CHAPTER 100: BROKEN CONNECTIONS

Marcus returned to the modern world with tactical knowledge from the Defenders fresh in his mind, but his focus had to shift immediately to managing his deteriorating job situation at Pressley Guns. The confrontation with Alex over his weapon components had left him in a precarious position that required careful navigation.

Irene looked distant and broken in spirit when Marcus arrived at work. Her earlier progress seemed to have vanished overnight, replaced by the defensive isolation he'd seen when they first met. She avoided eye contact and responded to questions with minimal words, as if Alex's harassment had shattered something fundamental in her recovery.

Marcus felt responsible for her setback. His attempt to defend her had backfired, making her situation worse instead of better. The guilt weighed on him as he tried to focus on demonstrating renewed professionalism to Mr. Pressley.

During his lunch break, Marcus practiced assembling and disassembling his rifle prototype using the basic components. The real weapon would have to wait for Temir's skilled hands in Valdris, but understanding the mechanical principles was crucial for providing proper specifications.

The firing mechanism required precise timing between trigger pull, hammer strike, and ammunition feed. Marcus worked through each step methodically, identifying potential failure points and design improvements that could increase reliability under combat conditions.

"Educational purposes" had been his explanation to management, and he tried to maintain that pretense even while building practical knowledge that could determine survival in another world.

When Irene approached his workstation at the end of the day, Marcus felt surprised and hopeful. She carried two cups of coffee and had made obvious effort to appear composed.

"Marcus, can we talk for a minute?"

"Of course. I've been worried about you."

They found a quiet area away from other employees where they could speak privately. Irene seemed to struggle with where to begin.

"I wanted to thank you for trying to help yesterday. And to apologize for how I've been acting today."

"You don't need to apologize for anything. Alex was completely out of line."

"Maybe. But getting involved just made things worse for both of us. Alex has been spreading stories about us, suggesting there's something inappropriate going on."

Marcus felt anger rising but tried to maintain calm. "What kind of stories?"

"That you're only defending me because something going on between us. That I'm manipulating you somehow. That we're both unstable and dangerous."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it though?" Irene looked at him with painful directness. "I've been thinking about our interactions, and maybe Alex has a point about boundaries and professional behavior."

Marcus felt the conversation moving in a dangerous direction. "Irene, you don't have to isolate yourself because Alex is spreading lies."

"I thought about it why dont we test it" she said, but her tone wasn't hostile. More like someone testing boundaries.

Before Marcus could respond, she continued with sudden decisiveness. "Come on. Bowling. No drinks. One hour."

Marcus felt caught off guard by the abrupt invitation. "What?"

"Sunday. I'm asking you out on a date. Despite everything Alex says, despite all the complications. One hour of normal activity between two people who might actually like each other."

Marcus almost smiled. The directness was refreshing after days of workplace tension and interpersonal drama. "Okay. Sunday then."

As they talked, Marcus noticed Alex approaching from across the workspace. Something about his casual positioning and obvious attention to their conversation raised alarm bells.

Looking more carefully, Marcus saw that Alex's phone was positioned in his hand in a way that suggested recording. The device was angled toward them, and Alex was making no effort to appear engaged in any other activity.

"Irene," Marcus said quietly, "don't look, but I think Alex is recording our conversation."

Irene's expression hardened immediately. The vulnerable openness she'd been showing vanished, replaced by defensive anger.

"Of course he is. Because apparently having a normal conversation with a coworker is somehow evidence of professional misconduct."

She stood up abruptly, her voice rising slightly. "This is exactly why I can't trust anyone in this place. Every word, every gesture, every attempt at human connection gets twisted into ammunition for workplace politics."

Marcus tried to calm her down. "Irene, let's not give him what he wants."

"What he wants? He already has it! Whatever normal relationship we might have had is poisoned now because everything gets scrutinized and judged."

She grabbed her coffee cup and walked away, leaving Marcus sitting alone while Alex continued his obvious surveillance.

Marcus spent the rest of the evening feeling frustrated and defeated. Every attempt to maintain normal relationships was being undermined by Alex's systematic campaign of harassment and documentation.

But more troubling was the realization that his dual world existence made genuine connections almost impossible. Even if Alex hadn't been creating problems, how could Marcus build authentic relationships when half his life had to remain secret?

That night, Marcus practiced disassembling and reassembling his rifle components with obsessive precision. The mechanical tasks helped quiet his racing mind while building skills that could matter more than workplace drama.

Each component had to fit perfectly with the others. Tolerances had to be exact. Timing had to be precise. One mistake could cause failure when lives depended on the weapon working properly.

The parallels to his life felt obvious. Every element of his dual existence had to mesh perfectly, but the tolerances for error were becoming impossibly narrow. One mistake in either world could cascade into catastrophic failure.

His phone buzzed with a text from Tyler asking if he wanted to hang out. Marcus almost declined, but realized he needed some connection to normal life before his isolation became complete.

"Sure. Come over. I'll order pizza."

Tyler arrived an hour later with energy drinks and a new video game that promised to be mindlessly entertaining.

"Dude, I want to ask you something?"

"Sure Tyler."

"I am thinking about freezing school. I am capturing two times more in day time and last month I earned nearly 5k."

"Thats amazing,"

"Right."

For a few hours, Marcus allowed himself to relax into the familiar comfort of teenage friendship. They played games, argued about movie plots, and laughed at ridiculous internet videos. The normalcy felt foreign after weeks of cosmic responsibility and interpersonal drama.

But even during moments of laughter, Marcus found himself thinking about Valdris. Two weeks until Malachar's army arrived. Thousands of lives depending on preparations that were still inadequate. Guerrilla operations that had never been tested. Political coordination that could collapse at any moment.

"Earth to Marcus," Tyler said, pausing their game. "You disappeared again."

"Sorry. Just tired."

"It's more than tired. You've been distracted, secretive, stressed about things you won't talk about. What's really going on?"

Marcus looked at his best friend and felt the weight of lies and omissions that had become central to their relationship. Tyler deserved honesty, but the truth was impossible to explain.

"I'm dealing with some complicated situations. Things I can't really discuss. But I appreciate you being patient with me."

"Are you in some kind of trouble? Legal problems? Financial issues? Family stuff?"

"It's not anything you could help with. But knowing you're here matters more than you realize."

Tyler studied Marcus's face with obvious concern. "Promise me something. If you get in over your head, if you need help with whatever this is, you'll ask. Don't try to handle everything alone."

"I promise."

It was a lie, but it was the only answer Marcus could give without revealing secrets that would sound insane. Tyler's offer of help was genuine, but how could a college student assist with interdimensional warfare and cosmic politics?

After Tyler left, Marcus returned to his weapon components and tactical planning. Sunday's bowling date with Irene felt both hopeful and doomed. Alex's recording would be used as evidence of whatever narrative he wanted to construct.

But maybe that didn't matter anymore. Marcus's job security was already compromised, his real world relationships were strained by necessary secrecy, and his dual existence was becoming unsustainable.

Perhaps the time for trying to maintain normal life was ending. Perhaps he needed to accept that cosmic responsibilities required sacrificing ordinary connections and conventional stability.

Standing in his apartment surrounded by rifle components and tactical manuals, Marcus felt the familiar isolation that had become his constant companion. The price of saving worlds was becoming clearer every day.

The question was whether Alex's interference would poison that opportunity before it had a chance to develop into something real.

Marcus packed away his weapon components and tried to imagine a future where bowling dates mattered more than siege preparations. The fantasy felt beautiful and impossible in equal measure.