"Tisiah!" he exclaimed, running his fingers through Tisiah's dark hair. "Haven't seen you in that frame of mind while. How have you been?"

"I'm doing fine," he said. Then, at that moment, Devon approached me, and I could tell that he sensed my perception of the situation as somewhat askew. "So who's your friend here?" he asked.

"This is Connor," Tisiah stated. I waved my hands nervously, for reasons I couldn't quite understand, and Devon couldn't help but snicker as he shook my hand.

"Hello, I'm Devon," he introduced himself. "Encountering you is truly wonderful. So what brings you here?"
Tisiah whispered. "We need your assistance," he said.

Devon agreed and joined us at the table. I sat next to Tisiah, because, as I mentioned, I am a deep thinker. I was feeling quite sweaty and drenched in this current situation, with water dripping down profusely. "Help? With what?" Devon asked.

Tisiah leaned closer, surveying the surroundings before realizing, "We're essentially infiltrating a base, so we'll definitely need some camouflage. We kindly requested that you create an ID for us, in order to streamline the process."

Devon nodded, deep in thought for a moment. "Well, that is certainly a matter of concern," he remarked, absentmindedly rubbing his chin. "But, I no longer engage in those activities."

Tisiah whispered, "Oh, I had no idea. Is there any chance you know someone who can help?"

Devon shook his head, "No, not many people engage in such behavior anymore. The security measures have been significantly enhanced, making it extremely difficult for individuals without connections to gain access."

"Wow."

Devon nodded his head, "It's a sure chip that they enact all through every one of the PCs all through the whole nation, and it should prevent programmers from getting in.

In addition, they were quite efficient in their efforts. Ultimately, I doubt that any programmer could gain access without possessing the ability to bypass the security measures.

"Alright, thanks for helping," Tisiah said, getting up from his seat.

However, at that moment, Devon made eye contact with me and their eyes widened. "Just for a moment, if you would, you look like to be the person that was on the information, caused it to appear as though the entire town exploded or something to that effect."

Immediately, I began to sweat, overwhelmed by a wave of anxiety that consumed my mind, rendering me speechless.

"You know, the young individual that had a rather explosive encounter," he mentioned, drawing attention to me. "I don't think he was dead however, as a matter of fact, I think he caused it."

"What are you talking about?" Tisiah asked, pivoting.

"Considering my experience as a programmer, I have witnessed some rather peculiar things in my time. However, I must say, that particular incident was truly one-of-a-kind," he remarked, giving me a thorough glance.

Tisiah took a deep breath and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Believe me, he's not the one," he stated, trying to convey a specific tone. "Trust me."

We both stood up and left our seats, making our way out of the corner. Exiting the door, we resumed our journey towards the academy.

"Did you tell him?" I inquired with Tisiah.

As speedy as a discharging firearm, he dissented, "No, I most certainly didn't — I wouldn't agree that that to him, I could never do that!"

"Why did he think it was me? Seeing the news, my face seemed to be coal! How is it even conceivable that he could see me through the camera?" I asked.
Tisiah shrugged, "I have no clue, all you ought to be appreciative about is that I let him know that you weren't the person, and that you were actually innocent."

As I pondered the situation further, a sense of unease began to settle in. Once again, we made our way to the academy, but this time the journey was calm and serene.

It was the next day, a Sunday, when we had scheduled to take the Armonk for a few hours and then return it discreetly, so as not to arouse suspicion from the TSA. We informed Mr. Drails of the news, and he seemed quite unsettled. As a result, we had no choice but to rely on Nikki to create tactical apparel and ID's for us, even though they may not have a long lifespan. We stayed in his office, ready to transport ourselves into Port Manuel as if by magic.

"Excuse me, Mr. Drails," Malachi called out. "Why not just teleport inside the base?"

"Since a card is needed to access the doors, it's clear that no one knows what it looks like, so Nikki won't be able to create one," Mr. Drails remarked as he changed his uniform. "Now. . . are we actually ready to go?"

We stood in awe as he stood before us, collectively inhaling deeply. This was all there was to it, this was our chance to hold onto the Armonk, and yet, we were also taking the risk of being killed by those individuals or getting caught.

"Wait," I said, "how can we determine when it is safe to come back?"

"When the TSA departs," Mr. Drails remarked.

We walked towards the entrance, feeling the pull of the gateway as it began to take hold of me. I could feel myself starting to float. We suddenly rushed through the doorway and found ourselves stepping out into the front of the port. We were immediately captivated by the sheer beauty of the enormous port. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a prison: Vigilant watchmen casting shadows over us as security personnel patrolled the area, while massive metal doors loomed over the building. The building had a unique color scheme and an impressive height of approximately fifty stories.

"That's the facility," Mr. Drails said, gesturing towards the port.

There were approximately five guards armed with heavy weapons stationed at the front, along with a gatekeeper armed with an automatic weapon standing by the entrance. Two additional individuals were positioned on the structure, one of whom had their optics engaged and a rifle aimed towards the sky.

We hurried towards the structure, but just before we reached it, we heard a loud noise that closed behind us. It was the entrance, and before long the guards who were monitoring the door approached us.

"Are you allowed to be here at the general's request?" one of them asked.

Mr. Drails nodded and proudly displayed his identification, "Yes sir, we're here to retrieve the Armonk."

"Why exactly?" one of them asked. Mr. Drails made a sound as if to speak, "The president insisted on conducting research on the weapon out of concern that someone might be targeting it, so our priority is to relocate it from the island."

"When will it be leaving?" one of them inquired, his hand resting on the door.

"In 60 minutes," replied Mr. Drails. "Expect it to happen very soon." And suddenly, at that very moment, we heard a faint rumble of an engine, like that of an aircraft or something similar. We searched the area above us, but found nothing and the sound gradually disappeared.

"It's likely just a small stream, the sound of it fading," one of the guards predicted, and they turned their attention towards us. However, suddenly, a multitude of planes emerged from the mists and rapidly approached our location. "Take cover!" Mr. Drails shouted, as we all hurried and maneuvered beneath the roof. Projectiles rained down from the planes and the guards desperately tried to return fire, but they couldn't manage to hit any of us. The dust exploded, causing fighters to crash into the ground and walls.

"Everyone, stay low!" shouted the gatekeeper, as the men in the lookouts quickly descended the stepping stool and made their escape. However, the enemy jets circled around and unleashed projectiles once again, this time targeting the rooftop where we were hiding. "Hurry!" they shouted, and we quickly rushed inside the building. The constant roar of planes filled the air, while the projectiles created chaos in the town, shaking the ground beneath us.

"Shut the door!" one of them shouted, prompting Nikki to swiftly close the door.

We all paused and I took a deep breath, trying to grasp the situation. Then, suddenly, it dawned on me - the TSA was going after it today.

And they weren't holding anything back to get it.