Chapter 1 | Jason Allen

  So, Jenny,” I ask my twin sister, “what’s the plan for the opener?”

  “We’ll kick things off with Whirlwind,” she says. “Then I’ll talk a bit more.”

  “You always do the talking,” Kage, our guitarist and my best friend, complains. “When do we get to be the stars of the show?”

  I chuckle while tuning my snare drum, tapping along the edge to make sure the sound is even. Jenny laughs at his comment, and Paige, our bassist, shakes her head with a grin.

  After finishing tuning our instruments and a bit of warming up, the crowd had seemingly flooded in, snapping pictures and starting chants, leaving us ready to start.

  “Hello, Seven!” The crowd erupts with yelling, applause, and whistling. Jenny continues, “It’s great to see you all here! We’re ready to have a great show for you guys here at The Drop! The deepest place in the World, and the only place in Seven with power past the curfew!” The crowd yells louder this time, they’re chomping at our feet for some music.

  Yet, out of the blue to the audience but all the more familiar to us, Jenny slows down before we start playing, “But, real quick y’all, can we have a moment to recognize the brave members of our community who are going out of these walls to fight the aliens that put us in here!” The crowd roars with passion and pride for the Colonies, then Jenny continues, “And can we take a moment to sympathize with the families that lost their children, parents, siblings, and spouses to these threats out there.” The crowd quickly dies down, their volume going down to a whisper, I notice Jenny’s hand pointing at me, slightly higher, indicating it’s almost time.

  I hit my sticks together after Jenny drops her hand, counting off with a “One, two, three, four!”

  * * *

  What feels like an eternity later, we finally take our intermission. We've played half our set, and now we need a break. Kage and I make a bet: whoever gets to the third floor and grabs nachos first wins.

  I, of course, know a shortcut.

  As I’m running up the backstage stairs, I hear footsteps above me. That doesn’t make sense. No shot Kage knows this shortcut! But as I reach the third floor, I spot someone else entirely. There’s a guy in a suit, leaning casually against the railing. He looks to be in his early to mid-twenties, just a year or two older than me.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He notices me and smirks. “Jason Allen.” His voice is calm, deliberate. “You got a minute?”

  I slow my steps. It’s not normal for random fans to know my full name, but maybe it’s out there somewhere. Tag Club isn’t a nobody band. Still, something about the way he says it makes me uneasy.

  “I’ve got a minute if you’re walking to the nacho stand with me.”

  He checks his watch, then nods, falling in step beside me. As we head through the door, I catch a strange glint on his right hand. A silver ring, its surface faintly glowing blue in my peripheral vision, but when I look directly at it, the glow is gone.

  “Jason, have you ever felt like you’re missing something?”

  The question confuses me. “Missing what? Money? Fame? A better drum kit?”

  “Think bigger,” he says. “You spend your days playing music and hanging out with your friends. That’s nice, but don’t you ever feel like there should be more?”

  I scoff. “I like simple.”

  “What you call simple, I call incomplete.”

  That one sticks. It feels less like he’s trying to convince me and more like he’s saying something I’ve thought before but never admitted.

  “Jason, what if I offered you a job?”

  I stop walking. “Who are you? And why are you offering me a job?”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring identical to his. “Hold onto this for me.” He keeps walking ahead like this is no big deal.

  “You still didn’t answer me.”

  He glances back. “Holden Brown.” He gestures toward the ring in my hand. “And I think you’ll want that sooner than you realize.” He gets further ahead, and I’m just standing there, he turns back, “We’ve got nachos to get, no?”

  I quickly catch up to him, “Holden, I became a drummer to be free from jobs. Why would I want to take a job from some dude I met in a stairwell?”

  “This job is unlike anything you think I’m offering.”

  “Judging by your suit it’s exactly what I think you’re offering.”

  “Jason,” he places his hand on my shoulder, “I need you to take this job. So many things are resting on your shoulders and you don’t even know it.”

  I flip the ring around in my hands, I don’t feel like I should put it on yet. “Why is it up to me if I’m still just the drummer for my band?”

  “That ring I gave you,” Holden continues. “When you finally give in and put it on, slide the middle section down. That’s how you’ll get your answer.”

  “And what, you can’t just tell me now?”

  He scans the hallway. “Too many ears.”

  I let out a short laugh. “What are you, some kind of spy?”

  “I’m an agent to an Agency only known by it’s Agents,” he says, his riddle makes me think for a bit, “And I hope you will be soon.” His face is dead serious. Then, he leans in slightly and lowers his voice. “I’m a bounty hunter.”

  The words are so absurd I can’t help but snort. “A bounty hunter? In the colonies?” I shake my head. “Sure. Whatever you say, man.”

  Holden doesn’t argue. He just reaches out his hand for a shake. “I’ll be seeing you. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

  I shake it, still skeptical, and watch him disappear down the hall.

  The ring feels heavier in my hand now. I flip it between my fingers, debating. He’s messing with me. He has to be. I shake it off and head toward the nacho stand, stuffing the ring into my pocket.

  When I finally spot Kage, he’s already standing there with two plates of nachos. “Dude,” he says, handing me one, “what took you so long?”

  I take a bite, glancing back at the hallway I just came from. “You have no idea.”