The Discord notification pinged as David finished his math homework, the sound a welcome interruption from polynomial equations. He clicked over to find his gaming group already deep in discussion about the recent string of disappearances in Millridge.

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on," Tony's message declared. "Three people vanishing in two weeks? That's not normal."

David adjusted his headset and clicked the voice chat icon. "Since when is anything normal in this town?"

"Fair point." Tony's familiar voice crackled through. "But seriously, did you see the news about Mrs. Calloway? Just disappeared from her morning jog. Left her car in the park lot and everything."

"Probably just wandered off the trail," Morgan Altura chimed in, his usual calm tone carrying a hint of concern. "People get lost in those woods all the time."

"Three people in two weeks don't just 'get lost,'" Tony insisted. "And what about those weird lights people keep seeing? My cousin swears she saw something in the sky over by the old textile mills last night."

"Your cousin also swears she saw Bigfoot in her backyard," David reminded him, though he couldn't quite shake the memory of that strange glint in the antique shop window. "It was probably just light reflecting off something."

"Maybe it's aliens," Jason added with an exaggerated spooky voice. "Come to abduct unsuspecting joggers for their sinister experiments."

"No, no, I've got it figured out," Morgan cut in, his voice carrying that particular tone that meant he was building up to something ridiculous. "They're sleeper agents. Foreign spies who've been living among us for years, and now they're being 'disappeared' because their home office called them back."

"Right," Tony jumped on the theory with enthusiasm. "Think about it -- Mrs. Calloway was always talking about her 'travels.' Convenient cover story for meeting her handlers!"

"And she did make suspiciously good borscht at the last bake sale," Jason added. "Very suspicious."

"You guys are idiots," David said, but he couldn't help grinning. "What about Mr. Peterson? He never left Millridge in his life."

"That's exactly what they want you to think," Morgan insisted. "Classic deep cover. He probably has a whole secret identity. Bet if you went to his house now, all his stuff would be gone except for some mysterious coded messages in Cyrillic."

"And that weird accent he claimed was from growing up in South Georgia?" Tony was fully committed now. "Actually from South Ossetia. Wake up, sheeple!"

"Their extraction signal was probably that light my cousin saw," Morgan continued, barely containing his laughter. "The Mother Country calling its children home through their neural implants."

"Neural implants powered by the mind-control crystals they've been secretly mining under the textile mills," Jason added. "It all makes perfect sense!"

"No, no, hear me out about the aliens though," Tony circled back, his voice taking on that familiar excited pitch he got when he was really invested in an idea. "What if they're not just random abductions? What if they're collecting specific people? Like, Mrs. Henderson was a biology teacher. Mr. Peterson worked in engineering before he retired. They're gathering experts! Building some kind of think tank!"

David found himself half-listening as he pulled up the Battle of the Ancients launcher, watching the progress bar tick up as the new patch downloaded. The familiar logo pulsed gently on his screen while Tony's alien theories continued in the background, Morgan's barely suppressed laughter punctuating each new revelation.

His mother's voice drifted up from downstairs, calling the family to dinner. "Got to go," he announced to the group. "Raid at nine?"

"Actually..." Tony's voice took on that particular tone that meant bad news. "I can't make it tonight. Family stuff. But hey, maybe you can test out the new Crystalline Warrior mechanics in some solo content?"

David's stomach tightened. Playing alone meant no one to blame but himself if things went wrong. "Yeah, maybe."

Dinner was its usual exercise in selective hearing, letting his parents' conversation wash over him while he pushed food around his plate. His father was going on about some old Studebaker he'd found for sale over in Grantville.

"Original fifty-three Commander Starliner," his father was saying, gesturing with his fork. "Beautiful lines on that car. Needs work, but the frame's solid. Guy's only asking eight grand."

"That's eight grand we don't have right now," his mother replied, though her tone was more amused than stern. "Especially with the roof needing repairs before winter."

"I know, I know," his father sighed. "The roof comes first. But once that's done..." He brightened. "That Studebaker would make a perfect project car. David could learn some real mechanical skills, right son? Better than sitting in front of that computer all day."

David looked up from his plate, realizing he was expected to respond. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Dad."

"Learn mechanical skills?" Janice smirked from across the table. "Dad, he couldn't even put together that bike rack without bending the support bars. I wouldn't trust him near a classic car."

"That's because the instructions were wrong," David muttered, pushing his peas around the plate.

"The pictures were right there," Janice said. "Even Tommy from next door knew which way the bars were supposed to go."

Their father cleared his throat. "The Studebaker would be different. Real engineering, not some mass-produced kit. Did you know they hand-assembled those engines? The attention to detail on the dashboard alone---"

"Here we go," their mother said, sharing an amused look with Janice. "Next he'll tell us about the chrome work."

"Well, actually, the chrome accents on the fifty-three model were quite revolutionary for their time---"

"Dad," Janice interrupted, "before you give us another classic car lecture, can we talk about the homecoming committee? Because Chelsea's mom volunteered to help, but she's trying to change all our decoration plans, and she won't listen to anyone because she used to be some kind of professional event planner, which was like twenty years ago, and now she's saying our color scheme is 'pedestrian' whatever that means..."

David tuned out as his sister launched into a complicated story about homecoming politics. Something about somebody's mom trying to take over, and some other girl threatening to quit, and how the whole thing was literally going to ruin everything. He caught his mother hiding a smile behind her water glass as Janice dramatically reenacted what must have been a tense committee meeting.

"---and then she had the nerve to say that galaxy theme was 'overdone,'" Janice finished, stabbing her fork into a potato for emphasis.

"A tragedy," their mother said solemnly, though her eyes were twinkling. "Now, David, help me with the dishes while your father researches more cars we can't afford."

"I'm just window shopping," their father protested, though he had already pulled out his phone, no doubt looking up more Studebaker facts.

David slumped in his chair while everyone else dispersed, his father's voice drifting back from the hallway as he detailed compression ratios to no one in particular. After a moment of prolonged procrastination, David reluctantly pushed himself up and trudged to the kitchen, where his mother handed him a dish towel with the practiced motion of someone who'd established this routine years ago.

"You've been quiet tonight," she said, passing him a plate to dry. "Everything okay at school?"

"Yeah, fine." He focused intently on drying the plate. "Just tired."

"Mhmm." She gave him that mom-look that said she wasn't buying it but wouldn't push. "Well, your father means well with the car thing. He just wants to spend time with you."

"I know." The guilt made him add, "Maybe it would be kind of cool. Learning about engines and stuff."

She smiled, handing him another plate. "That's the spirit. Though maybe we should start you on something simpler than a classic car. Like that bike rack."

"Mom!"

"I'm just saying, we could always pick up another kit. Or your father could help you cut some replacement bars at the hardware store."

"Mom..." David sighed, focusing too intently on drying a plate that was already dry.

She watched him for a moment, her expression softening. "You know, you can talk to me about stuff. Not just broken bike racks."

"I know." He shifted uncomfortably, reaching for another dish. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Hmm." She handed him a glass, their fingers briefly touching in the exchange. "Well, if there ever is, I'm pretty good at listening. Even to things that aren't about Studebakers or homecoming disasters."

David managed a small smile despite himself. "Thanks."

She squeezed his shoulder gently before turning back to the sink. "Maybe next time Tony comes over, you two could give that bike rack another try. I won't even tell Janice if you mess it up again."

"Gee, thanks," he replied, the sarcasm softened by the genuine appreciation in his eyes.

When the dishes were finally done, David escaped to his room, making sure to lock the door before settling into his gaming chair.

The new patch had finished downloading, and the character creation screen welcomed him with its familiar glow. The new Crystalline Warrior class icon sparkled temptingly. Maybe Tony was right -- some solo practice would help him get a feel for the mechanics before trying it in group content.

Hours slipped away as he experimented with different combinations, testing damage rotations on training dummies and running solo scenarios. The new systems were complex but oddly intuitive, each crystal configuration creating mathematical patterns of damage amplification that reminded him of the vector calculations from his physics class—something that actually made sense to him, unlike most of what they taught at school.

A text from Tony broke his focus: "Can't sleep. Want to meet up? Got something weird to show you."

David checked the time -- 11:47 PM. His parents would be asleep by now. He glanced at his character, still waiting for his next command.

"Where?" he typed back.

"Usual spot. By the park entrance."

David hesitated. The thought of another hour alone with his thoughts and his gameplay mistakes wasn't exactly appealing.

"Give me 15 mins."

Sneaking out was almost too easy. Years of practice had taught him exactly which floorboards creaked, how to time his steps between his father's snores. The autumn air hit him with an unexpected chill as he slipped out the back door, fallen leaves crunching softly under his feet.

The streets were empty at this hour, streetlights casting pools of yellow light at regular intervals. He stuck to the shadows out of habit, even though there was no one around to see him. The familiar path between the old mills felt different at night, the empty windows watching him pass like dark eyes.

Tony was already waiting at their usual meeting spot, his lanky frame perched on the low stone wall that marked the park entrance. An eager grin split his face as David approached.

"Dude, check this out." He held up his phone, displaying a grainy photo that looked like it had been taken through a window. "My cousin sent this to me like ten minutes ago. She says she saw it hovering over the textile mills."

David squinted at the image. A faint reddish glow hung in the darkness, its shape indistinct but somehow wrong. "Probably just light reflecting off clouds or something."

"That's what I thought at first, but look." Tony zoomed in on the image. "See how it kind of... moves? Like it's alive?"

A rustling in the bushes made them both jump. David's heart hammered against his ribs as he peered into the darkness. Probably just a raccoon. Or a cat. Or...

The reddish glow from the photo suddenly seemed much less theoretical as something flickered between the trees, casting strange shadows across the ground. Tony's hand gripped his arm with bruising force.

"David..." His friend's voice cracked. "Please tell me you see that too."

Before David could respond, there was a sharp crack from somewhere in the darkness, like a branch breaking. Tony's phone clattered to the ground, its screen briefly illuminating the leaves at their feet before going dark. The sudden darkness after staring at the phone's bright screen made the shadows between the trees seem deeper, more active. He didn't even register making the decision to run - suddenly he was just moving, Tony's footsteps pounding alongside him as they sprinted down Mason Street.

They didn't stop until they reached the well-lit intersection by Quick Mart, both gasping for breath. The familiar storefront, even closed and dark, provided an anchor of normality.

"What..." Tony wheezed, bent double with his hands on his knees. "What was that?"

"Probably just a raccoon or something," David managed, trying to convince himself as much as his friend. "Breaking branches, you know?"

"Yeah," Tony wheezed, but his voice wavered. "Lots of raccoons around here. Really big ones."

They stood there for a long moment, neither willing to voice the obvious fact that raccoons don't usually send two teenagers running in terror. Finally, Tony straightened up, adjusting his glasses with shaking hands.

"Maybe we should... go home."

"Yeah." David swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Probably a good idea."

They started down Mason Street together, neither wanting to be the first to split off. The occasional car passed them, headlights stretching their shadows long across the pavement before sweeping away into the night. Each time the approaching engine sound made them tense until the vehicle came into view - just normal people heading home from late shifts or midnight grocery runs.

The walk felt longer than usual. Their footsteps seemed too loud on the empty sidewalk, echoing off the downtown storefronts. A sedan cruised by, its driver giving them a curious look. Probably wondering what two teenagers were doing out this late. David shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual.

They were almost to their split-off point at Oak Street when an old muscle car approached from behind, its engine rumbling. Just as it passed them, something in the engine caught or misfired - the resulting BANG! sent them both diving behind the nearest parked car. David's heart nearly burst out of his chest, and Tony let out a startled yelp that in any other situation would have been funny.

The muscle car continued on its way, completely oblivious to the minor heart attacks it had just caused. They slowly stood up from behind the parked car, trying to pretend they hadn't just taken cover from a backfiring engine like a couple of scared kids.

"So," Tony's voice was about an octave higher than usual. "That was... educational. Pretty sure I just aged a year and I definitely won't need caffeine for the next week. Who needs sleep anyway?"

"Yeah." David let out a short, shaky laugh despite himself. He brushed off his jeans, hoping Tony couldn't see his hands trembling in the dim streetlight. "Very funny. See you tomorrow? Assuming you don't die of caffeine withdrawal."

They parted ways at the corner, each casting frequent glances over their shoulders. The streets seemed darker now, the shadows deeper. Every rustle of leaves made David's heart skip, and the occasional passing car made him want to duck behind something until he could see what it was. By the time he made it home, his shirt was damp with cold sweat.

He lay in bed for a long time after that, staring at his ceiling in the darkness. The room felt different tonight—quieter, emptier, somehow more watchful. Every shadow seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at it, and the faint moonlight through his curtains cast patterns that his tired mind kept reshaping into that strange red glow from the park.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter!

Hope everyone enjoys this new series! I’m still working on everything else and soon to have new artwork from an artist on this one. I’m really enjoying writing about David and what’s going on in his life. There will be a lot more to come!

As well:

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Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

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TTFN Everyone.