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Liam's Pov
The elevator ride down felt longer than usual, the mechanical hum loud in the silence. When the doors opened to the basement, the scent of motor oil and concrete hit me again. I swung a leg over my bike, pulled my helmet on, and kicked the engine to life. The familiar vibration thrummed through me
The night air of New York rushed against me as I sped through the streets. Neon lights reflected on wet asphalt, and the city's pulse felt alive beneath my wheels. Ten o'clock wasn't late for this place—it was just hitting its stride. Crowds spilled out of restaurants and theaters, taxis honked impatiently, and somewhere distant, sirens wailed.
But I wasn't here for the city's nightlife. My destination lay west, tucked into a quieter block
The lab's sign glowed faintly in electric blue against the otherwise dim facade. Short. Modern. Minimalist. Nexor Labs.
I pulled up next to it, killed the engine, and checked the time. 9:55. Five minutes to spare.
The building itself looked almost abandoned at first glance—blacked-out windows, the kind of sterile architecture that didn't invite attention. But when I leaned against my bike and waited, I caught movement inside. A flicker of light, then darkness again. A shadow stretching as the front door creaked open.
A figure stepped out. He moved with the kind of ease that came from long nights and routine. Lab coat absent, replaced by a plain jacket. His face was sharp, framed by dark hair, his eyes narrowing slightly when they landed on me.
"You Alex?" I asked, pushing off the bike.
He nodded once.
I reached into my hoodie pocket and produced the small ziplock bag, the one marked neatly with the evidence tag. Inside, the fine white powder glimmered faintly under the streetlight. I held it out, and Alex took it between his fingers, studying it with a clinical detachment.
"It's labeled lactose powder," I said. "But there's something hidden in it. I want to know what."
Alex tucked the bag into his jacket pocket and looked up. "How soon do you need it?"
"As soon as possible."
"That'll cost you. Five grand."
I didn't hesitate. My hand slipped back into my hoodie pocket, summoned five grand from the system. A moment later, I withdrew a thick wad of cash, freshly summoned and handed it to him.
His eyes flicked over the stack, then he nodded. "Wait nearby. I can give you preliminary results in about an hour. Full breakdown will take longer."
"Fair enough."
Without another word, Alex turned and disappeared back into the building, locking the door behind him.
I stood alone on the quiet street, the neon sign buzzing faintly above me. One hour to kill.
"Great," I muttered. "What do I do now?"
[Explore,] Eve suggested in her calm, logical tone. [You can't hover outside the lab for sixty minutes. It'll draw attention. Find a neutral location nearby.]
I swung a leg back over my bike, scanning the blocks. It didn't take long. Barely two minutes later, as I turned onto 55th Street, something caught my eye.
A familiar green awning stretched over a short flight of steps leading downward. Gold letters spelled out the name in bold, unmistakable font: MacLaren's Pub.
I braked hard, the bike purring quietly as I rolled to the curb.
I stared. The brick facade, the neon beer signs glowing faintly in the windows, the wooden door at the bottom of those steps—it was identical. Exactly like the set from How I Met Your Mother.
"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered.
[Interesting,] Eve said, her voice sharper now with intrigue. [MacLaren's Pub. A fictional location, yet here it is. Fully realized.]
"This world just keeps getting weirder," I muttered, pulling off my helmet. The night air was cool on my face, but my skin prickled with something beyond temperature. Anticipation. Curiosity.
[Are you… excited?] Eve teased gently.
"Of course I am," I admitted. "This—this is surreal. I grew up watching reruns of that show. Ted and Marshall lived above this place and Barney… well… he is something else"
[Then go on. See if they're here.]
I parked the bike neatly against the curb, locked it, and stood staring at the building for a moment longer. My heart thudded with the oddest mix of adrenaline and nostalgia.
"Alright," I whispered to myself. "Let's see if legends are real."
I descended the steps, each one echoing faintly under my sneakers. The wooden door loomed ahead, its handle worn from countless hands. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The sound hit first—warm laughter, clinking glasses, the hum of conversations layering into a comforting buzz. The smell of beer and fried food wrapped around me, familiar and grounding.
And the sight…
MacLaren's Pub, exactly as I remembered it. Dark wood paneling. Lamps casting cozy light over booths. The long bar stretching across the left side, polished to a gleam. The round and square tables tucked neatly.
For a second, I just stood there, taking it all in. Fiction and reality had blurred plenty since I got here, but this… this was on another level.
I scanned the pub once more, and there they were—seated in their usual booth, just like on TV.
Marshall was leaning back, his massive frame practically swallowing his side of the booth.
Lily sat next to him, animatedly gesturing with her hands as she spoke, her red hair catching the pub's dim golden lights. She wore a light green cardigan over a white blouse, paired with a floral skirt—simple but fitting her lively personality
Robin was sitting opposite to them, her raven hair cascading over her shoulders. She wore a dark leather jacket over a deep-blue blouse, paired with jeans. She looked exactly like she did on screen, yet somehow more radiant in person.
Her beauty was sharper, more striking—real life had given her edges the camera softened.
Ted and Barney were missing.
I knew I couldn't just walk over, so I went to the bar instead.
Carl was behind the counter, polishing glasses, looking every bit the reliable barkeep I remembered.
"What'll you have?" he asked.
"Virgin mojito," I replied.
Carl got to work without a word, mint leaves crushed, soda fizzing, ice cubes clinking. In less than a minute, a tall glass was set before me, condensation dripping down its sides. I sipped slowly—cool, crisp, refreshing.
That's when Marshall appeared, holding an empty pitcher. He froze for a second, squinting at me.
"…Liam?"
I turned, raising my brows. "Marshall, right?"
His grin was instant. "Yeah! Library, remember? You helped me with those old casebooks!"
I stood, shook his large hand, his grip firm but warm. "Good to see you again."
He glanced at my lone glass. "Are you sitting by yourself?"
"Yeah, just killing time."
"Come on, man, join us. Don't drink alone."
[Typical Marshall. The good guy.] Eve's voice teased in my mind.
I smirked inwardly. "Alright, why not."
Marshall grabbed his refill jug, and I picked up my mojito. We walked to their booth, and instantly Lily and Robin's eyes went to me.
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