I keep working mechanically, though really I’m in something of a fugue state. Five thirty comes, signalling the day's end- at least for most of the building. As an assistant to the mayor’s office I have the dubious honour of evening shifts to accompany Usk, so that he always has assistance at hand.

In practice, he's thankfully fairly low maintenance, at least. He only really needs Olivia, so instead it's time I use to catch-up on some of the ever-growing paperwork pile. Hannah gives me an apologetic grimace as she packs up to leave; I return her a long-suffering smile, and bid her a good night.

Six o'clock, and my regularly scheduled annoyance arrives. I hear him before I see him, as his warbling rendition of the Wu-Tang Clan's C.R.E.A.M. echoes off the empty bullpen.

"Cash rules everything around me, CREAM, get the money, dollar dollar bill y'all,"

I scowl to myself. Oh yeah, he's definitely 'divested himself of all business interests', huh. He sidles up to my desk, bodyguard at each shoulder, and he gives me that smile he clearly paid a million dollars for. I have a sneaking suspicion that he feels his address went well. Whoopee.

"What did ya think, Jettie, baby,"- I truly hate when he calls me Jettie- "How'd I do? You know I value no-one's opinion more than yours. Except my dear Olivia, of course!"

He spins around to turn that dazzling grin on his secretary, and seems momentarily surprised to find that she's not, in fact, standing in her usual spot. After a second's pause however, he twists back to me, and all four of us pretend that didn’t happen.

I try to think of a courteous way of saying I hate him and everything he stands for.

"I thought it was a powerful statement, sir. It was perfectly transparent to all just who runs this city- Oh, you, of course."

Before I can jeopardise my job any further, a scream interrupts me.

It takes both Usk and me a moment of stunned surprise before we can even start to react; thankfully, neither of us is in charge of our own safety right now. In a move so smooth that it’s seamless, the woman is twisting, seeking the source with her pistol raised, just as the male bodyguard throws himself across Usk, immediately covering him from potential hostiles. They’re in position before the echo even fades.

A second after, Olivia slams through the front doors, still shouting. Underscoring her soprano cry, I hear a repetitive, thumping, percussive bass; it takes me a moment to realise it’s the crack of rifle fire.

We’re under attack. The source becomes clear moments later, as the secretary’s yells solidify into a single, repeated cry: “Antithesis! Antithesis!”

Aliens have come to San Francisco.

Proving their value once again, Usk’s guards are moving before I’ve processed all this. The male agent- I really should learn their names- nods to his compatriot, and speaks.

“Abby. I’ll organise the defence. Get Usk to the safe.”

His counterpart- Abby, I guess- nods her acquiescence, and she’s gripping Usk’s arm, pulling him along.

He shouts, “Wait! Olivia is coming with me, too,” and my eyes snap to him; he glances away from me, and his cheeks flush. “Oh, and, uh, Miss Galleani as well, of course.”

Ouch. Nice to know where I’m at in the pecking order, dude. The bodyguards nod; Abby shifts slightly to hustle Olivia along, but otherwise they keep to their tasks.

We head toward the doors together as a group. Usk’s panic room is in his office, but to get to that we have to reach the stairwell next to the bullpen’s doors. That leads up to a walkway that looks down over the room- a walkway that leads to his balcony, his royal vista. The grand doors to his office are flanked by marble busts of his personal icons: on the left, Thomas Edison; on the right, Henry Ford. He’s such an asshole.

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As we approach in tense silence, I keep expecting the main doors to burst open, for some horrible monster to charge us down. But no, we make it to the stairs just as the other bodyguard reaches the door. He pauses there, and gives Abby a nod; as we make our way over to the balcony, he grabs the handle, and darts out, gun raised. As he does, I suddenly realise that the last rifle has fallen silent.

I think the sounds that follow will live in my memory for a very long time.

A few pistol cracks, then a thud; a deep-bellied cry that is prematurely cut off. A haunting gurgling, and then I’m through the office door and Abby is slamming it shut behind me, resolutely ignoring her partner’s death rattle.

Usk, meanwhile, has grabbed his secretary’s hand and tugged her over towards his desk. He jams a button hidden underneath, and one of his wood-panelled walls cracks open, revealing an intimidating metal security door behind it. His panic room, I assume.

I stumble towards it, hastily- right now, I’m not entirely sure I trust my boss not to lock me out. Behind us, his bodyguard’s retreat is more measured: she walks slowly backwards, eyes kept locked on the door, and gun up.

For a panic room, the cubbyhole is surprisingly… cosy. From the twin bed, to the well-stocked home bar which fills one corner, the whole thing reads less ‘sanctuary’, and more ‘bachelor pad’. In fact, the bed seems unusually dishevelled, and the air inside has a certain mustiness.

Hmm. I suppose I’d never thought Usk and Olivia were being particularly subtle about their dalliances, but, still… Wait.

I squint harder at the bed. Tangled up with the sheets, were… Were those cat ears? I turned to stare at Olivia, who seemed to be studiously avoiding my gaze, cheeks flushed through in rosy pink. Even in the current circumstances, I can’t help but grin at her.

My levity is cut short, as next to me, Abby bites out a curse. Not something you want to hear from the person keeping you alive. She’s tinkering with a computer console tucked away near the door- a console that, I can’t help but notice, isn’t turning on.

“Fuck!” She curses again. “Boss, we have a problem. The generator hasn’t been maintained.”

My employer swears right back at her. “Miss Lopez! No-one checked it? I pay your firm millions each year for your services, and you weren’t even reviewing my safehouse?!”

But Abby is shaking her head at him before he’s even finished his question. “Someone should have, but apparently not. Either it got overlooked somehow, or someone must have been shirking. Either way, we don’t have power.”

“What does that mean for us?” someone asks- and I’m surprised to realise it’s me.

The agent glances my way, and winces.

“It means… We can deadbolt that door, and that’s about it. Without power, well. No cameras. No water filters. Air filters, either; the vents are open, so we won’t suffocate, at least. No signal. We won’t know what’s going on- and we can’t send out the distress call. No-one will know to extract you, boss. We’d be completely isolated.”

Mayor Usk has been getting paler with every word. As she falls silent, it takes him a moment to find his voice again.

“Well! What are you going to do about it?” He’s going for assertive, but each word is laced with panic.

His bodyguard pauses, reluctant. She seems to have arrived at a decision, but it’s clearly not one she’s happy with. When she speaks, it’s obvious why.

“Sir. I am- was- the senior agent. Your safety is my priority, and checking this shelter’s operational status was my responsibility. I failed, and now we can’t signal the outside for help. So… In the interests of ensuring your recovery, I believe it is now my responsibility to attempt to break through, and inform the state guard they need to extract you.”

I stare at her, horrified. Barely a minute ago, she and I heard what happened to her colleague for attempting that sort of thing. It is, to me, very plain that she has just volunteered for a suicide mission. Judging by the grim set of her jaw, she has come to the same conclusion. Olivia lets out a broken sob.

Melon Usk, however, does not appear to share her view, as his face twists up into a snarl.

“You’re abandoning me?!" he spits. "Fuck your duty, you’re just gonna take off? Then what did I even pay you for, coward?!”

Abby’s jaw tightens further at that, but she doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she turns to me.

“Miss Galleani. Do you have any firearms experience?”

Cautiously- as impressed as I am by her courage, I don't really want to get seconded to her suicide mission- I nod my assent.

Her face softens a little, and she reaches for the inner lining of her jacket, drawing out a second gun. A pocket pistol, I guess.

"That's a relief. Then, for… the duration of my absence… I would appreciate you protecting the Mayor for me, in the shelter."

Usk scoffs at this, but I give her an apologetic grimace. I get it.

"Yeah, Ms. Lopez. Abby. I can do that for you."

Abby gives me a nod, and a small, resigned smile, and she hands the gun over.

"My thanks. Well. I suppose my chances are worse the longer I delay. See you on the other side."

And with the barest whisper of the security door's hinges, she's gone. Usk draws the deadbolt with a thunk, and then we're alone, in the silence.