SHIRLEY AND TUCKER'S POV
"You mean you're the guy?" Shirley asked, holding up the book, his voice trembling between disbelief and excitement.
Michael leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "Yes."
"Shirley's eyes widened as he stared at the man before him. "Wait, wait, wait—you're Michael Rich?! The guy who wrote this thing?"
"Yes," Michael confirmed with a slight smirk. "And, as you might've guessed, I'm not from your time."
Tucker tilted his head, his voice still rough as he adjusted to speaking. "Not… from our time?"
Shirley and Tucker exchanged a bewildered glance before turning back to Michael.
Michael glanced at his phone. "It's 10:00 PM. Time to get you boys home. Are you brothers?"
"No, just friends," Shirley answered quickly, then added, "But I don't wanna go home."
Michael's sharp eyes narrowed. "You don't want to go home?"
Shirley shook his head, defiant.
Tucker added quietly, "I… don't really have a home anymore. It got destroyed. Swallowed by that… round, glowing, pod thing."
"Round… glowing thing?" Michael's tone shifted, intrigued.
Shirley's voice sharpened with anger. "I'm not going back to them. My parents? They're idiots, glued to their phones all day, mindlessly playing with garbage that doesn't teach them anything. Now that I've found people who aren't like that, I'm not leaving!"
Michael studied Shirley for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a laugh broke through.
"You're… interesting, Shirley," he said, barely able to contain his amusement.
"You two remind me of… them," Michael said, his voice softening.
"Who?" Tucker asked, curiosity tugging at his voice.
Michael waved the question away with a dismissive hand. "Nobody. Forget it."
Regaining his composure, Michael straightened and said, "But seriously, do you think your parents would just let you leave? Sure, the world is ignorant, but even if you stayed with me—what would you do? I mean—"
Tucker, frustrated, took a step forward. "Hey, Michelle—"
"It's Michael," he corrected, his voice sharp.
"Whatever!" Tucker snapped, his voice rising. "Who killed that woman back there? And what's going on? We got dumped out of some random glowing pod, ended up at the White House, and now you've shoved English into my brain?! And now you're telling us you're not even from out time?"
Michael's smirk returned, but this time it was tinged with amusement and pity. "You know so little," he said, almost to himself. "Fine. I'll explain."
Tucker and Shirley leaned in, their confusion and frustration momentarily eclipsed by curiosity.
"If you've read the book, you'll know about the land of Choreees," Michael began. "That woman? She was a servant from there. She escaped interrogation and was on the run. It didn't matter, though—she was as good as dead. Executed for her role in the Seven Kingdoms' extinction."
Shirley nodded, soaking in the information. Tucker, on the other hand, stared at the ceiling, trying to keep up.
"And the English?" Tucker asked, his voice hesitant now.
"Modern medicine," Michael replied matter-of-factly. "Government-exclusive tech. I have access to it because I work for them."
Shirley blinked. "Wait—you work for the government?"
"Not by choice," Michael muttered.
"What about that glowing pod thing?" Tucker pressed.
Michael's expression darkened. "It doesn't belong to me—or to you. It belongs to him. A man I loathe with every fiber of my being."
The room seemed to shift, the air growing thick and oppressive. Shirley and Tucker froze as an overwhelming wave of anger swept over them. It wasn't theirs—it was Michael's. The hatred radiating from him was so intense, so raw, it locked their muscles and chilled them to their cores.
Sweat dripped down their faces, and for a moment, they couldn't move, couldn't speak.
And then, just as quickly as it came, the feeling vanished.
When it ended, Michael straightened, his composure restored. "Did you feel it?" he asked, his voice low. "The burst of hatred?"
Tucker shivered, his voice barely audible. "What… was that?"
Shirley, still trying to shake off the lingering dread, managed to ask, "What's your deal? Why do you give off this… vibe?"
Michael smirked faintly, his hand rising to point at his eyes. "That… is the Presence. And these—" He tapped the corner of his eye. "—are the Presence Eyes. A power that bends others to your will."