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These men came to question Nelson, too, since he performed on a stage above which the bomb was found—not that he knew anything. Nobody thought to ask Tristan anything, since the VIP lounges were the most removed from the stage.

Many people who were present at the sites of the attacks gave their statements online, too. Nelson and Tristan were far from the only ones, although their words on the matter were one of the more well-heard.

During the day, Tristan was busy fighting that war online together with Nelson and Derek (who, together with the GTG agency PR team, was a pacifying influence in this trio). It might\'ve appeared to be pointless to argue with people on the Internet, but for a celebrity reputation was important.

He had an idea that this could\'ve been another thing the Ass-Angel must\'ve been aiming at—the reputations of people who were affected by the terrorist attacks. Even if you were on the side with more public support, it was easy to slip and say something too harsh in response.

But staying silent opened you up for people to misinterpret your previous words or outright lie about your opinion.

And during the night, Tristan still had to manage his underworld kingdom. While not directly affected, it was buzzing from the attacks, and there was a lot to manage. Besides, Tristan was putting out feelers to find what the federal investigators knew about the attacks.

While Tristan had agents in the Los Angeles Police Department, getting to feds was much harder. They actually had excellent protection on their computers, too.

***

A week after the attacks.

Nelson\'s house was not so far from Tristan\'s—also in a good, expensive neighborhood. He was renting it, but planning to buy it with the revenue from the album sales.

Unlike Tristan\'s house, which was subjected to "organized chaos"—it might\'ve looked like chaos, but everything actually had its place, and Tristan knew what it was—Nelson\'s place was just chaotic.

Maybe it was because Tristan wasn\'t there so often. They usually gathered for junk food and beers somewhere more neutral. Lately, however…

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"Those sharks have been out for blood these days," Nelson complained between bites of his fries. "I can\'t step out without someone trying to sneak a photo. Add to that the shitstorm online and, ugh. I really don\'t understand people who get targeted online and still act like nothing happens…"

Nelson grimaced.

His foul mood was tangible, and from the bags under his eyes, he wasn\'t sleeping well lately. The stress was even making his hair look paler.

Tristan couldn\'t say his mood was amazing, either. He was also tired and wishing that he could sleep even if his body felt the need for it.

He had thick mental armor and an ego the size of an island, but even he had limits. And worse, Tristan couldn\'t say that his plans or the online holy war actually were going anywhere.

It was just churning and stinking and looking ugly as hell—like a shitstorm.

"Yeah," Tristan said, staring at the wall of vintage rock posters opposite of their couch. "Since decent cameras appeared in every phone, hiding from paparazzi became harder than ever. But I hope something good comes out of it, too. I bet if people try hard enough, they could deanonymize the leader of those radical fanatics in a week. Or in two, at least."

Nel raised his head from where it was plopped on the couch.

"Oh, that guy? Gospel? Would be nice. Do you think he really was behind the attacks, Tris? He didn\'t outright say he was."

Tristan shrugged.

"I think he\'s at least connected to them. Isn\'t it too convenient for him otherwise? He just appeared online three days ago, and boom, instantly gathered other radicals under his banner? And he wouldn\'t be hiding his identity this fastidiously if he didn\'t think he was in danger."

Tristan was sure that Gospel, as he called himself, was the Ass-Angel. He appeared to lead his campaign against celebrities of all kinds, and so far, he was pretty good at it. He aimed a lot of verbal blows at Tristan and Nelson.

It would\'ve been great—Ass-Angel stepped right into Tristan\'s trap!—if Tristan actually knew anything about him. There was nothing. And there was seemingly no way to hack him—Gospel didn\'t accept private messages from anyone Tristan knew about.

Sending him a virus was nigh-impossible, and hacking the social websites directly was still an extremely complicated tack. Besides, Tristan had a feeling that someone this paranoid would take measures to protect his personal data even in case of a hacker attack.

Tristan doubted anything of use could be gathered from Gospel\'s account. The man gave Tristan nothing at all.

The frustration of it didn\'t increase Tristan\'s mood at all.

"Fuck, man, enough talking about these assholes," Nelson said, sitting up. "We gathered to hang out and chill, not that bullshit. Let\'s watch something—I heard the second season of the \'Magical\' TV show finally got released, and it\'s hype."

"\'Magical\'? Wait, I didn\'t even watch the first part. It\'s the one with the bio-punk and there\'s also this crazy chick that\'s been on all the posters?"

"What, you didn\'t watch the first season? Tris, it absolutely, ABSOLUTELY deserves all the hype! The soundtrack alone deserved it. It\'s only twelve episodes—well, four hours. Think we can binge it?"

Nelson was already reaching for the TV remote. The TV itself—a huge thing with a powerful sound system attached—was standing opposite of the couch. The couch was a TV-watching setup.

Tristan checked the time, then considered his obligations.

"Sure. Why not? Flexible schedule, that\'s us."

The show really deserved all the hype, and the soundtrack really was amazing. The pair of friends was engrossed in it, and for the first two episodes Nelson ran his mouth, pointing out all the coolest moments.

By the third, though, he became visibly tired. The excitement was still there, but Tristan felt like Nelson was going to fall asleep at any moment. When he pointed out that maybe this was what Nelson should\'ve been doing, Nelson protested.

"Sleep? I can\'t fucking sleep thinking about all that\'s going on! No, I\'d rather watch. Come on, press the play button."

They were on the fourth episode when Nelson fell asleep, anyway. Tristan shook his head bemusedly and fought off the desire to draw a dick on his forehead.

He felt tired himself, too—as if sitting still sucked out his energy instead of giving it to him. It was strange enough for his brain to notice, but the show was interesting, so Tristan just decided that his body needed him to actually exercise for a change.

Go for a walk later today or something.

Tristan continued to watch on his own for another episode until his hearing didn\'t pick up something alarming.

Tristan put the show on pause and leaned to Nelson to listen closer.

His observation skills weren\'t mistaken—Nelson\'s breathing was too shallow and irregular than the norm. He was gasping and struggling for breath in his sleep.

"Hey. Hey! Nel, wake up!" Tristan said, shaking his friend\'s shoulder.

Nelson\'s head bobbed on his shoulders powerlessly. He didn\'t wake up.

"Shit," Tristan muttered.

He forced himself to act with the calm he didn\'t quite feel as he checked Nelson\'s pulse, too. It was weaker than normal.

His medical expertise suggested a lot of reasons this could be happening. It was also telling him that Tristan\'s own sudden weakness was not normal.

Nelson was sick, and Tristan could have been sick, too. There could have been a million reasons, starting with stress, but for Nelson to actually fall into a deep sleep like that…

\'This has to be something serious.\'

Next thing Tristan did was to call his personal assistant Lenny. He would appear faster than an ambulance.

In the meantime, Tristan continued to wake Nelson up. After shouting wasn\'t enough, he slapped Nelson\'s face a few times.

"Wha… Ugh…"

Nelson opened bleary eyes that seemed to be unable to focus on Tristan.

"Nel!" Tristan let out a breath of relief.

"Tris… Did I fall asleep?" Nelson\'s words were almost inaudible.

"You fainted, Nel. Tell me, is this the first time?"

"Fainted? Yeah…" Nelson closed his eyes again. "S\'tired…"n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Tristan could do nothing as Nelson seemed to fall into deep sleep again. But at least he wasn\'t in a coma.

\'Is there any sickness that sets in with so little warning? I\'ve been meeting with Nel all this time—he was tired, but not to this extent.\' The next conclusion felt like a leap of intuition, but with his imagination, it didn\'t feel impossible. \'Did the Ass-Angel do this somehow?!\'