Daniel didn’t wait until Friday.
On Wednesday evening, he came straight to Lynn’s apartment building.
Getting off work, Lynn turned the corner into his street and saw Daniel standing right beside the entrance.
Hoodie, jeans, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, and a plastic convenience store bag by his feet.
He wasn’t alone.
A dark sedan was parked across the street, engine idling, with someone sitting in the driver’s seat.
The windows were tinted, hiding their face.
Lynn slowed his pace.
Annoying.
Utterly exhausting.
Instead of heading toward the entrance, he veered off to the laundromat on the corner.
A sticker on the glass door read “24-Hour Self-Service,” and two dryers were spinning inside.
The moment Daniel saw him, he dropped his cigarette onto the pavement and stomped it out.
“Lynn.” His voice wasn’t loud.
It was as if he were afraid of scaring him off, or afraid of being overheard.
Lynn didn’t go over.
Standing by the laundromat entrance, he pulled out his phone, lit up the screen, and casually hit record.
The motion was entirely unremarkable.
Just like checking the time.
Daniel took two steps forward, then stopped.
“What’s this supposed to mean?
I came to talk to you—why are you ducking me?” Lynn glanced at the car across the street.
“We talk down here.” Daniel followed his gaze, his expression stiffening slightly.
“That’s my friend.” “Which is why we talk down here.” “We’re already downstairs!” “Downstairs where there are cameras.” Lynn flicked his chin upward.
Above the laundromat door hung an old security camera, its red light blinking.
The bodega next door had one too.
Seeing them, Daniel couldn’t maintain the smile on his face.
“Are you really treating me like a thief now?” “Weren’t you pretty guarded when you got me to sign that guarantee?” “Don’t start with that again.” Daniel lowered his voice and took a step closer.
“I’m telling you the truth—someone’s pressing me right now.
You think I’m having a good time?
Those guys aren’t messing around.
Bruce is running out of patience.” “Do you owe them money?” Daniel didn’t answer.
Lynn watched him.
Daniel ran a hand down his face in frustration.
“The money will be paid back.
It’s just a matter of time.” “Send an email.” “Fuck, Lynn, can you stop sounding like customer service?” That part actually sounded genuine.
Lynn looked at the recording bar on his phone screen and said nothing.
Realizing he had raised his voice, Daniel glanced inside the laundromat.
An elderly Latina woman folding clothes looked up, swept her gaze over them, and went back to folding.
Daniel brought his voice down again.
“I came today because I want to help you.” “Oh.” “Don’t ‘oh’ me.
Tell me, did Marcus contact you?” Lynn’s fingers paused.
It was subtle, but Daniel caught it immediately.
“I knew it.
You really went to him?” “Who?” “Don’t play dumb.” Daniel gritted his teeth.
“Do you even know what he used to do?
He makes a living off digging up bad debts.
Giving him those files is just throwing yourself into the fire alongside me.” “Still better than throwing myself in with you.” Daniel stared at him, eyes bloodshot.
Not from tears, but desperation.
“What good does it do you to blow this whole thing open?
You work at Vought—do you honestly think nobody checks your credit?
You think the company doesn’t mind employees getting dragged into financial disputes?” Lynn didn’t respond.
Thinking he was making progress, Daniel softened his tone a bit.
“Let’s sign a supplementary agreement first.
I’ll give you a repayment schedule, you cut Marcus loose, and stop asking around.
Leave the debt alone for now and let me handle it.” “Where’s the agreement?” Daniel pulled a folder out of the plastic bag.
A blue cover.
Lynn didn’t take it.
“Put it on the ground.” Daniel froze.
“What?” “Put it on the ground.
I’ll take a picture.” Daniel’s expression turned ugly.
“Are you fucking insane?” “Then send it by email.” “Lynn.” Daniel gripped the folder so hard his knuckles turned white.
Across the street, the car’s headlights flashed once.
Not the hazard lights—more like someone inside tapped a control.
Daniel glanced back, growing even more panicked.
“Do you really have to push me like this?” Lynn took half a step back, positioning himself right under the laundromat light.
“You’re standing too close to me.” “What’s wrong with standing close?
How many years have we known each other?” “That’s precisely why it’s a problem.” The words were spoken quietly, but Daniel’s face instantly darkened.
He lowered his voice.
“Do you really think a few screenshots and emails are enough for you to turn the tables?” Lynn didn’t answer.
His phone buzzed in his hand.
Marcus.
A text message: > *Got in touch with the other victim.
She recognized Daniel and Bruce.
Don’t meet him alone.
Bruce’s side has started asking where you live.* Lynn glanced at it, then turned the phone face-down against his palm.
Seeing him read the message, Daniel immediately asked, “Who was that?” “Spam text.” “Let me see.” Lynn stared at him.
Daniel realized how unreasonable he sounded; his expression twitched before he slipped back into a softer front.
“I didn’t mean it like that.
I’m under a lot of pressure right now—I’m shooting off at the mouth.” “Mhm.” “Can you stop fucking ‘mhm’-ing me?” Inside the laundromat, the elderly woman looked up once more.
Daniel closed his eyes, turned to take a couple of steps away, then pivoted back.
“Don’t bother coming on Friday.” Lynn looked up.
Daniel shoved the folder back into the bag.
“If you want to play games, fine.
But let me warn you, Bruce isn’t like me.
He isn’t nearly as easy to talk to.” “I’ve noted that down too.” “Whatever.” Daniel turned and walked toward the dark sedan across the street.
After a few paces, he suddenly spun back around.
“Lynn, don’t regret this.” Lynn stood where he was, unmoving.
Daniel got into the dark car.
As it drove off, the tires rolled over a puddle by the curb, splashing dirty water into the air.
Lynn waited until the taillights vanished around the corner before slowly exhaling.
His palms were soaked with sweat.
The recording was still running.
He hit stop, saved it, and named it: **Daniel_StreetContact_Wed_CCTVArea** The title was a bit long, but he wasn’t in the mood to edit it.
Carrying her laundry, the elderly woman passed by him and offered a glance.
“Ex-boyfriend?” Lynn was startled.
“No.” The woman shrugged.
“Sounds like one.” She pushed open the door and left.
Lynn stood there for a few seconds, suddenly feeling a faint urge to laugh.
He couldn’t bring himself to.
He backed up the recording to the cloud, then replied to Marcus: > *He just showed up.
Mentioned you.
Mentioned Bruce.
Recording saved.* Marcus replied quickly: > *Don’t stand around outside your apartment.
Take a long walk around the block.
Make sure you aren’t being followed.* Looking at the text, Lynn glanced up at his apartment building.
The building entrance was pitch black.
He really didn’t feel like going inside today.
But if he didn’t, he had nowhere else to go.
He walked two blocks out of his way, bought a bottle of water at a convenience store, and circled back.
No cars followed him along the way, nor did anyone call out to him from behind.
When he reached the entrance, he snapped a photo of the front door first, then went upstairs.
Nothing was outside his door.
No pry marks on the lock.
He stepped inside, engaged the door chain, and dragged a chair behind the door.
His movements were far more practiced than a few days ago.
That wasn’t a good sign.
— The next day, Marcus sent him a brief set of files.
It wasn’t a formal report, just a jigsaw puzzle spread across a few pages.
Tracing back through the convoluted layers behind the loan company, it ultimately linked back to a consulting firm under the name of one of Bruce’s distant cousins.
The other victim was named Leah; she had once signed a personal guarantee for another company of Daniel’s, only to end up being hounded by debt collectors for over eighty thousand dollars.
She had preserved a phone recording in which Bruce’s voice could also be heard.
Marcus sent a message: > *She’s willing to testify, but she doesn’t want her identity made public.
Don’t go throwing her name around.* Lynn replied: > *Understood.* Marcus: > *You don’t understand.
She’s afraid of Bruce.
Terrified of him.
You should be too.* Lynn looked at the message for a few seconds before replying: > *I am.* This time, Marcus didn’t send a middle finger emoji.
He just replied: > *Good.
Keep it that way.* Things weren’t peaceful over at Vought either.
Access permissions regarding A-Train continued to be elevated.
Media Relations called three times in a single day.
The first time was to ask for charity event photos; the second was for interview clips; the third was a direct demand for material “proving A-Train has been in top condition recently.” Every time, Lynn told them to submit an authorization request.
By the third call, the person on the line lost their patience.
“Do you have any idea we’re putting out fires over here?” Lynn looked at the directory on his screen.
“I can only follow procedure here.” “Procedure won’t save public opinion!” “And it won’t take the fall either.” The person muttered a faint curse and hung up.
Hearing a bit of it from the next cubicle over, Amy poked her head out.
“You piss off Media Relations again?” “They ignite easily on their own.” “Well yeah, because they spend every day putting makeup on bombs.” Kevin looked up upon hearing that.
“Nice line.” Amy flicked a glance at him.
“Don’t steal my material.” Martha stepped out of her office.
All three bowed their heads simultaneously.
She didn’t scold anyone, merely placing a printed form on Lynn’s desk.
“Finish this index before tonight.
Don’t linger on anything related to A-Train.” “Got it.” Martha turned to leave, then paused.
“The front desk downstairs said someone came asking about you yesterday.” Lynn’s fingers froze.
“Who?” “Didn’t leave a name.
Male, heavy-set, tall, wearing a silver chain.
Said he was a friend.” Bruce.
Lynn looked up.
Martha watched him, her expression remaining cold.
“I told you, keep your personal troubles out of this company.” “I didn’t invite him.” “Yet he came.” Lynn said nothing.
Martha set her coffee mug on the edge of his desk, then picked it up again, as if simply shifting her stance.
“I had security flag him.
Next time he comes, they won’t let him upstairs.” Lynn looked at her.
“Thank you.” “Don’t thank me.
I don’t want debt collectors showing up outside Archives.” With that, she walked away.
Kevin waited until she returned to her office before whispering, “Do you really owe money to someone?” Amy kicked his chair.
“Shut up.” Kevin recoiled slightly.
“I was just asking.” Lynn kept entering data into the index with his head down.
“Yes.” Kevin went quiet.
After a moment, he said, “If any strangers come up, I’ll call security right away.” It wasn’t said with grand emotion, sounding a bit awkward—like goodwill squeezed out from between his teeth.
Lynn glanced at him.
“Thanks.” Kevin waved a hand dismissively.
“Don’t make it so formal.
It creeps me out.” At four in the afternoon, Marcus sent another message: > *Bruce’s side is starting to suspect Daniel pocketed part of the loan money.
Those files of yours worked.
They’re tearing into each other internally.* Looking at the text, Lynn felt his shoulders relax slightly—though not entirely.
When people like that tear each other apart, it isn’t necessarily safer.
Sometimes, when driven into a corner, they target the softest target first.
His phone buzzed again.
Daniel.
> *What the fuck did you give Marcus?* > *Are you out of your mind?* Followed immediately by a second message: > *Bruce thinks I lied to him now.
Are you happy?* A third message: > *Lynn, pick up the phone.* A call came through immediately after.
Lynn didn’t pick up.
Daniel called three times in a row, and Lynn declined every single one.
Finally, a voice message arrived.
Lynn didn’t play it, choosing speech-to-text transcription instead.
The accuracy wasn’t great, but the main gist was clear: > *If you push me into a corner, I won’t let you off easy either.* Lynn saved it and forwarded it to Marcus.
Marcus replied: > *Don’t go out alone tonight.* Lynn glanced out the window.
It was getting dark.
He pulled out the awful-tasting cookies from his drawer and popped one into his mouth.
Too sweet.
Dry enough to choke on.
He picked up his water glass, but the water was already cold.
Kevin handed him a new pack from the side.
“This kind isn’t as bad.” Lynn looked at him.
Kevin shrugged.
“Bought the wrong flavor downstairs.
Want it?” Lynn took it.
“Thanks.” Kevin lowered his voice.
“If you’re really in trouble, don’t try to tough it out alone.
In New York, acting tough on your own just makes people treat you like an easy mark.” The words were borderline platitudes, but they came from a good place.
Lynn placed the cookies in his drawer.
“I know.” After work hours, he didn’t leave immediately.
He waited until the crowd thinned out before packing his bag.
The light in Martha’s office was still on.
Without looking at him, she simply said: “Leave through the main entrance.” Lynn paused.
“Okay.” He exited through the main entrance.
Security gave him a second glance.
On the giant screen in the lobby, Homelander was doing a public service promo, smiling as if nothing had ever happened.
As Lynn stepped out of the Vought building, his phone buzzed once more.
Marcus: > *Daniel probably won’t show up tonight.
Bruce is more likely to send someone else.* Lynn looked at the message without replying.
The wind on the street was a bit cold.
He pulled his jacket zipper up higher and walked toward the subway entrance.
Behind him, the Vought building shone bright and cold like a slab of glass.
He didn’t look back.