Echo

Doug clapped his hands together, his grin widening. "Alright, where should I start? Oh! How about the story of how me and Micheal met?"

Tucker perked up immediately. "Yeah, yeah! Tell us!"

Doug straightened his posture then began to talk. "Alright, listen up! I remember it like it was yesterday. Micheal was just a rookie when we first met—fresh-faced, scrawny, and honestly? A nervous wreck! Poor kid jumped at almost everything all the time."

Micheal sighed but didn't interrupt.

"But you know what?" Doug continued, his voice taking on a fond tone. "That fear? That anxiety? It didn't break him. It shaped him. He pushed through it, and now look at him. One of the toughest guys I know."

Tucker and Shirley exchanged glances, intrigued.

Doug chuckled. "Man, we used to think he was the weirdest guy on the team. Not just 'cause of his nerves, but—" He waved a hand toward Micheal. "I mean, come on. Curly pink hair? Not exactly standard."

Micheal rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Doug."

Doug just grinned. "Hey, I'm just saying. We all thought it was strange at first. But he grew on us. We ended up on the same ship, heading for our big trip to the First Co—"

Suddenly, Micheal spun toward Doug, his expression sharp. "That's enough."

Doug blinked, caught off guard.

Micheal's lips curled into a small smirk, though his tone was firm. "You can tell them anything else. But not that. I want them to figure it out themselves if they choose to… walk that path.

Tucker and Shirley sat up straighter, their eyes bouncing between the two men.

"Wait, what? What are you guys talking about?" Tucker asked, leaning forward.

Doug glanced at Micheal, searching his face for confirmation. Micheal gave him a subtle nod.

Doug chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "Roger that."

Aww, man!" Tucker groaned, slumping his shoulders.

Madison, already walking further up the deck, scoffed. "Story sucked anyway."

Doug chuckled, unfazed. "Well, looks like everyone enjoyed it—except you." He jabbed a thumb toward Tucker. "Especially this kid."

"Yeah, yeah, I liked it!" Tucker said, throwing his hands up. Then, Shirley turned to Madison, he smirked. "Maybe you could tell us a better one, huh, Maddie?"

Madison froze mid-step. Slowly, she turned back to face them, her expression darkening.

"Maddie?" she echoed, her voice low, dangerous. Her sharp gaze locked onto Shirley. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

The air on the deck grew heavy.

"You will never—ever—know anything about me. We are not friends. We are not allies. We're just strangers who happen to have the same goal." She took a step closer, "Call me that again, and I'll kill you."

A tense silence followed.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Madison spun on her heel and strode into the cabin, slamming the door behind her.

"Stuck a nerve, huh?" Doug said.

Tucker let out a long, exaggerated whistle. "Daaamn." He dragged out the word, making it sound even more dramatic than necessary.

Shirley awkwardly scratched the back of his head, unsure of what to say. Micheal, meanwhile, let out a tired sigh and turned toward the cabin.

"I'm calling it a night. Goodnight," he said, disappearing inside without another word.

"That's another one down," Shirley muttered.

"Well, it is pretty late," Tucker shrugged.

Doug chuckled, resting his hands on his hips. "How about I teach you boys somethin' else before you turn in?"

Shirley and Tucker exchanged a glance before nodding. Doug smirked, looking pleased.

"Alright then—tell me, have y'all ever heard of Beyond Sight?"

Both boys shook their heads, their confusion showing.

Doug's grin widened. "Didn't think so. Well, I don't know much about 'em either, but I do know this—they're scattered all over the world and are considered the strongest Presence Eyes users to ever exist."

Shirley narrowed his eyes, intrigued, while Tucker's mouth hung open slightly.

Doug continued, his voice carrying a hint of thrill. "They say there are twelve of 'em in total, and the Order of Assassination has been after their heads for years. Their identities? Completely unknown. Only those hunting them know who they really are."

Tucker gasped. "Woah—so you're telling me assassins actually exist? Like, real ones?"

Doug nodded. "That's right."

Shirley, still processing, blinked. "Wait, hold on. You're telling me there are more people like us out there? People who aren't glued to a damn screen? More geniuses?"

Doug squinted at him, then shrugged. "Well… I guess you could put it that way."

Shirley leaned back slightly, staring up at the night sky. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Maybe this world isn't as boring as I thought…"

Doug leaned against the railing, arms crossed. "Alright, boys. You should get some rest. I'll keep watch out here."

Tucker stretched his arms above his head with a yawn. "Fine by me. 'Night, Doug!" He dashed into the cabin without a second thought.

Shirley lingered for a moment before nodding. "Yeah… goodnight, Doug."

Doug smirked, giving him a small wave as he turned back to the ocean.

Shirley stepped into the cabin, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the wooden walls. He glanced around—no sign of Tucker. Figures. He was always running off somewhere. With a sigh, he wandered through the narrow halls until he found an empty room. It wasn't much—just a small bed and a single porthole—but it would do.

He sat on the edge of the bed, exhaling slowly. Sleeping on a boat was never easy, but he still let himself sink into the mattress, willing himself to relax.

Then, a thought struck him.

Family.

The word echoed in his mind, unfamiliar yet heavy. He hadn't spoken to his family in… how long? Days? Weeks? Maybe longer. Ever since that moment—the White House, the woman dying, meeting Micheal, learning Presence Eyes—his life had flipped on its head. He had been so caught up in survival, that he never stopped to think about them.

A strange unease settled in his chest as he reached into his bag, fingers brushing against something cold and familiar. His phone.

He hadn't touched it in forever, but when he powered it on, the screen lit up. Not dead.

For a second, he just stared at it, hesitating. Then, almost instinctively, he swiped to his messages, scrolling until his eyes landed on a single name.

Mom.

He clicked on the chat, his heart beating a little faster.

The screen loaded.

"Oh." Shirley said.

Nothing.

No missed calls. No messages.

Nothing.

His grip on the phone tightened, his face unreadable. He wasn't sad. He wasn't angry. Just… empty.

Like a realization had finally sunk in, one he hadn't acknowledged until now.

Nobody had tried to reach him. Not once.