Tommorow, Stuck On Repeat

Shirley and Tucker rushed into their room, their minds racing as they grabbed everything they thought might be essential for the journey. They didn't know how long it would last, but they packed enough supplies to last at least seven days. Clothes, snacks,weapons, and a few sentimental trinkets quickly filled their bags.

While rummaging through his closet, Shirley's hand brushed against an old, worn book that he had forgot about. He pulled it out, glancing at the faded title: The Adventures of Shawn and Tucker.

Shirley frowned. The title seemed strange, as it had nothing to do with the book as he recalls when he read. What really caught his attention, though, was the name Tucker. He turned to Tucker, who was crouched nearby, stuffing socks into his bag.

"Tucker?" Shirley muttered under his breath, eyeing the book suspiciously. "Weird…"

He considered asking Tucker about it but decided against it. The coincidence felt strange, but there was no time to dwell on it now. Shrugging, he shoved the book into his bag and zipped it shut.

"Ready?" Tucker asked, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He was dressed in a black shirt with matching pants and shoes, his usual confident energy radiating through his stance.

"Yeah," Shirley replied, pulling on his gray puffer jacket and adjusting the strap of his bag. His black pants and white slides gave him a more laid-back appearance, but his eyes showed the same determination.

The boys sprinted out of the room, their footsteps echoing through the White House. Outside, Micheal stood waiting beside a sleek black limousine with tinted windows. His silhouette was sharp against the dim light, his calm demeanor betraying none of the urgency he felt.

As Shirley and Tucker approached, Micheal gave them a brief nod. They returned the gesture without a word, their faces set with resolve. Without hesitation, they climbed into the limousine. The vehicle hummed to life, its engine a low growl as it pulled away from the White House.

Inside the limousine, Micheal reclined on a long, cushioned seat, one spacious enough to allow him to stretch out fully. Tucker marveled at the luxurious interior, his eyes darting from the polished wood paneling to the ambient lighting and sleek leather seats. Meanwhile, Shirley wandered around, taking in the opulence with quiet intrigue.

"Alright, boys, gather around," Micheal said, his tone calm yet commanding.

Shirley and Tucker exchanged glances before moving to sit across from him. Micheal straightened his posture, his expression shifting from relaxed to intense as he began to speak.

"Here's the plan," he started, his voice steady but grave. "As I've already told you, the place we're heading to isn't part of our world. It's a land steeped in death, chaos, and danger beyond anything you've ever encountered."

The atmosphere inside the car seemed to thicken as Micheal continued, his eyes darkening with the weight of his words. "The moment you step foot there, you'll feel something… overwhelming. A force you've never experienced before, The Absolute Presence."

Shirley and Tucker remained silent, their usual playfulness replaced by a sense of unease.

Micheal's expression softened for a brief moment before hardening again. "I've encountered this presence before. It strips you down to your core, tests every ounce of your resolve. And if you're not ready, it will break you."

As he spoke, his eyes seemed to drift to a place far away, shadowed by the memories of his past. His voice grew quieter, more reflective. "I wasn't ready when I first faced it. But you two…" His gaze refocused on them, sharp and unwavering. "You're stronger than I was back then. That's why I brought you along. You're ready to face what's ahead. But you must trust me—and trust yourselves."

The boys nodded, their determination rekindling in their eyes. The weight of Micheal's words lingered in the air, pressing against their chests like an unseen force. Shirley clenched his fists, while Tucker sat straighter, his jaw tight with resolve.

Micheal leaned back slightly, his serious tone unwavering. "Remember, this journey isn't just about survival. It's about becoming something more. Something stronger. Be prepared for anything."

The limousine continued its smooth journey through the night.

5 HOURS LATER

Micheal sat upright, his eyes fixed on the passing darkness beyond the limousine's tinted windows. Sleep eluded him, his mind consumed by memories that refused to fade. Tucker sprawled across a seat, snoring loudly, while Shirley had drifted off on the floor, his breathing slow and steady. The car was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and Tucker's occasional snores.

Micheal's thoughts wandered back to Choreees—the day his life was irreversibly changed. The images played in his mind like a haunting reel: faces, sounds, and choices that carved the path he now walked. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the seat as he relived the moment that had set everything in motion.

His eyes grew heavy as the weight of his memories pulled him closer to sleep, but just as he began to drift off, the limousine came to a gentle halt. The stillness jolted him back to reality.

Micheal rose to his feet, stretching briefly before glancing at the two boys. "Wake up," he said, his voice firm but quiet.

Tucker groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, his hair sticking out in wild tufts. Shirley stirred on the floor, blinking groggily. "What time is it?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Doesn't matter," Micheal replied. "We're here. Let's go."

The three of them stepped out of the car and onto the docks. The salty scent of the sea filled the air, mingling with the distant sound of waves lapping against the pier. A large ship loomed ahead, its silhouette cutting sharply against the star-speckled sky.

Tucker yawned loudly, dragging his feet as they approached the gangplank. Shirley stumbled forward, still not fully awake, his steps sluggish. Micheal led the way, his posture confident and purposeful.

As they boarded the ship, they were greeted by two figures waiting for them on the deck. The first was a familiar person—the girl cloaked in shadowy fabric, her hood obscuring most of her face. The same girl Shirley and Tucker met in the city. Next to her stood a man dressed in khaki shorts, a blue sunflower-printed shirt, and a straw hat tilted jauntily on his head. His casual attire was in stark contrast to the tense energy in the air.

"Yo," Micheal said, nodding in acknowledgment.

The man in the straw hat gave a lazy grin, his hands resting in his pockets. "Took you long enough," he said, his tone light but laced with anticipation.

The cloaked girl said nothing, her gaze shifting briefly to Tucker and Shirley before returning to Micheal. A small grin appearing on her face.

Tucker squinted at the two figures, his sleep-addled brain struggling to process the scene. "Who are they?" he asked, stifling another yawn.

Micheal didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the boys, his expression unreadable. "Get ready," he said simply. "This is where the real journey begins."