CHAPTER 88: CRACKS IN THE FOUNDATION

Marcus arrived at Pressley Guns twenty minutes late, his hands shaking slightly as he fumbled with his security badge. The panic attack from Valdris had left him disoriented and exhausted. He'd barely slept, his mind cycling between cosmic responsibilities and the approaching siege that no one else knew about.

"Chen! You're late again," Alex called out from across the workshop, his voice carrying that particular tone of satisfaction that came from catching someone's mistakes.

Marcus ignored him and headed to his workstation, but his movements felt sluggish and uncoordinated. Everything seemed to require more effort than it should. Simple tasks that had become routine now demanded conscious thought and careful attention.

"Morning, Marcus," Agustin said, looking up from his own project. "You okay? You look like you haven't slept in days."

"Just tired. Long night of studying."

But it was more than tiredness. The dual world pressure was affecting his real world performance in ways he couldn't hide anymore. During the morning's weapons training session, Marcus made critical errors that could have injured others.

"Safety off, Marcus!" Alex barked as Marcus handled a rifle with obvious unfamiliarity. "Jesus, what's wrong with you today?"

Marcus had pointed the weapon in an unsafe direction while loading, forgetting basic protocols he'd learned weeks ago. His muscle memory seemed scrambled, movements uncertain where they should have been confident.

"Sorry, I was thinking about something else."

"Thinking about something else? With a loaded weapon?" Alex's voice rose, attracting attention from other workers. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. This guy's not stable enough for this job."

Sally looked uncomfortable with Alex's public criticism. "Maybe he just needs more coffee. We all have off days."

"Off days don't include nearly shooting people," Alex replied, making sure his voice carried throughout the workshop.

Marcus felt anger building but forced himself to stay calm. Losing his temper would only prove Alex's point about his instability. But the constant criticism, combined with his exhaustion from managing impossible responsibilities, was wearing down his self control.

During lunch break, Marcus overheard Alex talking to Jimenez near the coffee machine.

"I'm telling you, something's seriously wrong with that kid," Alex was saying. "Yesterday he was muttering to himself about some kind of attack. Today he nearly had an accident with a firearm. That's not normal behavior."

"Maybe he's just stressed about the certification course," Jimenez suggested.

Marcus felt his stomach drop. He'd been more careless about his phone conversations than he'd realized. If Alex was listening in and spreading stories about his "delusions," his job security was in serious danger.

Mr. Pressley was waiting for him in the office. The older man's expression was serious, and Marcus knew this conversation wouldn't go well.

"Marcus, sit down. We need to talk."

Marcus took the chair across from Mr. Pressley's desk, trying to project confidence he didn't feel.

"I've been hearing concerning reports about your behavior and performance. Alex has brought several incidents to my attention, and your instructor called me about problems in the certification course."

"Sir, I can explain."

"I'm not looking for explanations right now. I'm looking for solutions." Mr. Pressley leaned forward, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "When I hired you, I took a chance on someone with no experience because I saw potential. But potential means nothing without reliability and focus."

Marcus felt his job security crumbling. "Mr. Pressley, I know I've had some difficulties lately, but I'm committed to this work. It means everything to me."

"Does it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're distracted by something else entirely. Alex says your mind busy with flirting and looking cool."

Marcus cursed Alex silently. The man had been systematically undermining him and Irene.

Mr. Pressley studied Marcus's face carefully. "Son, I want to help you succeed here. But I can't put other people at risk because you're going through personal problems."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Two weeks. Pass your timed drills, finish the certification course with acceptable scores, and demonstrate that you can focus on the job without whatever distractions are affecting you. No more slip ups, no more concerning behavior, no more safety violations."

The ultimatum was clear and fair, but Marcus knew how difficult it would be to meet those requirements while managing his Valdris responsibilities. Still, he had no choice but to accept.

"Two weeks. I understand."

"Good. And Marcus? If you're dealing with mental health issues, deal with it on your time."

As Marcus left the office, he felt the weight of impossible expectations pressing down on him. In Valdris, he was preparing for siege warfare and cosmic missions. In the real world, he was fighting to keep a job that provided essential skills for that other life.

Irene was organizing inventory when he passed her desk. She looked up with genuine concern.

"You okay? You look like you've had a rough day."

"Job performance review. Nothing I can't handle."

"Alex has been spreading stories about you too. Don't let him get under your skin. He's done this before to people he doesn't like."

Marcus appreciated her support, but it didn't change the fundamental problem. He was trying to live two lives simultaneously, and both were suffering from the divided attention.

The afternoon brought more problems. During a timed drill for his security certification, Marcus performed poorly, failing to complete the course within acceptable parameters. His instructor, Uncle Brass, pulled him aside afterward.

"Chen, what's going on? Your performance has been declining. You started strong, but now you're making rookie mistakes."

"I've been distracted by some personal issues. I'll do better."

"Personal issues can't interfere with security work. People's safety depends on your focus and competence. If you can't handle the responsibilities, maybe this isn't the right field for you."

Marcus felt panic rising. Losing this job would mean losing access to weapons training and engineering expertise that were crucial for Valdris. "Give me another chance. I'll prove I can do this."

When he got home, Tyler was setting up for his evening stream, but he paused when he saw Marcus's expression.

"Dude, you look terrible. What's going on?"

Marcus sat heavily on the couch, suddenly aware of how isolated he'd become from his real world relationships. "Work stuff. Performance issues."

"This is what I've been worried about. You're so obsessed with weapons and survival scenarios that you're losing touch with reality. When's the last time you hung out with friends or did something normal?"

"I don't have time for normal right now."

"That's exactly the problem! You're nineteen years old, man. You should be enjoying life, not preparing for some imaginary apocalypse."

Marcus felt the familiar urge to explain everything, to tell Tyler about Valdris and the dual world existence. But how could he make anyone understand without sounding completely insane?

"Just believe me when I say I'll find a way out of this situation. I have to."

Tyler studied his friend's face with growing concern. "Marcus, seriously. Are you having some kind of breakdown? Because if you are, we can get you help. There's no shame in talking to someone."

"I'm not having a breakdown. I'm just dealing with complicated circumstances that I can't explain right now."

For a moment, Marcus considered telling Tyler everything. About the world switching, about Malachar's approaching army, about the cosmic responsibilities weighing on his shoulders. But the conversation with Mr. Pressley had shown him how these revelations would be received by anyone who hadn't experienced them directly.

"I can't explain it all right now. But I promise you, when I can, you'll understand why this has been so important."

Tyler didn't look convinced, but he nodded reluctantly. "Alright, man. But if you need help, ask. That's what friends are for."

As Tyler started his stream, Marcus retreated to his room with his laptop. He pulled up his ever expanding to do list, staring at the impossible array of responsibilities across both worlds. Every skill he needed to learn, every relationship he needed to maintain, every crisis he needed to prevent.

The real world was starting to crack under the pressure of his dual existence. His job was in jeopardy, his friendships were strained, and his mental health was clearly suffering. But abandoning his Valdris responsibilities wasn't an option when thousands of lives depended on his actions there.

Marcus looked at his reflection in the laptop screen, seeing a face that appeared much older than nineteen. The weight of two worlds was visible in every line, every shadow under his eyes. He was becoming someone his friends didn't recognize, someone who made people worry about his stability and safety.

Tomorrow he would have to perform better, focus more completely, somehow compartmentalize his dual world existence enough to function normally in this one. Two weeks to prove he could handle the job that provided skills essential for saving Valdris.

The question was whether he could hold both lives together long enough to succeed in either one.