Noah ran toward his back fence, scaled it in one jump, and flipped into his neighbor's backyard.
[Front Flip] is now level four.
As he blinked the screen away, Noah heard the man mutter, "M says he just front flipped over his back fence like an Olympic gymnast. Who the heck is this kid?"
Morse code beeped through the radio: "Just keep your eyes on the prize."
Noah scaled another fence and ran through the next yard, taking a sharp left. They’re blocking the path to the car. Alright, fine. All I need to do is make it to the next block, take a right, and I'm only a block away from the safe house. Even if they follow me inside, they'll never find me if I get there first. He had ordered some interior modifications to the house as soon as he purchased it through one of his several shell companies.
His map from the [Memory Palace] combined with [Listen] informed him that the joggers were rounding the corner to catch up quickly. They were fast, but Noah’s speed was superior. Even the day before, he’d hidden some of his ability. There were faster people in the world than him, but probably not many.
Noah banked a hard right around a corner and almost collided into a woman walking her dog, a German Shepard. Instantly, Noah's senses and skills flared with warning. The woman had medium-length blonde hair, and her face was sharp and angular, probably from a Nordic descent. She wore typical Michigan upper-class clothing—leggings, Ugg boots, pink pea coat, and earrings, but Noah sensed she wasn’t a local.
The woman shouted, "Oh, sorry!"
Filled with adrenaline and freaked out by so many skills and instincts firing off at once, Noah hissed, “M!”
The woman's eyes widened, confirming his slip of the tongue.
Realizing what he had done, Noah lifted his hands as if apologizing to a neighbor. The world turned grey, and Noah wondered if he would have to kill a person for the first time. He kept a wary eye on M, noting different ways he could attack if she pulled a gun or some other weapon. He didn’t have any weapons except for a ballpoint pen, but that would have to be enough. If the woman was actually an Aelve, Noah prepared to endure a wave of magic and launch himself at her. Tense as a coiled spring, he ran around her without a word, but suddenly felt himself [Stumble]. Heart beating, adrenaline spiking, Noah forced himself to contort midair with the assistance of [Acrobatics], glancing at the woman who’d just attacked him, but it hadn’t been her. Her dog had snapped its jaws at Noah. He normally wouldn’t assume that a dog was trying to hurt him with a snap or a growl, but his abilities had recognized danger.
Midair, everything in Noah’s view slowed to a crawl. He threw his legs sideways in a scissor kick like he’d entered a real-life Kung Fu movie. In the clarity of the moment, Noah had a clear view of the woman’s shocked face and winter clothes. Her coat still has the tag on. The boots aren’t weathered enough. Her cheeks are tanned and not wind burnt. She isn't from here, Noah assessed quickly. The German Shepard is the real issue, muscles bunched to rush. Don’t know why the dog is attacking but this is bad news. Not much time.
Time sped up again as his right foot planted in the snow. His left boot collided into the German Shepard’s muzzle, and the dog collapsed instantly in the sidewalk. Noah narrowed his eyes, contemplating going for the woman’s throat, but decided against it. He still didn’t know who these people were or their motives. Instead, he pivoted and burst down the block. [Listen] informed him the dog was softly whining and not chasing after him. Noah could hear the blonde woman, M, speak in panicked French, "Sir, I think he's hacked our channel. He called me M and…I don’t know why, but Bruiser lunged, then the target put him down. All of it happened so fast I couldn’t react. He’s moving now—northbound. He's fast, boss, real fast. Seems to have some kind of formal training. I can’t believe this."
Noah didn't hear any Morse code reply. In a few breaths and several more bouncing, sprinting strides, he arrived at the purchased house. Noah paid groundskeepers to keep the exterior of all his purchased properties maintained, so this house blended in with the rest of the neighborhood. Leaping over the four stairs to the front porch, his shoulder collided with the door as he turned the knob, forcing it open. It hadn’t been locked. Thank God for the small-town atmosphere.
Every second counted.
The home was fully furnished, as if people had been living there for years. He ran into the kitchen, pulled the chef knife from the knife block and reversed his grip on it. Noah still wasn’t eager to use lethal force, but at least now he had a weapon. I can hear three people running toward me. Their breathing is harsh.
He pulled on a pan hanging from overhead and something clicked in the kitchen, a sound only Noah could hear. He ran to a hidden partition in the wall that had suddenly swung open next to the fridge, climbed inside, and closed the wall behind him. The hidden door made a sucking sound when it shut.
Noah stood up in the hidden room behind the kitchen, only a thin wall between him and his pursuers. He heard five pairs of footsteps. No, he corrected himself. Three bipeds and one limping quadruped - the people and the dog. The dog’s nails gave it away as plain as day now.
He held his breath. If the dog is here, it may be able to hear me.
"Where the heck did he go?" the hoodie man asked in hushed English, a slight bit of Brooklyn in his speech. "Boss would have been able to see him if he came out the back. He said the kid might come here."
A woman quietly spoke, Noah recognized her voice as the other jogger. "M, search upstairs with Bruiser. Stunners ready."
“Stunners? Really?”
“He ran. That’s enough cause. Plus, I got a funny feeling. I think we need to move the op to level four.”
Noah tracked their footsteps, [Listen] picking up their general location. Sweat dripped down his temple. They knew about my purchase of the house? Noah thought. How? Well, at least it doesn’t sound like they’re Aelves or out to kill me.
As soon as he heard the dog's footsteps above, Noah plodded quietly backward deeper into the secret room, entering a narrow hallway. He could still hear the pursuers speaking in English and updating whoever their Boss was in Russian and French, but they were muffled now. Soon, Noah found himself walking down a dark corridor, but light wasn’t really necessary down here. This way led to the house next door, and there was only one way he could go.
Noah felt a sudden smile as an odd thought came to him. Dressrosa thought I was being too paranoid by buying two houses next to each other and connecting them, Noah remembered. If we ever talk again, I'm going to rub this in his face. Of course, the hacker hadn’t had any way to know that Noah didn’t really get tired these days, and the work had leveled his [Dig] skill. After shuffling forward some more, his outstretched fingers touched the exit. He groped for a latch.
The sound seemed incredibly loud as Noah pushed the sliding door to the side, then stepped through and closed it behind him. He stood in the dining room of the adjacent house. This house wasn’t set up to be normal; the walls were lined with non-perishable foods, survival gear, and various other things Noah had packed away in case of emergency. The entire house and basement had been filled to the brim with things needed to survive the fall of civilization. Steelton was riddled with similarly stocked buildings, most of them outside of town.
The cagey young man consciously used some of his mundane mental skills like [Calm] and [Meditative Breathing], helping clear his head while he walked into the kitchen. There was something wrong about his pursuers, well, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. They had been speaking in several languages. Why would they do that? Did Anonymoose hack the Russians and get caught? The only reason I can think of is that they are afraid of people hacking their line of communication.
Noah shook his head as he considered what to do next. This house had actual weapons, but they were in the basement, and he wasn’t willing to risk the squeaky steps to get down there. Not only that, since the hoodie people seemed more interested in catching than killing him, his new focus was on escapi
ng.
What should I do?
He had two choices - hide or fight. The problem was he didn’t have enough information. Were these people acting alone? Did they have air support? If they were plugged in with local law enforcement, maybe Noah should just give himself up. He was friends with all the police officers in town, after all. Whatever these people arrested him for, he had money for the very best legal team money could buy.
Of course, the possibility still remained that the pursuers could be affiliated with the Aelves, but Noah didn’t think that was the case anymore. It just didn’t fit, and he trusted his gut.
As Noah got his breathing fully back under control, he remembered the blonde, M, probably in her late twenties. Her face hadn’t been covered. That woman was definitely human, Noah thought. He drowned out all other sounds with [Listen] to focus on the voices next door. It took a lot of concentration, but they were close enough that he could barely make out what they were saying. They were pretty much freaking out.
"The prints just end in the kitchen!" said the man. “What is he, a magician Olympic-level athlete and elite hacker?”
"It doesn't make sense," said M.
Noah closed his eyes, sacrificing his sight to focus on hearing as he slowly moved towards the back door of the house. One thing's for certain, Noah realized. [Listen] isn't a perfect skill. I wasn't completely alert to that woman with the dog until I saw her. If my focus is too much in one place, I can lose track—
Noah opened his eyes and spread [Listen] evenly to all the sounds around him. He couldn’t ping it on any one thing, but he got the feeling that something was wrong. As he rounded a corner to the room before the door, he dropped his kitchen knife in shock, but [Reflex] activated, allowing him to nimbly grab it in midair. Noah stared at the man in the crisp black suit from Lucy's Diner he had seen the day before.
The stranger’s broad shoulders and military high-and-tight silver hair contrasted well with the smart outfit. Although he was shorter than Noah, the man’s thick neck made him seem a much more threatening figure. He lips were pressed in an even line that betrayed no emotion.
"Good catch, Noah,” he complimented in a rich baritone. He spoke to Noah as if they were relatives catching up. “Please do me a favor and drop the knife, you’re not in any danger. Also, stop trying to be clever—now is not the time. We both know this is checkmate. My name is Burgess Goodrich. I’d like it very much if you would come with me for a few hours. I’m afraid I must insist, too. We’d rather not use force, but we will if we have to."
This new man, Burgess, didn’t have any weapons out, but Noah believed him. He swallowed.
Chapter 16
Noah sat patiently inside the small room of an abandoned office and did his best to look how he would probably be expected to act, like he was too good to be there. Shoulders hunched, lower lip extruded a little in a pout, he kept his gaze suspicious. This is a good combination, he thought. One part moody, two parts rebellious, and one part arrogant. Blended together, you get a “genius hacker teen who likes to rebel against any authority.”
A large, dark mirror occupied the opposite wall next to the door leading outside, and the room had only a table and two chairs. The mirror was probably a one-way with Burgess watching on the other side. Noah propped his boots on the office table and teetered his chair on the back two legs.
M, the maybe-pretty blonde woman with sharp features, leaned her back against the darkened mirror. She currently gave off a sour mood like old food leaking from a plastic bag. Her pinched face seemed set in a scowl, and she kept one arm crossed across her body. Noah had a feeling she’d be crossing both arms except she probably was trained to keep one hand free to draw a weapon. She tapped a finger impatiently against her bicep, clearly communicating annoyance.
Thankfully, the ride in the van had only been a couple silent minutes before reaching the office building at the edge of Steelton. Burgess Goodrich had assured his team before arrival that Noah was coming with them voluntarily, and that answers would be exchanged on friendly terms. The fake joggers had agreed politely - the way employees did when responding to orders from a manager. However, “M,” who seemed to be the youngest of the trio who had chased Noah, had glared at him the whole ride, stroking her dog’s forehead.
At first, Noah had wanted to apologize, but he held his tongue. He wasn’t exactly thrilled that he’d kicked the dog, but the animal had lunged at him. The Shift had proven how dangerous dogs could be after packs of them had roamed around, growing more feral. Noah loved dogs, but he’d seen the aftermath of serious bites…and deaths.
That whole situation had been strange, though. Logic suggested that the dog was highly trained, which aligned with how surprised ‘M’ had been. Ultimately, something had spooked the dog, and if Noah hadn’t defended himself, he might be getting stitches right now—or worse. So Noah didn’t speak at all, he just used the ride and as many of his skills as he could think of to get a read on his mysterious stalkers. By the time he’d been wordlessly led to the room inside the abandoned building, he’d had a strong idea of who the people were and what they might want with him.
If I was in real trouble, I’d be in handcuffs, he reasoned. If they wanted to kill me, they would have used guns with actual bullets instead of stunners. Heck, they could have just sniped me. On top of the fact he was still breathing, Noah had even noticed Burgess’ subtle disapproval to the others for having pulled the stunners earlier.
Their origins were still unclear. He thought, These people obviously work for the government. This probably has something to do with Anonymoose. If one of them got caught, Burgess and his team will have a lot of information on me. The fact that I’m not in a jail cell or a police station means they have other intentions than pinning me as a criminal. At least, not at first. Noah shook his head, realizing the longer he thought about it, the more questions he had—this seemed to be the story of his life now. The only thing he knew for sure about these people was that they must want something from him.
He had decided that it would be important how he portrayed himself. This would have to be a more nuanced act than with his parents—these people were more sophisticated, and the stakes were higher. He would need his wits about him if he was going to talk his way out of digital crime. If I act too naïve, then Burgess might see through me. That guy seems smart as a whip. But if I’m too withdrawn or unwilling to talk, then they might pressure me with threats, and I’d rather not deal with that.
Noah decided that his goal, whenever they began interrogating him, would be to stay consistent with a plausible, consistent persona. If Noah played his cards right, then he might even come across as charming or earn his de facto captors’ pity.
His first task would be to find out exactly what information they had on him. They would be observing him. Actually, they probably had been this whole time. Whatever they were after, they’d probably be deciding if he was dangerous—the fact he’d met Burgess with a knife in hand might not have been a good first impression, come to think of it. So while they would be trying to get information out of him, Noah was going to have to do the same to them—and try doing so without letting them know. Luckily, he had years of experience with this, using his Charisma on his parents and the entire community of Steelton.
He grimaced and thought, I’m still walking a very tight wire. This isn’t a game; they’re pros…I think.
Noah watched ‘M’ carefully. Despite how she tried to hide it, her annoyance wasn’t difficult to spot. Who she was annoyed with wasn’t a difficult guess. He had no idea what kind of person she was, but he wanted to test her reaction. Maybe he could learn something more about the people he was dealing with.
"I'm not going to apologize for your dog," Noah challenged, leaning forward on the table to make his point.
He thought she was going to respond, but instead she turned her attention to the large dark mirror impatiently. She wasn’t talking to him, but [Listen] picked up her muttering under her breath, "L
ittle piece of–"
"M is like a codename, is it?” Noah stated, filling his voice with cocky confidence. From the way she froze perfectly still, he knew he was on the money. Of course, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, so maybe she was just restraining herself.
Noah paused and activated [Community]. It displayed several notes he had input during the ride to the office building. These people definitely had their own dossier on him, but they had probably never expected him to make one as well! [Listen] really was a handy skill, and a decade of constant study didn’t hurt either. He read his notes, trying to sound as if he was coming up with the words on the spot, like a genius would. “Your name is Emily, isn't it? Your accent is too Parisian to have learned it second hand. Probably lived there most of your life.”
Her eyes grew wide as saucers, but Noah kept saying, “You worked hard to get your English to sound as American as possible, but it has too much of that stereotypical Brooklyn in it that people like to imitate in movies. Maybe you like gangster films? You swagger like you do. This means you most likely aren't FBI—you’re too international, not uptight enough. Plus, none of you identified yourselves as the feds during pursuit. In fact, none of you identified yourselves at all.”
Noah rattled off the notes without any question in his voice. Then he blinked away [Community] and waited for her reaction. If his suspicions were accurate about these people, it would pay off to act the way he did.
The woman's head snapped to Noah, her blonde hair whipping around, her crystal blue eyes smoldering with a mixture of anger and horror. "How-"
The door opened and Burgess Goodrich, the man with the snappy black suit, seeming comfortable in his mid-fifties, stepped into the small room. He had a few manila folders in one hand. "That's enough, Em," he said good-naturedly. "Bruiser's fine. You're dismissed."
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