Commentators whispered that civil war was no longer unthinkable, that the ground itself was sliding toward blood. The atmosphere thickened with paranoia, tension so sharp it cut through daily life, everyone waiting for the next explosion.
And then something unexpected happened. In a rare, almost impossible gesture, the widows met. Kurk's widow, bearing the grief of assassination, and the widow of the lynched figure, who many believed had orchestrated Kurk's death, stood together before the world.
Cameras caught the moment as they embraced, their arms trembling, their faces streaked with tears. For a brief instant, hatred gave way to something else, an image of reconciliation, frail but undeniable.
The nation, already on the edge of collapse, exhaled. The tension loosened, not gone but muted, as though the gesture had reminded them of a possibility long forgotten: that loss could bind instead of divide.
For the first time in months, the vision of a future not built on vengeance flickered into existence. Whether it would last, no one could know. But the sight of two widows, once enemies by circumstance, holding each other in their grief, became etched into the memory of the nation. A symbol of survival, of endurance, of what might yet be possible.
Weeks later, me and Joel were gone. Our parents, persuaded by a fabricated job opportunity in Leazing, had given consent. We even drugged a high-ranking marketing executive, and I carefully implanted memories while Joel amplified compliance through emotional manipulation to make our story more convincing to our parents. The stolen wealth, taken from the old woman we had killed, funded our stay in a cheap hotel. Plans were underway: experiments to test the simulation, sustained by manipulation, observation, and control.
The world outside continued as always, ignorant of the architects watching, and the two of us who were beginning to push against the code.
(Back home, Duracc)
James leaned back in his chair, the weight of unease pressing against his chest. "What did your gut feeling tell you when you heard about their decision?"
Vanzz rubbed his forehead, his frown deepening. "It was confused again. But this time, it leans more toward disagreement. I think they are going to get themselves into real trouble. This isn't just reckless; it's dangerous."
James sighed, his hands clenching. "I hoped my manifestation would guide things to go well for them, for everyone. But I'm not sure it's enough. I just hope they realize it isn't worth it and turn back before they cross the line."
Vanzz chuckled darkly. "That's so virtuous of you. If I were you, I would have cursed them instead. Whatever. I just hope we don't get sucked into their mess anymore."
James smiled faintly, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "Yeah, but what if…" His voice trailed off, caught between thought and hesitation.
Vanzz shook his head. "What if, right? Let it be anyhow. We can't control them. Let's focus on our own lives. Live better. Make our actions count. At least our loved ones will remember us."
James nodded, a quiet determination settling in his eyes. "Yep. That's the spirit."
(Leazing, Joel and Ducce hotel)
I leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on Joel. "So, what's the plan?"
Joel's grin was sharp, calculating. "What we need is money first and I have the perfect plan for it. There are multiple large stores open 24/7. Midnight is ideal, fewer people, lower risk. We'll start by entering the monitoring room, disable every camera, and delete twenty-four hours of footage. We will handle the security together, we will threaten them with our knife and inject them with anesthesia, you erase their memory leading up to our encounter.
I'll deal with the rest. Full black attire, knives for intimidation. Panicked reactions are expected. I'll amplify fear, immobilize them. Same goes for any customers. Steal about fifteen percent of the cash, make every individual forget any trace. Repeat for the next two stores at opposite corners."
I tilted my head, impressed despite myself. "Sounds like you've been working hard. Honestly, I never thought you were this meticulous. I thought you were all talk."
Joel laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. "Pffff, that's what you thought all this time? Lol. I've always thought you were cautious of my supposed tricks. Didn't know you had such an eye for strategy yourself."
I smiled faintly, introspection flashing in my eyes. "Well, yeah. Introverted, weird kid, rarely goes outside, bullied, doting parents, mixed with my rebel streak. Something's off about me, obviously." He chuckled.
Joel clapped me lightly on the shoulder. "Ahahaha, never thought you were that self-aware. You really are something, Ducce."
I leaned back, smirking. "So are you. Literally the most messed-up kid I've ever met, but also the most interesting. Fun, unpredictable. The kind of guy you can't ignore."
Joel laughed again, a low, dark chuckle. "Yeah, messed up in the head too. But hey, a little crazy is necessary to achieve anything significant, right?"
I smirked, eyes glinting. "Yep. The dickheads should inherit this world."
Joel roared. "Bahahaha, fuck you, man."
Midnight arrived, heavy with anticipation. The streets outside were empty, dimly lit by scattered neon signs and the occasional flicker of a streetlamp. Me and Joel moved like shadows, careful and deliberate, driving to the first store. Every sound, the crunch of gravel beneath tires, the distant hum of city life, made our hearts pound with controlled excitement.
Inside, the plan unfolded flawlessly. We slipped into the monitoring room, the clicks of disabled cameras echoing softly. Joel's manipulation of fear and intimidation rendered the staff immobile, their panic magnified to perfection. After injecting them with anesthesia making them fall asleep I handled the memory alteration with quiet precision, erasing memories and leaving no trace. Fifteen percent of the cash disappeared into our bags, unseen, untouched by suspicion.
The second store was no different. Each step was precise, calculated, and efficient. The third store followed the same rhythm, almost too smooth to be real, as though fate itself was guiding our hands. By the time we returned to the hotel, the adrenaline had left our veins trembling, hearts racing in a victorious symphony of calculated chaos.
We counted our gains: fifty thousand dollars from the first store, a similar amount from the second, and another from the third. No evidence, no witnesses, no trace. It was as if we had never been there.
I looked at Joel, a mixture of awe and dark amusement on my face. "This… this actually worked. Everything went perfectly. Like the universe itself was on our side."