Psychic Company: Case 00 - The Unboxing
The door was imposing, blue, and ornate with engravings of fantastical beasts. It loomed before her as if she meant nothing. She double checked the address on her package, sucking on her bottom lip, and then looked back up at the door. This was the place.
Be advised: Depictions of physical abuse below.
The small office was full of boxes just brimming with files—all sorts of ancient shipping orders from the days before computers. A little rectangle window behind her let a lone beam of late afternoon sun splash onto her back, its warmth comforting her like a blanket as she slept at her desk. She moved at the sound of a fly as it buzzed into the room, obnoxiously swinging by her ear before fleeing out the door. Her face rolled out of her numb arms and onto the desk, her forehead smooth against the wood surface. She sat up suddenly, looking alert as if she had been awake the whole time—even though, in fact, she was not.
A knock on the doorframe pulled her focus out of herself and towards her boss standing in the doorway.
"Hey, Emily," he greeted.
"Hm?" she replied sleepily.
"I'm surprised you're still here," he said. He held a package under his arm as he came in to grab the umbrella from the corner of the room. "It's already four."
"What's that?"
He followed her gaze to the package and said, "Oh, this? One of our couriers just brought it in. Apparently, it was put into his cart but the address wasn't on his route. I was planning on re-sorting it before leaving."
"Where's it headed?"
Her boss peeked at the address and said, "West Cordova."
Emily sood and stretched. "I'll take it."
"Huh?"
"Give it to me." She reached for it but her boss took a step back.
"You going to deliver it?"
"Yeah. I'm headed that way anyway," she said, but that was a lie. She just didn't want to go home yet. She thought maybe she'll get a cup of fancy ass coffee while she's down in that area anyway.
Her boss gave her a hard stare and then gave in. "Fine," he said and handed her the package. "The roads still got puddles from this morning, so be careful. Don't get it wet."
The package was heavier than it looked. She looked at its paper wrapping and then grabbed a plastic trash bag from her desk drawer. She grinned and said, "I got it covered. See you Monday, Frank."
"See you Monday." They gave little waves goodbye before Emily took off through the office door and down the stairs.
The door was imposing, blue, and ornate with engravings of fantastical beasts. It loomed before her as if she meant nothing. She double checked the address on her package, sucking on her bottom lip, and then looked back up at the door. This was the place. She rang the doorbell, noticing it sounded like twinkling stars. She liked it.
An annoyed voice came over the speaker box. "Who is it?"
"Delivery for Michael Willoughby?" she said. "Office 3—"
"Yeah, yeah," he said, sighing. "Be right down."
Emily shifted her grip on the hefty package as she waited patiently in front of the door. She heard footsteps on the other side and straightened her posture, readying herself to make the delivery.
The door swung open. And a naked man stood in the doorway.
Emily's eyes shot wide open as she shrieked, dropping the package. A black puff of smoke erupted from the package's seams, enveloping her. The taste of licorice, the scent of citrus, and she was out cold.
Deep beneath the building, a floating, misty darkness shuddered.
Two middle-aged men sat across from each other in a small study, walls lined with books. Michael Willoughby, a man with slicked back black hair, red lips, and short white sideburns, was the primary administrator for Office 3. Opposite him sat Dr. Jonah Agassi, with sandy blond hair and mischievous green eyes, he was their doctor-on-call. A clock on the nearby bureau chimed nine. "Is she still asleep?" Willoughby asked.
"She is," Dr. Agassi replied.
"Jonah, I'm worried."
"There's nothing to be worried about. I'll run a few tests when she wakes up, see how she feels, then send her home none the wiser."
"What if she develops something?"
"She had direct contact. She likely has developed something."
Willoughby covered his face with his hands. "Oh my god." He peeked through his fingers at his friend. "What do I tell Peter?"
"Michael." Dr. Agassi scowled. He knew his long time friend was the cautious type, but this might be one of those instances where he cared too much. "Just tell him the truth."
Willoughby's eyes widened, the panic rising. "That we're stuck with someone who's newly touched because my direct subordinate decided to answer the door nude?"
"When you lay it all out like that..." Dr. Agassi took a deep breath and sighed. "It's really just Jules' fault, isn't it?"
"His mistakes are my mistakes."
Dr. Agassi snorted a laugh. "Now, I know Jules. No one can control that man. Not even his brother."
Emily woke up slowly, painfully. Her body felt sluggish and she didn't know where she was. Her first impulse was to jolt out of bed, but the moment her legs swung out from the covers and had weight on them, they buckled, slamming her knees into the hard floor. Was it concrete? The IV stand had fallen down with her, so she quickly righted it and then used it to help herself stand. She was so focused on her task that she didn't even notice Dr. Agassi coming into the infirmary. He watched her struggle to her feet with a grin.
"You're going to need that kind of stubbornness where you're going."
Emily looked up, surprised. "Who're you? What do you mean?"
Dr. Agassi chuckled. "No need to be so guarded. You can trust me—"
"I don't know you."
"True," he said. "I recommend you take a seat. This could take a while." He continued to smile as he waited patiently for her to sit down on her bed. He felt her eyes on him like needles and he found her vigilance humorous.
"What's so funny?"
"Sorry. You're just so on guard." He took a few steps toward her. "Let me tell you what happened."
"Tell me who you are first."
"My name is Dr. Jonah Agassi. I'm in charge of this little infirmary at Office 3."
"What's Office 3?"
Dr. Agassi sighed. "I'll get to that. More importantly, I have to tell you what happened. And your prognosis."
Emily scowled. "Prognosis?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" He already heard about what happened from Jules, but he needed to hear her side of the story to make sure of something.
Emily rubbed her temple. "I, uh, was carrying a package. I was making a delivery. For Michael Willoughby. I rang the buzzer, and a man—" She sighed, deeply, and continued, "He was naked."
Dr. Agassi covered his mouth and laughed. "Yes, he does that. Sorry about him. What happened next?"
"I dropped... Oh, I'm sorry! I dropped the package. Did it break?"
"Technically, it did."
"Was it valuable?"
"It was," he said, grimacing.
"I'll pay you back."
"The monetary value's not important. It's more about what you set free."
"Excuse me?" She didn't remember setting anything free, but for some reason she thought of that black smoke that came out of the package. "The black stuff?"
Dr. Agassi nodded. "We call it miasma. It's the gaseous form of celestial beings."
Emily stared at the doctor. A few moments passed in silence. He was giving her time to take it in, but maybe she hadn't heard him.
"Celestial beings," he said again.
"I heard you."
"What do you think?"
"I think you're kinda delusional, if I'm being honest."
"That's a pretty normal reaction—"
"But also kinda pumped, if you're being for real. Like, real-real."
Dr. Agassi tilted his head. "Pumped?"
"What do you mean by celestial beings?"
"Depending on the region, they're also called otherworlders, ethereals, supernaturals... Generally, things that don't fit nicely within our known natural laws of science."
"Like, vampires?"
"We have a few of those, yes, but they aren't originally from here, mind you."
"Where are they from, then?"
"There's a local one, Odalis, who says he's from another dimension—no, not really dimension. Like a different fabric altogether." He paused. "We're getting off topic. I need to talk to you about you."
"What about me?"
"Those jars contained very powerful celestial beings. Their miasma wrapped around you as they escaped. It's a complicated process to explain so to put it simply, you got a pretty big dose of magic."
"So I'm like a witch or wizard now or something? Can I cast spells and stuff?"
"No, it's not like that. You're still human, but now you have a gift—you're touched."
"Like a special power?"
"Exactly."
"What kind?"
"That's up to you to discover."
"Cool."
Dr. Agassi raised his eyebrows. "You're taking this surprisingly smoothly."
"Well, I've always felt like I led a small life. If all this is real, then I want to take the opportunity to capitalize on something bigger than myself. To become something more than me."
"That's a good outlook to have."
"Thanks."
"But, there's a catch."
"Hm?"
"Let me get him." Dr. Agassi returned to his desk and made a quick phone call. A tall man in a dark suit joined them a few minutes later. She thought he looked very clean cut. They whispered back and forth a bit before coming over to Emily.
"You can call me Willoughby," the man in the dark suit said.
"Oh! The package was for you!"
"That's right. Now, let me be forthright with you. I know it's my subordinate's fault that you dropped the package. Evenso, I want you to take point in their recapture—I want you to come work with us."
Emily's eyes widened. "You're recruiting me?"
"Essentially," Willoughby said, nodding. "We will train you, house you, pay you—once your ability manifests, that is. We have very competitive rates. After all, very few can do what we do, and what we do is very dangerous. You interested?"
"Very."
Dr. Agassi laughed, patting Willoughby on the arm. "Told you."
"But, let's say I turn down the offer," Emily began, "what are the other options?"
Willoughby flashed a sad smile. "24/7 monitoring. It's a fact that you're going to develop an ability, and it's our job to make sure you don't use it carelessly."
"So basically, if I'm not one of you, then I'm one of them."
"If you're going to live in society, those are the rules, yes."
"I understand," she said. "In that case, I've already made up my mind. I accept your offer."
Willoughby visibly relaxed, letting out a deep exhale as if he'd been holding his breath. He was almost a different person. "Good. I was worried you would turn me down."
"I feel I've been given the opportunity to see the real world for the first time. Why would I not take it?"
"Rest here tonight. I'll introduce you to the rest of Office 3 tomorrow, minus the field team."
"Field team?"
"There's always a case to work, so they're rarely here."
"One job to the next, huh? I know that life."
Dr. Agassi grinned. "Good, because you'll be in charge of them when you get back from training."
"Huh?" Emily looked from Dr. Agassi to Willoughby. "You're going to let a newbie manage the field team?"
"Didn't I tell you?"
"You said you wanted me to take point on getting those things back. Doesn't that just mean you want my help?"
Willoughby chuckled. "It means to lead the charge. I'm assigning you as Field Captain."
Emily stood by the door to Office 3's main room, nervously fiddling her fingers as Willoughby made tea. He noticed her agitation and said, "You can take a look around, if you'd like." She dipped her head in thanks and gave the room a look-see.
The main working area was open with four desks clustered together, facing each other, and a fifth at the far end as if overlooking the initial four. Shelves displaying arcane-looking objects lined dark red brick walls, and a huge floor to ceiling window at the far end of the room provided an expansive view of both the harbor and the shores across the water. Around the corner, next to the window, was a sectioned off room with a long wooden table and a set of dark wooden dinner chairs clad in plush green fabric. There, the walls were completely stuffed with books. The pure multitude of them gave off an almost oppressive feeling.
At the other end of the room was a sitting area with dark blue sofas, a wooden coffee table, and a small kitchenette. While the whole room had wooden flooring, the sitting area was covered in a very plush rug.
"Could you come join me over here?" Willoughby set a tray down on the coffee table and motioned to the sofa across from him.
Emily quickly moved to sit down. She watched as Willoughby poured tea for them, his movements almost regal in their fluidity. Like he had done this a thousand, hundred thousand times before.
He placed a cup in front of her and said, "Please."
"Thanks." Emily grabbed the saucer with one hand at first but noticed her hand was shaking a little so she quickly used both of them. Her eyes shot up to the man across from her, seeing if he had noticed—he had—and smiled shyly. He watched as she took a sip. "Mm. This is pretty good!"
Willoughby smiled. "Thank you. It's my own blend. Now, I have these forms I need you to fill out. And then, sign this." He whipped out a full stack of paperwork from underneath the table. Before he handed them over to her, he looked her straight in the eyes and said, "Just to be sure, you're certain this is a job you want to take?"
The tea had made her much more relaxed and she was finally able to take a deep breath, further calming herself. She set the saucer back down and placed her hands together in her lap. She had already made her decision yesterday. "Of course."
The door to the office suddenly burst open and two guys walked in—one of them she recognized.
"Finally!" Jules said. This time he was properly clothed.
Emily jumped to her feet. "You!"
Jules pointed at himself. "Me?"
"You made me drop the package!"
Jules laughed carelessly. "Ah, yeah. My bad. Didn't think—"
"That's exactly your problem." The other man stepped forward. "I'm Oliver. This guy's brother."
"Don't just call me this guy!"
Willoughby joined them by the door. "Jules, I think you're lucky enough that no one else saw you in that state."
Jules clicked his tongue. "I guess."
Oliver added, "And be thankful to Miss Lehr here that she's not reporting you." Then he looked at her with a raised brow. "Are you?"
"He's my coworker, right?" she asked Willoughby.
"That's right."
"Then, I guess not."
"Wow! Lucky you!" Oliver said, slapping his brother on the back a little too hard.
Emily laughed. "So what do you two do around here?"
"My brother is tech support. I'm just Willoughby's assistant," Oliver replied.
"Ah, not just my assistant, Oliver," Willoughby corrected.
Oliver waved his hand as if swatting the idea away and then walked over to his desk. He pointed at the one next to him and said, "Emily, this one's yours."
"I get my own desk?" She joined him by the desks to inspect her own slice of the office.
"Of course," Willoughby said. "When you aren't acting as Field Captain, you'll be helping around here."
"It's been a long time since we had one of those," Jules said as he slid into his seat.
"A field captain?" Emily asked.
"Our field team usually acts independently," Oliver said. "They've had free autonomy for so long, I'm a little worried about how they'll react to you..."
Willoughby placed a hand to his chin in thought. "While you make a good point, I think the only one to cause concern would be Kain."
Jules snorted. "That guy's always had a stick up his ass. Of course he'll take issue with a newbie suddenly being in charge."
"Onto other matters," Willoughby said, trying to change the subject. He looked at Emily. "Have you phoned your family yet?"
"No." And she didn't want to.
"When do you plan on moving into the company dorm?"
"Do they come furnished?"
"Minimally."
"Then, as soon as possible."
"Hmm. You can move your things in today," Willoughby said. "But you wouldn't officially move in until after your training, and that only starts after your gift manifests."
"I don't have a lot of stuff. Can I go get them now?" Emily asked.
"If you go through that stack of paperwork first, I don't see why not. In fact, I'm sure these two would love to help you. Jules, especially, since he feels so sorry for what he did."
The two brothers felt the steely glare of their superior and sighed. There was no way to fight the man.
Jules grabbed the keys from his coat pocket and said, "I'll go start the car," before quickly exiting the room.
"How long do you think she's gonna keep standing there?" Jules asked. The two brothers watched from inside their car as Emily simply stood on the sidewalk in front of her house.
"It's been ten minutes," Oliver said.
"Should we say something? Like, what if she forgot her keys?"
"She had them at the office."
"What if she forgot them? Drove over here for nothing—"
"Jules, she's moving!"
"Ooh!"
Emily could hear them and it made her blush with embarrassment. She couldn't stand them talking about her anymore so she finally stepped toward the front steps. She took out her keys, unlocked the front door, and crept inside.
"That you, Emily?" her dad hollered from the kitchen. "Where were you last night?"
Emily straightened up as he peeked into the hallway. "Um, I stayed over at a coworker's."
"A coworker's? Did you guys go out after work or something?"
"Sort of."
"I tried calling you. Went straight to voicemail."
"Yeah, I forgot to charge my phone."
"Don't let that happen again. I need to know where you are."
Emily took a deep breath, suddenly remembering the taste of the tea Willoughby had made. "Actually, Dad, I'm moving out."
"What! When?"
"Today?"
"Why! Who's going to take care of the house when you're gone?"
Emily felt insulted. "Um, you live here, too, right?"
"What about your grandma? You going to leave her?"
"Dad, she has nurses coming every day, multiple times a day. You're the one not letting them in to see her."
"Because we don't need them."
"We don't. She does."
"We can take care of her."
"She needs specialized help—you know what, we've had this exact same argument already. I need to get my stuff." Emily didn't even bother taking her shoes off as she leaped up the stairs and to her room. She grabbed her grandpa's old suitcase from her closet and stuffed it with her favorite clothes. She dumped her electronics into her backpack and laced an extra pair of shoes to the straps in front. She grabbed her old gym bag from under her bed and put two jackets in it, one for winter and one for summer, then slung it across her body. She hoisted her backpack on, grabbed the suitcase by the handle, and stepped out her door. She felt sluggish.
Just as she was about to reach the front door her dad yelled at her from down the hall, "You're not going anywhere!" She heard the thump of his steps behind her and she tried to hurry to the door but her bulkiness made her feel awkward. She'd just opened the front door when her dad yanked her back by her hair. She fell back with a cry and a loud thud.
Emily opened her eyes and blinked away the disorientation. She got on her hands and knees and started crawling to the door, thinking if she just got out—if she could just escape. But he grabbed her by her backpack and continued to drag her down the hall, sliding the hall rug with her. She tried to kick him off, shouted for him to let go of her, but he continued to say how she's not allowed to move out, that she's needed. In the kitchen, she managed to kick him in the shins, making him finally let go. It was a second, but maybe that was all she needed? She ran for the door again but her dad threw a pan at her head, toppling her over into the wall. He grabbed her by her backpack again, this time trying to take her bags off as if by doing so she shouldn't bother leaving.
Something welled up inside Emily. Anger, fear, disappointment. It was like her feelings were ignited by this pressure inside her, a light. With tears streaming down her face, she screamed, "Let go of me!" Waves rippled with her voice, pushing her dad back against the back door.
"The hell was that?" her dad shouted. "Did you just push me?" His voice was extremely threatening.
She was afraid he was going to hit her so she scrambled to her feet and said, "Stay away!" Another invisible wave pushed him back. She turned back to the door and saw Jules and Oliver there, concern clearly on their faces. "Guys..." she sobbed and ran desperately to the door. Jules grabbed the suitcase by the door while Oliver helped her to the car.
"Open the trunk," Oliver said. Jules pressed a button on the key fob and the trunk popped up. Oliver helped Emily into the back before tossing her backpack and gym bag into the back. His brother climbed into the driver's seat just as Emily's dad came running out of the house, a cast iron frying pan in his hand.
"Might want to hurry, Oliver!" Jules said.
Oliver shut the trunk and literally jumped into the front seat as Jules pulled away. They heard Emily's dad yell something and then the sound of something hitting the back of the car. Oliver looked back and saw the frying pan in the middle of the street, along with a bit of their back right light.
"Blinker's busted," Oliver said.
Jules clicked his tongue. "Tsk. Great. I just bought this thing."
Quietly, Emily said, "I'm sorry." Her voice was strained, froggy.
Oliver twisted in his seat to look at her. "You don't need to apologize."
"My brother's right. Broken tail light? That can be fixed easily with some money."
"But if you get hurt, it takes time to heal, right? In our opinion, that's more costly."
"My throat hurts," Emily said.
"Your power manifested, didn't it? I saw what you did to your dad. What was that? Some kind of sonic wave?" Oliver said.
"I don't know. I'm just... tired."
Jules chuckled. "You really gave him a surprise, huh. Good. He deserved it."
Oliver shot his brother a glare. "Watch what you say. We don't know what their situation is like."
"Looked pretty clear to me," Jules replied. Oliver just sighed and looked out the window. It had started raining and everything looked blurry.
The Jones brothers escorted Emily to her dorm and then hurried off to tell Willoughby what had happened.
"And as we drove away," Jules said, "he chucked a frying pan at my car! I have to get the blinker fixed now." He seemed pretty grumpy about it. Might even hold a grudge against Emily's dad forever.
"Is that everything?" Willoughby asked.
"Yes," Oliver said.
"Hey, can someone else be upset about the broken blinker with me?" Jules asked flatly.
Ignoring him, Willoughby put a hand on his chin. "Hmm. The argument between Emily and her father might have complicated things, but the manifestation of her gift seems to have fixed it."
"It looked a lot worse than an argument," Oliver said.
"Yes, but I'd like to believe it'll all work out. Now that Emily has her gift, she can start her training, which means she can officially move into the dorm."
"Would you have not let her stay if her gift hadn't manifested so quickly?" Oliver asked.
Willoughby sighed. "Do you really think me so cold? As I said before, their augment might have complicated things—as in, I would personally allow her to stay, despite the rules."
"You'd put in a request with Peter to have her stay?"
"I wouldn't have enjoyed doing it, but yes, I would have asked Peter for a personal favor."
"And if Peter didn't allow Emily to—"
"Then she would stay with me."
Oliver was shocked. "With you?"
"Of course. Where else? You two live in the dorm and overnight visitors aren't allowed. I own my house. Besides, I'm sure my daughter wouldn't mind if Emily slept in her room while she's studying abroad."
"Hey, when does Emily's training start?" Jules asked. His eyes were glued to his computer screen.
"Next Monday, why?" Willoughby said.
Jules twisted his screen around to show the other two men. "Because I think we got our first tip on the missing celestial beings. Athena was spotted outside in her namesake city."
Emily didn't even bother really unpacking. She shifted her things around, put away the things she thought she wouldn't need during training, and set her bags by the front door. It wasn't long after when someone knocked on her door.
"Who is it?"
"Oliver."
She quickly swung the door open, revealing a sheepish looking Oliver Jones. "Is it okay if I come in?" he asked.
"Sure." She led him to the dining table and they sat across from each other. "Um, what's up?"
"Can we talk about what happened today?"
Emily stiffened. "I don't know what to say. What do you want to know?"
"Well, first off, has it always been like that?"
"Yes. For as long as I can remember, anyway."
"I see. I recently read your file and—"
"I have a file?"
Oliver blushed. "Sorry, Jules and I were in charge of your background check. It wasn't anything extensive. Just your family relations, work and school history, and any health problems."
"Oh."
Oliver mentally hit himself. He didn't mean for this to be so awkward. "Anyway, I wanted to know... if you feel bad about leaving your grandma with your dad?"
"That really isn't your business."
Oliver sighed. "I know. I know I shouldn't be butting in like this—"
"Did you see what he did to me? He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me down the hall."
"I did see. That's why I won't judge you for leaving or convince you to go back. I just want to make sure that severing your connection to them is what you really want. That's all."
"Why do you care?"
"Well," he began, the redness returning to his cheeks, "I care about you. And I don't want you to have any regrets. This line of work can be very dangerous, and is usually pretty short for field agents."
She didn't say anything.
Oliver sighed and said, "Can I tell you a story about my brother and I?"
"Sure."
"Jules and I are fraternal twins. Our mother was a member of this cult in the interior that worshiped a demon. According to the cult leader, ever since we were born, my brother and I were branded as sacrifices. We would be hosts for him to physically walk this plane without the need to be summoned." He pulled his shirt collar down to show her the brand on his shoulder.
"Oh my god. What happened?"
"On the day we were to be sacrificed, our 13th birthday, the compound was raided by the company. Actually, that was back when Willoughby was still Field Captain."
"Willoughby used to be Field Captain?"
"Yeah! He was quite young back then, too. Well, considering the rest of management were at least in their forties. He took us in, raised us with his daughter, Elizabeth. Later, we found out the cult leader was possessed by the spirit of an Ancestor, a servant of the demon. We were there when the spirit was extracted and stored away."
"He made you guys watch?"
"Kind of. He said if we wanted to one day join the company, then we'd need to know how things worked. Elizabeth was there, too."
"What happened to your mom?"
Oliver shrugged. "Everyone was either jailed or institutionalized. Most of them have committed suicide by now. I don't know if my mom's among them—Willoughby refuses to tell us and there are more every year. But, by the way he dances around the subject, I think she was. Thinking about that, I wish I could've gotten some closure with her when I still could. Maybe tried to establish some sort of relationship with her."
They were silent for a long time. The rain pelted against the back window, filling the silence with rain, rain, and more rain.
"Anyway," Oliver finally said as he stood, "that's all I have to say. Glad I could share my story with you. Feels fair now, after what I saw today. I won't push you to reconnect with your family, just know that I'm here for you. Excuse me." He slipped his jacket back on and left.
Deep underneath Office 3's building, a spotlight shined down on four black robes as they danced through the air.
"Excuse me, Elders." Willoughby and the CAMUS Head Admin, Peter Montrose, stood in the dark area of the room, bowing as the flowing robes quickly took the shape of people.
"Speak," they said in unison, their voices ringing.
Montrose began first, saying, "The one responsible for freeing the four celestial beings yesterday has had her gift manifest and will begin training shortly."
"Yes," they said. "The power of sound waves—useful."
"I-I have a question," Willoughby said. All four of the Elders' heads twisted to look directly at him. They didn't have eyes, or faces for that matter, but he could feel their penetrating gaze. "We weren't expecting a package. Do you know anything about it?"
"No. Beings thought lost—now roam. Their capture—required."
Montrose bowed again. "Thank you for your time, Elders." The figures dissipated into their flowing robes again, effortlessly gliding in a perpetual series of motions. To Willoughby, he said, "Let's go," and pushed him out the room.
"You didn't need to push," Willoughby said. They were alone in the long, narrow hall.
"I needed you to move faster," Montrose replied and led the way back to the elevator. "Anyway, what did you mean when you said we weren't expecting the package?"
"We weren't expecting the transfer of celestial beings—especially those ones. Some of them were lost during the burning of the great library, or the sacking of Rome. We have no idea where those celestial beings came from, or even which aspect they embody. The only reason we even know who they are is because Jules has an eidetic memory. He saw what formed from the miasma and looked them up in the database."
"Sounds like Jules might have a future in research and dev—"
"No. He's staying here with me."
Montrose chuckled. "Are you being sentimental again, Michael?"
"I'm being realistic. Jules wouldn't be able to thrive in an environment like that. His abilities are best used here."
"Is your assessment based on your observations as his boss or as his guardian? We both know you can't disconnect yourself from the role."
"It is a professional opinion, Sir."
"Hmm. You think I'll believe you just because you start using formal speech with me? How sly. Anyway, about the package, just keep quiet for now. I'll see if I can find anything on my end. Is there anything else you feel the need to mention?"
"Just one thing."
Montrose sighed. "All right. Let me hear it before I go."
"One of those celestial beings... they were among those listed as stolen from the attack on the Indian vault."
"You're thinking it's an inside job, aren't you?"
"It has to be, Peter."
"That's pretty dangerous territory—traitorous, even. You sure that's an accusation you want to wave around?"
"Is there any other explanation? The location of the vaults are secret for this very reason, and yet one was attacked, looted."
Montrose sighed again, feeling the energy drained out of him from this conversation. "I get it, Willoughby. I'll take care of it. Just, like I said, keep quiet for now. You could get into some serious trouble if you start throwing your opinions around like before."
"But—"
"It's thanks to who that you still have a job within this company?"
"You."
"Remember what happened before, Michael. Please. Don't go down like your father."
Willoughby scowled into the elevator door, watching as it opened and they both stepped out. "I will."
"Good. I'll call you if anything comes up. See you."
Willoughby watched his old friend walk out the doors of Office 3, wishing they could all go back in time to their youth, yet knowing such a wish was impossible.