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

at the bottom of my left pocket.
Chase guides us to the end of the station, ducking into a tunnel that opens out into a huge room. Tables line the sides accompanied by worn out chairs and booths, and directly ahead of us is a bar, a couple people sitting on the stools. The overhead lights cut in and out, whether by short circuit or design, as music pounds out of an unseen stereo. Between us and the bar is a dance floor, couples young and old alike dancing to the beat. On the fringes, a few couples are slow dancing, not even close to being in tempo with the fast rhythm. Chase guides me over to one of the booths, already crowded with five people, including Dutch and Jesse.
The other three people are a woman with dark hair, whose presence sets me on edge, a small man with chocolate brown eyes and a slight build, and a middle aged man with a ginger red beard who keeps his gaze on me as Chase introduces me to all three; Ky, Amaar, and Skip. “Don't bother asking for his actual name,” Chase yells in my ear, “Skip's kept that a secret for years. He's not going to bother telling you. According to him, it's need to know, and apparently we don't.”
“How come you didn't link up?” Ky shouts at Chase, more to be heard than anything else, earning her an irritated look from Amaar beside her.
“Because that one's jamming our signal,” Chase shouts back, jerking a thumb at me as he leans towards the center of the table. “I still can't link up, even though we're directly across form each other.” Ky drops her head for a moment before it snaps back up, her eyes gravitating to me. A chill runs down my spine as I see her eyes. They're backwards, white pupils, black irises, and green surrounding the compound. “How's that possible? I can't even sense you, at all. You aren't a member of the Black are you?”
“Since I still don't know what that is, probably not.”
She shrugs, “Well, they do have minions everywhere, so it wouldn't surprise me if they had a few minions who didn't even know they were minions while carrying out the Black's orders.”
“What's the Black?” I holler back.
“Do you two have to include the entire club in this?” Skip demands, casting his angry blue eyes between me and Ky, “Keep in mind where we are. This place knows nothing, but they hate any sort of top secret organization, so everybody stands down. We're leaving for Canada in the morning, so I'd rather not have to make a detour for the local jail to break out any one of you. In the meantime, have a drink, and we'll find a place to lie low and get some shut eye.”
“It's in Canada?” Amaar asks, surprised.
Skip nods, "Yes, specifically in the Prime Minister's private office."
"No way." Jesse exclaims, excited, "You've gotta let me in there, Skip. This is a chance of a lifetime."
"Why do you care? Your time line is nothing like this."
"I just want to see democracy in action, that's all." Jesse's voice is innocent, but the wicked gleam in his eye and the smirk that now spreads across his face speak otherwise.
Skip sighs and shakes his head, "Yeah, we're going to need your skills on this one anyways."
"Yes!" Jesse high-fives Amaar and Dutch, and the reaches across the table to high-five me. I answer halfheartedly.
"Did we have to meet here?" Chase asks.
Skip shrugs, "Seemed like a good idea, considering we always meet up in the exact center of landing, so that everyone has an equal distance to travel and no excuse to be late without a heads up. Don't worry," he interrupts Chase's attempt o speak, “Jesse already explained the situation in full. For some reason, our new member, Brandee here, is a little bit different than the rest of us."
Ky snorts, “A little? Do you hear yourself talking Skip? She's weird, just admit it already. There's no point in beating around the bush when you can just shoot an arrow at the boar that's gone to ground.”
“What does that even mean?” Jesse asks.
Ky shrugs, “How should I know?”
“Because you're the one who said it,” Chase joins in on the attack.
“She's just asking Skip to get to the point already, instead of stating the obvious all the time like he has a habit of doing,” Amaar translates. Dutch nods solemnly before swiping Amaar's untouched glass and choking it down. Amaar doesn't seem to notice, though.
“Now that's that's out of the way,” Skip cuts off any further ribbing, “let's get out of here. We've got to sneak across the border tomorrow, probably using the tube.”
“Subway, Skip. It's called a 'subway'.” Jesse corrects him. Our little group leaves as one, as Skip tosses some red bills on the table before taking the lead. We practically link arms outside the club to keep from losing each other. Jesse sticks close to one side of me, Chase on the other, and Dutch bringing up the rear. Chase glances back a few times at him, as if to make sure he hadn't disappeared, and each time, Dutch just grunts and ignores him.
We end up in a small stairwell, and everyone sprawls out along the steps, with only Chase complaining, “We have got to find better digs than this.” But soon, he's fast asleep with the rest of them. Me? I spend a sleepless night, my eyes taking in the ludicrous scene of the six people sleeping nearby that have somehow become important to my survival as my mind tries to make sense of everything that's happened.
Jesse sits up, only to collapse back against the stairs in a new, equally uncomfortable position. “Welcome to the Slider's world,” he mutters. “Illegal jobs, crappy cribs, and no pay, all a part of the package.” He's sound asleep an instant later, and I'm unable to ask him any more questions until light. Desperate

How? How could she have not heard me? There must be something interfering, something that refuses to allow me to speak with my master. I know now that it isn't natural to have gone so long without speaking to her. I should have been able to communicate with her before this happened, I should have been able to warn her.
So why couldn't I?
I stand alone, as always, but now the Inner World has changed. I can no longer see the sun, or the cold distant sky that was a constant. Instead, everything is dark, blacks and grays, no real shapes. The Motes move in cloud-like formations, swirling with some unnoticed air current. The wind has disappeared, as has the rain and lightning.
I saw my master. Mistress, I suppose I should call her. I finally, after waiting so long in a place where time has never held much meaning, I have finally seen her, the one to whom I am forever bound to serve and protect. To protect her and thus protect whatever she wills to protect. Her will is now my will, her heart mine, her hopes, aspirations, and dreams have all been integrated into my core. I know they have.
If only I could access them. But that too is regulated by her. First, she must hear my name and call me by it. Then, and only then, will I be able to finally assist her.
But is there anyway to really get her attention? So that it would be impossible to not hear me when I say my name? Humans are fragile creatures, there must be some way to get her to listen, to acknowledge me, so that I can know what it is she wishes, I'm useless if I can't do that.
The Motes swirl about me, hissing in their curiosity, supplying ideas of what I could try. Only one seems to be possible, but again, humans are fragile creatures, easy to mistrust that which they do not understand. How would my mistress react to what they are suggesting? There is only one way to find out. I only hope it is soon, in the relative terms in accordance with her time theory. The sooner the better, I sigh as I focus the Motes about me into the weapon I need for the delicate task ahead of me.

 

Electric Shock

The next few days are all a blur, us getting to know each other as we start to make the trek along the dark subway tunnels on our way to Canada. I learn a few new things about my new crew, as Jesse calls us. He's always talking like that, mixing in familiar terms with stuff so that the whole picture is twisted beyond recognition, from anything of organized drifters to tyrants who are loved by the common people to the normalcy of every son of the head of a family learning some sort of trade that in any other time-line would be considered illegal, but not when it's the Head's son. He's actually applauded for his adeptness at stealing things without people noticing. I don't believe him, but the others take him seriously enough, even though Chase complains that Jesse's only told them about a million times about how he was so much more privileged as a kid than the rest of them. Mainly, the only thing Chase said was to shut up.
But Ky was pretty talkative, explaining about how, unlike Chase, the rest of the gang refers to alternate time lines as dimensions. (“Same thing,” Chase muttered at that. Catching Ky's eye, he added, “Shut up.”) Ignoring Chase, Ky continued to explain how since there was an infinite amount of alternate dimensions, based on the theory that dimensions had been in the make since the beginning of time, or rather, when the first decision was made pertaining to the physical realm. Realm is a broad term that covers the dimensions and beyond, basically if you can go there it is classified under the Realm. In order to not get so easily confused and to give themselves something to do, the gang had come up with a classification of the dimensions based on where they had visited so far.
“There are seven categories, numbered one through seven, in case it wasn't obvious. We have