Armed with only 4 hours of sleep, I decided to put my restlessness to good use and make a special breakfast. Crispy brown rice pancakes with chickpeas for Margaret and traditional whole wheat Cheerios for Lily. If my physique wasn't obvious enough, I tried to keep my diet healthy but tasty. By the time I finished, my phone had unleashed a signature chime.

A grounded sense of calmness overtook me. The nervous energy from last night suddenly lulled me to slumber. But, leaving behind a call to action, I've always answered. So with smooth efficiency, I left a note on my family's breakfast, wrapped up the extra food for "us," and headed to work content.

My job is seconded only by my family in my long list of passions. Titan may have brought me pain on some days, but the returns more than equal out. I provide a service, make sweet mullah, and, most importantly, talk with some great people. Along my stroll, I walked through masses of people, wrapped in stories just as important as mine but still taking the time to spread some camaraderie.

"Hey, James, what's up?"

"Just another day at work Jim."

"Your cooking tips on the quiche were great."

"Told you, Monica, can't go wrong with some milk."

"James, my man. You're paintball team better deliver this year."

"You know we will, Jeremy."

The string of cheers kept getting chained until I finally hit the usual meeting spot: the mess hall. Since my partner and I report to Mr. Daniels directly, even a scheduled binge usually means several minutes of breathing room before the next mission. Which meant I could enjoy my homemade breakfast burrito while a long row of agents had to deal with a line stretching into the hallway. Each one practically salivated to taste a particular restaurant.

Can't exactly blame the behavior, though, all these years, and I haven't even gotten close to matching the food from Pearl's. Even with their namesake chef working on the international expansion, her presence hasn't left. Goes to show that whether off or on the battlefield, everyone contributes. My friend reminded me of that.

Speaking of the devil, she was finally here. Despite practically being a ninja, she radiated a presence not too dissimilar to Pearl. Except this one pushed rather than pulled. Months of roaming the same halls did nothing to ease the tension of every civilian that walked past her.

The mere sight of her turned noisy conversations into hushed whispers as if she was a horror movie monster. But, once again, I didn't judge them for their reaction. I doubt there was a single person in Titan who didn't know the legend of the Paladin. However, I prefer calling her Sarah. When she got within eyesight, I raised my hand excitedly. Sheepishly Sarah took notice as she dragged herself over.

"Good morning James, how are you doing?" she said with her trademarked but polite stoicism.

"Pretty great, all things considered. I just thought about a cool idea I want you to hear about after you eat with me," I said while pulling out another burrito.

Unsurprisingly, I saw Sarah reflexively twitch at the offer, as if the mere mention of kindness had become unfamiliar to her.

"Thanks, but I alread-," she started to say before her stomach audibly growled.

I stifled a slight chuckle, but the mere crack of a smile was all my partner needed to know I wouldn't let up. It didn't hurt that food was her weakness. So in resignation, she took my burrito and scarfed it down like a rabid animal. I was trying to make light of it before, but a part of me was still alarmed at how badly she seemed to need it. However, you wouldn't know by looking at her.

She was only a little bit taller than the norm, yet she commanded a particularly well-toned physique that was subtle but strong. The type you could only get from doing this for years. Combined with her dark light brown skin, long yet slightly wavy black hair that flowed to her back, and oval face, she gave off a rather regal air.

I think what's underneath the surface is what drives people away, though. Sarah's ripped jeans and messy black hoodie were the definitions of thrown together. Deep sunken caramel eyes showed she hadn't slept well in a long time. Her very posture was guarded, too, treating this place as a prison with attackers on all sides.

She may only be a couple of years younger than me, but she acts like she's lived lifetimes. Making me only think of what horrors she endured to get her here. I hope one day she can trust me enough to come forward or find some form of peace in Titan. Though I guess wanting that somewhat makes me a hypocrite, we've locked skeletons in our respective closets. After devouring my cooking, Sarah picked up where I left off.

"So, what's the cool idea you wanted to tell me about?" she said with a unique stare.

"Oh, right," I say while awkwardly piecing my thoughts together. "Well, when I was packaging my grandfather's old things into my shed. My daughter threw a ball at one of the packages."

"Is this relevant?" Sarah said judgmentally.

"Yes ... for once. When the package fell, I found that my gramps had created a bucket list of everything he did before he died. So I want to do the same," I said in a very open way.

Sarah studied my words very carefully, like they were part of an interrogation rather than a casual conversation. However, the deep thought only amounted to a crude response.

"Hmph," she said before wiping her hands on her hoodie.

"Is that a good "hmph" like as my friend you support my decision with open arms? Or is that a bad "hmph," like this idea stupid and I should have never thought about it in the first place?" I said in a dumbfounded tone.

"Hmph, like I think you all don't need one. You've got a beautiful family, a body most men would kill for. Plus, you have a job you love and are somehow friends with everybody. I would bet money that there isn't a single person in Titan that doesn't like you. I mean, how much more can you live your life to the fullest?" she questioned matter of factly.

A cocktail of flattery and childish stubbornness churned my stomach. She was correct; I already had a lot to be thankful for. But a persistent part of me still felt like I needed to do this. So stubbornly, I said.

"I don't know, never had avocado before," I said bashfully.

Enjoying one of her verbal victories, Sarah only perked up an eyebrow before we both headed to greet Mr. Daniels. A few years back, if you had told me I would meet with Titan's head honcho regularly, I wouldn't have believed you. He's been in charge as long as I've been here, serving as the twelfth leader.

My talks with veterans and historians have told me he's done a damn good job. Some even say he's the best to ever do it in our over seven decades of history. I can see why too. Because I've never seen someone care more for their fellow man, I could tell this mission was serious before speaking

Upon entering his office, the temperature seemed to increase rapidly, like we were entering a dragon's den. This might be true, given Daniel's eyes seem to simmer with genuine worry. Reflexively I braced myself as the man spoke.

"Greeting James and Sarah. I'm glad you can make it on time. Your services are now more in need than ever," he said while pulling out his pen.

At a breakneck pace, the room transformed into its holographic display, with Daniels already pacing around it like it was taking too long. As soon as the image formed, he sorted through photos while talking.

"That loathsome rat Ben Stan seems to be giving us trouble yet again," he said gravely.

Both of us shared looks of palpable confusion, with Sarah speaking for both of us.

"But we got his shipment two weeks ago. So I thought that was more than enough evidence for the Sleepers and other contacts to bring him down," she said panicky.

"All true, Sarah. Those weapons led us to believe his rap sheet was far longer than even we thought possible. But it seems Stan has allied with more than our squashed bug Arachne," Daniels said venomously.

Simutetniously, Daniels pulled up a large image, showing a paused breaking news image of Stan being dragged to a police vehicle in handcuffs from his building.

"Eight hours ago, the Detroit Police Department captured Stan in the back of a cop car. However, before he could be put in custody, the bastard somehow called in one last favor," he said thoughtfully.

He then flipped to an image displaying multiple traffic cams upon three police cars. As soon as the idea formed, the lead car got slammed into by a random black Swat Van. From there, heavily armored troops marched out into a firefight. Soon after, the image started to fade out completely, leaving behind the sound of distorted gunshots.

"Lucky for us, our agents in the area were able to recover Ben and move him to a makeshift safe house, hoping to draw out more from the other brutes in the area. However, they haven't reported back in hours. Normally I would flood the streets with people till the streets run red with these dregs' blood, but this firefight has been plastered on every airway in the city. Meaning, like always, we must be both silent and strong. Can I trust you both on this manhunt?" he said with a serious look.

Despite the seething conviction of his entire briefing, the last sentence was filled with genuine sympathy. I could tell he wanted to march alongside us. The gesture alone flashed my mind back to days that seemed to be a lifetime ago. A time with people that were dependable when all else failed. As their living legacy, I already knew the answer.

"Let's get started," I said as I departed for what will probably be the longest night of my life.

Within the hour, we organized our destination and traveled with efficiency. Giving me a little alone time with my armor and a row of weapons. Most would say having a combat machete, shield, AR-13, Benneli M3 LE shotgun, and two grenades are enough firepower for any mission. But it's better to be prepared than not. You never know what will happen.