Reality Heist by Geordi Riker (e manga reader .txt) 📕

that I have reverse trust issues- I trust people as soon as I get to know them a little. But that's not true. I trust my team, and you're a part of it now, so I should trust you as much as I trust any one of the others. If you can't trust your team during down-time, then why bother even going on missions with them?”
“Some of that Dimension 2 wisdom?”
“Yeah. You can only leave the city in teams, and it's pretty dangerous outside of our bubbles. That's why it's so important to trust the team you're with. You eat, sleep, and live with each other from a very young age. Learn each others' strengths and weaknesses so that you become stronger as a whole. Your dimension has it all wrong. A team isn't as strong as it's weakest link. A team is as strong as its ability to compensate for the weakest links.”
The rest of the walk is made in silence. A good ten minutes later, we reach some sort of high end restaurant, that spans five levels. Jesse leads me right past it, and guides me across the road to another park bench. “It's nothing personal,” he apologizes, “It's just that I can't find out what identity to use if we're ever gonna find them in there. There's several layers of security, and different stamps on your credentials gain you access to certain levels. I just need to get away from you so that I know what we should use.”
“Make me feel like a spare, why don't you?”
“Hey, it's nothing personal, I said. It's just that your Pressure's somehow growing, so I need to get a little distance before I can even hope of linking up with them in there.” With that, he crosses the street, pulls something from his pocket, sticks it in his mouth, and lights it with a lighter. His eyes close and he dips his head as he lights it, and lingers a little bit longer than necessary. He lifts his head, takes a few puffs, before spitting the cigarette out and stamping it under his foot. He then crosses the street and plops down beside me, “The dumb-asses are gold carding it. I'm not complaining, but we might look a little too young for that lounge. Pull out your bag of I.D., and I'll show you which one it is. Aha, got it.” He pulls out a small booklet from his bag that looks exactly like an ID card, but is a gold colour rather than the white that's generally accepted. I look in my bag, and find the only gold coloured card and pull it out. Slightly curious, I flip it over and am blinded by a quick flash of light. I blink twice to let my eyes readjust, and choke back my surprise at seeing the picture reflecting exactly what I'm wearing.
Jesse leans over, “That's awesome. Yours actually works. Mine always gives me the wrong hair colour, so I always have to come up with some lame excuse about how I dyed it recently and wasn't able to have it updated quite yet.” I shove the rest of the papers back into the red bag, which goes back in the bottom of my backpack. “What happens if someone searches my bag?”
Jesse laughs, “Then you're screwed. Normally, we just run faster than the cops can. In the US though, I can't see us going through any sort of random inspection like they have in my dimension. Now there's a tyrannical government for you. Not allowed leaving the city without special permits and transports, and have to have booked in advance a squad of Drifters if you're nobility, or just plain old Divers if you're not. Even if you yourself are a Diver or Drifter. The only ones allowed to leave without an escort is the escort itself. They need to return to their own city sometime within the next century after all.”
We cross the street together and present our gold cards to the large beefy but well dressed man standing at the base of the steps. He studies first the card, and then us. “You're awfully young to have such access,” he starts slowly. Suspicion oozes from every word he utters, and I shrink back a little bit mentally.
Jesse, however, is as cool as a frozen cucumber, “Yah, well, our dad's one of a kind. He insists that we share some quality family time, since I'm almost due to take over the business, but he's still bursting his breeches from meeting to meeting, getting everything settled for my takeover come December, so the only chance we get is between his meetings. We've got an hour before his next appointment shows up for a brunch, so we're eating now instead of later without him. He's quite skilled with all the meetings now, what with that belly he's putting on. Some of his close friends might have come with him today, I have no idea.” I finally realize that he's talking about Dutch and the possibility that other members of the gang might of also come in at the same time.
The man sighs, “You two just don't look like you should have gold cards.”
“What's it to you? You probably don't even have clearance to get past these steps, commoner.” Jesse snaps back in retort, suddenly adopting the air of a spoiled rich kid.
The man's face turns red, “Sir, you two have different last names.”
Jesse slings an arm around me, pulling me close, “She's my fiance. We've been engaged since I was five and she was born, if it's any business of yours, which I sincerely doubt.” I try not to show my surprise.
The man sighs, hands us back our cards, and presses a button on a stand made especially for it. We hear a faint click from the doors, and Jesse guides me up the steps, his arm still around my shoulders. Once we're inside, he immediately releases me and takes a quick two steps to get some distance, “Sorry but otherwise he was going to find ways to keep us there for hours.
We ride the elevator to the fifth floor. The doors slide open and the sight that greets my eyes is more ritzy than any picture I've ever seen. In one blocked off area, there's clouds of smoke, with doors leading to balconies all along the wall overlooking the street we just came off of. There's also a special small one beside the elevator that overlooks a small garden out back, complete with a few cherry trees in blossom. The paneling is solid wood, with gold trim. The tables vary in size and accommodation, but each and every one offers one thing: privacy. Jesse scans the crowd quickly before grabbing my hand and placing it on his arm. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, m'lady,” he requests courteously.
I shoot him a strange look but don't say anything. The guard downstairs was right. Me and Jesse really do stand out here among the men in their finely tailored suits and the women in their cocktail dresses and skirt suits for the more professional. Even the waiters look crisp in their black clothes and crisp white aprons that cover their chest and thighs. All carry a white towel with a red letter embroidered on them. Jesse steers us towards the small balcony, and I notice a stand that says 'Private Affair'. Jesse breezes past the sign, giving a brief nod to the waiter just leaving the balcony.
It seems we aren't the last to arrive. Only Chase and Dutch are here, seated at the large table big enough to host ten. Probably used more often for business meetings that contain members who don't slip out of this dimension for the occasional smoke. Chase glances up as we sit down. “So much for peace and quiet,” he murmurs, “Didn't you guys see the sign outside? Private Affair, so get out of here, you scoundrels.”
“Nice digs,” Jesse notes, leaning over the railing to get a better look at the garden, “Didn't think we could afford this kind of treatment. What next? A stay at the Royal Albert Hall?”
“That could be arranged, if you like,” Chase replies smoothly, “The Black's paying. Seems they keep an open tab here, and Dutch's name is on the list of whom that tab covers.”
Jesse snorts, “Yeah, this was real nice of them. Almost like saying, 'Oops, sorry, you guys weren't supposed to go to that trash heap called Cursed territory, so we thought we'd make it up to you by giving you a cushy spot to put your feet up before buying something in a pawn shop to sell in another dimension'.”
“Speaking of cushy living, we've got a mansion. No we're not renting it,” Chase replied to Jesse's raised eyebrow, “It's owned by the Black, specifically for when we're in town.”
“Just for us?” I ask, “I mean, we're only here once, right? We never go to the same dimension twice, you said.”
“Oh, did you think we were the only team?” Chase asks, surprised, “Actually, there's other teams too. We never really run into them, since there's literally an infinite amount of places they could be. We ran into one group once. Funny thing, they were all midgets, or dwarfs, if you want to be politically correct, unlike me. It was so weird. Like, they were specifically selected because they were short.”
“Wow, you're not at all judgmental,” Jesse mutters.
“I'm not,” Chase defends himself, widening his blue eyes to emphasize his innocence, “It's not my fault that the Black selects candidates who may join up with specific teams. Besides, according to you, there's someone actually pulling the strings. Maybe that team was just that supposed person's twisted sense of humour come to light.”
“Including the part where that team actually started shooting at us on sight? It's not fun to find out that they might be more efficient with their use of the Link, maybe even capable of cracking into ours.”
“Granted, things got hairy, but what can you do? After all, I'm pretty sure it was you who started the whole mess by trying to steal the sapphire diamond they had just snagged. The rest of us had to come to save your butt.”
“You're memory's failing you, old man. It was you who tried to con them into giving you their intel on practically everything you knew.”
“Actually,” Dutch speaks up, giving us all a start, “You guys both did it. Jesse cornered one of them at the exact same time as Chase played his little mind games with another.” He winks at me, tapping his head, “Memory of an elephant. Whatever I see, I remember for life. It's great to have.”
“Memory isn't the only gift you got from the elephants,” Chase jokes, prodding Dutch in the gut.
“You wanna go?” Dutch asks, sitting up straight and reaching for his giant bottle that stands out against the neatly arranged table.
“Not until the others get here.”
“I'm sorry, did the two of you make other plans? I assumed that we would stay as a group for this one.” It takes me a moment to recognize the crisp, British voice as Skip's.
Chase is the only one who doesn't look up as Skip, Ky, and Amaar sit down. Continuing to stare at Dutch, Chase replies snarkily, “Says the guy who wants Dutch and Amaar to go grocery shopping as soon as we get to the mansion. And is also planning to take off as well... Aw, come on, don't block me out now!”
Jesse leans towards me, “Chase is a little sneaky, he can get in your head if you're close by.”
“Not in yours,” Chase says to me, “Anyone else, no problem. But you are like a black