Second Mission: Abraham Lincoln

The first store he visited was a small hardware shop tucked away on a side street. It wasn't fancy, but it had what he needed.

Arthur stepped inside, his eyes scanning the shelves until he found what he was looking for a knife. It wasn't large, but it was sharp enough to defend himself if things went south.

He couldn't afford to rely on luck anymore. Tucking the knife into his pocket, he moved on to the next item.

A few rows down, he found a small coil of rope. It wasn't thick, but it was sturdy enough for whatever use he might need it for. He grabbed it without hesitation. Better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

The third thing he bought was a few cans of food. Arthur didn't know how long the mission would last—whether it would be a quick in-and-out or something that dragged on for hours. He couldn't risk getting stuck somewhere without any way to sustain himself. He didn't plan on starving in some forgotten corner of history.

After checking the items, Arthur approached the counter and paid for everything. The total came to around $60, a small price to pay for his safety. But he wasn't done yet.

Arthur made one last stop before heading home—a small, discount electronics store. He scanned the rows of cheap phones until he found what he was looking for: a basic, no-frills phone.

It wasn't fancy or new, but it worked. That's all that mattered. He wanted to make sure Charlotte had a way to call for help if something happened to him.

He paid for the phone and quickly left, his steps quick and purposeful. The total cost of his trip, including the food, the knife, and the rope, had drained him of about $100.

But it was worth it. He wasn't just thinking about the mission—he was thinking ahead, just in case something went wrong.

When Arthur finally returned to the basement, he moved quietly so as not to wake Charlotte.

He glanced at her small, fragile form curled up beneath the blankets, her soft breaths filling the otherwise quiet room.

The sight made his chest tighten. He walked over to her bedside and gently placed the phone under her pillow, alongside the remaining $400.

Just in case, he thought, his mind clouded with worry. He knew the risks involved in these missions, and while he always intended to return, there was no guarantee.

No one knew what fate had in store for them, and if something happened to him—if the mission went south—at least Charlotte would have enough money to get by for a while.

The phone would give her a lifeline, a way to call for help if she needed it.

Arthur stood over her, watching the uneven rise and fall of her chest as she slept. His fingers twitched at his side, his mind restless with the weight of everything he was carrying. He wasn't sure how she would fare without him.

She was strong, in her own way, but the world had already been so cruel to her. And he... he was the only thing standing between her and a life of complete abandonment.

"God wouldn't leave her," Arthur told himself, though the thought brought him little comfort. "But I still need to give her a way to communicate."

His gaze hardened as he turned away from her. He couldn't afford to think about that now. There was no room for doubt or fear. He had to focus on the mission. He had to survive.

Arthur left the room quietly, moving to the far corner where his belongings were scattered. He pulled the knife from his pocket, checking the blade once more before tucking it into his jacket.

The rope followed, coiled tightly. Lastly, he placed the cans of food inside, his mind already racing with the possibilities of what could go wrong. He was prepared now—more than he had been before.

He stood in the middle of the dimly lit room for a moment, the silence pressing down on him. The world felt still, but Arthur's heart was anything but calm.

His thoughts drifted back to Charlotte, to her soft smile, her quiet resilience. He was doing this for her—for both of them.

Every risk, every mission, was a step toward a better future.

But even as he tried to comfort himself with the thought, a dark cloud of uncertainty lingered in his mind. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to give Charlotte the life she deserved.

The world had been so merciless, so unkind, and he had learned the hard way that hope could be dangerous. He had no illusions about how cruel reality could be.

Still, Arthur clenched his fists, his resolve hardening once again. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't doing this to save the world or rewrite history.

All that mattered was Charlotte. As long as she was safe, as long as she had a future, that was enough.

With one last glance toward her making sure she was asleep, Arthur pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the glowing Y on the screen.

"I won't fail this time."

He pressed Y

The room around him blurred as the system's pull dragged him into another time, another place.

The walls of the basement twisted and folded in on themselves, the dim light of dawn flickering and warping.

The familiar sensation of being transported hit him, but this time, Arthur was ready.

He was prepared.

Arthur's vision blurred as the world around him twisted and bent, the familiar sensation of the system's pull overtaking him.

The basement, Charlotte, the small window barely letting in the morning light—all of it faded as the system transported him to another time, another place.

When the world came back into focus, he was no longer in his cold, quiet room. He stood on a cobblestone street, the evening air warm and heavy.

The sounds of horses clopping down the road, the murmur of conversations, and the distant ringing of a bell filled his ears.

Arthur looked around, disoriented for a moment, before taking in the sights of 19th-century Washington, D.C.