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Although only two days passed (with a quick nap for energy replenishment), I made a remarkable amount of progress putting together a comprehensive case file of all the homicides I could connect to our murderous “angel of light”. When I completed my investigation, the next course of action was to seek out capable consultants and assistants to aid my cause. While, yes, our headquarters were full of capable individuals, most of them were hired to perform mundane patrols, or helped with smaller crimes. None were trained to subdue serial killers with two digit body counts.

Not to mention, Sunny would have my head if I dragged citizens into cases far above their prerogative.

Not beyond mine, of course, but the average person couldn’t be trusted with such an important task. Establishing my own temporary Saturni Specialty Division took some loose interpretation on some local legislature combined with some rigorous job advertisement, but I already had a few people interested. The sensitive nature of this project called for higher pay and benefits, which would serve as a good incentive for anyone capable.

Or so I hoped.

In order to avoid any mistaken judgment towards my candidates, I took it upon myself to look over all our unique applications.

All SEVEN of them.

…Four should be enough for the task at hand. On my desk laid the ones that stood out among the rest, possessing a wide arrange of combat skills and deduction abilities.

The first one, Charya Kitt, I picked right away—a no-brainer, due to her accomplished background in law combined with an amazing grasp on spirit magic. Two of the other candidates, Dori Laron and Kelsey Ira Lu possessed excellent marksmanship and weapon proficiency skills on their resumes respectively. The last one, Ale Felix Levansiaka…

He possessed a refined cover letter?

Yes, of course. My excellent intuition told me from his introduction alone he would be an invaluable asset to Saturni. That, and the other three candidates were the same person wearing various goofy accessories to pass himself off as separate identities. Whether it was a joke or some ploy to increase his chances, I didn’t know and would never bother to find out.

I ran my fingers through the applications’ holographic projection, the zips and zings offering solace from the silence despite how numb it made my hands feel. The crisp, cold spring air drifted through the window carrying the smell of breakfast foods that so populated the hands of pedestrians. All I could do was wait, until…

Now.

Now should be a good time. They would be here soon. I stood up, pushing my chair back hard enough for it to hit the wall and topple over. I would have hurry downstairs to prepare for the new hires. After all, we had a lot of work to do.

Yet, my heart throbbed as though I’d been given a gift I’d always wanted, yet could never have.

The all-important strategy room wasn’t anything too formal, just one of our smaller conference rooms set aside for my purposes. A few chairs dotted the area, an extremely old white board on wheels and a pen for it, and a small table. The paint on the walls peeled from neglect, and the pipes that lined the walls echoed with clicks and drips, adding an annoying cacophonous layer to it all. Utterly inadequate, but true heroes knew when you had to make use of what you gained.

I’d already started jotting notes on the board for the orientation when the door clicked open behind me, followed by the woosh of air that comes with an opened door. Good, I felt blinded from staring at nothing but white for twenty minutes.

“Here they are!” Serena shouted from behind me even though she stood only a couple feet away. I asked her earlier if she could personally guide my new MPF recruits inside, and she happily volunteered to help before beginning her work. If only there were more out there like her. “Good luck, you guys! And be yourselves!”

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Soon after, I could hear her leave before she came close to the room. Just as well, I was sure she had a lot of work on her plate already.

Following her departure, several more pairs of footsteps clamored ahead. The scent of strong cologne pierced my nostrils, and a high pitched squeal brought another assault upon my ears.

“Wow, this place is so totally rustic!” A young woman called out, though without proper introductions, I couldn’t put a name to voice, nor did I have the chance earlier with my hurried preparations.

No matter. I could tolerate it in the name of justice and fairness towards those who would threaten the lives of Lestarian citizens, but I personally found that keeping one’s inside volume within a certain range of frequencies made life a joyous experience. I scribbled my thoughts out faster so I could have a brief summary outlined while everyone filtered in.

It was only once I finished that three people hurried in and took their seats. I turned around to get a better look, though I couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied when one of the seats remained empty—a missing new hire, what a shame. As they began to get comfortable, I put the cap on the marker tip and clapped my hands together.

“I’m sure you’re all already aware of the great purpose you serve today, so I can skip the praise and formalities,” I said. Satisfaction filled me as my voice swarmed the small space.

“But I like praise…” one of them mumbled. The young, scrawny looking man yawned and rubbed his eyes, bags ingrained into the folds of flesh. His hair presented an extremely light shade of beige, fluffy and sticking out in every direction. Pale white skin accompanied his exhausted look, though I struggled to pick out much else as he buried half his face in a yellow scarf. He also wore a dark purple coat, similarly coloured gloves, and a matching skirt with short dark gray boots.

“Then we can get right to the introductions!” Not one to be deterred, I used this as a segue-way into casual greetings, pointing at the young man who’d spoken first. “Begin.”

“Yes, my liege,” he said with a small bow, though since he sat at the moment, it became more of a head tilt, “Or like…monarchies don’t exist anymore, right? Shit. Anyways. Uh, the name’s Dori Laron…like…”

He yawned, and leaned back in his seat. We all stared at him for a minute until he slowly lifted a hand to point at the young woman sitting right next to him.

“My turn!” she yelled and threw her hands in the air. Her dark curls bobbed, tied into two pigtails at the sides of her head. She wore a gaudy black tracksuit stained with bright pink and green colour splashes, with shoes that reflected the same colours: one green, one pink. Her dark black skin accompanied her deep brown eyes and her smile shone with glee, the only light left in a world devoid of joy and happiness.

Which was simply incorrect, as I stood right in front of her.

“My name’s Charya Kitt, and you better not forget it, because it’s literally so impossible for me to forget about any of you!” She pointed, slowly rotating herself around the room so everyone could get a shot at being pointed at. After she spoke, I noticed her perfectly tailored dark gray gloves, mismatched with her casual choice of dress.

“I wish you’d forget about me…” The other young man present remarked and rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes—they were completely red, with no iris or even pupil to be seen. They looked like what you’d see on a petri dish: dark red splotches hosted various pockets of a brighter red substance, allowing them to float freely on his eyes with no rhyme or reason. Magic could do strange things to you, so there must had been an explanation for it. I needed to ask him later if it’d affect his performance.

The rest of his appearance came off as unremarkable. He wore a brown bomber jacket that had a beige fur collar, along with dark blue pants and brown loafers. He also dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and had black skin, with his hair being curly and fanning out from every direction. I noticed then: some sort of orb floated next to him, composed of the same colours and pattern present in his eyes. He looked at me, snatched the orb out of the air and shoved it into his pocket.

The toys young people toted around these days were quite fascinating. Certainly, Bella would be able to identify it, but alas, I wasn’t her.

“I don’t even know your name and you’re already lame-ing it up in here,” Charya said with a yawn. “Who’re you again?”

“I told you already—Ale Felix Levansiaka!”

“Points for me, I guessed that!”

“Because I said it to you five minutes ago…!” He shouted and ran a hand through his hair. “Unless you’re just joking, but I can’t tell! It’s like walking into some fun house, and all these mirrors are telling you something different, and you can’t decipher the truth because there’s no accurate frame of reference. You’re surrounded by lies and mockeries that exist to distort your vision for amusement, but I’m not amused and I just need a real mirror!”

Dori reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small hand mirror. He held it out to Ale, saying, “Here. But don’t, uh…get your fingerprints on the glass.”

Ale stared at it blankly, then buried his head in his hands. “It was a metaphor—Oh, not again.”

“Oh yes, again!” Charya said. She winked in Ale’s direction, but before he could speak, I smacked my hand against the white board to regain control of the conversation.

“Don’t forget who is meant to be the leader in our strategy meeting,” I said. “It should be my voice that is squabbling and saying bizarre things, or, no, genius things that merely sound bizarre to the untrained ear but are, in fact, extremely smart ideas as to how we’re going to apprehend this villain we’re facing.”

Everyone stared at me, with what I assumed to be complete and undivided attention to our cause. As it should be.

“So does this mean we’re hired.” Dori said.

“Do we get dental?” Ale chimed in.

“Where’s the free pizza?” Charya added.

“I never said a thing about—”