Chapter 7

Nexus Mapping Sequence

0012 0409 – song – Ludacris – Get Back

5109 1100 – film – Tropic Thunder (2008)

0420 0090 – song – The Velvet Underground – Run Run Run

* Nexus Mapping Sequence media is provided to support chapter contents.

In an instant, the room exploded into chaos. Issac, the unnervingly beautiful man, moved like a blur, his grace belying his lethality. He lunged toward Will, delivering a forceful blow that sent the former soldier sprawling to the ground.

Akima pushed off the wall, launching herself toward Issac with ferocious speed. But before her strike could land, Issac dropped to one knee, using his momentum to spring upward. The force sent Akima hurtling across the room, crashing into the coffee table with a loud thud.

Alex, clutching the trembling puppy tightly to her chest, bolted for the door. But Issac’s movements were impossibly fluid; with a single stride, he slid in front of her, his towering form blocking her escape. Alex froze, her heart pounding as his piercing gaze locked onto her.

Just as he reached for her, Marco tackled him from behind, locking his arms around Issac’s waist and dragging him backward. "Go!" Marco shouted, his voice strained.

Alex darted toward the kitchen, narrowly avoiding Issac’s retaliatory swipe. The assassin moved with eerie calm, as if the chaos around him were an elaborate dance. He broke free of Marco’s grip effortlessly, driving a sharp elbow into Marco’s chest. The impact sent Marco staggering backward, clutching his ribs as he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.

Akima and Will, regaining their footing, launched themselves at Issac in tandem. Akima’s fists flew with precision, while Will’s powerful strikes aimed to overwhelm him. Yet Issac remained unshaken, deflecting their attacks with a casual efficiency. He shoved Akima into Will without even looking, their bodies colliding and tumbling to the ground. Every attempt to strike him seemed futile, his movements impossibly smooth and deliberate.

Ethan watched, torn between awe and dread. Despite the violence, Issac maintained a disquieting air of serenity, his every movement calculated and precise. The quietness in his demeanor was more unsettling than any shouted threats. 

Suddenly, Bobbi reappeared from the kitchen, wielding a frying pan. "Heads up!" he shouted, flinging it with all his might.

The pan struck Issac squarely in the forehead with a deafening gong. The sound reverberated through the room, momentarily silencing the chaos. Issac stood unfazed, his expression unreadable as the pan clattered to the floor. Slowly, he bent down, picked it up, and hurled it back at Bobbi with alarming speed.

Bobbi barely managed to duck in time, the pan sailing past him and slamming into the wall behind. "Noted—pots and pans don’t work," Bobbi muttered, scrambling for cover.

In the midst of the chaos, Ethan noticed Wolf retreating to the corner of the room. He initially thought the Chimera was cowering again, but then something strange happened. Wolf began to shrink, his small form collapsing inward until he was no taller than a foot.

Ethan’s eyes widened as Wolf skittered up the wall and onto the ceiling, his movements eerily insect-like. Silently, the tiny Chimera crept toward Issac, positioning himself directly above the assassin. Then, with a sudden drop, Wolf landed squarely on Issac’s head.

Wolf’s tiny fists moved in a blur, striking Issac repeatedly with surprising force. Each blow sent a jarring crack echoing through the room, and for the first time, Issac seemed rattled. His calm façade faltered as he staggered, trying to shake Wolf off.

Seeing their chance, Will surged forward, slamming his shoulder into Issac and sending him crashing to the ground. Akima followed immediately, leaping onto the fallen lymphocyte. She unleashed a barrage of punches, her fists pounding against Issac’s face and chest with relentless fury.

Issac grunted under the assault, his movements less controlled now, his composure slipping further with every hit. The once-untouchable assassin was finally on the defensive, the momentum shifting in their favor.

Amid the chaos, Ethan’s hands trembled as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his iPod. The noise of the fight raged around him, but his focus narrowed to the small device. He had become convinced his dad’s messages held a deeper meaning, something that might help in moments like this. Desperate, he slipped in his headphones and hit play on the next track.

"I could listen to Prince any day, all day," his dad’s voice began, casual and warm, a stark contrast to the violence unfolding in the room.

"Hurry up, Dad," Ethan whispered, his voice tight with urgency.

"I grew up in Atlanta and always had a special place in my heart for music from the A-Town," his dad continued.

Ethan couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even now. "No one says A-Town anymore, Dad," he muttered to himself, glancing up just in time to see Issac throw Akima over the couch with startling ease.

Wolf, clinging to Issac’s shoulders like a tenacious burr, was next. Issac grabbed him and hurled him like a beanbag across the room. As Wolf sailed through the air, his form expanded, returning to his full size just before crashing into Akima, sending the couch skidding back with a loud scrape.

"OutKast is probably my favorite hip-hop group," Ethan’s dad went on, oblivious to the pandemonium around his son. "But there are so many great artists from the Dirty South."

Ethan’s gaze darted back to the fight. Issac was on his feet again, fending off attacks from Marco, Will, and a reeling Akima. The assassin moved with terrifying precision, countering every strike with effortless brutality. In the kitchen, Alex and Bobbi huddled, eyes wide with fear, peeking out from behind the counter.

"My family moved around a lot when I was a kid," Ethan’s dad said, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "Even as an adult, I was always on the go. But Atlanta always felt like home to me. It’s important to have a home, to feel welcome. Family can give you that feeling, and sometimes good friends can, too."

Ethan winced as Issac delivered a crushing blow to Marco’s chest. His friend crumpled to the ground, motionless.

"Marco!" Ethan shouted, rushing to his side.

Kneeling beside Marco, Ethan shook him gently, but his friend didn’t respond. His heart raced as his dad’s voice continued in his ears.

"Wherever you call home, I hope you can find something that brings you joy," his dad said. "For me, that was music. I loved going to concerts and shows, especially with friends. One of my favorite memories was seeing Ludacris perform at a festival. When this song came on, the crowd went wild. It was incredible."

The familiar beat of Ludacris’s Get Back began to play, its high-energy rhythm surging through Ethan’s headphones.

As the song built, a strange calm settled over Ethan. He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. He focused, trying to conjure something—anything—that could turn the tide.

The music pulsed in his veins, and suddenly, a memory surfaced. Ethan had heard this song before, not just on the track but in a viral TikTok. The image came back vividly: an old, overweight man grooving in oversized sunglasses and a ridiculous gold chain with a massive dollar-sign medallion dangling from his neck. It was the end credit scene from Tropic Thunder, where Tom Cruise dances to Ludacris’s Get Back. 

Ethan’s eyes snapped open, and in his hands, he found a massive gold chain with a dollar sign as large as a manhole cover hanging from it. The weight should have been immense, but in his grip, it felt oddly light, as if made just for him.

He stood, swinging the chain experimentally. It whirled around him with surprising ease, a blur of gold and sheer absurdity. The music roared in his ears as the beat dropped, and with a final spin, Ethan hurled the chain at Issac.

The medallion slammed into Issac’s chest with a bone-rattling crash. The force propelled the assassin backward, sending him hurtling through the living room wall in an explosion of drywall and debris.

Ethan stood there, panting, as the dust settled. Issac lay half-buried in the rubble, the massive gold medallion pinning him to the ground. He struggled, his movements jerky and less graceful than before, as he tried to push the oversized emblem off his chest.

For the first time, Issac didn’t look invincible.

"We need to bounce!" Will shouted, his voice sharp as he hoisted a groggy Marco to his feet. Marco winced but managed to stay upright, leaning heavily on Will for support.

Bobbi and Alex sprinted out of the kitchen, their footsteps echoing across the floor. Alex reached the front door first, fumbling with the lock as her hands trembled. The puppy squirmed in her arms, and before she could adjust her grip, it wriggled free, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

The tiny dog immediately bolted toward the gaping hole in the wall, barking frantically at the spot where Issac was buried beneath a pile of rubble and drywall. Its high-pitched yips echoed through the apartment, sharp and insistent.

"Let’s go!" Will yelled from outside, his tone urgent.

Ethan, glancing back at the others fleeing into the night, hesitated. He couldn’t leave the puppy behind. Rushing back, he crouched near the barking dog, trying to scoop it up.

"Come on, buddy," Ethan coaxed, his voice urgent but soft. "We need to go!"

From outside, Will’s voice rang out again, louder this time. "Ethan, move!"

"I’m trying!" Ethan shouted back, his frustration mounting as the puppy ignored him, continuing its furious barking at the hole in the wall.

As if summoned by the commotion, Issac stirred, his silhouette emerging from the shadows of the wrecked wall. He stood slowly, brushing debris from his suit with eerie calm, his piercing eyes locking onto Ethan.

"Let’s go!" Ethan yelled at the puppy, desperation creeping into his voice.

Suddenly, something impossible happened. The puppy began to shimmer, its form almost vibrating. Then, with a soft pop, another identical golden retriever appeared beside it. Then another. And another.

Ethan froze, watching in disbelief as the room began to fill with puppies. Dozens turned into hundreds, each one identical to the original, their tiny tails wagging furiously as they yipped and barked.

Issac stepped fully into the living room, his composed demeanor faltering as the growing swarm of puppies advanced toward him. Their tiny bodies moved as one, an overwhelming tide of fur, paws, and wagging tails.

By now, over a thousand puppies had filled the apartment, swarming Issac and climbing over one another to reach him. He staggered back, visibly irritated as the relentless wave of golden retrievers nipped at his heels and leapt at his legs.

Ethan barely managed to squeeze through the front door, careful to avoid stepping on the puppies spilling out into the hallway.

Outside, Alex stared wide-eyed at the scene unfolding behind him. "Did you do that?" she asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

Ethan turned to look back into the apartment. The puppies had completely engulfed Issac, forming a wriggling, barking mass that climbed higher and higher, burying him under a mountain of fur. The once-intimidating assassin was now invisible beneath the canine chaos.

"I… I guess so," Ethan said, his voice trailing off as he tried to process what had just happened.

"How many are there?" Bobbi asked, peering through the door with a look of utter astonishment.

"Too many," Alex said, her voice soft but incredulous. "Way too many."

The sound of frantic barking and the sight of golden retrievers piling on top of each other burned itself into Ethan’s memory. For all the insanity he’d experienced in the past few hours, this moment might have been the most surreal.

"Come on," Will barked from farther down the street. "We’re not out of this yet!"

Snapping out of his daze, Ethan turned and ran after the group, his mind still reeling.

"Come on, this way!" Will shouted, leading the group across the dimly lit back parking lot.

In the far corner, a black SUV sat under the weak glow of a flickering light. Will unlocked the doors with a sharp beep, and everyone piled into the back in a frantic scramble. Ethan climbed into the front passenger seat, slamming the door as Will hit the gas, the tires screeching as they sped off into the night.

"What the hell was that?" Marco shouted from the back, clutching his ribs.

"That," Akima said, her voice clipped and shaken, "was Issac. He’s a lymphocyte."

Ethan glanced back at her, his brow furrowed. She looked pale, her usual calm cracked by the intensity of the encounter.

"Where are we going?" Ethan asked, turning back to Will.

"Before everything went sideways," Will began, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, "I was going to suggest we head to my cabin up north. It’s remote—off the grid. No one should be able to trace it back to me."

Akima nodded from the back seat. "It’s a good idea. We should be safe there… for now. But not for long. Issac will eventually find us. He doesn’t stop. Ever. Not until we’re all dead."

Her words hung heavy in the car.

"Why do they want to kill us?" Alex asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You all know too much," Akima said bluntly. "Gerry considers you a threat to his perfect order."

Silence settled over the car, the weight of her statement pressing down on them. Ethan leaned against the window, staring out at the dark streets streaking past. In just one night, his world had flipped on its head. Dream worlds, shadow organizations, crystals, and now a relentless killer who wouldn’t stop until they were dead.

"What about our lives?" Alex asked suddenly, her voice cracking. "My parents are going to freak out when I don’t come home."

"And what about the mess we left behind?" Marco added, his tone uneasy. "There’s no way the neighbors didn’t hear or see something."

Akima exhaled sharply. "Gerry’s already sent a team of basophils to clean up the mess. That’s their job. They’ll make it like it never happened. Any neighbors who heard or saw something won’t remember a thing—they’ll have their memories rewritten."

Ethan’s stomach twisted. "Crap," he said, sitting upright. "They have the crystal too."

Akima’s expression darkened. "They probably do. It’s likely already back at headquarters."

"Y’all have a headquarters?" Alex asked, her brows shooting up in disbelief.

Bobbi leaned back in his seat, his mind already working. "Makes sense," he said. "I’d bet it’s hiding in plain sight. Something inconspicuous."

Akima nodded. "Yes. The headquarters has moved throughout history, but it’s currently in New York City. From the outside, it looks like an ordinary building."

"Where?" Alex pressed, leaning forward.

"The Braxton Building, downtown Manhattan," Akima replied. "Anyone walking in sees 105 floors of office space. But every floor is run by leukocytes."

"That’s wild," Alex said, shaking her head.

Ethan glanced back at Akima. "A building that big in Manhattan? How do they keep it hidden?"

"Gerry runs a legitimate business as a front," Akima said, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "The first thirty floors manage an extremely successful toilet paper company."

"Toilet paper?" Bobbi asked, incredulous.

"Yes," Akima said. "The other 75 floors oversee all leukocyte operations."

"You’re telling me," Marco said, his voice laced with disbelief, "the shadow organization controlling the world hides behind a toilet paper company?"

"Why not?" Bobbi said with a smirk. "Nobody’s going to question a company that keeps their bathrooms stocked."

The absurdity of it all briefly lifted the tension, eliciting a chuckle from Alex. But Ethan’s thoughts lingered on the crystal, Gerry, and Issac. The humor couldn’t distract him from the reality of what they were up against.

"Surely someone has questioned what’s going on with the other floors," Marco said, breaking the heavy silence.

"You have to remember, leukocytes run everything," Akima replied, her voice even but grim. "No one comes asking questions because we make it that way. Anyone who’s ever gotten close has been spun around and sent in the other direction by a very successful eosinophil."

"Damn," Marco muttered, running a hand through his hair. "So, how are we supposed to stop these guys?"

"You don’t," Akima said flatly.

The weight of her words settled over the group like a dark cloud. Another dreadful silence engulfed the car, amplifying the sound of the tires on the asphalt and the hum of the engine. Not only were they being hunted, but they were being pursued by an all-encompassing force. The fear of death began creeping into everyone’s mind, a cold knot tightening in their chests.

Ethan stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past. The enormity of the situation hit him like a punch to the gut. He felt a bitter longing for the problems he’d faced only days ago—arguments with his mom, questions about his future. Compared to this nightmare, those issues felt laughably small.

Will drove on in silence, the winding roads carrying them deeper into the north Georgia mountains. The dense trees lining the road gradually thinned, giving way to a remote clearing where a small cabin sat nestled in the woods.

From the outside, the cabin wasn’t much to look at—just a modest structure of weathered wood with a sloping tin roof.

When they stepped inside, Ethan’s first impression didn’t improve. The interior was cramped, with a small living room that merged into a kitchenette, two tiny bedrooms, and a bathroom so small he doubted it had enough room to turn around. He wondered how all of them were supposed to hide here.

At least the place had water and electricity, he thought, and he couldn’t help but notice the surprisingly large TV mounted on the living room wall.

"Look, I know it’s not much," Will said, dropping his bag near the couch. "But we should be safe here for a little while. Alex and Akima, you can take one of the bedrooms. Gentlemen, you’ll have the other. I’ll sleep out here in the living room."

Slowly, the group began to disperse, each person weighed down by exhaustion and worry.

The bedrooms weren’t much better than the rest of the cabin. Ethan peeked into the room designated for the "gentlemen" and sighed. A single twin bed sat pushed against the wall, with just enough space to fit a small dresser and nothing else.

"This isn’t going to work," Marco said, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "Wolf, can you come here and make us some bunk beds?"

"Don’t ask Wolf to do that," Ethan said, shooting him a look.

"What? Seems like something he could handle," Marco replied. "I’d ask you, but we’d probably end up with a Volkswagen Beetle or a Japanese toilet instead."

"Fair enough," Ethan admitted with a reluctant smirk. The more he thought about it, the idea didn’t seem so bad.

Wolf appeared in the doorway, his small form lighting up with excitement. "What’s a bunk bed?" he asked, eager to help.

Ethan pulled out his phone, quickly searching for an image. He showed Wolf a picture, and the Chimera studied it intently.

"Ah, I see," Wolf said, nodding enthusiastically. With a theatrical wave of his arms, the single twin bed shimmered for a moment before transforming into two sturdy bunk beds.

The group stepped back, admiring the result. The wooden frames looked solid, with two comfortable-looking mattresses stacked neatly one above the other.

"That should do it!" Wolf said proudly, his grin stretching ear to ear.

Marco clapped him on the shoulder. "You’re a lifesaver, Wolf."

Ethan climbed onto the bottom bunk, feeling the tension of the night begin to ease slightly. As much as their situation remained dire, this small moment of problem-solving brought a flicker of normalcy—and that was something they desperately needed.

Wolf began to walk back to the living room, his small frame moving with an almost apologetic shuffle.

"Hey, hold up," Marco called after him. "Why don’t you hang out with us, man? You’re one of us now."

Wolf paused mid-step, turning back with wide, astonished eyes. "Really? No one’s ever said that to me before. I’ve never… been part of a group."

"That’s crazy," Ethan said, shaking his head.

The group slowly settled in, choosing spots on the magically conjured bunk beds. For something that had materialized out of thin air, the beds were impressively sturdy. Ethan claimed the top bunk above Wolf, while Marco and Bobbi playfully argued over who would take the top of their bunk.

"Do you mind if I hang out with you guys?" Alex asked, stepping into the room. She hesitated in the doorway, her expression a mix of discomfort and uncertainty. "Akima asked if she could have a moment alone. I think she’s… struggling with all of this."

"Sure thing," Ethan said quickly, his heart skipping a beat. The sight of Alex standing there made his earlier feelings for her bubble back to the surface.

Noticing there wasn’t a proper place for her to sit, Ethan stood up, closed his eyes, and concentrated as hard as he could. He pictured the comfiest recliner imaginable, imagining its plush cushions and inviting design.

When he opened his eyes, his heart sank. Instead of a recliner, a rickety wooden chair stood before him, one leg wobbling slightly.

"Maybe you should just sit on the bed," Ethan said sheepishly, picking up the sad-looking chair.

He carried it out to the living room, where Will glanced up from his spot on the couch.

"Where’d that come from?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I tried to make a recliner for Alex to sit on," Ethan said, embarrassed. "It didn’t exactly go as planned."

Will chuckled, shaking his head. "I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you can make anything, even a junky chair, out of nothing."

"Yeah, same," Ethan admitted. "It’s definitely crazy."

Ethan returned to the bedroom, finding the group engaged in a conversation with Wolf.

"So, what’s it like there?" Alex was asking, her voice curious.

Ethan sat cross-legged on the floor, for the first time since his strange dream, feeling grounded by the company of his friends.

"As I mentioned earlier, it’s always dark," Wolf replied earnestly. "We make dreams in massive facilities called dream stations."

"Endless hallways with endless closets," Ethan added, remembering his brief escape from Chimera. "At least, that’s what I saw."

"So, you have buildings on Chimera?" Bobbi asked, leaning over the top bunk.

"Oh, yes," Wolf said. "There are thousands of dream stations scattered across Chimera. Each one can house tens of thousands of people."

"What do you do for fun?" Alex asked, tilting her head.

Wolf blinked, confused by the question. "Fun? We don’t really have fun. There isn’t time for that. The King grants us thirty minutes of personal time each night, but the rest of our time is spent creating dreams or resting."

"You have a king?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," Wolf said, nodding enthusiastically. "Our Benevolent King keeps Chimera in perfect order."

"Benevolent King?" Ethan repeated skeptically. "Doesn’t sound so benevolent if you only get thirty minutes of free time. So, what do you do during that time?"

"I mostly read from the sacred manual or clean my domicile," Wolf said, his tone genuinely content.

"That sounds… bleak," Marco muttered.

"Oh, it’s not!" Wolf replied cheerfully. "I find so much joy in helping people. Creating dreams isn’t just a pleasure—it’s a necessity."

"What do you mean?" Alex asked, leaning forward slightly. "How is it a necessity?"

"According to the sacred manual," Wolf began, his voice reverent, "a creative mind is a dangerous mind. We help save humanity from itself by pulling the dreams from people, leaving them less… creative."

"That’s messed up," Marco growled, his voice filled with disbelief.

Wolf tilted his head, visibly confused. "I don’t understand. Have I said something wrong?"

"You literally steal our dreams," Marco said, his voice rising. "You steal our creativity. How is that helping anyone?"

"The sacred manual says people are dangerous when they think for themselves," Wolf replied, sounding more uncertain now.

"I think it’s all connected," Bobbi said from the top bunk, his voice thoughtful. "Akima and her leukocytes, Wolf and Chimera—it all feels like one big system designed to keep humanity in check. Oppression on a massive scale."

Wolf looked stricken. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice small. "I didn’t know. I always thought I was helping mankind."

Marco exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. "It’s okay, Wolf. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the system you’re part of."

Wolf nodded slowly, his usual cheer dimmed. "I’ve never questioned it before," he admitted softly. "But now I’m starting to wonder…"

As the tension in the room reached its peak, Ethan pushed himself to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. He began pacing, his footsteps soft against the worn wooden floor.

"It’s getting late," he said, his voice strained but steady. "And we’ve had… a very strange day. We should probably call it a night and get some sleep."

The group murmured in agreement, the exhaustion of the day etched into their faces. Alex stood up, stretching slightly before making her way toward the door. As she passed Ethan, she paused, her gaze softening.

Without a word, she reached out and took his hand in hers, the warmth of her touch grounding him in the moment. She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes meeting his.

"I don’t know how," she whispered, her voice a delicate mix of hope and determination, "but we’re going to be okay."

Before Ethan could respond, Alex leaned in and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering for the briefest moment. The touch was light, but it sent a wave of warmth coursing through him.

She pulled away, offering him a small, reassuring smile before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Ethan stood frozen, the memory of her kiss burning on his skin. The weight of the day—the chaos, the fear, the impossible revelations—all seemed to melt away, leaving behind a calm he hadn’t felt in hours.

He practically floated to his bunk, climbing into his sleeping bag with a renewed sense of peace. As he stared up at the wooden slats above him, he couldn’t explain why, but he believed Alex was right. Somehow, against all odds, everything was going to be okay.