"Do you know him?"

It was the first thing Phoenix heard as he woke up. He cracked open one eye and looked around carefully. He was sitting in the backseat of a car, head against the window. His report was tucked neatly into the door pocket, and he was wearing the seatbelt. It was kind of them to do that, but he'd be happier if they hadn't kidnapped him at all.

It was the woman, Sofia, who'd spoken. She was driving, fingers tapping against the wheel. Walker was in the passenger side in front of Phoenix, and all Phoenix could see of him was that he was slumped low in the seat, his head below the headrest.

"Maybe," he responded. "I'm not sure."

Sofia shook her head. "Why did you bring the taser to the banquet?"

"It was a precaution."

"And what good did it do? You ended up using it on someone who wasn't attacking you. You could've asked to talk to him, why did you have to kidnap him?"

"He kept trying to leave!" Walker sighed. "And as for why..."

Phoenix waited, but the answer never came. Walker either fell asleep or decided to stop talking altogether. Sofia shook her head a second time and let the conversation die, so Phoenix sat up, rubbing the side of his neck. She caught his eye in the rearview mirror, but before she could react, he stuck out a hand and used his telekinesis to shove down the brake.

As gently as he tried to do it, he still did it fast, and the car lurched to a stop. Phoenix immediately undid the seatbelt, took his report, and got out of the car.

He realized with dismay that they'd come a long way. They were in the absolute outskirts of Jethro, away from the high-rises and even the low-rises. This road only had one lane per direction and was surrounded by grassy plains that stretched further than he could see. It was mostly dark, and there were no other cars.

Phoenix had no idea what they were going to do with him, and he was glad to not have to find out. He stuck to the side of the road and started walking toward the main city, its skyline glowing against the night. He heard the car doors open, but he didn't look back.

"Wait!" It was Walker.

Phoenix kept going. There were things to do. He had to pass on what Violet told him, and he had to call the Jethro police and report an attempted kidnapping, but before he did any of that, he just wanted to be safe at home.

"Phoenix, please," Walker said, his voice growing strained with every word. "I need to talk to you."

"We're sorry!" Sofia called out. Quietly, she added, "Mason. Let him go, you're freaking him out."

There was silence for a lovely few seconds, and then Walker asked, "Don't you want to know the truth?"

Phoenix froze. He turned around before he knew what he was doing. "What truth?"

Sofia glanced between him and Walker. She looked confused, and Phoenix was confused, too. He didn't understand why they put a seatbelt on him instead of restraining him or why neither of them were scared when he telekinetically pushed the brake. Jethro may be no stranger to strangeness, but being unfazed by seeing two superhumans in one day and then fearlessly confronting a telekinetic was disconcerting. There was something wrong with these two.

Walker stood by his door, hands on top of the car. He looked worse than he did in the alley, if that was possible. In the dim light the city cast on this faraway road, he seemed even more like a ghost.

"What truth?" Phoenix repeated.

Walker stared at him, expressionless. Eventually, he looked down at his feet. "I...can't," he said quietly. "I'm sorry for wasting your...time."

He got back in the car and slammed the door closed. In the vacancy of the outskirts, the slam was loud, and the silence after it was equally deafening.

"Is he okay?" Phoenix asked tightly.

Sofia put on a smile that was too bright to be genuine. "He's fine, just sick and a little drunk. I don't think he knows what he's talking about." She paused and added, "You can go. I'm sorry about all this, and if you want to file a police report, we'll cooperate."

No. That was not the expression of someone who didn't know what he was talking about. These were not the actions of someone who didn't have something important to say. Sofia was clearly trying to soften the situation, to let Phoenix go thinking that none of what Walker said mattered, but it was too late.

She watched him carefully, likely waiting for him to call the police or keep walking, but when he did neither of those things, she sighed. "You want to know what it is, don't you?"

"I don't suppose you know that it is?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I don't."

For a brief moment, he wondered if this man was secretly Jack August Anderson. He imagined Jack ending up with a different family somehow and growing up as an adoptee with a new identity, a new name, but Walker was obviously older than twenty-four. It couldn't be him.

"Well." Sofia cleared her throat. "Why don't you come with us, and once he feels better, I'm sure he'll answer your questions."

Phoenix considered it. The last time he thought he had to know something was earlier today, and it got him threatened by a Snake and kidnapped. And then there was what Violet said: even the smallest interaction can lead to getting gutted in a basement. Going with Sofia and Walker would be stupid. Incredibly so.

But...however odd they were, he didn't sense malice. He had to take this chance on them.

Phoenix finally took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay."

...................................

He was in the car again, this time by choice. Through the back windshield, he watched the city skyline grow small as Sofia drove to where she and Walker lived. They were still within Jethro's official borders, but it was a different world out here in the outskirts. Quiet and serene.

The road led to a series of mansions, and they were spaced out so far apart from each other that it was wrong to call it a neighborhood. Each had a different style of columns and fences and gating, but the first mansion without those things was the one Sofia turned into. The driveway itself was several city blocks long, and they parked in front of the garage.

Phoenix trailed behind them as they entered their house. It looked even bigger on the inside; his old family home would fit in the foyer alone. To the left was a small living room, and he could see part of a kitchen up ahead. While Sofia shrugged off her blazer, Walker started making his way up the grand staircase. His steps were slow and heavy, and his hand tightened along the banister with each effort.

"Where are you going?" Phoenix asked.

Walker stopped and looked over his shoulder, gray eyes narrowed, ironically distrusting. "To bed. It's been a long day."

Phoenix watched him disappear into the second floor. He should've seen this coming, but he'd hoped feeling better meant sitting down for a bit with a glass of water and then spilling the secrets.

"I guess we'll have to wait until morning," Sofia said. "I'll show you a guest room—"

"I'll wait here," Phoenix interrupted.

She blinked. "Here?"

"Right here." He gestured to the nearby living room. Staying near the exit was the only thing he had control over.

"Oh. Alright." Sofia glanced around. "The kitchen's that way, you're welcome there if you get hungry. Call me if you need anything, I'm the third door to the right upstairs."

She stalled, maybe hoping he'd budge or at least sit down, but Phoenix stayed standing exactly where he was.

"Thanks," was all he said.

Sofia nodded and went upstairs. He waited for her to come back down and kick him out, to tell him to just return in the morning if he wanted to hear from Walker so badly, but she never came back. It made him uneasy. Why were they comfortable with letting a stranger stay overnight in their house?

Phoenix pulled out his phone and looked up Mason Walker. The man had his own Wikipedia page: Mason, aged thirty, was the current owner of Walker Technologies and the son of its founder. His parents, Jacob and Kelsey, died when he was twelve. Sofia Gonzalez, now fifty-four, was their assistant, and she became Mason's guardian after their deaths. The page went on about the company's business and philanthropy, but Phoenix didn't find anything strange.

He rubbed his eyes and pressed call on Hazel's number. It rang once and immediately cut out, same as when he tried calling her about how to hand in his report. He sighed and called Kate, but she didn't pick up, and there was no voicemail option.

Phoenix shoved his phone back into his pocket. He had two things to do: pass on Violet's message and find out what truth Walker was talking about, and apparently, neither of those things were happening tonight.

He sat down in the living room and stared up at the ceiling. It was too quiet here—even more so than the sleepy suburb he grew up in. At least there, there were neighbors' cars, barking dogs, and lawn mowers. All he heard now was a lone cricket outside the front door. The house was cool, the air conditioning had to be on, yet he didn't hear it blowing through the vents. Phoenix wanted to stay awake, but the silence wouldn't let him. He already knew it was a losing battle.

So he closed his eyes. He didn't regret coming here; he only hoped it would be worth it.

..............................

When he heard footsteps in his dream, Phoenix jolted awake. He'd done this several times throughout the night, but this time, it was truly morning, and the footsteps were real. He stood as they grew louder.

Walker walked by, noticed him, and immediately spit his sip of orange juice back into the glass in surprise. He looked better than he did last night; still a bit bruised and bloodshot in the eyes, but at least he was steady on his feet.

"Good morning," Phoenix said bluntly.

Walker kept staring at him, face slowly unscrunching. "You're the kid I tased last night."

Phoenix felt a flare of anger at the reminder and nodded stiffly.

"God, I was hoping that was a dream," Walker mumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm sorry. I was out of it last night. I shouldn't have said anything."

Phoenix narrowed his eyes. "But you do know something, don't you?"

Walker's hand tightened around the glass. "I do."

"About what?"

"I can't answer that."

Phoenix glared at him, frustrated by his reluctance to say more when he was the one who created this situation in the first place. "Why don't you want to tell me?"

"It's not that I don't want to tell you," Walker said. "It's that I don't know if I should."

He sat in the living room and swirled his glass, watching the pulp spin around in the orange juice vortex. Phoenix sat down across from him, waiting, but Walker was silent. The lone cricket was asleep, and it was too quiet again.

Phoenix stared at the floor for a long time, and then he raised his eyes. "Is it about Jack and Eleanor?" he asked quietly.

Walker's head snapped up. "So...you already know."

"I only know that they existed, and I can tell that you know a lot more." He leaned forward. "What is it? What's the truth?"

Walker sighed. "You're not supposed to hear it from me. You're supposed to hear it from your par—"

"My parents are dead," Phoenix interrupted. "So is my sister, and I have no close relatives. If you don't tell me..." He shook his head. "No one else will."

Walker didn't look reluctant anymore; he looked shocked. And sorry. "That's what I was afraid of," he mumbled into the glass. "Come with me."

He stood, and Phoenix followed him across the house and into the kitchen. Walker stopped by the refrigerator and opened the door next to it to reveal a small walk-in pantry, and without warning, he pulled Phoenix inside.

Phoenix stumbled into the shelves, but there was nothing to knock over. The pantry was almost bare, with only a few cans scattered around. A single light bulb hung overhead, and an odd lever sat behind a near-empty case of water bottles.

"What are we doing here?" Phoenix asked.

Walker just winked and pulled the lever.

And the pantry started moving.

Phoenix flinched when the floor shuddered. A mechanical groan reverberated under their feet as the pantry traveled down a shaft like an elevator. Nothing rattled; Phoenix poked a can and realized it was glued to the shelf. When they stopped moving, the wall in front of them slid open.

"This is the basement," Walker said.

Phoenix stepped out of the pantry—the elevator?—and had to turn in a circle to take in the whole space. The walls were dark, shiny stone, and the ceiling was far above their heads. Work tables and cabinets were spread out over the floor; there were labs at college that were less spacious and advanced than this.

Walker went all the way to the other end of the basement and tugged at the corner of a sheet on the wall. It uncovered a screen. He sat at the nearby desk and started rummaging through a drawer.

"Five years ago," he explained, "I was going through my dad's old things, and I found this." He held up a flash drive. There was no label.

"What's on it?" Phoenix asked.

"A video." Walker held it out to him. "You can watch it here, or you can take it and leave. It's up to you."

Phoenix reached for it, but he hesitated. If he took it and left, how long would it take him to work up the nerve to actually watch it?

"I want to see it here," he said.

Walker nodded and plugged it in. He clicked on the only file in the drive, and the screen lit up.