Jack walked toward the bus stop just outside the hospital entrance, his feet moving with newfound purpose. The city bus—the same one he'd ridden countless times before—now seemed like a chariot carrying him toward a confrontation decades in the making.
He pulled out his phone again, fingers tapping the screen as he searched for the Altiar Group headquarters. The map loaded slowly on his cracked screen, revealing the towering Altiar building in the heart of Veridian Bluffs. Ninety minutes by bus, then another fifteen-minute walk. His thumb traced the route, memorizing each transfer point.
The search results showed images of a gleaming skyscraper that seemed to pierce the clouds—all glass and steel and power. His grandfather's kingdom. Jack zoomed in on the entrance, studying the security setup, the revolving doors, the uniformed guards visible even in the small thumbnail image.
The approaching bus hissed to a stop in front of him, doors folding open with a mechanical wheeze. Jack pocketed his phone and climbed aboard, dropping his fare into the collection box. As he settled into a seat near the back.
Jack stared out the smudged window as the bus lurched forward. The familiar streets of Ashton gradually gave way to unfamiliar territory. His reflection stared back at him—jaw tight, eyes focused. The bus hit a pothole, jolting him forward, but his mind remained elsewhere, already inside that gleaming tower.
He needed a plan. Security would be tight. No way they'd let some kid from Ashton waltz in and demand to see Elias Altiar. Jack closed his eyes, visualizing the building's entrance from the images he'd seen. Two guards at the front desk. Badge readers. Probably cameras everywhere.
His fingers drummed against his knee as scenarios unfolded in his mind with startling clarity. Each approach, each potential obstacle, each solution—all cascading through his thoughts with mechanical precision. This wasn't his usual scattered thinking. This was different. Focused. Tactical.
Enter through the main doors. Observe the lobby layout. Identify security weaknesses. Find a way up.
The methodical planning felt strangely familiar, like muscle memory from a skill he'd never learned. His father's voice suddenly surfaced from some buried memory: "Always know your exits, Jackie. Count them when you enter a room."
Jack's eyes snapped open. His dad had taught him that when he was seven or eight, calling it a "game" they played in restaurants and movie theaters. Count the exits. Note who sits where. Watch people's hands, not their faces.
"Just something my old man taught me in the service," his father had explained once. "Keeps you sharp."
Those little "games" had continued for years. Jack had forgotten about them until now. The way his father would quiz him about details of places they'd visited. The casual lessons on reading people's intentions through their body language. Even those weekend "camping trips" where Dad taught him to navigate without a compass, to move quietly through the woods, to improvise tools from whatever was available.
Not just a factory worker's hobbies. Training.
Jack's mind shifted back to the problem at hand with new focus. He wouldn't be able to bluff his way past the front desk—not dressed like this, not without credentials. But there would be service entrances. Delivery bays. Employee smoking areas.
The bus crossed into the outskirts of Veridian Bluffs, and the landscape transformed. Manicured hedges replaced chain-link fences. Luxury cars glided past instead of rattling sedans. Jack's reflection looked increasingly out of place against this backdrop of wealth.
He pulled up the building schematics again on his phone, having found them buried in an old news article about the tower's construction. The loading dock was on the east side, with what appeared to be a service elevator nearby. If he timed it right, between deliveries...
A sudden memory flashed—his father teaching him how to carry himself with purpose. "Move like you belong, and most folks won't question you. It's the hesitation that gives you away."
Jack straightened in his seat. He'd need to look the part—not of wealth, but of someone with legitimate business there. The janitor's closet at school had spare uniforms. If he could borrow one...
The plan crystallized with surprising speed and detail. Jack felt a chill run down his spine as he realized this wasn't normal—this methodical, almost military approach to problem-solving. Somehow, his father had been preparing him for something without ever saying it.
"Next stop, Willow Avenue," the automated voice announced.
Jack stood, pulling the stop request cord. The borrowed uniform would have to wait. First, he needed to scout the building himself. Know the terrain before making his move.
His father's voice echoed in his mind: "Reconnaissance first, Jackie. Always know what you're walking into."
Jack stepped off the bus into Veridian Bluffs, immediately feeling the shift in atmosphere. Even the air smelled different here—crisp, clean, expensive somehow. The sidewalks were spotless, lined with ornamental trees whose leaves rustled in the gentle breeze. No cigarette butts, no gum stains, no evidence of human struggle.
He pulled his worn jacket tighter around himself and started walking, following the mental map he'd constructed. The Altiar Tower loomed ahead, growing more imposing with each block. Glass and steel stretched skyward, reflecting clouds and sunlight, a monument to power and wealth. Jack's steps slowed as he approached, taking in the full scale of the building.
Security guards in tailored uniforms stood at attention near the main entrance. Men and women in business attire streamed in and out, each wearing the same expression of purposeful indifference. Jack circled the perimeter, keeping his distance, watching.
There.
A delivery truck pulled up to a loading dock on the east side. Jack quickened his pace, timing his approach. Two workers emerged from the building to meet the driver, clipboard in hand. Jack studied their movements, the security badge swipes, the casual conversation.
He rounded the corner, spotting a service entrance with a keycard reader. A maintenance worker stepped out, propping the door open with his foot while juggling a toolbox and coffee cup. Perfect opportunity.
Jack straightened his posture and walked with purpose toward the door. Move like you belong. Don't hesitate. His father's lessons echoed in his mind as he mentally rehearsed his story—new IT intern, first day, forgot his badge.
Twenty feet from the door. Fifteen. Ten.
He was so focused on his target that he didn't notice the figure rushing around the corner until it was too late. The collision sent them both stumbling, though Jack managed to stay upright. The other person wasn't so lucky.
"I'm so sorry!" Jack reached down instinctively to help.
A girl about his age sat sprawled on the immaculate sidewalk, blonde hair cascading around her face. When she looked up, Jack froze. Her eyes were startlingly blue—not just any blue, but a deep azure that reminded him of the sky after a storm. She wore a pristine school uniform with an embroidered crest on the blazer pocket.
Jack extended his hand, suddenly conscious of the dirt under his fingernails. "Are you okay?"
She took his hand, her skin soft against his calluses. Jack pulled her to her feet with careful strength.
"I wasn't looking where I was going," he said, releasing her hand once she was steady. "That was completely my fault."
The girl brushed invisible dust from her skirt, then looked at him directly. Her initial expression of surprise shifted into something more curious.
"I'm Jack. Jack Reeves." He offered his name without thinking, then immediately regretted it. Anonymity would have been smarter.
To his surprise, her face softened into a smile—not the condescending kind he'd expected from someone who clearly belonged in this world of wealth, but something genuine that transformed her features from merely beautiful to radiant.
"It's okay, Jack Reeves." Her voice carried the polished accent of private education, but lacked the expected haughtiness. "No harm done. I'm Elisabeth Thornfield." She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "I don't think I've seen you around here before."
Jack's carefully constructed infiltration plan dissolved as he stood there, momentarily speechless. Elisabeth Thornfield continued to regard him with that curious smile, waiting for his response, while behind her, the service door swung shut with a definitive click.