"Anything yet?"

The question drew a prolonged sigh and an eyeroll from the woman sitting in front of the monitor. The man standing just at her shoulder frowned in response, clearly in no mood.

"No, nothing. The same as yesterday, and the day before, and-"

"Don't get smart." He cut her off sharply. "Nothing happened today or yesterday, so what? The point is, it's happened before and it can happen again."

The woman slouched in her seat, lips pressed into a thin line. She clearly wanted to argue, but wisely chose not to. He wasn't wrong  and she well knew it. Instead she resumed staring at the screen in silence, eyes tracing over the shapes barely discernable on the screen. The man  did the same, arms crossed and brow furrowed in worry. There wasn't much to see. A dark room, sixty square meters of steel. The depth was less evident. Waves lapped gently at the edges of the room, liquid submerging whatever lay within and keeping it hidden from view. It was for the best really, and the man fought back an unconscious shudder at the idea of the room being drained for any reason.

"A simple Non-Newtonian Fluid. The more it struggles, the harder it'll be to escape."

That's what the researchers from HQ had told him. The science of it didn't really matter to him. As long as the shit worked, he couldn't complain. So long as the liquid remained just that; a liquid, they were safe.

Well as safe as they could reasonably so long as that thing was in there. If it were up to him, it'd be destroyed. Wiped clean from existence and forgotten about forever. But that was impossible, or so the eggheads said. So he had to submit himself to sitting on his ass and watching screens all day, his finger on the trigger in the event of the slightest hint of activity. Definitely not the kind of security detail he'd imagined when he signed on. Sure the pay was good, but it was nowhere near worth the stress. Barely more than a dozen of them out in the middle of nowhere with any sort of help thousands of miles off. The first, last and only line of defense between the rest of the world and the thing they kept locked up down there.

The man felt his skin prickle uncomfortably as his thoughts strayed towards things better left ignored and he sucked in a breath. A hand reached towards its twin and he silently grasped the studded ring on his finger and began to count each individual bump. A grounding exercise, one he'd used often because even far beneath his feet under yards of earth and steel it could still get him. Just knowing it existed was enough.

"Just...keep an eye on it. " He finally mumbled, shifting awkwardly away from the monitor and shambling towards the door leading to the adjoining hallway. His partner didn't seem at all concerned with his shaky demeanor and watched him only briefly before she resumed staring boredly at the screen. Her blase attitude filled him with as much jealousy as it did irritation. Some people just weren't as affected by it, it's why they got stuck watching it. Whatever hooks it used to dig into the mind just couldn't find the right purchase on some people. The nightmares were milder, their time under was longer.

"Their deaths come sooner." A vindictive little voice inside of him said. People like her were the first in line to get thrown into the grinder because of their 'talents'. Better to be normal. Especially with an employer like theirs. More often lately, he'd been wishing that he was far below average. He'd have never been chosen if that had been the case.

The air was growing uncomfortably thick inside and he felt himself growing more and more claustrophobic with each passing second. His steps grew more hurried and he paused only briefly to throw on a parka before bursting through the door at the end of the narrow hall and out into the harsh sunlight.

Summer in Antarctica had far from ideal weather, but it was miles better than being stuck inside. The air was uncomfortably dry, but it was fresh. Below forty and moreover free from the taint of that thing. He shivered violently, in part from the harsh gusts of wind that scoured the valley and more from nerves. Barely a month into a six month stay and he was close to breaking down. Maybe it wouldn't be too soon to call the whole thing off? The Boss would be angry. But surely she'd appreciate his honesty, right? He wasn't fit for the job and shouldn't have taken it. Then again, he couldn't imagine a scenario in which she'd be happy to send a transport all the way north for one person. Even if she were to be so generous, he'd surely lose his job. And it didn't bear thinking about what would happen afterwards. He was effectively stuck.

The cold was utterly unbearable and growing more so by the second. He'd run the risk of severe frostbite unless he went back inside, but even that was preferable to submitting himself to that thing's influence again, no matter how minimal it might have been.

"I really don't get paid enough for this shit." He mumbled through chattering teeth before lurching back inside. It was a good thing they stocked plenty of alcohol on site with the rest of the supplies. He'd be needing it for the remainder of his stay. And, provided he didn't blow his own brains out, a new liver when he finally got to leave. Hopefully whatever sorry bastards they sent up next would be better suited for the task.

---

They were really starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel.

Allister didn't say that out loud of course. It was rude, to start. And he wasn't in the mood for a fight. Not with the people in front of him, and certainly not with Lorette who was lurking inside the building just behind him.

Well, putting them at the bottom of the barrel wasn't exactly fair. They ticked all the necessary boxes in terms of what Apex absolutely needed. Otherwise they wouldn't have been called for. But it was clear to Allister that these people weren't quite at the caliber Apex expected.

"What they don't know, they'll learn."

Lorette's words came to mind so abruptly that had Allister not known any better, he'd have thought she was communicating telepathically. Fortunately for him, that was not one of his Employer's many talents. Being at the woman's beck and call was hard enough as it was without her taking up permanent residence in his skull.

He coughed into a gloved fist, stepping further outside and wincing as a gust of autumn wind struck him. The onset of early evening in the fall was  a quick affair. Low afternoon light  yielded to darkness in the blink of an eye, and the cold was quick on its heels. Allister bowed at the waist slightly, holding the door further open for the people waiting outside it. They'd been kept waiting long enough.

"Good evening, I'm glad all of you could make it." He said airily, as if he hadn't spent the past several minutes staring at them somewhat critically.  But that was in the past, and therefore no longer his problem.

"We do apologize for the wait. We've had a lot of people to get through today." He continued while ushering them all through the door as quickly as he could. They'd no doubt be happy to get out of the cold and happier to get things over with.  He couldn't imagine how happy they'd be with the offer they'd be getting however. Most weren't at first. He could hardly blame them for it. He certainly hadn't been. But the alternatives were of a kind he, and most, weren't comfortable ignoring. The fallout was Lorette's to deal with however, and she typically did so well enough.  In her own opinion anyway. Others had less than stellar reviews of her methods.

The inside of the building was as nondescript as the exterior. There wasn't much to see aside from a single hallway marked sparsely with doors. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Allister led the small group down the linoleum tiled hall, only looking up for the barest of moments to eye a light that had burnt out. "I should get someone to change that." He mumbled to himself before falling back into silence until they'd presumably reached their destination. A single door, as unremarkable as its  many copies stood in front of them, and he paused briefly, hand on the knob. "The Madame will be with you shortly, you may wait inside for her...." He trailed off and looked momentarily thoughtful as his eyes scanned the small gaggle of people warily.

"I should warn you all that she is somewhat eccentric. She means no harm, but the Madame has grown used to a certain method of doing things over the years. I hope that you understand." He finished somewhat lamely. Eccentric was an understatement, and he knew it. But he certainly couldn't open up with a list of the woman's foibles. It was better to let the poor fools discover that on their own.

Allister, and by extension the people with him did not have to wait long for to do so. The door swung open soundlessly, and he spent only a half second searching for the light switch  before flicking it on. The room he'd set aside for them was mostly empty in that a woman sat behind a table lined with files, and in front of it several chairs meant for her visitors. She said nothing. Staring at Allister in dead silence and the man fought the urge to grit his teeth as his blood pressure spiked.

"Well it seems you won't be having much of a wait as she's already here. Hello Ma'am." Allister said tightly.

Lorette blinked once and leaned sideways almost imperceptibly to stare past Allister's shoulder. "You brought my winners. Good, we can get started."

Allister shuffled to the side and allowed room for the people behind him to pass. He gave the group a look that could only be interpreted as 'This is the shit I was talking about.' before turning his gaze back to Lorette. "Not yours yet, Madame."

Lorette only let out a noncommittal grunt in reply and Allister rolled his eyes. "I'll leave you to it then. I'll be just outside, call if you need anything." He exited the room wordlessly, leaving the hapless group alone with Lorette who continued to give them a look one would only find on the face of a Fox in a henhouse. Her gaze only broke away at the sound of her phone buzzing, and she reached into her jacket to pull it out and stare wordlessly at the screen.

'Why are you like this?' were the only words written and Lorette frowned softly. Allister just didn't get it. Most didn't. But that was everyone else's problem. She tucked her phone away and turned her gaze back to the small group. "You probably want to get this over with, don't you?" She asked of no one in particular. It didn't matter who she addressed really, the offer was the same for all of them. Their answers might vary, but that was something she could live with so long as the results were as expected. And they would be. Nikhil was never wrong.

Lorette played idly with the edge of one of the files, brow wrinkling softly as she squinted under the harsh lights.

"I apologize if I seem a bit addled. It's been a long day and the last group tried my patience more than I'd have liked. I've got a bit of a migraine you see."

She slapped the cover of one of the files softly before looking back up. "But that's not your problem. And not why you're here." She said pointedly before leaning back in her own chair to resume staring at the people situated in front of her. They were a motley group, same as the rest. But that was to be expected, and moreover it was only temporary. "Now as your future employer I've a great deal of expectations for all of you. Expectations that I have no doubt you can live up to." Lorette eyed each of them in turn, her gaze having not lost its predatory gleam.

She picked up one of the files, flipping it open to scan the pages inside and letting out an amused huff.

"Harper Brock...The good thing about shut ins is that you know they'll always be in the same place." Lorette's eyes flicked towards the rather apathetic looking woman and she grinned. "You were quite the troubled youth. Of course I'm not one to judge. In fact I like it. Troubled kids grow up to be impressive liars. I doubt I'm the only one who's banked on that skill, huh?" The question was as directionless as it was rhetorical. Lorette closed the file and tossed it back onto the table. "It's very fortunate for you Ms.Harper, that I'll benefit a great deal from your particular skillset. Otherwise there'd be no point in you being here."

She swiped up another file and flipped open the cover to read its contents. "Marshall Fletcher. Another troubled youth. Another fall from grace. But you weren't content to stay at rock bottom I see. Was it the challenge of climbing back to the top that interested you?" Lorette's gaze zeroed in on the man and she narrowed her eyes. "There's no rock bottom at Apex I'm afraid. You'll keep climbing here. Otherwise we're more than happy to fling you off the edge."

Lorette tossed the file back onto the table carelessly and eyed the final folder. "And this brings us to one Julian Byrne. And impressive resume. You're quite the little bookworm aren't you? We've got plenty of space for people like you here." She sighed and shifted a bit to lean back in her seat. "Granted, we've got a high turnover rate for people like you as well. Knowledge is power, but it can just as easily be your undoing. I hope you've got a sturdy backbone holding up that big brain of yours Mr.Byrne. I'd very much hate to see that mind of yours go to waste."

Lorette put aside the final file, and placed both hands flat onto the table top. She leaned forward, almost conspiratorially and regarded the little group with that same, unchanging, hungry look.

"Now I'll admit that what I'm about to ask of you is a lot harsher than what I ask of most. You know, I hear all those rumors. About what goes on behind the wall." She began, not feeling the need to elaborate. 'The Wall', as it was so succinctly named was about as much an urban legend itself as what supposedly went on behind it. Circling the greater part of Apex's Headquarters, the clearance one needed to see the other side of it was high. And the Officers that had that distinction were cut from a different cloth than those who remained outside.

Most people assumed that given Apex's status as an International Arms Dealer, they were merely protecting their assets along with the intel of all parties they were on contract with. That didn't stop the rumor mill from running. The conspiracies surrounding the cluster of towers that marred Arnvista's skyline were such that more than a few people had braved the application process for the explicit purpose of proving them. If any had been successful, they'd remained distressingly silent on the matter.

For her part, Lorette didn't care to either prove or disprove those theories. So long as they kept focus away from what was really happening, it was an annoyance she could tolerate.

She didn't know if her most recent acquisitions believed any of the rumors surrounding Apex. It didn't matter. None of them were true.

"What I'm going to ask you to do for me. It's worse than what you may have heard in a lot of ways. I will not lie, and I'll spare you the pretense. If you agree to what I'm offering, you're going to be putting up with the kind of shit that the pay just barely justifies." She said blandly. It was the understatement of a lifetime. But she didn't want to scare them right out of the gate. They would have plenty of time for that later.

"What I want from you is going to test you in a lot of ways. You'll become intimately aware of just how weak you really are. Mentally, spiritually, and physically. I was." She sighed, opting to stare down at her hands resting on the table. "I still am. I'm reminded every day."

Lorette squeezed her eyes shut, a sharp pain lancing across her temples in an abrupt reminder of just that. A weakness that only a mortal woman could lay claim to. 

"Because, that is the price of power." Her eyes snapped back up, though she didn't seem to be staring at anyone in particular. Lorette's gaze was far away, either lost within her own thoughts or somewhere beyond even that.

"Real power. Not this silly shit the rest of the world thinks that I care about. Oh yeah the money is nice. Connections are always helpful. But that's not what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about, and what I want to give all of you is the kind of power that would let you strike the face of God if you wanted. And, if we do things right you just might be able to."

Lorette swept the files away to the edge of the table with a flourish as if they'd somehow offended her. "The application process covers the basics. I need to make sure you're fit enough to handle this. But more importantly, all of you have something else in you that can't  be quantified in the number of laps you're able to run. That potential makes all of you qualified candidates for the kind of greatness we used to write stories about. Heroes, demigods. Call them whatever you want. It's the same thing here. That's what I want for you. That is what I'm offering you."

Lorewtte's eyes flickered towards the door and what enthusiasm she'd managed to draw forth dampened slightly. "Call me crazy. I don't blame you. But if I'm too crazy to deal with, you can leave now. In fact, I'd suggest it. Because once you've stared into the face of power, you'll never forget it."

"We need them at the cusp of cognitive recognition. These people understand their place in the world but  still choose to fight it, even if only  marginally." Nikhil's words came to mind unbidden and Lorette tried not to frown. He was right, as insufferably as always. These people were most valuable when they were uncertain and adrift. They made the best kind of lab rats in Nikhil's opinion. Lorette's only job was to place the cheese at the end of the maze.

"I'd imagine that you're skeptical" She said suddenly, and far more bluntly than she'd have liked. Lorette plowed on ahead sensing a mild shift in the uncertain tension clouding the room. It was blessedly, the kind that could be assuaged by sating their curiosity.

"Here." She began, reaching into her jacket. "Let's give you a small demonstration."

An International Arms Dealer could have been carrying anything of interest on her person. Wads of cash, a sidearm. Drugs if she were the type to partake, though Lorette very much was not. A cellphone, a planner. A myriad of ordinary and mundane things she could have pulled from the inner folds of her business jacket. But Lorette refused to be and do ordinary things for reasons no one but her would ever truly know.

The very not ordinary thing in question turned out to be a somehow completely ordinary toad. At least, what looked like one anyhow.

Lorette set the small creature onto the table, and it sat there like the bump on a log it should have been and stared at the small group with bulbous eyes.

"Anaxyrus americanus americanus." She began. "The Eastern American Toad. I have to say, she's pretty lifelike. Granted, I don't know a lot about toads but I can's find any fault in this one. You know a lot of them try too hard to be like the animal they're mimicking. Makes for some odd behaviors, and that catches people's attention. Which is what they don't want." Lorette lifted a hand to tap the Toad's head lightly with a finger. The small creature only let out a subdued croak in response and Lorette chuckled. She made no effort to elaborate on the 'they' in question. Words would not do them justice. Despite all efforts of Humanity, words would never do them justice. They were far beyond that.

"Yeah, she's pretty good at faking it. Because that's what this is. It's a fake."

Perhaps he'd been listening in from the other side of the door. Or perhaps years spent serving the woman had granted him a special insight concerning her sense of dramatic timing. Whatever the case, the door swung open and Allister leaned through the portal before wordlessly tossing a sword into Lorette's waiting hand.

The weapon was a simple affair. Two pounds of sharpened steel adorned with a plain grip and pommel. Any historian with a passing knowledge of blades would consider it to be of good make, but little else. It was clearly a standard issued weapon at Apex, one of many with no name or no prior attachments.

And it was also perfectly suited for executing Toads.

No sooner than it had found her hand, its twin came up to grasp the hilt and Lorette held it overhead for only a split second before cleaving downward in a fluid arc towards the hapless Toad.

Toads were in possession of only the natural defenses that God saw fit to bestow upon them and no less. Some were toxic, but for the most all Toads were content with leaping out of harm's way should the need have ever arisen. However Toads weren't exactly made with dodging swords in time.  And so it seemed to all as if one of God's creatures was about to meet its untimely demise at the edge of a blade. And honorable death for any man. But a rather over intensive one for a humble amphibian.

At least, it should have been. Had the Toad Lorette was carrying in her pocket a normal creature, it would have been cleaved in two, none the wiser of the source of its demise. But the Toad was made readily apparent to be no creation of God. Or, if it were, it was a rather deranged one.

The blade struck true because Lorette's ego would allow nothing else. So in essence, she did hit the little Toad. But that was all. The blade made no sound coming in contact to what was supposedly the animal's flesh. More distressingly, neither did the Toad. It stared blankly at the people in front of it. But eyes that were once empty in the way only a dumb animal would know, were suddenly empty in the manner befit someone who's thoughts were a thousand miles away. The Sword hadn't put a scratch on it, and the Toad was bored.

Lorette grunted mildly at the recoil. Toads were a bit rubbery, and so she'd felt the expected give. But a solid and immovable object tended to come out the victor between itself and a sword. It's why shields had been invented after all.

The Toad for its part  remained utterly nonplussed. It made no move to escape its assailant. Perhaps because it didn't feel the sense of danger a normal creature would have. Or perhaps it didn't care. The massive, slimy tongue shooting out of its mouth to wind around behind it and yank the sword from Lorette's hand and giving it the means to swallow the blade whole might have also been a reason. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell.

Lorette finally did frown, speaking to the Toad as if it wasn't a Toad. Which probably was the truth since things that were Toads didn't swallow entire swords whole.

"That's coming out of your paycheck."

The Toad's small head canted slightly downwards and it seemed to stare at the surface of the table in a manner that passed for contemplative on an Amphibian. A decision was promptly made and just as soon as it'd swallowed the damn thing, the Toad opened its mouth and vomited up the sword with an audible clang.

"Brenda, come on. We've talked about this." Allister piped up from his spot by the door. His lip curled in disgust as he stared at the sword sitting uselessly on the ground. Bathed in a brand new sheen of Toad saliva, it was obvious that the sword wouldn't be seeing any more use for a while. Allister shot a glance at Lorette and shook his head. "I'm not cleaning it up."

Lorette scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Worry about that later." She said curtly. Lorette placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, effectively looming over Brenda.

"Now we can really get down to business. That? That was power. Just a small taste of it. I can promise you that we've got it in things a lot more interesting than common Toads."

Brenda croaked loudly in a manner akin to offense and the CEO chuckled.

"I'll ask you another question." She pointed downwards, indicating the Toad still sitting there.  "Who wants one?"

Julian’s eyes watered slightly at the exposure to the chilly wind, and he had to narrow them and blink more so than usually to allay the condition. He didn’t want to rub at them and irritate them, nor did he fancy tearing up, so best he could do was turn his back directly to the wind – at least that way, his face had some cover. Despite possessing more than one way to tell the time (his phone and wristwatch), he wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting here for. Mainly because he hadn’t been checking, nor had the wait so far bothered him aside from physical sensations of staying out in the cold. Admittedly, most of those effects were mildly irritating, and by the time their escort arrived, Julian was considering the merits and demerits of wearing goggles.

Thankfully, the blonde (valet?) leads them inside after the usual pleasantries. The only unusual thing was his remark of his boss’ eccentricity, though Julian didn’t pay it any mind. That she’d been laying for them in wait in the darkness was perhaps a tad unusual, but could perhaps be attributed to having taken a nap. She didn’t exactly look sleep ruffled, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been sleeping. There were alternate explanations, of course, such as playing a practical joke on her employee, possessing a flair for the dramatics, or preferring the dark, but ultimately an inconsequential detail like that didn’t matter to Julian. He returned the blonde’s stare as he passed by him, and took a seat in one of the guest chairs.

The next person to engage them in a staring contest was the boss, and Julian reciprocated the steady gaze unperturbed. When she questioned them about wanting to get this over with, he replied. “I am interested in the conclusion, but the process is intriguing enough.” That was somewhat true, but mostly, he was looking forward to whatever information they might be provided with.

He hummed tonelessly at her apology, but didn’t otherwise comment. He only half-listened as she briefly listed the other two candidates’ characteristics. The account was incredibly generalized, but possibly meant something to the person it pertained to. He tilted his head to the side when she addressed him, however. He opened his mouth to answer the ‘little bookworm’ question, but didn’t get a chance to before she…expressed concern? “My bones are fine, thank you,” he commented. It was only a blink or so after that he registered the metaphor, and realized she was questioning his grit rather than his actual spine. He dismissed the mistake easily with a minute shift of his shoulders.

However, he did wonder exactly what occupation hazards she was referring to that she believed could lay waste to a mind. That thought preoccupied him through parts of the woman’s following explanation. At least, until the next ominous remark of ‘worse than you may have heard’, which could mean a lot of things. This future-boss of his seemed to enjoy being vague. She hinted at much, but again, what precisely she might be referring to was unclear. Thus, Julian perked up when she mentioned a practical demonstration. Finally.

From her pocket, she produced an eastern American toad. He kept the eyes on the animal – though according to the boss’ implications, that’s not what it was. What followed could have easily occurred in a theater; the door opening, the blonde throwing the woman a sword, the woman brining it down upon the thing forcefully.

It was this, then, when things deviated from the expected scrips. For a regular toad would have been easily sliced in two. There was nary a scratch on the thing – Julian knew, because he’d leaned forward to examine the specimen once the woman removed the sword far enough to do so. He did have to lean back when the creature extended its tongue, and despite the seeming physical impossibility of such an act, swallowed the sword. It reminded him of that ‘looks smaller on the outside’ thing some shows liked to use. The most curious thing was that when the boss mentioned a cut in a paycheck, the toad actually spit the sword out. It has a paycheck, understands human language, and responds to threat. So…whatever it is, must be sentient.

That seemed a fairly likely conclusion, since even an unusually intelligent creature with unprecedented powers wouldn’t be receiving pay if it hadn’t been evaluated as equal – or superior – to humans. A mutual arrangement of some sort had to be involved. Julian was still staring at the being in guise of a toad, when the boss nonchalantly asked them who wants one. His gaze snapped upwards immediately, and unknowing to him, a smile split his face. “How many are there?”

Long bony fingers curled into a fist, clumsily clutching onto a cigarette between the index and middle finger, slamming down on the 'snooze' button of a screaming alarm clock. The time read as 6:00 AM and Harper Brock was regretting that she set the damn thing in the first place considering that she hadn't slept and was up at the computer since getting home yesterday. The woman finished her cigarette and placed the butt in a nearly full can of stale soda that sat near the mouse pad before sending out an email to her most recent client, shutting off the computer, and putting some music on her phone.

The Distillers rang out from the tiny speaker as Harper got up and stretched her thin arms out into the sky, rotating her shoulders and gyrating skeletal hips while scanning the messy surroundings in an attempt to plot out her next move. First she grabbed a fifth of whiskey which was in arm's reach of the computer area on the floor and soon made way to the kitchen after realizing that she hadn't eaten in awhile, at least long enough that she couldn't remember the last thing she ate. Harper gazed over the dishes in the sink, used a dozen times over without being washed and left sitting long enough to attract bugs. Cooking had clearly become a fruitless endeavor and she soon remedied this with a packet of raw ramen, flicking the flavoring into an overfilled trashcan. A shot of whiskey soothed her throat in between dry crunchy bites.

Harper had to smoke another cigarette before making it to the shower and in the process had stopped to admire a half finished puzzle which lay on the floor. Her eyes began scrutinizing the nearby loose pieces, hoping to catch where one of them belonged in the finished picture. Finishing her cigarette, the disheveled woman decided to keep on track, quick to Wade through the various books and other boxes of puzzles that littered the carpeted floor. All she could think about while showering and brushing her teeth was the puzzle, urgently trying to complete it within her mind.

Harper looked over the lithe and almost boyish figure in the mirror before getting dressed, finding herself thankful that the short gaunt frame and flat chest didn't attract much attention from the opposite sex or anyone for that matter. She ran a hand through her short dyed white hair in a lazy attempt to brush and got into some surprisingly fashionable yet professional looking clothes although she would rather be in something much more comfortable. She thought about how different this was from her normal routine considering she hadn't showered in over a week and usually kept dental hygiene to merge swigs of mouthwash.

On the way out of the apartment Harper took a couple more shots, smoked another cigarette, and added a piece to the puzzle in progress.



The 'Tuss & Co. Private Investigations' office was desolate but the door was unlocked and the lights were on. The young woman figured that her business partner had likely passed out at his desk since the old man had a habit of taking naps when there wasn't much going on. She quietly helped herself to a cup of coffee and sat down to light up a smoke. As if hearing the flick of her lighter, a tall greying man emerged from the back, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes with balled fists and grumbling while making a forward shamble. Harper simply inhaled smoke and sipped at her coffee while mentally preparing for the upcoming lecture.

"Gaaawd damn it! How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke in here?" he groaned upon getting close, towering in front of the girl with arms crossed like a disappointed parent. A small grin began to form at the corners of Harper's lips as she silently finished smoking and dropped the butt in her half finished mug of coffee. Richard Russ sighed and his hands dropped to either side in resignation, having fought this battle many times before. He thought the girl lucky that she had earned his respect but still felt the need to say something, "Do you really want the landlord on our asses like that?"

"Your ass, my name isn't on the lease" Harper curtly responded before taking a brief pause in order to pull a fidget spinner from her pocket and fiddle with the device, "You're not going to ask about my interview? I'm dressed like this for a reason."

Richard curiously raised a brow and sat down to listen instead of saying anything while Harper kept her gaze to the toy in hand.

"Even if I don't get hired I'll still dig up some dirt on the company. You're gonna owe me big for this payout, Rich." Harper explained dully, mostly uninterested in the subject but caring just enough to make her partner aware. The aforementioned job had clicked to Richard and he suddenly remembered the details, grabbing the young womans arm as she shifted to move.

"Be careful on this job, kid. I have a feeling that you'll have to worry about more than law enforcement if you get caught on this one. They're a mysterious bunch and I gurantee there's there's no leaks for a reason" he said with concern. Harper scoffed and shook herself free, ready to begin the mission.

"And you're doing the dishes when you get back!" Richard shouted after her while eyeing the coffee mug that she left behind.



Harper kept her hands in her pockets and remained still with her back against a wall, quietly observing the other interviewees from behind black sunglasses. The sharp breeze didn't bother her but she was still very eager to get the upcoming interaction over with. She perked up when a door suddenly opened and revealed a man who was quick to greet them with a bow. Harper pushed up the shades obscuring her sharp blue eyes and immediately fell into line, ready to head inside.

As the group paced through the building, the undercover investigator was making a mental map of her surroundings and casually determining the importance of the area. She knew that nothing serious would be revealed just yet but decided to make an on the spot escape route for the possibilities that may show up down the line. She originally thought about bringing in a camera but had decided it was too risky and ultimately came to the conclusion that it was best to fall back on her memory, which she was confident in. Just as Harper's thoughts drifted from internal scouting to the flask hidden in her jacket, their guide had brought them to their destination.

The spy didn't care for this subordinate trying to excuse their boss's behavior and instead found it to be a pathetic excuse to save himself in their eyes. While most would find this simply unprofessional, Harper saw it as an annoying and inconvenient conversation that wasted everyone's time. Regardless, she folded her arms and had entered the room when prompted, ready to face the music.

Harper found it odd that the woman was waiting in a dark room for them but still dredged on like a stern vacant soldier, settling into a position to face Lorette and remaining still as possible despite obviously shifting from the discomfort of wearing these unfamiliar clothes. It wasn't until the other woman called Harper out directly that she suddenly became hyper-focused.

They must have sent their own private investigators to out on her, digging deeply into her youth and past life, even her current habits, and maybe even more. Hell, if they were serious like Harper was when she was at work, they had probably tapped the phones and had her tailed as well. Luckily, Harper hardly used the phone and never for anything important, and her computer was well protected. Still, she realized that she would have to tread carefully from this point forward. Was Richard right or was she just being paranoid? Did they know that she was here on another job?

Harper's face was expressionless and she didn't say a word, opting to remain quiet and watch as things unfolded at a strange progression. The woman behind the desk put on a similar show for the other candidates before vaguely explaining the upcoming tribulations that the new employees would have to soon face. Harper didn't take much stock in the spiritual talk but definitely absorbed the seriousness behind the woman's explanation of power. Of course at this point she assumed it was just money and connections aplenty.

The toad and the sword changed everything. After watching the small creature show its invincibility and devour the large object, Harper completely forgot about the investigative job of corporate espionage that brought her here. She now knew that she was shown this for a reason. When Lorette asked her question, Harper remained completely stoic and emotionless as she withdrew the flask from her pocket and took down a few slugs of liquor.

"I'll take the job. Is there a dress code... and can I smoke?"

Waking up at Velvet Rouge was the same as every morning. The smell of sweat and alcohol pervaded the air and the whispering beat of some Lo-Fi music kept the place in a state of calm in stark contrast to the nights at the very same place. Such sensations, however, were dampened by the fact that a whole ass floor separated Marshall from the rest of the club. The 30 something lay in a king-sized be covered in mountains of fleece and micro-knit sheets, looking like a teenager that had gotten drunk for the first time and fell asleep in someone’s laundry room.

An alarm was going off right next to Marshall, his face inches from the mechanical rooster call that seemed ridiculously cheesy given his location. He was awake, staring at the alarm clock with a sort of dejected resignation to the start of the day. Marshall was bored of his normal routine, and remembered today was the day everything was going to be different, but he couldn’t really bring himself to the idea that Apex would actually be that much more exciting than the rest of life. To Marshal there were only two speeds to existence: ceaseless boredom and passing interest.

____________________________________________________________________

Hours later, Marshall found himself with a group of Apex new hires. There weren’t many of them, three in his group to be exact. Marshall paid close attention to everyone he encountered, keeping stock of their personalities and their perceived capacity to be interesting. Surprisingly enough, the other two had this air about them that felt… familiar. Maybe Apex was fond of hiring exhausted loner types, who knew? If it come to the point that he’d have to stand out to get noticed, he wasn’t for sure he could really compete. That being said… He wasn’t for sure any of the three could really compete with each other.

Neither had said much of a word as they were grouped together, and the silence persisted even as Allister gave them passing bits of information and lead them to a room in which they’d meet a rather interesting Lorette. It was strange, odds are at least one person tends to be talkative in any new group, and none of them seemed to be that person. Something about that comforted him, that meant he wouldn’t have to listen to inane prattle about his co-workers outside lives or receive unwarranted curiosities towards his own dating life.

In contrast to the silence of his peers, Lorette began speaking in a manner that was both filled with gravitas and a performative quality. She was honestly the first thing in Apex that really drew his attention and interest. The rest had all been your average corporate grandeur and secrecy. To some it may not be average, but when you grow up a rather well-to-do child in a family with dubious business ventures? It was average.

Lorette’s remarks about Marshall’s personal life was met with a passive smirk and a singular, quiet grunting noise that was Marshall’s way of indicating something was amusing. Rock bottom? Marshall didn’t believe in rock bottom, nor did he believe in reaching one’s peak. Marshall had simply chosen the most interesting path to be on, whatever made him not feel like a misguided ghost floating in the winds. She was right on one point though, he wasn’t content with where he was. The people of the club and the endless parade of musical numbers and circus acts eventually lost their interest. After a while you’ve seen everyone’s talents before. Apex in contrast was a mystery, and mysteries are interesting.

It was Lorette’s comment on the discovery of their own weakness that finally wrested Marshall from his psychological slumber. His weakness in such manners were already something known to him, the idea that something was going to actually expose those weaknesses left him with a gut feeling that the statement wasn’t like those countless university professors made to scare students into thinking that only the elite passed their classes. (Which by the way was a lie, it wasn’t the elite that prevailed, it was those with the tenacity to see it through. Even a dumbass can succeed if they never look away from failure’s taunting gaze.) Marshall welcomed any assault on his existence if it could be used as a tool to pique his curiosity into what the other side of the literal and metaphorical wall in front of him.

The assault that met Marshall in that room with his new coworkers was not the kind that he had remotely expected. Zoological fantastica was the phrase that came to mind when the toad seemingly broke the laws of physics just to eat a blade. Creatures that shouldn’t exist, yet do? Marshall raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and tilted his head at an angle to get some more visual information on what he just witnessed. There was no glimmer of illusion here, it was true. He turned his head to look at the other two newbies with him, both having been jolted, both having spoken. Marshall tried to hide a smirk.

He succeeded in being the quiet one.

The corner of Lorette's mouth quirked in a smile as Julian was the first and most eager to seek an explanation for what he'd just seen. The smart ones were typically easy to hook. Knowledge was as good as gold to those people, and nothing got them excited more than the utterly incomprehensible. The other two displayed varying levels of interest, with Harper openly agreeing to sign on easily enough given her questions following her initial agreement.

"You will be supplied uniforms, and you may smoke outside during your breaks." She replied curtly.

Marshall was the most visibly relaxed. He'd said nothing indicating interest in employment, but he hadn't said no either. Based on his file, it was clear he needed some level of stimulation if he was to get invested in anything, and Apex had that in no short supply.

"Now before we go any further." She began airily. "I'll need you all to agree to a few stipulations. It's nothing too intensive, I promise. Just a few non disclosure agreements and Release of Liability forms. Magic toads aside, Apex is still and International Arms Dealer."

Lorette reached out a hand, and Brenda climbed into her palm readily. She briefly considered placing the toad back into her jacket, but the little amphibian gave her a look that could only be read as 'Do not.' as closely as possible on a Toad's face. She settled for holding the Daemon and stepped back and away from the table. A quick glance and a nod in his direction and Allister was gone in a flash without another word. He was not gone long, returning with a level of efficiency that bordered on the preternatural. He did not return empty handed, and moreover he did not return alone.

The service cart that he pushed was covered in all manner of objects. Small figurines and carvings, jewelry, glassware and porcelain teacups. A random piece of tooling could be found here or there as well. Behind him came two heavily armored guards. They were silent, with only the light sifting of metal to herald their coming and neither spared the people inside the room a glance. They only wheeled their carts in alongside Allister's, each covered in a mishmash of random objects. One seemed to favor antique weapons that looked as if they'd be more at home in a museum or a collector's display. The pair only spared Lorette the briefest of acknowledgement in the form of silent nods before taking vigil on either side of the door. Hands at the pommel of their matching swords and the stark wrongness of their appearance was offset by the presumed threat that they would pose. The armor that they both wore was well maintained, as any piece of equipment should be. But it was well worn. Scratches and superficial dents pitted the surface where one bothered to observe close enough and it left the impression that the metal saw a lot of use, and bore the brunt of many attacks. From who, or from what would not be said. The imagination could fill in those gaps, and in truth the imagination would soon prove to be far preferable to reality.

Setting Brenda on her shoulder, Lorette gestured grandly at the carts, as if they'd soon spring to life and explain their presence. They, along with the objects loaded onto them remained still and silent. The affair seemed more like a Thrift store offering than a legitimate business enterprise. But Lorette's body language and tone betrayed no farce. She'd been dead serious from the moment her guests had arrived and was no closer to breaking character than anyone was to figuring out what the hell was going on.

Allister, who'd taken a spot at Lorette's immediate left leaned over slightly to set several stack of forms onto the table. "I've also got those Healthcare Packets you asked for." He offered helpfully.

"Good. Now as you recall, I offered all of you power. I was being quite literal. Mr. Schoen will be giving you a demonstration. Hopefully it'll give you a little incentive to join us if you're on the fence. Oh, and you should cover your ears."

In a single practiced motion, Lorette reached back into her jacket and pivoted on a heel to face her assistant. This time there were no toads to be seen. Nothing fantastical, or out of the ordinary. All that Lorette had in her hand was a completely normal 9mm handgun. She fired without hesitation. Which in itself was strange. Stranger still was the complete lack of reaction from either of the armed guards. It became abundantly clear that they'd seen this song and dance before.

Allister was not in the position to ignore being shot at, however. If his employer had fired on him before he did not show it on his face. Only responding in a manner that suddenly shifted the man from the realm of ordinary, to one slightly less.

The bullet should have struck the foppish man square in the chest. A bullet was too fast to dodge on the best of days, and most people hadn't the means to block one suddenly hurtling towards them. Allister did not dodge. Not from a lack of speed, so much as he didn't want the wall behind him to obtain a brand new hole. And so he blocked.

The crystal, if it even was that, gleamed brightly under the harsh florescent lighting. A pillar of unknown origin and obvious supernatural design had sprung from seemingly nowhere of its own accord. It wouldn't have been a stretch of the mind to think so. The structure suddenly there when it was wholly absent before. But all things, even the unnatural have a source. Allister stepped lightly from behind the pillar to stand before it. With a snap of his fingers, it suddenly collapsed, dissolving into glittering dust that slowly faded from view. He reached out a gloved hand to catch the bullet that had once been lodged in the crystalline structure before it hit the ground. Holding the warped projectile up between his thumb and index finger, the blonde haired man flashed the new hires a broad grin.

"Ta-da!"

"Impeccable reaction time as always." Lorette said evenly while stowing the handgun back into her jacket. Allister preened under the woman's praise, clearly very happy to have received it. She gave the waiting trio a long side eye, and smirked. "That, is power. And it is only scratching the surface of what we can do. Here, we can forge the most unassuming individuals into something quite dangerous. Much like my dear Assistant."

"Don't worry. I'm only dangerous if the Madame orders it. Which is often." He quipped earning a good natured scoff from Lorette.

"Yes. We're obviously not just a Private Security Firm. We've got a great deal of interests here. But none so pressing as the capture and containment of these entities. Not all of them are as friendly as Brenda."

Lorette canted her head back slightly to look at Allister. "Speaking of. Introduce the individual that allowed you to preform that little trick."

Allister straightened his back and practically clicked his heels together before reaching towards the lapel of his jacket. His gloved fingers brushed  a stag shaped pin and he murmured something incomprehensible.

Nothing happened and a frown marred his graceful features. Eyes darting up and towards the waiting group Allister tucked into himself slightly and whispered harshly. "Please don't do this right now." He  paused, seeming to listen to the other half of a conversation no one but he could hear before outright sighing in consternation. "I know what they look like, please just deal with it for now." Another pause. "No. No one is going to pet you, I promise." He hissed.

Allister's words, for whatever they were worth seemed to hold some weight to whomever he was speaking to. And what followed once he removed his fingers from the stag pin was a clear indication of that.

It was fog, borne from the silver gleam of the pin and as as luminous as if lit by inner moonlight. It came from nowhere, and it did not dissipate in the way it should have when meeting the warmth o its surroundings. The fog drew in on itself  in a spot near Allister and the cloud it birth took form as rapidly as it had appeared. Hooves clattered softly upon the tiled floor and the grand, reaching prongs  of a Stag's antlers swept the veil of fog aside as carelessly as they surely swept aside his foes. This creature did could not and would not hide its otherworldliness. He stood there cloaked in a pelt of silver and stared down his nose at the newcomers with an expression that only held the deepest possible disdain.

"Be nice."

The sound of Lorette's voice was enough to mar the cold austerity of the Stag's features with the barest shadow of  worry before he flicked his ears and affixed the new hires with an expression of boredom instead.

Allister chuckled and smiled in a way almost embarrassed. For his sake, or the Stag's it couldn't be said.

"I'm sorry if he seems rude. He's very fussy." He reached out to pat the Stag's neck and the proud creature, one which surely hated the concept f being touched if his one sided conversation with Allister was any indication, leaned into the man's hand.

"I am not fussy." The Stag said in a voice as clear and strong as cut diamond before turning his nose up. Allister chuckled again and gently slapped the Stag's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Introduce yourself."

The Stag looked no more pleased to address the group than he did to even look at them, but complied. "I am Faendr."  Somehow he was able to dredge up enough manners to incline his antlered head in a facsimile of a bow, but it was all he'd give.

"Fussy." Allister mouthed at the group, and Faendr shot the man a glare that seemed a great deal softer than the one he'd given everyone else.

Lorette pressed both palms together and eyed the trio before her with growing intensity. "Tonight, I'm going to ask you to make two agreements. One to myself and one to whatever deems you worthy of its help. Power isn't free, but with the right connections you've a lot to gain."

Once more, she reached into her jacket. Fortunately for everyone in the room, there were no more toads or guns to be seen. All that Lorette withdrew from the inner pockets was a simple fountain pen. She set it carefully on the table before the three contracts. Three signatures were required. Three promises were to be made. And with them, three lives would be irreversibly changed.

"Join me and you'll receive all that I've offered you and more. Decline, and you are free to leave and return to your lives with no penalty. Under the stipulation that you'll be watched for a time, of course. The means by which we do this are not for you to know. But bear in mind that there's a reason nothing ever leaves this place unless we allow it to."

Lorette paused to gesture once more at the carts behind her, each loaded with a mish mash of items.

"Sign, and then you may approach. After that, we'll see who else has a contract for you."

Julian frowned when the boss didn’t answer his question. Instead, he was provided several contracts to read thoroughly, which he did. Admittedly, he might have spaced out once or twice (…or more) but there wasn’t anything outlandish or too unexpected in the contracts.
The blond assistant returned with a cartful of object, and Julian listlessly tracked the items on it. If they didn’t have anything to do with those creatures, he wasn’t interested – but he didn’t know yet whether they did or didn’t. The two carts with the henchmen duo received the same treatment.

Apparently, another demonstration was to follow. Upon the boss’s warning, Julian immediately covered his ears. Nonetheless, he promptly winced, shuddered, and grit his teeth at the resounding shot of the gun. He wished he had earplugs (as much as he despised them), because even a handgun this close to him was way, way too loud. He remained grimacing even when Mr. Schoen formed crystals. The show of ability wasn’t enough of a recompense for his auditory suffering – he was sure the assistant could have formed those without being shot at. Admittedly, this was a demonstration of the supernatural power’s usefulness, but it didn’t make Julian any less disgruntled.

He frowned at Schoen’s grin, and when the conversation between the blond and his boss resumed, Julian carefully and with great hesitation removed his hands away from his head. He definitely had a headache forming, and felt greatly shaken. And…yeah, yeah, that was definitely tinnitus. Note to self: get industrial grade noise cancelling headphones asap. It was a grim realization that this workplace would most definitely require such a thing. If it hadn’t been for those creatures, he’d have promptly left.

Julian ignored the byplay between the assistant and the boss, engrossed in his own thoughts until the stag facsimile was manifested. He caught the stag pin from the corner of his eye, and had a realization. So, that's what those items are for. He didn’t care for the chatting between man and creature. Once again, it reminded him of a staged play, and a very boring one at that. Why did these people insist on making everything so theatrical? It made no sense. Still, he did appreciate seeing another of those creatures, observing its behavior, and hearing it talk. As expected, these beings were capable of learning human language.

At the madame’s prompting, he signed the papers with a sigh of resignation – resignation at the sort of environment he’d subject himself to, not the opportunity in general. Then, he stood silently and approached the items. He let his gaze wander freely over them, not truly seeing them in full, just enough to get a vague impression. He definitely wanted something unassuming, functional, comfortable, and small. Something that would fit him. Ah.

He stopped at a particular item. A beautiful circular wristwatch, the casing a light gold, the strap a tough, black leather. Feeling some kind of draw to it, he reached out, and there was something like a hum of acceptance when he touched it. He shook the sleeve down his left hand to reveal a thin wrist, and hesitated. Upon it sat his old wristwatch, a more modern metallic silver one. Chewing on his lip as he pondered, he left it on, and simply put on the new one next to the old one. Then, he brushed a finger over the presumably creature-containing one, and thought, Come out?

And come out they did. They were a vaguely reptilian creature, though somewhat humanoid in their musculature (those were definitely abs). They had a light grey belly, and were dark grey everywhere else, with some stripes of glowing light neon blue interspersed on their skin. They had a white mane of something resembling hair, and the inside of their mouth was turquoise. Even disregarding the tail, they were taller than any human – Julian could tell, even though they were floating, of all things. They seemed happy twirling and twisting around in the air as they scanned the room’s occupants, then ended up fixing their attention on Julian.

“Hey, hey-” they greeted enthusiastically.

Before they could get much farther, Julian raised his palm in the universal sign to stop. “Quieter, please,” he murmured, staring at the beast.

The thing clicked its maw shut and blinked. “Huh, not many a human who’d interrupt one of us like this,” they commented, but matched Julain’s volume.

After a moment of each staring at the other, Julian asked, “What’s your species’ name?”

“Hmm, humans call us Daemons, and most of us are fine with that designation. I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re a varied sort, so there’re several phenotypes we get classified into. For me, I was considered a Naga, a mythological Daemon for a while there, but given my, and I quote ‘nonstandard appearance, not in accordance with most myths’, they’ve reclassified me as a reptilian Shen. I honestly don’t care for the minute details of what category humans think I fit best. What really matters is our power, and whatever shape we take is just a convenient way to manifest. That answer your question?”

Julian nodded, and opened his mouth to ask another, but the Daemon interrupted him with a gesture that nearly perfectly copied Julian’s; raised paw facing forward, claws pointing straight up. The Daemon showed a hint of their teeth in what Julian recognized as a grin – though how he knew what the expression meant, he hadn’t a clue.

“Hey, now, let’s talk more later, yeah? For now, I’ll just need your name, and you mine, I suppose. Then, we should give the others a chance to show off if they want, and you’ll probably want some time to settle in. I sure know I need to get used to this whole ‘I got my own human’ thing. So, introductions – you may call me Inesh. What about you?”

“What about me? …Oh, right. My name. It’s Julian,” he answered, feeling rather overwhelmed. Honestly, the idea to let his mind get used to all this wasn’t a bad one, though he still felt more than eager to discover more – no matter that it’d overturned reality as he knew it several times so far.

Inesh hummed, and as he’d implied, disappeared back into his new watch, leaving behind a noticeable emptiness. Julian slumped into the chair he was still sitting in, exhausted from the brief conversation. He stared at Inesh’s holding place, questions whirring nearly out of control within his mind. From the watch, he felt an out-of-place calming, reassuring feeling. Inesh? At his mental question, there was a brief reaffirming sensation. “Hn,” he uttered a nearly inaudible, wondering sound.