I woke up twenty minutes ago, finding myself in a bathroom, handcuffed to a sink's pipe. It smelled of cleaning products—lemon and ammonia, and the sound of water running through the pipes inside the walls covered the small room with one stall.

The last thing I remembered before blacking out was Peculiar Hunter trying to kill me. How did I survive and end up here?

The flush of a toilet came from the stall beside me. Shortly after, a white man in a blue suit walked out. He had entered the bathroom ten minutes ago, ignoring my cries for help.

The man turned on the sink's tap and washed his hands. "Long night?" he asked before shutting it off and checking himself in the mirror, brushing back his dark hair with his hands into a slick-back.

I didn't reply. He ignored me before, and I was doing the same thing. Tit for tat. Unless he offered to help in my current predicament, he was of no use to me.

"You might not know this, but you are in an abandoned underground train station. I want to ask you how you ended up here, but it looks like you do not know." He glanced at me with his green eyes.

"Oh, you can read minds?" I asked.

He chuckled. "No, I am just good at reading people. You look lost. I bet you do not even remember what you did. Right?"

I remained silent. It would've been better if I were dealing with a mind reader. People who supposedly knew how to "read people" through body language were annoying as shit. Gahdamn it. I had to be stuck with one of these buffoons. In a bathroom, of all places?

"Your silence means I am right," he added.

"My silence means go away."

He smiled, then took a brush from inside his coat and started brushing his beard.

Damn it. I actually sat there like a clown, watching him brush his beard like a bum. Seriously, what had my life turned to? I had been in a healthy relationship with my pills these last ten years. Then, the moment I got involved with Officer Diana and escorted her to Gators, my life fell apart. I should've listened to my gut and stayed at home.

I couldn't believe I tried to fight Peculiar Hunter.

What did I think would happen? That my powers would return after not taking the inhibiting pills and I'd beat him? As if. Peculiar Hunter might've felt sorry for me, deciding to knock me out, and lock me in here as punishment. Now, I had to watch People Reader over here brush his beard. Fuck my life.

"Have a safe day," People Reader said, before walking out of the bathroom.

I was alone with my thoughts again. People Reader had mentioned I was in an underground abandoned station. I only knew of three: Colondo, Sicarea, and Urea. They surrounded Tombstone from the north, south-east, and south, respectively.

If I was in one of these stations, then how in the blue balls did I leave Tombstone with the dome encasing it?

I scratched my head with my free hand. This was the second time I blacked out and woke up in a different place hours later. I didn't know what was happening to me.

Was I dying?

If so, it was less painful and more miserable than I had imagined.

I struggled to get up, twisting and turning, trying not to break my cuffed wrist. "Finally," I said after standing. People Reader's brush was on the sink, below it was a piece of paper, and beside it was a silver key.

The paper said: You're welcome.

I smiled. Maybe People Reader wasn't a bum after all. Maybe there was hope for him in this cruel world. If he proved to be even more useful, then I'd give him some of my pills. I loved sharing the joys of life.

After unlocking the cuff, I wiggled the numbness from my hand. When I stepped out of the bathroom, the smell of butter filled the station's dirty hallway. If there were people who lived down here, they made sure the air was breathable. No one wanted to live in a place that smelled like ass.

Roots and vines had grown out of the cracks on the ground and wall, spreading outwards like an infection. Litter also filled the area, and there were rusty trains parked on the non-functioning rail tracks.

My footsteps echoed around me, sending chills down my spine. I was always self-conscious in such situations. I had learned early on there was never such a thing as "an abandoned building". It was always home to someone... or something.

Walking in this hallway alone made me a target.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as if someone was watching me.

"Where am I?" I muttered.

"Welcome to Piem," People Reader said from behind me. I turned toward him. "I knew you would see the key and free yourself."

"How does the bathroom work if the station is abandoned?" I asked.

"There is no such thing as an abandoned area. This place looks like it doesn't function to keep people away. We don't want anyone snooping around."

"How did I end up here?"

"I can not answer that, Trey."

He knows who I am. I took a few steps back. "Who are you?"

"Do not do it, Trey. Do you hear me?"

"Do what?" I increased the speed of my backward steps. I didn't know what People Reader wanted from me. And I would not wait and find out. What if he was some creep looking to steal my organs?

"Do not run, Trey. Listen to me."

In the history of humanity, there was never a point where someone full of fear was told not to run and they listened. That was one of the few times where flight overpowered fight and freeze.

When I turned around to run the fuck outta there, I bumped into something large and hard, falling on my ass. I groaned in pain, rubbing my tailbone.

A brown-skinned man stood before me with his arms crossed on his chest, his glowing red eyes fixated on me. He was so huge, his arms were the size of my head. The red shirt, black jeans, and sandals he had made him look like he was going to the beach. Bigass Beach Man.

"This is Maxwell Li. You can call him Max," People Reader said. "You can also call him Behemoth." He crouched beside me and smiled. It was friendly and inviting, the same one con artists gave before ripping you off. "And I am Caleb Rashford. Cal for short."

"Ok." Am I supposed to care about their names?

"Huh." Caleb frowned. "I thought telling you our names would have worked."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Never mind." He stood. "Do not be afraid, Trey. We are all friends here."

Caleb helped me stand up. "Friends? You kidnapped me and brought me to Piem. That's not what friends do," I said, hoping to guilt-trip him.

"Kidnapped you?" Caleb laughed. "That is not what happened. Anyway, let us go meet The Boss."

"Wait, The Boss?" He's not in charge? Why does that scare me even more? "You two aren't the only ones here?"

"No." He looked at Maxwell. "Carry him."

I turned to Maxwell. "Wait. No. I can wa—" Maxwell ignored my protest and carried me like a pillow. I felt like a baby by how easily he held me in his arms, making sure the wicked child did not try to escape.

We ascended a flight of stairs and entered an elevator, which descended downward for nearly ten minutes. We came to a stop and the door opened, and we walked down a long hallway before entering a large room that smelled like butter.

Maxwell placed me down.

"Thank you," I told him. He nodded. "Don't you talk?"

"I hate talking," Maxwell said.

"Got it."

Gazing around the room, seventy screens lined the walls, each showing something different. Recognizing the streets and shops in the videos, it made sense that the footage was from surveillance cameras in Tombstone.

At the front of the room was a control board with three people in front of it. One sat on a leather chair watching the screens, while the two—Caleb and a blue-haired woman—stood beside them, staring at me. The one sitting must have been The Boss.

"That's him?" the blue-haired woman asked Caleb.

"You can say that," he replied.

"I thought he'd be more—"

"Scary?"

"Larger than life. From the way y'all talked about him, I thought he'd be... special."

Caleb whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened from whatever he said, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

Did the bum say something bad about me?

The bored expression on the blue-haired woman's face had disappeared, replaced with a grin. She even licked her lips when we locked eyes.

Caleb bent toward The Boss and said something before turning toward me. The latter stood and turned around.

I gasped. "It can't be. You're The Boss?"

"Nice to see you again," the hijab blogger I met in Black Rapunzel said, heading my way. "I didn't get the chance to introduce myself before." She extended her hand. "My name is Nuhaila."