Dim lights revealed a massive computer in the middle of the crowded room. Its screen, black as the abyss, and stretched along the whole wall, flickered. The thin blue wires connected to its side and the menagerie of lumpy, old-fashioned looking terminals, started to change its color to one warmer.

  A sudden bell-like noise pointed out the moment that everything came crashing down. The screen, the wires, the lights on the terminals came into life without mercy. Numbers –a long strip of shiny numbers- appeared on the center of the screen, only to start drooping like birds being shot.

  And dropped.

  And dropped.

  The red alerts buried the numbers under its cascade of warnings. A single door burst open and man ran inside, passing through the aisles of terminals as a white flash. As he stopped in front of the screen, the red light cast over him illuminated its pair of vertical slit eyes of the color of the molted sun, now frowned in worry. Pressing a spot on the screen, a keyboard of light spread out of thin air in front of him.

  His fingers danced across it with practiced precision, despite his thick, dark, curved nails—as if performing a tango he had mastered from the first to the last step.

  Soon, the windows disappeared as if swept away by a breeze, revealing the strip of numbers again. It had frozen at a figure—less than half of the original.

  “Merde,” he muttered, letting out a sigh. Decades of work had faded away.

  Soft footsteps echoed behind him.

  “That’s all I can do, mon cher,” he said softly. “I’m afraid we’re on borrowed time. Perhaps less than three months.”

  For a moment, she didn’t respond, but the smell of smoke and ash grew stronger in the narrow space. “Esto no es suficiente” she murmured with obvious frustration, beginning to pace the room. He could hear the low, faint growl rising in her throat and made a face. “How could this happen? Right under our noses! Where were the guards?! If it were not for the latest protocol that we were able to install, we would have a Disaster code parading outside right now!”

  “It’s something recent,” he said, raising his hands as he tried to placate her. “Don’t be too harsh—” His words faltered as he caught the fire in her eyes.

  For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

  “We need more Points, and fast,” she muttered, scowling as she continued pacing. “I’ve got no choice but to start recruitment earlier than planned. And we’ll need additional guards here.”

  “Nas won’t like it,” he said finally.

  She stopped, crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice dropped to a growl. “Do you see him worrying about this mess? Because I don’t. I haven’t seen a single hair of him since October, Levi.” She flashed him a sharp-toothed smile. “So forgive me if I don’t give a damn about his opinion.”

  Levi didn’t press further, not keen on testing his regeneration. Instead, he offered, “I’ll put some pressure on the Alpha and Beta teams. There's a new five-star world that might help. But Mel—this will stir up rumors.” He gave him a pointed look.

  “Put the gossips to work, then. Send the damn Leaders with their people if you have to,” she snapped, before taking a deep breath. “We can’t let this situation spiral. The last thing we need is another August 1992. Or worse.”

  They finished their conversation after this and left the room, locking the door behind them. It was a useless gesture as the shadow that emerged from a corner, as if materializing out of the darkness, pointed out. The figure approached the computer, weaving between the terminals as if this were their own house, and paused in front of the screen. The yellowish lights revealed delicate fingernails as he taped the screen, but the speed of them over the keyboard belied it.

  As they ceased their little activity, the numbers started to change again. Way slower than before—but they did.

  However, no one noticed. Not until later.

  “How come we’re in last place again?!” Minerva swiveled her chair toward her coworker, a scowl on her face. “We had Morgana!”

  Michael didn’t look up, his cheek pressed against the cold surface of the table. He looked pale and strained, and to her surprise, his ‘old-money’ sunglasses were lying next to him. In any other situation, Minerva might have teased him—called him dramatic or something—but now wasn’t the time.

  “We had Morgana,” he corrected with a sigh. “The last mission didn’t go well.” His words came sluggishly. Minerva wondered if they cost coins or something.

  Michael let out a long, weary sigh.

  What a guy. If not for the two years they’d worked together—

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “You expected something different?” she snapped.

  Forget it. She still wanted to punch him. Her scowl deepened. “You’re joking. She was the best of the batch. We recruited her—what, three weeks ago?” Her eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall, the dates circled in red screaming back at her. “What could…?” After a moment, her expression darkened as the pieces clicked into place. “Don’t tell me… the dino psycho job?”

  Michael hummed. His eyes drifted shut as if he could sleep off the conversation.

  Minerva took that as a 'yes, go ahead and cry.' She dragged a hand down her face, her fingers trembling slightly. For a brief, blissful moment, she imagined what it would be like not to care about any of this—to walk away and leave the mess behind.

  The cafeteria had a killer strawberry latte and chocolate cake combo she could treat herself to. Maybe she could even check out the new arrivals at the store. Today was Tuesday. Sora should’ve stocked something fresh, right? A cute dress, a lovely cashmere sweater, perhaps even new boots without those damn heels Lacerta had convinced her to buy last time.

  She let out a long sigh.

  Sadly, it was only whimsical thinking.

  She was paid to take care of this, and although her job didn’t include “caring,” Minerva was still too human. (Perhaps it was time to choose a branch and take care of that pesky matter, right?)

  What a damn shame.

  “The best of the batch…” she muttered under her breath, the words bitter on her tongue.

  Silence fell between them.

  “What happened?” she finally asked, half-expecting Michael to have fallen asleep.

  “Same old story,” Michael said, his voice flat. “She pulled the short straw. Last tour guide.” He yawned, barely bothering to cover it. “Poor lass.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Let me guess. The bus got stuck in front of one of the kings?”

  Michael gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. “Yeah. Lorenzo said she couldn’t get the shield in time. The report confirmed it.” His voice dropped to a near whisper, as if speaking too loudly might summon the memory of what happened. “At least it was quick.”

  Minerva stared at him.

  “Don’t think too much about it…” Michael said, his mouth half-covered by his hand. “Accidents happen, Min.”

  Yes. They did happen, didn’t they? She loosened her knuckles, then asked, “Who else?”

  “The newest rookie from Delta-N. Got eaten at midnight, I think. But Lorenzo’s minion got the pictures and even survived, so…” He shrugged.

  “Did you notice? We’ve lost most of the new recruits in the last three months. The others aren’t better, but we have no one right now. I thought Morgana—” She pressed her lips together, then shook her head. “Forget it. I’ll write to Santa about getting some quality material.” Minerva closed her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. Soft cushions, but not an ounce of comfort for her poor, ancient bones.

  “Delta-L gets priority this time,” Michael pointed out, the joy-killing man. When she let out a not-so-polite word, he added, “At least the recruitments have been moved up. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Mimir mentioned the rush is because something happened at the Core—but Krino’s keeping his mouth shut. Not even Lacerta could pry anything out of him, and you know how he is about her.” She didn’t bother hiding her disgust. The man was three decades her senior, and his infatuation was anything but subtle, that creep. “So, what do you think?”

  “… That it could be worse.”

  Minerva snorted. “Yeah? You realize we’ll be pulling overtime until we get another newbie, right?”

  “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, still avoiding her gaze. He sighed, a faint, dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “At least the pay’s decent.”

  Her eyes met his, and she mirrored his smirk. “At least we get paid.”

  Even as she left and returned to the rest of the paperwork, the thorn in her heart persisted.

  Perhaps there could be a way to get some good recruits this time too. She hadn’t wanted to cash in that favor so soon—but it was for Delta-M’s good.

  … Still dampened her mood, anyway. That Four-Eyes could be such a bitch despite being on the same team.

  “The harsh light from purple torches glued to the walls was the only source of light around this zone of the cave. Morrigan glanced at the desolate tunnels that stretched far beyond her view and hesitated. Her mission flickered on the corner of her eyes, urging her to move forward, but she hadn’t survived up to that point without knowing when to take a risk and when to wait for someone other to give the first step.”

  “So she did wait for Lorenzo,” muttered the annoyed voice from under the blanket. “I knew it.”

  Luca’s mouth twitched. “Well, what would you have done in her place? Boldly confront the darkness?”

  “No,” came the answer without hesitation. A dark mop popped up and a pair of blue eyes squinted at him. “I’d have taken one of the torches and used my claws on whatever thing was there.”

  “Mmm, so boldly confront the darkness,” he ended, ignoring the squirm when he rubbed the hair.

  “Ufff! I told you not-!”

  The lights in the room flickered as a tremor shook the building.

  Luca held his little brother, eyes darting around. When nothing happened, he cleared his throat, and gently tucking Shawn against him -for once, the little guy don't fake complaining- he continued reading, "The cave walls surrounding Morgan seemed to narrow each time she glanced away. There was something watching her, she knew. The strange smell that had followed their group since they spawned near the entrance of The Hole reached her nostrils as her claws stretched out-”

  A shrill noise dragged him out of the realm of dreams without mercy.

  Luca blinked, half of his mind still hanging on the dream. His sleepy eyes found the numbers of red light hovering less than half a meter away from him and all the drowsiness was gone at once as if he had been slapped.

  He was running late!

  Rolling out of his bed, he ran through the small apartment as if the same thing from Pendulum’s stories was hunting him. As he brushed his teeth, he looked outside, where a monolith stretched toward the sky.

  Yeah. No way he was still thinking in that.

  Right?

  It wasn’t as if it were the opportunity of a lifetime—or anything close. The dream… well, the dream was just his subconscious reminding him of the facts: everything tied to Pendulum was a terrible idea. He didn’t want to end up like Morrigan or those countless named and unnamed souls who’d sacrificed their lives for a little (or rather, a lot) of gold.

  I’ll visit Shawn today, he thought. That is, if he didn’t have to scramble for another part-time job.

  As he headed toward the greenhouse, silently hoping Mr. Howard wouldn’t be in one of his infamous moods that morning (a rare occurrence, but “hope is the last thing to die,” as they say), the medallion around his neck vibrated.

  The smooth surface lit up with a message: '(1) Message from Pendulum.RRHH.' It felt as though his own heart had been pierced.

  This was the third message they’d sent him this week. The third invitation for their Interview. Perhaps, after this, they would no longer contact him.

  His fingers trembled as he fumbled with the medallion.