Back in Detroit, I originally thought Wiz's reckless driving was an easy way to get someone killed. I didn't see how beneficial that trait was until I saw a white pickup truck crash through the supermarket's door. Simultaneously the three goons turned their attention to the vehicle as they fired slugs away at a phantom driver.

They all got hit with 2 tons of metal flying into them at 40 miles per hour for their trouble. The unhappy collision forced the vehicle to stop on a dime. Hearing Wiz's digitized and phlegm-filled voice had never sounded sweeter.

"Paladin! Oh no! Are you okay?! I tried calling you but this signal jammer blocked us out and the glass was reinforced so I. Wait, did I kill some people?!"

Wiz's became a muttering mess as I finally found the right angle to pull myself out. Searing pain infected every twitched muscle as I used one of the dropped guns to pull myself and shoot each of the falling enemies.

"No you didn't," I say as I pull my exhausted frame towards the driver's seat.

After I scrounged up most of my weapons and jacket, I took off my mask to finally breathe while Wiz took me back to the busy streets of London. Even as my leather seat started getting reddened, I flipped through my cracked phone and pulled up Peyton on Bluetooth.

"Persona. Persona please, is there anyone out there?"

My voice splashed out. Only ripples of static clouded the airwaves till Persona's voice echoed back.

"Good to see you alive, Paladin. Glad you're still with us."

"Same here. Listen wherever you are you've got to get out. This Messenger's real alias is Hermes and he's been tricking us this entire time. He's going to-"

"Counterattack? Yeap kinda in the middle of that. Ozzy, our insider was given bad info. By the time I figured it out we lost contact with Krisitna, Paaie, Andile, Jenni and Robebrt pretty much our entire division in Hammersmith. And I'm getting similar reports from agents across the city."

The more Persona weaved their tail, the more it seemed to become a reality as Wiz strolled by. Through tinted windows and overindulgent speakers, I heard a concert of crinkling fires, dissonant riots, and police sirens. Hermes lived up to the trickster god's namesake, throwing the entire city into chaos.

"When he talked to me Hermes said he wanted to set up new management. Guess that meant both us and the London Underworld."

"Well he's doing a good job. We're getting hit from all sides here, I can't make everything out now but I've already told everyone to set up the Theta Protocol: go dark or meet up at the rendezvous point between Ongar and Epping Forest. I suggest you do the same and we ride it out."

I tried holding back every last ounce of fury at my following words.

"We do that and Hermes wins. If he can pick us out from the crowd then he's just going to use the chaos to slaughter anyone opposing him. We hide, and we lose the city to him."

"Well, if you have any ideas, Paladin. I'd love to hear them."

Persona's skepticism ignited my frazzled brain, running through just what I could do. All this, I thought we were in control, but we were Hermes' hands this entire time. Who's to say we're not falling into it now? How can you possibly trick a trickster? Both questions swirled within my soul till I found my answer simply by asking them in the first place.

"Actually, I may have one."

Wiz and Persona hesitantly pondered themselves before both saying.

"Let's hear it."

"This entire battle started off because of notoriety. We built me up as the big bad that's finally going to take Hermes down."

"And?"

"And I say we make do on this promise. All Hermes knows is that we're running away and that I survived his trap. There's no way he's going to leave things to some henchmen to finish the job.

Especially if we leave a few breadcrumbs of our own."

The car then immediately screeched itself to a halt as Wiz chimed in.

"No, Sarah you've been shot! You can't possibly be suggesting."

"That I use myself as bait to draw out Hermes while the rest of you get organized? Yeah."

"Sarah you're bleeding out on the seat of this car as we speak. You go out there alone without my help you could … Please don't go."

Persona then chimed in.

"Wiz's right, I want Heremes as bad as you but this is risky Paladin."

The car then grew deathly quiet. I knew they were right. Right now, I was running high purely on wishful thinking and adrenaline. Even breathing was starting to be a struggle, and I wanted to enter a fight that I didn't know where to begin when my eyes wandered to my mask and saw my reflection in it. The words that came after.

"Look I hear you both. I know I'm asking a lot from all of us. I know the risk, but retreating is what Hermes wants. He planned on having us be comfortable, to run away half cocked into the palm of his hands. Thinking that we don't have the conviction to see things through."

A kaleidoscope of memories flooded within, some of which felt so distantly harsh they felt like a lifetime ago. And ones so fresh I wish they were. Amongst the panorama of painful flashes, I ound a glimpse of something greater that could be "beyond" myself.

"And I've frankly done far too much running already to prove him right. Not when I know in my heart I can do something now. And if you don't believe me." Before putting on the mask, I say,

"Then I ask you to believe in the Paladin."

A tense few seconds unbearably passed by before Persona answered first.

"I'll take the risk Paladin. I'll start spreading those breadcrumbs and return to you. Hold out till then and happy hunting."

"That's one down. What about you Wiz?"

My fabled tech support got met with a begrudging set of muffled ticks, murmurs, and sneezes.

"FIIIIINE!!!! I packed a spare set of all your gear in the glovebox. Use it well, and Sarah?"

"Yes Wiz?"

"I've always believed you. And I always will," she said with relenting kindness.

The vehicle then immediately sparked to life before revving up towards the fight of my life. I hope it isn't my last. The human body can lose about a pint of blood before starting to slow down, and while I couldn't precisely measure the amount, my dizzying eyes and shaky breathing were a bad omen. I was practically a ticking time bomb of productivity.

Accidentally leaving my brain to wander while I patched up my wounds atop the millennia-old trees of Epping Forest. James' trivia bug must have finally but me also because I couldn't help but think of how these grounds were once a royal forest, its resources set in stone and closed off to the common man until they knocked back.

Hundreds of ordinary people stood strong and created the Epping Forest Act of 1878, again bringing the agency to the community. As I set up my vantage points, I hope history can repeat itself. Previously the Pantheon worked through crime organizations or otherworldly machines, phantom limbs they could cut off at any time. Hermes was a man of his word; he truly believed in an "old-fashioned" approach.

The faded brown hues of the soon found itself dressed in the cold black boot of several soldiers. In many respects, they felt like a modernized version of Hermes uniform, except their camo was black as they were more armored vests with gold outlines and faded gold night vision goggles. Even without him in view, I saw my foe's "message" of strong organization ring true.

Each one held an M4 Carbine and constantly kept each other in view while remaining spread out—a perfect formation to smoke out those known for hiding in the dark. The thing is tricky. When you're so intent on bringing things into the light, people only ask if they'll like what they find once it's too late.

From above I tried to pick out some stragglers. Do this long enough, and you'll realize there's always a weak link, no matter how strong the chain is. And I found it when two soldiers went too close to a steep hill with a small bridge nearby. Realizing I was about to approach the point of no return, I braced myself and ventured forth.

The roar of my grapple gun interrupted the steady march of the two dozen soldiers as I tackled the duo off the hill at the speed of runaway. The three of us joint momentum was so great we quickly snowballed in a mess of pained grunts across dozens of feet. Every second of the way, I prayed my wounded shoulder wouldn't tear open again as I realigned myself and crashed into a tree.

Stars danced around my eyes, along with the hushed blur of several soldiers. Before they converged on me, though, I unleashed my first trap. I almost felt sorry for the nocturnal critters enjoying their night as 7 million candelas shredded through their retinas. I saw the soldier's positions and blinded faces through the brief flash. Seven muzzle flashes later, though, I had to worry about three fewer people.

The eyes in the back of my neck started tingling as I saw the two tackled Pantheon posers get back up. My resident tree then morphed from accidental support to makeshift cover as I slid down the rest of the way. Tiny twigs and brittle britches tore up my backside as I fired my grapple gun into one of the soldier's upper chests.

The claw reeled and ripped into him as I sped up to bring him down again while dodging hellfire. When I got close, I extended my staff at just the right angle to sweep by the second soldier and shock them straight in the chest. I milked the brief window of opportunity for all it's worth to inspect the corpse and reload Gungir. The throwing knives and M9 were good, but the real catch was his last two items: a grenade and commlink.

Both's use would have to wait as I saw three other soldiers start to close in and aim from on top of the aforementioned bridge. My grapple saved me again as I rocketed towards another ancient tree before I knew it. Even when I crashed into it on the uninjured shoulder, reeling pain shocked my body to the ground as I started to hack up a weird cocktail of spit, bile, and blood.

Still, I kept going as I hand-delivered the frag straight toward my trio of sharpshooters. Pulling out the commlink next, I tried my best to listen amidst the sound of splintered wounds and singed flesh.

"Target's is approx. 8 meters, Me and Natthews are in bound pincer style."

"Roger that, we'll be suppressing fire in two seconds. Be sure to alternate between every two seconds."

The prophecy then struck as treasured oak splintered by bullets. Ice-cold patience guided my mile-a-minute brain as I eventually slipped through the pattern. Two Gungir slugs later, Natthews was sent colliding down the hill. The other shooter then overcompensated, firing off an unrelenting storm of hellfire.

Several stray shots nicked tears into the right side of my vest, but I stood strong. Before the goon could find cover and reload, I relied on my grapple gun, firing it and latching on his leg. The enemy became a human bobsled as I pulled him in before finishing them with three other gunshots.

My left leg gave out, and I fell on my face soon afterward. Harsh panting started fogging up my goggles as I crawled toward the carcass. I decided to equip the fallen Carbine because he wasn't using it. Upon my next reload of both, I reloaded my last Gungir magazine. I then got up, ready to at least fight the next wave of opponents, till I heard a familiar voice crackle on the commlink.

"Target's within sights."

Immediately after the line cut, a streak of gold struck me down like a bolt of lightning.