The one retrieved from The Void

A wave of realization washed over Vastian. So soon? The pressure was immediate and unexpected. "Alright," he replied, his voice steady despite the churning in his stomach.

Madeline tapped her tablet, and the room was enveloped in a holographic projection of a city district. "My merchandise has been disappearing from this area," she explained, her tone serious. The once-vibrant neighborhood was now a shadow of its former self, a grim testament to urban decay and the encroachment of criminal elements.

"Why not send one of your other associates?" Vastian asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

Madeline met his gaze, a challenge in her eyes. "Because I trust you, and because I need someone with your abilities," she replied. A smirk tugged at her lips. "And besides, it's time you stopped being a sheltered boy and started becoming a man."

She stood, the towel slipping from her hair. "Your equipment is inside. You can't go around looking like a student." The weight of her words settled on him, a stark realization of the path he was about to embark on.

Vastian nodded, a mix of anticipation and trepidation coursing through him. He turned towards the suitcase and opened it. Inside, a stark, utilitarian ensemble awaited him. A long, dark hoodie, its fabric sleek and almost metallic, pulsed with an ethereal green light. Beneath it lay fitted pants, ending just above the knee, their design echoing the hoodie's otherworldly glow. Completing the outfit were sturdy, ankle-high boots, their soles ridged for traction and accented by subtle green accents. The overall impression was one of functional efficiency, with a futuristic aesthetic that hinted at a world of advanced technology and urban grit.

"Once you put the hood on, a mask will deploy, covering the lower half your face," Madeline explained. "It'll help keep your pretty face anonymous."

Vastian managed a wry smile. "Thanks for the compliment."

"Don't get too comfortable," Madeline retorted, a playful glint in her eye. "This little outfit just added to your debt."

Vastian's heart sank. He'd been caught in her trap. "I didn't agree to this," he protested half-heartedly.

Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Too late. You're already wearing it." She paused dramatically. "And it's more than just a stylish hoodie. It's state-of-the-art body armor, constructed from carbon nanofibers. It can withstand a surprising amount of punishment. Plus, it's virtually undetectable. You'd need to break into your father's lab to bypass its stealth systems."

Vastian was still simmering over the fact that he had essentially been tricked into owing Madeline even more. The thought gnawed at him, but before he could voice his frustration, Madeline added with a triumphant smile, "Plus, I got a matching one for Lily."

Lily's face fell. She had long known about Madeline's obsession with fashion, but never in her wildest nightmares did she imagine being roped into it herself—especially not with Vastian, and certainly not for stealth missions. She shot a glance at Vastian, who, mercifully, wasn't cruel enough to ask her to model it.

Vastian caught Lily's eyes and sighed in defeat. Madeline was notoriously stubborn about these things, and he knew there was no use arguing.

"Alright, I'm heading out," Vastian said, waving goodbye. "I'll see what I can find."

As soon as he left, Lily turned her gaze to her adoptive mother. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"Do what?" Madeline responded, genuinely puzzled.

"Increase his debt," Lily clarified, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"There's a reason for that, but hopefully, you'll figure it out on your own, sweetie," Madeline replied with a knowing smile, before grabbing her tablet and retreating to her room to relax.

As Vastian exited the building, his phone buzzed with a message from Lily. "You can take the bike in front of the building. The crates you're looking for have a gold 'M' engraved on them," it read. A wave of relief washed over him. At least he didn't have to figure out transportation or identify the merchandise.

The motorcycle parked outside was a testament to technological advancement. Its sleek, aerodynamic design was a study in efficiency, with every line and curve optimized for speed and performance. The absence of traditional mirrors and the dominance of a central, holographic display emphasized the bike's futuristic aesthetic. Even the tires, with their self-healing properties, hinted at the advanced engineering behind this machine. As he swung a leg over the seat, he felt a surge of anticipation.

He set course for his destination, the location burned into his memory from Madeline's hologram. The area mirrored the digital image with eerie accuracy, though concrete details about the missing crates remained scarce. Yet, he was confident in his ability to gather information. Unlike his sheltered siblings, he'd had more freedom to explore the world, thanks to his parents' oversights. Coupled with the knowledge imparted by Madeline and Anya, he felt equipped to navigate this underbelly.

His first step was observation. Who were the key players in this gritty tableau? He identified two individuals who seemed to be the focal points of frequent interactions. Donning the hoodie, he activated the mask, its deployment swift and efficient. He approached one of the figures, a person cloaked in shadow, their face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. Their worn, tattered clothing spoke of a life lived on the margins.

Vastian approached the figure as the setting sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the urban landscape. The city's lights began to flicker on, adding an eerie glow to the silhouette before him. He could barely make out the details of the figure's face, shrouded in darkness, but he sensed an air of authority and danger.

"I need some information," Vastian began, his voice measured and low, careful not to betray the urgency he felt. "What's the price?"

The figure, hidden beneath a heavy hood and layers of shadow, responded with deliberate ambiguity. "Depends on what you need."

Vastian didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Have you seen crates with a large, gold 'M' engraved on them?"

The figure remained silent for a moment, considering the request. The air between them seemed to thicken with tension. "That information comes at a price," they finally said, their voice smooth and unsettling.

Vastian stiffened, bracing himself. "Name it."

"Twenty million," the figure stated bluntly, their tone as cold as the steel streets they stood upon.

Vastian's heart skipped a beat. That amount was astronomical—far beyond anything he could hope to pay. The reality of his situation hit him hard, but he kept his expression neutral. "Anything else?" he asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.

The figure tilted their head slightly, a gesture that made Vastian feel as though he was being sized up, weighed, and measured. "A few years back," they began, "there was a global anomaly. Information about that event could be considered payment."

Vastian's curiosity was piqued, though he kept his face stoic. "Why that specific event?"

"It's a puzzle that's never been solved," the figure replied, their voice tinged with an almost imperceptible hint of curiosity. "It's said to have changed the very fabric of reality."

Vastian decided to test the waters. "It was a breach in reality," he offered cautiously. "Something interfered with our world, something powerful."