You got kidnapped again, Adam. Well, at least it's fancier this time around.

The thought came to him the moment he stepped down from the plane, greeted by unfamiliar scenery. Well—it wasn't that different. Sky was still the same. Same trees. Perhaps the difference lay somewhere else.

Is this… the ocean?

He paused at the bottom of the steps, breathing in deeply. The air tasted different here—cleaner, somehow. Saltier?

Adam had glimpsed the beach before. Miami, he thought. Inside the bus during one of the scavenging runs, Jefferson had taken them close to the coast. He'd caught a whiff of it then—rotting fish, garbage, waste mixing with the brine.

It didn't smell nice at all. He'd always wondered why people even swim in it.

But this… this smell was what he'd imagined when Grace described the beach to Samantha. When she'd told her daughter about waves lapping at white sand, about the way the sun turned the water golden at sunset.

It smelled peaceful, in a way. It—

"What're you doing just standing there, American?"

And just like that, Adam's peaceful thoughts were cut by Clementine. Adam looked over to see her already halfway into a sleek black car, one hand on the door frame. She gestured once for him to come and then just stepped inside without waiting for him.

Adam didn't immediately follow Clementine, and instead scanned the small airport. They were on a private terminal, and there weren't any crowds at all. The only people there were personnel who obviously avoided looking at him.

Even if I ran, I'd be completely lost.

He was in a completely different country now. But… perhaps that was an advantage. He had always dreamed of leaving the country, and now the opportunity was right here. He could simply make a break for it.

But then…

Adam looked over at the car. From what Clementine had told him, Sylvie was in serious trouble with both the US Government and their own country—all because of him.

He didn't know Sylvie, the two of them were practically strangers. But he owed her now, and he wouldn't just leave.

And so, with that thought, he sighed and followed Clementine into the car.

Nothing's changed. You're being dragged around again. What you have, Adam, is an illusion of choice… always has been. And maybe… maybe you actually like being dragged around.

Easier that way. No decisions. No responsibility. Easier to blame other people, too. So passive, Monsieur Adam. Or perhaps you've gotten tired listening to the sound of your own voice? You're lonely, who wouldn't be? Twenty years of isolation, and you wag your tail with the very first women—

Adam shook the thoughts away as he reached for the door handle.

I'm only repaying what I owe, nothing else.

And with that thought, the voice inside his mind became quiet. He was about to pull the door shut when someone else closed it for him—it was another man in a suit, but this time, Adam couldn't help but notice how crisp the uniform was compared to the people from the Hospital.

And also…

Where did this man just suddenly pop out from?

Adam had been experiencing a lot of first times ever since he'd woken up several hours ago on the plane, and he had a feeling it hadn't stopped just yet.

He looked around the car's interior… and then stopped.

It was as luxurious as the plane. More, even. The seats formed a U-shape, and he wasn't even aware that cars could do that… and the seat was even softer than the one on the plane. The inside also felt unusually large compared to what the car looked like outside.

Wood paneling lined the walls. Ambient lighting glowed from recessed fixtures… you couldn't even see the driver since there was a window separating them.

And finally, he looked at Clementine, who was already at the far end, opening what appeared to be a small refrigerator hidden in the corner of the long seat.

"You and your sister are wealthy," Adam blurted out.

Clementine rolled her eyes, pulling out another bottle of alcohol.

"Oh, really? What gave it away?" She poured herself another glass, despite already drinking liters on the plane. "The private jet? The car? Or was it my devastating charm?"

"Hm…" Adam became quiet after that, turning his attention to the window to look at the airport again as they moved.

But not even a second passed before Clementine spoke again.

"That's it?" She leaned forward, glass in hand. "You're not saying anything else? Ask more questions?"

Adam shrugged.

"Ugh." Clementine groaned, throwing her head back against the seat. "Enough with the mysterious brooding type already. I get it, you're mysterious. Talk to me. Ask me questions."

Adam looked at her. "Like what?"

"Like—I don't know. Anything!" She gestured wildly, nearly spilling her drink. "How about... yes, we were wealthy even before my sister and I became Heroes. We didn't come at this later in life; we were born in this. There. I answered the question you were obviously thinking about."

"I wasn't," Adam said.

"Mon Dieu." Clementine drained her glass. "How boring can one guy be? Why is Sylvie even interested in you enough to bring you to our home?"

"Well…" Her playful tone suddenly shifted then, replaced by a small hum and a smirk.

"...Since you're not saying anything." She reached into the mini-fridge again, this time pulling out a folder. "...I went ahead and had Alfred there do our own research."

She flipped it open, scanning the contents while glancing at Adam.

"Adam. That's what most people who know you call you. You've lived in areas with minimal or no surveillance. Very dubious background. Worked as a scavenger for more than ten years. And…"

She glanced up. "Not registered in any census. And it says here you probably used fake IDs your entire life."

"..."

"Most importantly…" Clementine pulled out a photograph, holding it up. "...you haven't aged a single bit in the last… almost ten years. Now, I believe that you really are twenty-seven—or is even that a lie?"

Clementine tossed the file next to him, and he looked it at his photograph. The photo showed him at a scrapyard, hoodie up, face partially visible. Dated eight years ago.

And true enough, he looked the same. Except his hair was longer then.

"I hope you don't mind." Clementine's voice softened, just slightly. "I take the precaution of knowing who approaches my sister. Our family. And since you don't speak, I had to do it myself."

She looked at Adam, and something in her eyes once again moved as she leaned back.

"We have thirty minutes until we reach home. Plenty of time to get to know each other. To be fair, you should ask your questions too, as I said. I'll answer as truthfully as I can. And to break the ice, I'll ask first."

Clementine scooched closer to Adam, leaning close enough that he could smell the alcohol on her breath… and something else. Something sweet, like vanilla and honey.

Her eyes locked onto his.

"Who is this woman?" She pushed Adam's photograph aside, revealing another beneath it.

Dr. Aniston.

"Like you," Clementine continued, tapping the photo, "this woman doesn't exist in the system. She does, but it's clearly fake. Everything about her screams fake. Fake family. Fake history. It says there she graduated from Harvard Medical School, but from what Alfred found there, she dropped out in her first year."

Adam's eyes widened.

They found information on Dr. Aniston? Just… how much reach does their family have? Are they at the same level as the Hospital?

Clementine watched his reaction carefully, then sighed when he didn't respond.

"If you're not going to talk…" She sat back. "...we'll just dig deeper. This is all we could find in less than twelve hours. Think of what we can find in a week."

Her tone changed again—deeper this time.

"My sister is taking a risk for you. The least you could do is introduce yourself properly. Whether you like it or not, you're in our lives now. And whoever enters our lives must be checked."

She crossed her legs and her arms.

"You're a veteran. You're living in a completely different world now."

Clementine gestured around the car.

"My sister and I were already different even before we were summoned to the Game. But when we became Heroes? That elevated everything we already had. We live differently. Think differently. Operate on a different level than normal people—all Heroes do. You've met them. Some don't even see humans as… humans anymore."

Her voice dropped lower, almost gentle.

"I have a feeling you'll survive the coming Game. That you'll become a Hero yourself. And when that happens? Everything will change again for you." She paused. "But there's one more thing I'm curious about."

She leaned forward again.

"You were on the losing team in the last Game," she whispered, looking him straight in the eyes again. "So… how are you still alive?"

Adam glanced at her, then at the file between them. And when Clementine heard him sigh, she reached for the bottle, this time pouring two fresh glasses.

"So, Adam…" She slid one toward him. "Do you have any questions for me? I promise, unlike you, I'll answer truthfully."

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