Check Point Zero

Chapter 3 - Check Point Zero

Talon’s shift wasn’t supposed to end until 5 a.m., yet the clock mocked him with its sluggish crawl toward midnight. Worse still, he had to be at the restaurant by 8 a.m.—a measly three hours of rest if he was lucky.

Exhaustion gnawed at him as he leaned against the counter, eyes drifting toward his friends on the other side of the room. Dorian, ever the life of the party, had them in stitches, weaving jokes and wild stories with the kind of charisma Talon could never fake. Silas, Draven, Chloe, and Agatha clutched their stomachs, laughter ringing above the music and smoke. Their joy was infectious, but for Talon it was alien. He wasn’t built for carefree nights. Excitement? Happiness? Those belonged to other people.

“Iced Margarita, please,” a deep, gravelly voice interrupted, dragging him back from the void.

Talon straightened, eyes locking on a man at the bar. The stranger’s presence was… unsettling. His gaze flicked briefly toward Talon’s friends, lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

With practiced ease, Talon mixed the drink and slid the glass across the counter.

“I said iced,” the man repeated, rubbing his forehead.

Talon frowned, dragging the glass back. “It is iced, sir.” He tilted the drink, watching the frost slide down the glass to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

The man didn’t argue. Instead, he slid a large brown envelope across the counter. At first glance, it looked empty—until Talon noticed the faint bulge of something round and flat inside.

The stranger smirked. “I know it’s iced.” He took a deliberate sip, then reached into his bag and, without hesitation, dropped two thick bundles of hundred-dollar bills on the counter. At least four grand.

Talon froze.

“You can keep it,” the man said casually, voice vibrating like gravel under pressure. “I’ve already paid for the drink.”

Right on cue, the P.O.S. machine beeped—confirmation of a successful transfer. The digital screen flashed the sender’s name.

Check Point Zero.

Talon’s breath caught. He hadn’t seen a phone in the man’s hand. How—?

The stranger rose from his seat. The back of his shirt bore the same words in bold lettering: CHECK POINT ZERO.

“It’s worth it,” he muttered, before vanishing into the swirling haze of smoke—weed, tobacco, m*******a—all blending into a thick curtain that seemed to swallow him whole.

Talon’s pulse hammered. Instinct screamed at him to toss the envelope, but desperation was louder. Four grand. His rent, his tuition, survival. Hands shaking, he shoved the bundles into his pocket.

Before he could work up the courage to peek inside, Dorian strolled up, his grin as wide as ever. “Yo, wanna join us?” He punched Talon’s shoulder playfully, oblivious to the storm brewing in Talon’s head. The others glanced over, Chloe even waving with that childish, dreamy smile that somehow always annoyed him more than it flattered.

Talon rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath, and shoved the abandoned Margarita under the counter. But Dorian’s sharp eyes caught the envelope. Before Talon could stop him, he had already pulled it open.

“Talon—” Dorian’s voice cracked with surprise. “Check this out.”

Inside was a circular, metallic disk. Smooth, gleaming faintly under the neon lights, etched with strange dots and patterns that almost seemed to move.

The others crowded in, curiosity outpacing caution.

“Looks like some kind of game,” Dorian muttered, running his fingers across the surface.

“I don’t feel good about this…” Agatha’s voice wavered, her face pale before her knees buckled. Silas barely caught her before she collapsed to the floor.

“You should be asleep, Chloe,” Talon muttered, his voice dry.

Chloe's eyes lit up at the fact that he cared about her, she smiled, brightly at him with teary eyes.

“Like you care,” Silas snapped, sharper than usual.

Chloe's smiled turned upside down into a frown. she was going to snap back, definitely not letting Silas piss off her man

"what do you-"

“Guys!” Draven shouted, pointing at the disk. His eyes were wide, his breath quick. “There’s a name forming on it!”

“Put it away,” Talon barked, his voice edged with fear. He remembered the man’s hollow eyes, the way he slipped into smoke like a ghost. Nothing about this screamed safe. “Leave it. If he comes back, I don’t wanna be holding it.”

“I agree,” Agatha whispered weakly, still trembling in Silas’s arms.

But Dorian wasn’t listening. His hand began to shake violently, fingers clawing at the disk as though it were fused to his skin. Sweat streamed down his face, his eyes wide in horror.

“Dorian!” Chloe shrieked.

He gritted his teeth, trembling so hard the veins in his neck stood out. With a choked cry, he hurled the disk onto the table. It spun with a metallic hum, glowing faintly as the patterns aligned into words.

They leaned in.

Three words etched themselves into reality, burning in faint white light across the surface:

CHECK POINT ZERO.

Talon’s stomach dropped. The same words. The man’s shirt. The name on the P.O.S. machine.

And somehow, he knew… whatever this was, they had just crossed into something they weren’t meant to touch.