They took a break and sat down to watch TV. But it could hardly be called a break when even that was filled with reminders about their work. Really, there was never anything remotely good on the news.

"... the total casualty count stands at over two thousand people. Among all the passengers, only forty-five were saved from the attack."

Only, the presenter said, but it was actually quite a favorable outcome.

Without the intervention of a syndicate agent, they would all be dead right now after all. And things could have gone much worse for him.

"If you had been there, a lot more people would have been saved," Cynthia said.

"Yes. But I couldn't have been there." So they just sent the nearest agent. Better, worse, they had done their job. They were on the side of good and they'd done their job. That's what mattered. By the time he got there, they'd all be dead. "There's a reason this country spends so much money just to keep me around."

Then another good amount of money, all the time, to keep him in the area or try to bring him to theirs.

After all, he was only one man, and America was a very big country. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he couldn't even take care of everything that was going on in his country. No matter how much power he wielded, at the end of the day he was nothing more or less than a human being.

To the misfortune of many people.

Like those who had died on that ship, yes. Screaming and howling. In the darkness.

He certainly didn't like it at all, but he couldn't do any more than he already did. He was always on the brink of breaking down, barely allowing himself to exist as a human being. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept more than six hours at night. Sometimes he wondered how he was still standing. But he had to, he had to make it somehow, because there was no one else. Nothing else.

They only had him.

He hadn't asked for this enormous responsibility, but now that it was in his hands he couldn't whine and complain, he couldn't run and hide.

It was his job. It was his duty.

Moreover, it was his pride. It was a dark and secret feeling, but he was proud. Many people lived and died without changing anything apart from the piece of earth they were buried in.

He could change the world.

He would be remembered.

How could he not be proud?

"If I were you, I'd go crazy thinking about it. It's more weight than any one person should have to carry."

"Maybe. But what should be matters very little. Things are as they are."

"What are you saying? What should be matters. If things were as they should be, the Lunar Remnants, superior beings, would kill every last one of us and take over the world. If we're here, it's because we believe we can change that."

"That's not exactly what I meant, but yes, of course. I haven't given up."

Sylvester turned his head to look at Cynthia straight in the eye. Yes, so far he hadn't looked away from the screen. But he felt it was now necessary to look at her. So that she would understand him well, so that there would be no room for confusion.

"I will never give up. Even if they did really take over the world. If the world lay in ruins I would keep killing them on the ruins of the world until it was all over, one way or another." He was willing to go that far even when he would have no world left to fight for. For trite things like revenge?

None of that, it was simply his duty.

Cynthia nodded slowly.

"That's my boss. That's the spirit."

***

"So much work just to get this thing. Will it really be enough to seal that monster?"

"If this can't, nothing will."

"That's not an answer."

"I know. In any case, we're not done yet. We need a distraction. But we must be very careful. It's an advantage that they think we're disorganized, that they think it's not even possible for us to get organized, until it's too late for them to prepare for what's coming."

"Leave it to me. I have some ideas."

***

Once again, he had not been left much time to remain human. The other syndicate agent had saved that ship in Italy, reducing the death count by only about forty. Forty"something out of two thousand passengers.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

How many people were in that building? He didn't know, but it was time to see how he would fare. Who would do better, after all.

Sylvester jumped. He jumped from the nearest and tallest tower. The cold night wind cut through him like a thousand swords. He stretched out his arms as he fell, like a suicidal man accepting his end, the sweet release.

But, as he had said, he wouldn't give up. Never. Never.

What he did was spread his wings. Wings as black as a starless night, but now it was daytime. It didn't matter, the moon was always in the sky, reflecting that evil upon the world. The Lunar Remnants.

It didn't matter at all. Sylvester flew through the skylight and landed in the middle of the crystal rain, untouchable. He made the wings disappear as soon as he hit the ground, of course. He no longer needed them.

He raised his head towards his enemies.

No, toward today's obstacles.

How many innocent people had died already? He couldn't stop to count them. He couldn't bear to think about it. The only thing he could do, the only thing he had come to do, was to kill.

"My arm, my arm, where is my arm?"

The man was desperately searching for his right arm, stumbling around and reaching out with the only hand he had left. He was leaving behind him a thick trail of blood. He was in shock, but nowadays that was survivable. If he was rescued in time. No, rather, if he could stop this in time.

So where was the creature? The man's wound was fresh. He couldn't have gone far, but he couldn't even hear it rampaging through this hotel.

Somehow, he had come in here and taken hostages instead of going on an indiscriminate killing spree.

And now...What was he waiting for?

"I'm a syndicate agent.You have nothing to worry about," he lied. "I'll save you."

He hoped that the last one didn't turn out to be a lie. He would do his best. That was the only thing he could promise, but it wouldn't help put their minds at ease. Well.His words just now hadn't helped much either. Most were looking at him with sunken eyes, covered by a shadow of suspicion.Those who didn't were simply too busy with themselves. Like the man tirelessly searching for his arm. They distrusted him, but none came close to helping the poor man either.

Typical.

How many of these people had left everything behind and moved to Kaleidoscope simply because they knew he would be around to protect them? The city had experienced a very high population growth for that reason. And it was easier to relocate overnight for the kind of people who stayed in five-star hotels on a whim. Surely many of them had moved because of him.

And yet his presence didn't reassure them at all. Not because of the monster that was still lurking in the building. He knew it.

He knew that he too was seen as a monster. Something "different" from them.

He didn't care. That too was all too typical.

His opinions were irrelevant. He was here to do his job.

"If anyone has anything to tell me, speak up now. Any information could be useful."

Silence. If not for the guy whimpering about his arm still, of course. Until he would run out of energy and his head would hit the ground.

"In any case, stay here. It's not a safe place, but there's no such thing in this building until the monster is dead. I'll make sure it doesn't come back here and then maybe it will be a safe place. Do you understand? If you try to escape on your own, you're going to die. Your best chance is to trust me."

Sylvester didn't want to lie to them outright, no one would believe something that sounded too good to begin with. But he also didn't want them to lose control, naturally. That was the best balance he found for his speech. He could get by speaking to other people, but speaking to a crowd was something different. He had a specific set of talents where that didn't fit in.

At least, he wasn't getting paid for it. But he had done what he could.

Feeling satisfied, he approached the nearest door. He opened it, turning the knob. At that moment..

"Hey." A woman's hesitant voice. "I don't know if it's really useful, but you're talking as if there is one of those things. There's two of them."

Are you sure? That was the first thing that popped into his head, but she'd had to muster up the courage to tell him that. Doubting her in spite of everything would only serve to make her shut up. Besides, what did it matter?

The point was that he knew she had at least thought she had seen two. She had no reason to lie to him. He had recently faced a Lunar Remnant capable of sending dozens of minions after them, so one thing that could split in two or something was nothing in comparison.

And it was what he had asked for. Any information, and this would be more useful than the woman had thought. He gave the only appropriate response.

"Thank you."

Without waiting for an answer, he left that place in pursuit of the obstacle.

He would be a large monster, driven by his bloodlust and rage against the world, as if they were to blame for the state he had ended up in. It shouldn't be hard to find him.

It wasn't. He was only wrong about one thing. Instead of finding him, the obstacle came to him. A bulge grew in the wall to his left. 'Something' was moving along the inside of the wall as if it were a mole underground.

But its size wasn't remotely comparable to that of a mole. Somehow it made no noise at all, but still the lump was too big to miss. For there to be even the slightest hope that it could make a surprise attack.

The Lunar Remnant came out of the wall. It didn't break it. It came out of the wall, through it like a ghost. On all fours, pale, with a one-eyed head and mostly covered by a huge mouth full of teeth that looked like a meat grinder.

That thing lunged at him, still in complete silence. It was more disturbing than if it had been howling like a wild animal. After all, this wasn't normal.

"You're the first, huh?"

Sylvester swung his sword. The creature caught it in its teeth, but that was no advantage. With that as his only foothold, he spun the creature around and slammed it into the opposite wall with all his might.

The wall was filled with cracks. He was being paid to do what was necessary, not something impossible like not being the reason for some repairs.

"The first to fall."

It was not pale like a corpse. More of a gray like the aliens in some old TV series, the kind that shoved strange things up your anus as soon as you let your guard down.

He painted that pallor red with his blood, brandishing the sword again.

"If you're smart enough to take hostages, you're smart enough to talk. Squeal for me, you fucking bastard!"

He swung the sword once more, ripping a large chunk of flesh from the creature in one blow. More of its teeth were exposed through the hole in the side of its mouth. As if he had opened him a second mouth.

Another blow.

It caught the katana between its teeth, but this time it was different. It managed to rip the weapon out of his hands and throw it. So what, now it thought he was helpless? Sylvester grinned from ear to ear.

He could easily retrieve the sword, but not at the moment.

I could crush him barehanded just as fast, anyway!

He wasn't alone either, of course. He had gone ahead because he could get to the upper floors faster and easier, but it had turned out to be convenient. Under ideal circumstances, they could corner the creatures at the same time and get it over with quickly. Too many people had already been killed or injured. He'd had enough.

Sylvester collided with the Lunar Remnant in the middle. It was the monster's feet that rose a few inches above the ground with the impact.

He was strong and could take anything they threw at him. He had to.