Present time:
I was sitting at a table, while the rest of the gang was surrounding it. We made sure none of our hands were touching all at once. If we did, then we would be teleported. We made a rule that all six members shouldn't be together, but Maddie wanted us all at lunch to have a conversation.
"I finally did some research about missing people, old news, or ghost stories and ghost games," Maddie said.
"What did you find?"
"I found a lot actually, but not much to help us right now. Only evidence, but shocking."
She had a file in her hand and dropped it on the table.
Nobody moved to open it.
"Let's see what we have here."
I read the files. Lost children not being found, grieving families, news from the early nineties, reports of missing teenage children. Theories of a serial killer or a kidnapper in a town. It was all strange.
"Maddie, what's the deal?"
"Don't you see? Each report, five reports of missing children around fifteen to fourteen, all vanished with no whereabouts, no evidence of them leaving town, leaving notes, or footprints. Nothing, like they teleported."
"You can't mean there was another generation before us."
"Maybe, just maybe. You might even theorize there was another generation before that, but I didn't have the time to research that just yet."
"You're sure that's a lot of assumptions based on random coincidences?" Tommy said.
"No, no, it is not. Look, don't you see the date? The date!"
I looked and read. The year was the thirteenth of the fourth of nineteen ninety. I looked at the other reports and documents, all showing the same date: five members, no evidence, no connection except the same date. Yet, they all lived in Sydney, and all died or went missing, unknown circumstances.
"What do you want us to do with this information."
"What I want is to meet the parents of these children. I have their locations - some moved far away, but others stayed in Sydney. I think we should have a conversation about this, don't you?"
"Fine, but the problem is none of us have a full license."
Suddenly I stopped speaking, and everyone at the lunch table turned their heads toward the corner, all facing one silhouette - it was Ellie. She seemed to be sweating while drinking her juice box.
"Why, no! You don't mean me, right? Look, I'm a bad driver when stressed, and honestly, I don't even know what you're all talking about. You invited me to sit here."
None of us pulled our pleading stares away from her.
"Fine, but you all have to pay for gas. I'm not a taxi driver," she conceded.
"I think it's best we do it tomorrow, after tonight's mist realm expedition. We can worry about Saturday's problems then, okay?" Everyone nodded in agreement.
Even without their full set of memories restored, it seemed the group would follow my lead to some degree.
In the dream realm tavern, the tables and chairs had been pushed aside, clearing an open sparring area. At the other end stood Tommy, gripping his remodified blunt iron broadsword. I watched as he stretched and rolled his shoulders, even showily spinning the sword to test its weight and balance. When he locked eyes with me, I settled into a ready stance, twirling my twin daggers between my fingers. Though smaller than his broadsword, Tommy knew not to underestimate me and my knives.
Over the past week and a half, I had watched videos and practiced tirelessly, honing a fighting style perfectly suited for my daggers. My class abilities made my fingers more dexterous, instantly granting me control rather than years of training,
For a tense moment, we studied each other. I was faster, but Tommy could create armor to increase his defense at the cost of reducing his speed. His powerful attacks could knock me out in one swing. I needed to lead, treat it like a dance by controlling the motion and flow.
I blurred forward, dashing in with startling quickness. Tommy barely reacted in time, raising his broadsword to parry my furious dagger slashes. Steel clashed against steel with a ringing impact that seemed to reverberate through the room. Tommy grunted as he pushed back my attack, resetting his footwork to guard his centerline.
I launched another flurry of slashes, stabs, and feints. Sweat beaded Tommy's brow as he timed each perfect block and parry, but he couldn't just defend. He initiated a series of powerful overhead strikes, forcing me to disengage and backstep as I deflected the heavy blade with tight cross-body parries.
This shift in attack and defense continued throughout our spar. Finally, through a well-executed foot sweep and disarming maneuver, I knocked Tommy's sword spinning away to clatter across the floor. Reversing the spin on my dagger, I crossed the blades at his throat.
Chest's heaving, we simply stared at each other for over ten seconds. Then matching grins split our sweat-sheened faces as we stepped back.
Training wasn't just mindlessly swinging a thousand times a day to build muscle memory. We needed our minds to understand the strikes, retreats, and blocks - prioritizing mental focus over reflexive instinct. Though Tommy lacked the same hours to train as the rest of us, he seemed to grasp the core foundations of combat.
"You tired, mate?" I asked.
"Nah, you seem out of breath," he countered with a chuckle. "It's just a bit chilly in here, don't you think?"
I dropped onto my back, feeling the weariness of the past week's efforts, study and training isn't' for the faint of heart, yet our progress in fighting as shot through the roofs, lately, the first night was a life and death crisis so maybe that has influence us to work harder, since we know the fear of death, planning and not wasting any energy was the key, it was the gang strategy, but that was only practicing and fitting, we have put that practice to real use by now, and for the campaigns game, we have really went further with that,... Tommy joined me on the floor.
"Tommy, I haven't achieved anything over these last few days. I'm clueless on what to do next. We can't stay like this forever. What if something bad happens? That responsibility would fall on me as the appointed leader. I don't know why the others put their faith in me. Having all your lives in my hands..." I trailed off, staring at the ceiling. "All I'm saying is, I'm afraid that one day, my mistakes might cause everything we've built through our hard work and efforts to burn down around us."
"Don't say that," Tommy replied. "We put our faith and lives in your hands because, as cheesy as it sounds, we have nowhere else to go. We're all clueless, but we're not idiots. We see you as a capable leader to follow. Your judgment is final, but that doesn't mean you can ignore our input upfront. You're the group's leader, not its boss. Take everyone's considerations to heart."
Here's an attempt to make the passage more emotional:
I was tired of this feeling - I wasn't ready yet. I hadn't fully digested the horrors of our entire situation, and that scared me. Was I becoming weaker? More comfortable with the nightmarish circumstances we found ourselves trapped in?
"Tommy, you're my brother, you know that." My voice cracked with raw emotion.
He looked at me with soft eyes. "I know. Remember, you're not alone in this, no matter if you think you're useless, not doing anything noteworthy, and that nobody cares about you. Then you're probably right."
"I'm joking, man. Listen, Jay... I care, I CARE ."