I open my eyes.

My head is still on my desk, but the adrenaline coursing through my system forces me to jump to my feet.

It’s 8:38 p.m. according to my phone.

I frantically dial Nero, but my call goes straight into voicemail.

Crap.

Was that back-alley scenario a new dream vision?

It sure felt like the ones I’d had a few days ago.

Assuming that it was a vision, was it about something that’s going to happen today? Because if it is a prophecy for today, Nero is in trouble pretty much right now.

Without further deliberation, I grab my gun bag and run for the elevator, looking for allies as I go.

Most of my coworkers already left for the day, and the few analysts still working look like wimps.

If only I could find one of the building security guys.

Then I realize I don’t have time to convince people to join me. In fact, I’ll be lucky to make it down to the alley if I run all the way there.

The elevator arrives blissfully quickly, and I hit the “P” button—the fastest way to get to my destination.

My heart is jackhammering in my chest when I reach the nearly empty parking garage.

As I run through it, I reach into my bag and extract the gun with sweaty fingers.

There are six bullets in this gun. There are five orcs. My chances are not good. Every one of my bullets would have to hit an orc, ideally in the head—a wildly ambitious goal, given my marksmanship at the shooting range.

A cowardly thought keeps swirling in my head. Why am I willing to put my life in danger for Nero?

If I just wanted to be a Good Samaritan, I could’ve called 911, told them a story that doesn’t involve visions and orcs, and then crossed my fingers. I’ve already tried to reach Nero on the phone, so my conscience would’ve been clear.

Then again, the call went into voicemail, and I know the cops wouldn’t have made it in time. So another way of asking this cowardly question is: am I willing to let Nero die?

For some reason, everything in me shouts a resounding, “No.”

I don’t understand that about myself. Am I doing this because he was nice to me for a second last night? Or does this have something to do with that whole debacle when I had some intrusive thoughts about him with a vibrator on my lady bits?

If I survive this (which sadly seems unlikely), I’ll need to figure out if I have some kind of feelings toward Nero—other than the normal annoyance, that is.

No, that’s preposterous. I’m just saving him because that’s the right thing to do. The brave thing to do. Isn’t this what being brave is all about—doing something you know is crazy?

Zooming out of the parking lot, I turn the corner.

I’m yards away from the back alley now, and if I were going to chicken out, now would be the time.

Gulping down a big breath, I tighten my grip on the gun and dash for the corner.

As I round it, it takes me but the briefest glance to verify that my dream was indeed a vision.

Nero is already here. Already surrounded by the orcs—just like in my dream.

The other orc—Bogof—is also here, right in front of me. I think his plan is to jump Nero from behind.

“Now or never,” I think to myself and raise my gun.