CHAPTER 106: SHIFTING PRIORITIES

Marcus woke up feeling strangely liberated. The confrontation with Mr. Pressley had been devastating, but it also brought an unexpected sense of freedom. Since his rifle design duties were over and he was only using the gun range to keep his shooting skills sharp, he had much more time to focus on his coworkers and the world around him.

Now that his urgencies in the modern world were mostly finished, he had no fear of getting fired or confronting Alex if things heated up. What was the worst that could happen? He'd already lost everything that mattered here.

Walking to work felt different. The familiar dread was gone, replaced by a detached curiosity about how this whole situation would play out. Marcus found himself observing his environment with new clarity, like someone watching a movie where he wasn't quite sure how it would end.

At Pressley Guns, the atmosphere remained tense. Conversations still stopped when he entered rooms, but Marcus no longer cared about the whispered speculation or suspicious glances. His real battle was in another world entirely.

During his lunch break, Marcus decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. He needed the fresh air and movement to clear his head before returning to Valdris later. The streets were busy with midday traffic, people hurrying between errands and appointments.

That's when he spotted Irene.

She was standing near a convenience store, her phone pressed to her ear with obvious urgency. Even from a distance, Marcus could see the tension in her posture, the way she kept glancing around nervously.

Something about her behavior triggered his security training instincts. Marcus positioned himself across the street where he could observe without being obvious. He pretended to window shop while keeping Irene in his peripheral vision.

A man approached her within minutes. The exchange was brief and efficient. Money passed from Irene's hand to his, and something small went the other direction. The entire transaction took less than thirty seconds before they walked in opposite directions.

Marcus felt his heart sink. He'd suspected, but seeing it confirmed hit harder than he'd expected. Irene was buying drugs, probably the same substances that had derailed her recovery efforts before.

His first instinct was to follow her, to intervene somehow and try to prevent whatever came next. But Marcus forced himself to stay where he was, watching as she disappeared around a corner.

"She has to choose," he whispered to himself.

It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but Marcus understood that chasing after her would only enable the destructive pattern. Irene had to decide for herself whether recovery was worth the effort. No amount of external pressure could make that choice for her.

The rest of his work day passed in a haze of conflicted emotions. Marcus went through the motions of his security duties while wrestling with guilt about not intervening and sadness about Irene's relapse.

When he finally returned to his apartment, Marcus found the place in worse condition than he'd realized. Unwashed clothes were scattered everywhere, empty food containers covered most surfaces, and the smell of neglect hung in the air like a physical presence.

Marcus had been so focused on his dual world responsibilities that basic self care had become an afterthought. The apartment looked like someone in the middle of a serious depression, which wasn't entirely inaccurate.

Tyler arrived in the evening.

"Dude, we need to talk" Tyler asked, staring at the chaos. "You havent been cleaning you look like a homeless person."

Marcus glanced around with fresh eyes, seeing his living space through Tyler's perspective. It was genuinely shocking how far things had deteriorated.

"I've been busy with work stuff," Marcus offered weakly.

"Work stuff?" Tyler moved through the apartment, picking up dirty dishes and examining the general state of decay. "Marcus, this isn't about being busy. This looks like someone who's completely lost control of their life."

Tyler turned to face Marcus directly, his expression serious in a way that reminded Marcus why their friendship had survived so many changes.

"When's the last time you had a real conversation with someone? When's the last time you did something just for fun? You look like you haven't slept properly in months."

Marcus wanted to explain about the approaching siege, about Malachar's army and the mind protection device he was building with medieval materials. He wanted to tell Tyler about the Defenders and the guerrilla warfare tactics they were planning.

Instead, he sat down heavily on his couch and rubbed his face with both hands.

"Tyler, maybe you should quit that place," Tyler continued. "Guns and shooting, that's not like you. We can find other jobs. Jobs that won't agitate you this much, my friend."

"It's not just the job," Marcus said finally. "There are other things happening that make me like this. I'm sorry, friend. Give me time and I'll go back to being a good friend."

Tyler studied Marcus's face with the kind of attention that comes from years of friendship. "What kind of other things? Are you in some kind of trouble? Legal problems? Family issues?"

Marcus felt the familiar weight of secrets that couldn't be shared. How could he explain that he was preparing for interdimensional warfare while building alien technology to resist mind control magic?

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

"Marcus, you're scaring me. This isn't just stress from a difficult job. You look like someone who's carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders."

The accuracy of that observation was almost painful. Marcus was literally carrying the weight of multiple worlds, trying to coordinate resistance against a threat that could destroy thousands of innocent lives.

"I promise I'm not in immediate danger," Marcus said carefully. "But there are responsibilities I can't walk away from right now. Once I get through this current situation, things will get better."

Tyler began gathering the worst of the mess, clearly not satisfied with Marcus's evasions but willing to help regardless.

"I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm not giving up on our friendship. Whatever this is, you don't have to handle it alone."

They spent the next hour cleaning the apartment together. Tyler asked occasional questions about Marcus's situation, but seemed to understand that pushing too hard wouldn't get him anywhere.

As they worked, Marcus found himself grateful for Tyler's persistence. In a life increasingly dominated by cosmic responsibilities and life or death decisions, having someone who cared about his basic well being felt like an anchor to his humanity.

"You know what we're going to do next week?" Tyler announced as they finished with the kitchen. "When my finals are over. You take sick day. Three day full gaming what do you say?"

Marcus almost smiled at that. Bowling felt impossibly trivial compared to planning siege defenses and building mind protection devices. But maybe that was exactly what he needed.

"Okay. Next week, gaming it is." I probably will die in Valdris next week anyway Marcus thought.

"Good. And Marcus? If you change your mind about talking, I'm here. Whatever's going on, it doesn't have to destroy your life."

After Tyler left to his room, Marcus sat in his newly cleaned room and reflected on the evening. His friend was right about the deteriorating condition of his real world existence. The isolation and stress were taking a visible toll that he could no longer ignore.

But tomorrow he would return to Valdris, where Tom and Palwin needed training and the Defenders required coordination for their guerrilla operations. Malachar's army was still approaching, and the mind protection device remained unfinished.

Marcus packed away his weapon components and prepared for sleep. Tomorrow would bring new challenges in both worlds, but tonight he felt a small measure of peace in his restored living space.

Tyler's intervention had reminded him that maintaining his humanity was part of the battle too. If he lost himself completely to cosmic responsibilities, what would be left worth saving?

The question followed him into restless dreams filled with siege warfare and the distant sound of bowling pins falling.