The door creaked open again with the crunch of boots against the floorboards. Alex stepped in, brushing cold air off his sleeves and kicking off his shoes by the door.
"Nothing out there," he said, setting down the small hunting knife Bob had made him carry. "Still boring."
"Good," Bob said from the tiny stove in the corner, where an old pot sat simmering. "I like boring. Boring doesn't stab us."
Alex snorted. "Yet."
Bob took the pot off the heat, setting two dented metal bowls on the rickety table. The smell wasn't anything mouthwatering, just beans, reheated for the third day in a row, but it was hot and edible, and that was what mattered now.
"Dinner is served," Bob said, setting Alex's bowl in front of him with a dramatic flourish. "Tonight's special: mystery beans. Same as yesterday. And the day before that. And—"
"Don't push it, old man."
"I'm twenty-three."
"You look like you're forty."
Bob grinned as they both sat down. For a moment, the only sounds were the spoons clinking against metal, and the occasional sigh from their aching joints.
Then Alex glanced over, half a smirk tugging at his face.
"So…" he started, between bites, "you and Lena?"
Bob arched a brow. "What about me and Lena?"
Alex shrugged innocently. "I dunno. Just… she's the only one who's scared you into a storage closet."
"That was for classified intel."
"That was flirting."
Bob nearly choked on a bean. "Jesus, kid."
Alex grinned wide, and Bob shot him a look, but there was no venom behind it. Just tired affection.
"I mean, she's hot," Alex added. "For, like, a government assassin."
"She was Hope's sidekick," Bob reminded.
That sobered the mood for a second. Alex nodded, taking another bite. "Right. I keep forgetting that part."
There was a long pause before he asked, more quietly, "Did she love him?"
Bob leaned back in his chair, rubbing the side of his jaw. "I don't think she knew how to answer that herself. They were… partners. Close. But love?" He exhaled slowly. "Hope didn't get close to many people. Too many targets on his back."
Alex stirred the beans in his bowl. "Kinda like us."
Bob looked at him, something soft flashing in his red eyes. "I'm not like Hope."
"Didn't say you were."
…
Alex stirred the beans with his spoon, staring at them like they might start speaking first. Then he smirked a little to himself and leaned back in his chair.
"Beth texted me."
Bob looked up from his bowl, one brow arching. "What?"
"She found a way to send a message. Used one of the burner phones."
Bob immediately tensed. "You stole one of those? Those can be traced."
Alex held up his hand. "Relax, this one can't. Lena said it's a ghost device. No signal, no ping, no ID, no location services. Only works when both ends are activated with the same encryption key, basically two cups on a string, government edition."
Bob looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded slowly, cautiously impressed. "And she used it to tell you what, exactly?"
Alex grinned. "Sent me a gif of a raccoon with a machine gun."
Bob blinked. "That's it?"
"Yup."
He paused, then added with utter confidence, "I think it means she likes me."
Bob leaned back with a quiet snort, rubbing a hand down his face. "She's definitely into you."
Alex beamed, clearly pleased with himself. "I heard that tone, and I don't like it."
Then, feigning seriousness, he said, "And to think, all it took was a classified anti-surveillance ghost phone to send the dumbest text of all time."
Bob shook his head. "You know, at your age, I was trained to infiltrate black sites, dismantle warlords, and extract prisoners from fortified bunkers. You… flirt with memes. Aren't you too young for girlfriends?"
Alex raised his spoon like a toast. "Welcome to Gen Z, grandpa."
"I'm twenty-three."
"Which makes you ancient in meme years."
Bob just sighed. "Remind me why I didn't leave you behind?"
"Because you're emotionally attached," Alex said, grinning wide.
Bob pointed his spoon. "Watch it, or I'll make you eat the mystery beans again tomorrow."
"You mean we have something other than beans?"
"…No."
…
The Next Morning...
The sun was soft, the sky lazy with clouds, and for once, the world didn't feel like it was burning.
Bob and Alex walked side by side along the cracked sidewalk of the small rural town. Bob wore a plain hoodie, hood up, head low. Alex had on oversized sunglasses and a baseball cap tilted forward. They looked like brothers, maybe cousins, just two normal people on a run for supplies.
The bell over the grocery store door jingled as they stepped in.
It was quiet, sparsely stocked, and smelled faintly of plastic and old citrus. A couple of locals milled about, a radio murmured somewhere near the back. Bob grabbed a basket and nodded toward the aisles. "Go get the canned stuff. Protein-heavy. We're low."
Alex gave a mock salute and took off down the aisle, already scanning for beans like a war criminal returning to the scene.
Bob stayed by the entrance, grabbing a jug of water, then stopped.
He felt it before he saw it. That shift in the air. The kind of chill that didn't come from broken A/C units.
When he turned, the man was already standing there.
Tall, broad, dark skin like obsidian stone, polished and proud. Dressed in a deep navy coat that didn't belong in weather like this. His eyes were the same sharp gray-blue Bob remembered from seven years ago.
Lucien.
He was older now, but not by much. Still imposing. Still unreadable. And still smiling.
Bob's hand instinctively tightened around the handle of the water jug. "You."
Lucien spread his arms slightly, like he was greeting an old friend. "Been a while, Rafael."
The name hit like a slap. Bob's jaw flexed, but he didn't move. Not here. Not with Alex nearby. "Didn't expect to see your face again. Thought you vanished after Helix Point."
Lucien chuckled, the sound soft and calculated. "Oh, I never vanish. I just wait. And I've been waiting for you."
Bob stepped forward. "I said no. That day. I meant it."
Lucien leaned in slightly, voice lowering. "And yet here you are. Out in the world again. With a child you shouldn't have. With power you're afraid to use now, that's a change. Tell me how long before the world comes hunting you again?"
Bob didn't blink. "If it does, I'll burn it down."
Lucien's smile vanished for just a moment. "This world doesn't burn so easily, Rafael. You should know that. You tried once."
At that, Bob's eyes flashed dark for a heartbeat. "Careful, the only thing keeping you alive, is that i have to lay low."
Lucien's tone shifted, cool and final. "This is a courtesy. A reminder. The Order is rising. Stronger than ever. When we come for him—" he tilted his chin toward Alex's aisle, "—don't get in our way."
Bob's voice came out low, nearly a growl. "If you come for him… I'll bury you myself."
Lucien stepped back, brushing his coat as if cleaning off the threat. "Careful, Rafael. That fury… is exactly what made you perfect. It's what makes you dangerous. You really are the biggest masterpiece."
And just like that, he turned and walked away, disappearing through the door with the soft chime of a bell.
Bob stood there, heart pounding, not from fear, but from rage. He knew it. The second he saw him. That voice, that presence. Lucien was the one. He was behind the Order.
Bob clenched his fists. The kid was in danger. Again.
Alex returned, arms full of beans and chips. "Okay, I know you said protein-heavy, but hear me out, spicy Doritos."
Bob didn't answer.
Alex blinked. "What?"
Bob's eyes were still locked on the door. "We need to go. Now."