his own making or not. No, this was not a situation he enjoyed. At all.

  "I'll do it."

  Luke: "I'll do it."

  Alan: "Great! Welcome aboard! I'll have someone pick you up out front."

  The stranger stood and walked toward the door without a word.

  "I can still heal you, you know," Luke said, but the stranger just left without looking back, leaving the door open.

  Soon after, he was standing around, watching the long line of people waiting to touch the orb, when a car pulled up. Luke wasn't a car guy, but even he could tell it was a real clunker. It was some model from the early 90s with spots of rust all over the red, faded paint, and an engine that sounded like an airplane. Even when idling, the exhaust gushed fumes. The driver, a woman with a curly tangle of blond hair, some of it in dreads, about Luke's age, with a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth, turned the crank, lowering the window.

  "What's up! You're Luke, yeah?" she asked in a voice that sounded like she was never long without one of those cigarettes.

  "Yeah, that's me."

  "Well, get in, sweet cheeks! I'm Melanie, but you can call me Mumu!"

  Luke took a hesitant step to the passenger side and opened the door. Smoke billowed out, and he coughed, trying to wave the worst of it off.

  "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" she asked, once he forced himself into the seat.

  "Well-"

  Hitting the gas so the car lurched into motion, she laughed. "Nah, of course you don't!"

  Coughing, Luke's eyes widened as the car almost hit an old guy out walking his dog. "You're driving me all the way to Chicago?"

  That set her off laughing so hard it turned into a coughing fit, and it took Mumu a good long while to gather herself enough to speak again. "Such a joker! I'm bringing you to the train station!"

  "Train? I didn't even know trains ran from here to Chicago."

  "They do," she said, nodding so hard that ash from her cigarette fell into her lap. "They sure do!"

  "Won't that take forever? The train, I mean? Didn't Alan have someone he wanted healed right away?"

  "I don't know anything about that. I'm just doing a favor for an old buddy," she croaked. "But you're not taking the train."

  "I'm not?"

  "No, no. That thing just runs once per day, I think, and we're way past that departure. Also, I think they canceled the trains on account of the monsters."

  "Huh? What monsters?"

  "Just some orcs coming down from up north, and some kind of bat things. No worries, though. I think they've been dealt with."

  Doing his best to keep his composure, he asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "So why are you taking me to the train station?"

  She held up her hand, and a strange energy surged between her thumb and index finger. "You won't be taking the train, but we'll be using its system. Don't worry, you'll see. It's amazing!"

  Her bloodshot eyes didn't inspire much confidence in her suggested mode of transportation.

  "Maybe you could just take me to the airport?"

  Mumu drew on her cigarette and exhaled smoke right into Luke's face. "No way! I'm a woman of my word. You're needed in Chicago now! A flight will take forever! Don't worry, I'm sure my way is safe!"

  "What do you mean you're sure it's safe? That makes me think it's not!"