My Brob GF Ch 22: The New Plan!

I sat at my desk, letting the silence of the office settle around me. It'd been a week since the chaos in Gulliverian territory—a whole week since I'd nearly gotten myself killed, a week since I'd met my enemy, Silvershade, face to face. I still felt the weight of it, as if her shadow lingered over my shoulder even now, unshakable. Everything that had happened seemed like a blur, almost too much to process.

And Harper... I hadn't spoken to her since then, hadn't really seen her. She'd insisted on staying in touch, wanting to help me work through it all. I could still picture the way she'd looked down at me, those massive eyes fixed on me, not with pity, but with something fierce, protective. There was something strangely comforting about Harper's anger on my behalf—sweet, even. And God, I was not used to "sweet." Not from anyone, especially not someone like her.

I looked across the room at Dwayne, who was already absorbed in whatever he was typing up on his computer. He was back to his usual routine, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Everything in the office felt normal, maybe even too normal, given where we'd just been. It was surreal. We'd been in the middle of a battlefield, and now I was just back at my desk, back to work.

"I guess it's time to move on," I muttered, almost like I was trying to convince myself. I turned back to my own computer screen, shifting focus to my open tabs and notes on the Consortium. It was time to dive back into the work I knew best—tracking, analyzing, uncovering. There was still so much we didn't know about this organization, and every unanswered question gnawed at me.

I couldn't ignore the reality that Lilliputian hostages were still out there, held by the Consortium for reasons I couldn't make sense of. It wasn't just about territory or money, that much I could tell. But then, what was it? What could they possibly want with these hostages?

"Still so many questions," I said quietly, staring blankly at the open document in front of me. There were leads, fragmented information from surveillance feeds, whispers of a safehouse, or maybe several. Every clue felt incomplete, pieces that didn't quite add up yet. And yet, I had to put it together.

I leaned back, folding my arms as I glanced over at the photo frame on my desk—a rare memento from that small town I'd once called home. It was old, faded, but the memory was still strong. Evershade. So much of my life had been about getting justice for what happened there, about finding some way to close that wound.

A message notification blinked in the corner of my screen, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was from Dwayne, just one word: Coffee?

I glanced over at him, seeing the casual, knowing look in his eyes. He wasn't just asking about coffee. He was reminding me that, despite everything that had happened, I still had people here, people who'd back me up, no matter how normal—or abnormal—things got.

I typed back a quick, "Yeah. Let's go," then closed my laptop, taking a deep breath.

I followed Dwayne out of the office, feeling a little more at ease as we headed out for coffee. Honestly, a break sounded good, especially after everything that'd been spinning in my mind. But as we walked down the hallway and out into the brisk air, I caught Dwayne's smirk.

"What's with the look?" I asked, immediately suspicious.

"Oh, nothing," he said, the way people say things when there's definitely something.

I narrowed my eyes, not buying it for a second. "Alright, Dwayne, what's the catch? You're not just dragging me out here for some generic coffee break, are you?"

Dwayne just chuckled, sidestepping my question. "Trust me, it's good coffee. Rumor has it, best in the area."

That piqued my interest a little. But still, I didn't trust him. I mean, this was Dwayne, the guy who'd once convinced me to try a "new kind of sushi" that ended up being pickled squid. So, as we kept walking and turned down a side street, I felt my stomach tighten up with that sense of impending disaster.

And then I saw the sign up ahead: Mixed Zone Café. I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dwayne, hold up. A mixed zone? Are you kidding me?" I whispered, like saying it quietly would somehow make this less of a catastrophe.

Dwayne didn't even slow down. He just turned around with a grin, waving for me to keep up. "C'mon, Ethan, it's not that bad. They've got a great setup here. Gulliverians, Lilliputians, all mixed together. It's like the perfect little coffee diplomacy spot. You'll love it."

I groaned, my feet feeling rooted to the ground. "This is not the place for me. You know I avoid these spots. You know that."

He shrugged, as if I'd just admitted I hated sunshine. "Why? You've got nothing to worry about. Just stay on the Lilliputian path. You'll be fine."

I huffed, reluctantly following along, though my nerves felt like they were tightening with every step. A mixed zone. It was like one of those urban legends for us—a place you only went to if you had no choice, and even then, you stayed on high alert.

As we got closer, I tried to distract myself. "So, uh, back to the case," I said, clearing my throat. "There's still way too much we don't know. Hostages, their end game... I mean, the Consortium isn't exactly acting like your typical terrorist group."

Dwayne nodded, looking thoughtful. "Exactly. They're too coordinated, too quiet between attacks. They're methodical, and that makes them a hell of a lot scarier."

I frowned, recalling her words. "They aren't doing this just to make a statement or hold a region hostage. There's something deeper here."

"Well, we've got that intel from the raid," Dwayne said, looking over at me. "Some reports of a safehouse in the west, although it's just whispers so far. Could be the start of something."

I raised my eyebrows. "A safehouse...that's something. Maybe we're getting closer to figuring out what they're planning, then." I paused, glancing at him. "Or maybe it's just another dead end."

Dwayne rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Ethan. Just once, maybe try to have some optimism. But hey, we can go over that later. Right now..." He gestured forward, a triumphant look on his face.

And there it was. Mixed Zone Café. A big open area, with giant Gulliverian tables scattered across one side, and little clusters of Lilliputian tables on the other. There were bridges and paths connecting both sides, giving it a weird sense of harmony that I didn't trust for a second.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself as we walked in. Immediately, I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. Massive Gulliverians were sipping coffee and chatting, their voices rumbling in waves that practically shook the air. I stuck close to Dwayne, half-expecting one of them to glance down and decide to squash me just for fun.

Dwayne chuckled, looking at me with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You do realize you've been to Gulliverian lands already, right? You know, actual giants? This is nothing compared to that."

He wasn't wrong, and I knew it. But there was something about mixed zones—maybe it was the stories you heard. Accidents, misunderstandings, a coffee spill that went the wrong way. Honestly, I felt more at ease in a foreign base filled with trained soldiers than I did in this so-called "café of diplomacy."

"Alright, alright," I said, giving in. "Let's get that coffee before I start imagining all the ways I could die here."

Dwayne smirked and led the way, and as we headed toward the Lilliputian counter, I couldn't help but glance around nervously. Trying not to look as small as I felt, I mentally braced myself for a coffee adventure like none I'd ever had.

***

(Meanwhile, back at Harper's place)

I was doing exactly the opposite of bracing myself. More like brooding.

I swirled the wine in my glass, watching as the liquid caught the light of the sunset outside my window. "He still hasn't called," I said to Dolores, sighing as I leaned back on the couch. "After all that, after I told him to keep in touch."

Dolores raised an eyebrow as she poured herself another glass. "You say that like you're actually surprised." She rolled her eyes and took a sip. "I don't get it, Harp. What do you even see in that little spe—uh, that guy?"

"Don't call him that," I said with a small sigh. "It's not like that."

Dolores gave me a look, one that said she wasn't buying it for a second. "Oh really? Then what is it like, Miss 'I'm Way Too Good for This Tiny Drama?'" She held up her glass with a smirk, clearly enjoying my misery far too much. "Come on, you can't just tell me nothing happened between you two in those lands."

I shook my head, looking away, but I knew she wasn't going to let this go. "Fine," I said, leaning forward. "There's something about him. He's... not what you'd expect. Did I ever mention that he's an inter-dimensional terrorist prevention analyst?"

Dolores paused mid-sip, her glass halfway to her lips. "An... inter-dimensional... what?"

"Exactly," I said, shaking my head. "Inter-dimensional anything isn't easy, even for Brobs. You know that. And he's down there, all on his own, handling cases most Gulliverians would run from."

"Okay, now I'm curious." Dolores leaned forward, looking at me with real interest for the first time. "But if he's so impressive, what's he doing ghosting you?"

I grimaced, realizing I was wondering the exact same thing. "I don't know. Maybe he's overwhelmed, or maybe he just... I don't know, Dolores. I told him to keep in touch, and it's like he's vanished back into that tiny world of his."

Dolores gave me a sympathetic look, but her tone was still teasing. "If you want to see him so bad, why not just invite him over? You know... give him a little reminder of what he's missing?"

I blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "What? No, I... I can't just—"

Dolores laughed, cutting me off. "Oh, sure you can. You're a literal goddess in his world, Harp. Go big or go home, right?" She nudged me with her glass, her eyes twinkling. "Trust me. It's your move."

I didn't respond right away, glancing out at the sunset. Was she right? Was it really up to me to bridge the distance between our worlds? Part of me hated the idea of making the first move. But part of me also knew that if I didn't... he'd probably stay lost in that tiny, complicated life of his forever.