"𝑻𝒓𝘢𝒑𝑝𝘦𝑑 𝘄𝐢𝘁ℎ𝑖𝙣 𝒕𝙝𝙚 𝒎𝒊𝐧𝗱, 𝐭ℎ𝗲 𝑏𝑜𝘺 𝘄𝐚𝙡𝘬𝗲𝗱 𝒃𝘦𝘵𝙬𝐞𝒆𝗻 𝘩𝐢𝐬 𝗱𝐮𝑡𝐲 𝐚𝒏𝙙 𝒉𝘪𝒔 𝒇𝑢𝑡𝒖𝘳𝗲. 𝐓𝘩𝒆𝙧𝒆 𝙖𝘳𝙚 𝒎𝐞𝒏, 𝒄𝐥𝘰𝙪𝗱𝘦𝐝 𝘣𝘆 𝘪𝐥𝑙𝐮𝒔𝒊𝙤𝐧𝙨 𝘰𝙛 𝘨𝙧𝘢𝘷𝐢𝒕𝐚𝐬 𝙖𝘯𝙙 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝒐𝗿𝑒𝑚. 𝐒𝒊𝒈𝘩𝘁 𝙬𝗶𝗹𝑙 𝐜𝒍𝐞𝘢𝑟. 𝘛ℎ𝑜𝘀𝘦 𝙖𝘱𝐩𝘳𝐞𝒄𝐢𝑎𝐭𝘪𝒗𝙚 𝐨𝒇 𝐡𝙮𝘀𝘁𝒆𝙧𝒊𝐚 𝘸𝐢𝗹𝑙 𝙞𝘯𝙛𝐞𝒔𝒕 𝘁𝘩𝒆 𝒑𝑎𝘳𝙖𝙙𝘪𝙨𝙚. 𝐓𝗵𝙚 𝐝𝐨𝑐𝙩𝑟𝐢𝒏𝘦 𝐰𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝑖𝘁𝗵𝐞𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝒅 𝙗𝑙𝘰𝗼𝐦." The man, ██████, found himself in a place once more. A vividness unlike before struck him, the void held broken and intact murals, mosaics and other arts moving along like waves and shattering or arranged themselves at random. Eyes, characters, mouths. The voices of the monstrously familiar repeated stories he heard from childhood, present and more. He was tempted to wander but was frozen with dread he could understand only partly. He was only starting to saw after all. Then muffled voices and faint beeps were starting to surface in his hearing, from all directions but at the same time, they felt as though they won't where ██████ was.

Wright groggily opened his eyes as the sound was all he could hear, somehow, he knew a day had already passed. He could tell he was on a hospital bed of sorts, probably still within the Eschaton Foundations walls. The room didn't seem like one of hospital, rather a study with some medical equipment around him. The room was cold, a cloaked man with a mask different from the rest, as if it radiated a nonexistent warmth. Black, short but wavy hair showed from the hood before the person in question removed it. This person felt familiar to him, but it was hard to tell where he saw them or even who they reminded him of. "Bonjour, we meet again, this time in person; how delightful. I was expecting this to be possible far later in the week. Call me Quinn." This ambiguity was starting to get bothersome for the supposed intern. It was apparent the mask was making it so that the identity of the person was hard to distinguish from voice. It resembled that of the theater masks found in Japanese kabuki, it was different though, like it was made in segments somehow; Wright didn't know how, but it was obvious to him. Its peach tint wasn't different, neither did the lower and upper half seem off, it was identical to that of a normal crude old man mask in every way. "Well, what brings you here. Sorry if I'm... mistaken but you don't look like a doctor or nurse in any way." He scratched his cheek in embarrassment before looking around. He was somewhere but where? He saw some medical places on his way to the Exegesis, but they were far more like your average clinic in design. "Well, I'm no doctor in the rational sense of the word. You weren't hit with a weapon most have after all. I technically shouldn't be here, but Sir Ajal managed to pull a few strings so we could meet at least once over the course of your entrainment. ~" Wright looked at Quinn with suspicion, this person had to be the fog cloaked person of the council or were all people in Eschaton weird in their own way? It was the best he could think of with what little details he could gather right now. "Oh, by the way, this is technically your new room; what do you think? You know I invested a lot into getting you and your group the tools necessary to have you all at peak performance at all times. Even though I know you applied to be an esoteric researcher and archivist of the Foundation." Wright grumbled at the epiphany; he was almost certain this person was the one Ajal was unfortunately familiar with. He could definitely see why Ajal didn't enjoy his or her presence. There was no use moping about it in Wright's eyes, every opportunity, no matter how immediately unpleasant, was one he could turn around; make fulfilling.

Wright sighed before looking at the books that filled the shelves of the room, his room. He expected it to be organized by alphabetic order or genre or any other standard method he knew of; that wasn't the case. It was organized in the same way he tended to organize his books at home, by whatever passion project needed them. Did they get this information from dear beloved? He never heard from her that people came into his room when he was gone; nobody asked about such intimate details either. This definitely wasn't his old room, it was more dilapidated, even if nobody outside himself could tell. It held air that chilled the bone, anyone not accustomed to it could tell. "Guess that my writing is special for this place to look like this in particular? I'd appreciate a bit more... you know, detail maybe?" He cracked his stiff neck as he slowly sat up. He heard a soft chuckle come out from under the mask, followed by Quinn slumping forward. Resting head on a pedestal of hands. "You're completely right, mon ami. Sorry if we couldn't get everything organized how you'd like but we tried our best. There had to be some readjustments to keep this place safe from prying eyes while maximizing the chances of an empowered item's creation among other things." Wright couldn't help but hum as an eyebrow rose, something that seemed to completely slip the notice of the official as he walked off. "... Are... you not going to explain what that means?" "Hm?... OH, that Hunter must have jumped into the training without explaining anything." The sarcasm was palpable. What plan would require information to be so controlled? He was completely left out in his eyes, probably for good reason but who knew. "Ok, how to go about this... Some call them magic items but that isn't right... think of them as items that present one or multiple concepts in a more pronounced fashion. They are hard to make without being done by hand, but it is possible for them to be randomly made even without the circumstances matching. We tend to confiscate them when that happens which can be... fun to deal with." Sounds a lot like magic to me. Wright looked around, immediately understanding that he was brought into this pre-determined, unprompted promotion over something related to creating them. He at least felt a little better from the prospect that he was immediately deemed valuable to the Foundation... or at least Quinn. He then turned to the walls, the room itself, wondering if the air was involved in all this. "Well, since you're probably going to be educated here while you recover; I'll just go ahead and get you up to speed a bit. Empowered Items for now are divided into different categories based on the readings of esoteric energy and how they are formed. There are the ones made after the event of 2012, called Neoteric Containers by Foundation researchers while those before that time are Archaic Retainers. There's those that have successfully been made by using those objects or by a collection of esoterically charged materials called Collective Constructs." Wright sat there, still, dumbfounded by the exposition dump. He knows some weird stuff has been happening since that day that changed everything, but this was a bit much to grasp, how did they realize this much after only five years? Something was off, he just felt it.

"... so the book Sybil has is probably a... Neo-whatever Container: is the gun that Hunter guy had an Archaic... Retainer? What's even the difference between them all?" Quinn hummed with a tinge of amusement before leaning on a shelf close to Wright. Hand moving to a concealed area under the cloak, Quinn pulled out an electronic tablet, sifting through it for something soon after. "Hmm, you are half right, mon ami. Sybil's book appears to fit that, what our Hunter has is the last option I'm afraid. The Foundation seems to use other Empowered Items to judge that, with a certain margin of error, of course. They looked upon the empowered Lee-Enfield model rifle to find its components were what were esoterically charged, holding multiple different phenomena rather than the entirety of the gun with one alone. According to the file, it was used in Mons, Belgium and later kept by a collector who used it accidentally while showing it to guests February of 2013 and it was brought in soon after. Due to our clauses, I can provide no farther details on the individual or the place of said person." Wright stared blankly at the mask Quinn wore as the thoughts organized themselves within his mind, he reminisced on the mock fight Hunter and Rabble Alpha did. There were angels, ghost bows, knights of light; he wondered if there was a connection between them all. He probably needed to look into it later, he had to admit to himself, this was more exciting than being given all the details and being left to sort them or speculate with people, write it down and call it a day. He knew it probably wouldn't be paid for him to find the reason for particular occurrences after all, it would take time that could be spent elsewhere.

".... So back to my question.... what's the difference between them all? I know the stuff you said earlier is kind of self-explanatory but is it expressing just that it is made before or after that day and how its influenced, or something more?" Wright tapped his thigh as he wondered if he asked a stupid question or not, it didn't sound dumb to him at least; it was probably dumb to someone who's been around here often. Quinn didn't mind luckily; in fact, they seemed a bit pleased to receive a question related to the nuances of these unusual objects. They pulled out a loupe and four small items: a matchbox with a redacted brand and a noted date of 2015, a tea pot with golden lacquer-filled cracks, a worn comb and modern wristwatch marked with serial 602204 with all hints of its brand scratched out thoroughly. Quinn made sure Wright saw every inch of them all, nothing was immediately off but then they had him look through the glass. It wasn't quite obvious at first but then Wright's eyes adjusted, starting to see faint to bright glows in either the whole object or only specific parts. "Go ahead, test them. I'll make nothing goes wrong," Quinn assured. Wright was hesitant before looking to the bowl and lifting it up, the bowl held a special glow on certain pieces and the lacquer itself. He took a moment to think before internally concluding what it was and handing it to Quinn.

A mischievous chuckle came out before the hooded individual grabbed a chisel from their person and cracking the pot apart with a swift slam. The pieces fell with a clack on the laminated wood flooring, bouncing before stopping and going back to the teapot, following the exact path they took to the ground and sealing with more of the same golden lining as the cracks had prior. The whole event was an unusual thing for Wright, his mouth left agape as it attempted to compute what this was exactly; he could understand the process, but he didn't recognize such an event as something he's heard of in this particular manner. He researched several stories, but this didn't quite match any of them. Quinn clearly relished in such a state being present in Wright, maybe just in everyone who was unsure of what was occurring; the slight snicker that came out the mask was evidence of it. Wright frowned before returning to the remainder of the objects, specifically the matchbox. His vision bent within the loupe as the whole box lit with a glow that felt reassuring, bliss condensed into its exterior. The matches within were nothing more than regular matches however, in fact they seemed almost as though they came from elsewhere.

The two glanced at each other, before Wright continued on with his testing. He was told that he would be protected from anything bad, so there was technically nothing to worry about. Wright took a match before turning the box to its abrasive, metallic side and taking a second to create a flame. He gazed at it, waiting in anticipation for the results of his actions. He seemed to receive nothing, nothing grand at least, until Quinn got him to focus on it with a push to keep his head still. Focusing was the key; he began to see what this particular object did. Dreams, desires, a wish found within each flame formed with it. It felt cold, distant even. A minute had past, then two, then more until Quinn took away the box. Wright then realized what had started happening, he was burning match after match without realizing it; he was experiencing an illusionary addiction to all the things he wished for but couldn't have. There were ten matches left. How many desires did he go through out of all the ones he held? How many were ones he didn't mind others seeing? How many were the opposite? "Way to almost end up like the little girl of Han's story, good thing I'm here...." Quinn seemed less enthusiastic; they made sure Wright wouldn't get his hands on these again that was certain. The gaze they had on him was a bit more unsteady than before, Wright's mind took time before remembering and kept silent on the matter. There was no reason to bring up things that didn't need to be said, especially of a nature even some adults really wish to speak of.

The two sat there before Wright reflected on the comment prior to the void of conversation; it was better to focus on that rather than what actually happened. He sighed before clearing himself of the awkward lump in his throat, "I was going to end up like the little girl who sold matches in the story, or are you just teasing me by saying my reality being similar?" He adjusted his shirt collar as he waited. "Eh... maybe a bit of both. The Neoteric Container you just used, The Fuel of Indulgence as the Theosophical Society calls it, is a tool often used as a memetic torture device by Eschaton. It burns and releases the target's desires out in a way that is pleasureful. Used too much will lead to the one focusing on it to lose their will to exist in anything short of an idyllic reality, to the point of insanity or death unless stopped before the damage is irreversible. It's a drug to people without any literal side-effects, it draws them into nothing but pure bliss.... probably should have taken it away sooner," For a moment, in those last words, a hint of guilty pleasure could be heard from behind the old man mask. They both quickly shook it off before they returned to the teapot that was getting filled with water before they both began focusing on the matches. "What were you going to do? Make tea to enjoy?" Wright used that as a segway out of this situation, such a comment made Quinn look back at their hand. "Ah, I mean... you're not completely wrong. I was getting it ready to show its additional functions as a Collective Construct." He didn't quite expect that, but it was fitting, you do drink tea from a teapot after all. A Collective Construct probably had more than one function, but they all had to be related to whatever makes sense... hopefully.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Not long after contemplation, Wright looked back to the remaining two objects: the comb and the wristwatch. He already had witnessed a fairly safe and slightly dangerous empowered item; he worried about what these seemingly innocent tools might have in store. He looked back at the loupe before picking out the wristwatch from the corner of his eye. "So... why is the brand and everything gone? Is it some privacy clause too?" Wright looked through the glass as he spoke, looking at every nook and cranny of the watch to see what parts were special. "Oh... no. The reason is simple. Risk. Objects found on display in museums were found to be the most likely to become empowered, we can't be sure but that might mean awareness and association with mysticism might lead to a higher chance of being tied to esoteric phenomena. Now imagine if an entire company was associated with creating such things. We can't let it be a risk until we know how this works. luckily for us we know, at least outside Archaic Retainers, it's impossible for an item to manifest phenomena after being made if they are made before that... special... day," Quinn spoke with a hint of enthusiasm returning to them. The enigmatic individual was idly adding tea leaves and water before turning away completely. Wright simply hummed as his brow furrowed and his face showed its concern. There were a lot of things that could go wrong, probably will go wrong. The memory of the first winter solstice of the "New Era" ran through his grim thoughts momentarily; he didn't even know why it happened, but one thing was for sure, a lot of survivors were lucky not to see that furry behemoth that took a lot of lives firsthand. He didn't even want to think the other shit that happened after that, so many things went wrong until the Foundation started helping out.

Wright forced the unpleasant thoughts out of his head, he was good with that at least. He had his opportunity to help now, he had to focus on this internship business. He put the loupe closer to his eye, the minute hand and the plate it sat on; he felt there had to be more, so he attempted to open it gently. A pop of the back later and there he gazed at still cogs, the batteries having been long since removed for safety reasons. The cogs and mechanisms sparkling slightly as though covered in glitter randomly, a bit different from the previously seen objects. They must have been dormant ones or something if they didn't have much power individually, his years of Holme readings made his thoughts go to an incomplete conclusion, one he knew he couldn't say aloud. He opted for an alternative. "Do you mind if I look at this on my spare time? I won't use if you guys don't want me to, but I do want to know a bit more. It's amazing how even machines can hold these powers, do most know about these being possible?" Quinn turned in surprise at such a request, they readjusted their mask before chuckling and waving a hand. "It'll be alright, such a Collective Construct should work in your favor actually; Learn as much as you can. I'll help and make sure you'll have nothing to worry about," Quinn remarked. The words said were odd, as if to tempt, Wright didn't mind though. He wrapped it around his wrist and secured it before pulling on the dial and seeing if it would do something like allow him to look back at memories without needing to actually worry about misremembering, maybe more, that gun Hunter had was pretty interesting though he doubted a watch could perform the same or even similar abilities.

He started by thinking about the conversation they've been having for a while now, all the while turning the dial in which he lost sight of the now and instant saw the past like he had a video. He looked at himself, shadowy and incorporeal outside the wristwatch. His voice and all he saw moments ago forming as they were down to the finest detail. It really was like he was watching footage with the watch he had allowing him to see in whatever speed he wished or as a freeze frame. He played with it, tested it before habitually scratching where his nose would be and returning to real time in an instant. It seemed the moment his fingers were away for a moment, it stopped. "Oh, look who's out of their own head." Quinn joked before providing tea, traditional looking, dark with dried petals, though it gave off a feeling that made it seem like something more important than just tea. Wright took it gently and stared at the drink. Quinn then put the loupe that sat on Wright's lap and put its magnifying glass in front of his right eye, resulting in him seeing the same specks as the gears of the watch on them albeit with cascading colors than a monochromatic set and occasionally sending lines of white to close ones at random. Wright alternated between looking at the robed companion beside him and the cup's shimmering beverage; he was hired even if he was still technically an intern so there wouldn't be any reason to believe in the potential of anything bad coming from a hopefully tested tool. He lightly moved Quinn's arm, noticing slightly how soft their skin was outside certain spots that felt as though calluses had developed from at least some form of labor. He couldn't tell what skin color it was or even the finer details, even now but at least there were ways to figure out who was really behind the mask that just weren't immediately clear. He then focused back on the tea, its reddish tint being all he could see in it now, he couldn't get what he saw out of his head, his mind spiraling as a result until he closed his eyes and prayed that he wasn't taking a leap of faith and letting his tongue meet the tea which was just short of scalding.

He tasted nothing special, but his body felt something hidden within repairing as his mind calmed more than even his own preferred type of tea. He felt lighter and full in a way he couldn't describe. He kept drinking, trying to understand what exactly was going on. There was always the likelihood that it involved whatever constituted Qi nowadays thanks to all the craziness of these times or maybe some soul or chakra stuff. He rarely looked into the medicinal aspects involving any of those, all he knew about these things was from the grapevine. He probably wasn't going to the chance to use something like this tea on the regular though anyway, the watch he was gifted though, he definitely needed to work on figuring out what it could do. He finished his cup with time, silently nodding in approval, a starkly different reaction from what he wished to do thanks to a habit that was hammered into his skull well before 2012. It wasn't like it mattered, but this was something Wright enjoyed enough to wish to praise it with a modicum of enthusiasm at least. He knew it would take a while be free of the habits, especially ones he built for the sake of familial demands.

"This is hibiscus tea; any particular reason why you chose this?" Wright extended his hand to return the teacup to Quinn as he spoke, the latter pouring another instead so he could drink more. "Well, it helps in restoring the flow of qi; I'm sure I don't have to explain what such a thing is, yes? Tea made within this pot hold the ability to enhance the overall healing process, far more than your average tea at least, and cure individuals of toxic effects be they natural or not. It's a rather interesting and convenient tool for assaults from supernatural entities without needing to solely rely on medical professionals. I hope you don't hate tea, if you do, please do bear with it until you're back on your feet fully." Wright could only look in amazement at the tea in response, he looked at the bandages wrapped along his torso, wondering how true those claims were and how likely it was that he'd be in this room thanks to this miraculous treatment method.

He drank his tea with an eager smile, before looking at himself once more. He was in the standard gown worn by patients, but where was his stuff? He could replace them, but he would be set back quite a lot without everything. Money, personal credentials, and phone were easier to replace than ever before; the personal writings in his booklet however, that was more problematic. He looked around, eyes wide as they scanned the room for any hints as to where his belonging were. The dull colors were not aiding him, he ultimately had to turn to his "friend" and put on a good face. "Hey mind helping me out a little more? I know you've been guide me through this whole Empowered Item stuff, which I appreciate a lot, but honestly, I'm kinda struggling to remember all this. I can't even begin to piece all these things together or make my own conclusions. Could you... help me get a pen and my notebook? It should be in my uniform's breast pocket." Wright didn't hide a hint of the truth, but he knew how well buttering up to a higher-up tended to go. The execution of any action was key in any situation. He held a slightly quivering smile, a perfect showcase of either embarrassment or worry. Quinn looked at him blankly, a blink of realization later and the cloaked individual made a squeak before getting up and going through their pockets and getting out the booklet Wright was referring to. "████████ Denkprozesse für Geschichten" was what should have been on the front though it was obvious to him his name was removed entirely with a forgery title in his handwriting. It was now "Cogitatus processus fabulas" at least he could tell from learning Latin that it was close to what it originally said. He got it and sifted through its pages, only his name and its title were removed thankfully. He didn't have much to worry about, he even got his wallet and everything back as well albeit with fake IDs and accounts now instead of his real ones; he just hoped they were somewhere safe even if outside his hands and largely worthless to him now. He even got a free boost in his phone's security.

Wright looked back to Quinn before receiving a pen with a lost brand, he switched between gazing at the two before attempting to write on blank paper what he had heard before and his understanding of everything. He felt a buzz in his mind with every letter he wrote, as if static was within it, he continued on until he was done a few minutes later. The words were hardly legible though, they projected off the page as he focused before rearranging properly in his mind. "Wha- is this some sort of auto-cipher pen? I get that you know, information flow is strict but really?" Wright gripped his head as he looked at his new pen before looking at Quinn halfway through his words; Quinn was more amused than sympathetic when it came to his annoyance on the matter though. "Look mon ami, I get it but how about I give a little bonus. I'll teach you something to make your role in the team a little more versatile, Numerology with that pen works regardless of if anyone can read it, I'll even teach you to control it so it'll be easy for your allies to read them without your help," Quinn bargained. Wright looked at Quinn with confusion, unsure as to how helpful that would be. He only knew it as a form of divination from hearsay and quick readings on the matter, it wasn't anything special, but he could use all the help he could get in this new world he was entering.

He contemplated on it for a bit before extending an open hand slightly. Then a thought came along, one that wasn't guaranteed to work out, but it was worth asking about. "Could you perhaps get me a second Empowered Item to help with the whole thing? Not one as special as this watch, but one that can act like a small assistant. A living toy or something like that, one that would be able to be turned off if someone got their hands on it.... hope that's alright," Wright chuckled with a hint of anxiety showing, he barely knew how these trinkets worked much less how you even make them; yet he still tried his luck. Quinn didn't even reply, but he could tell from the eyes just behind the mask that Quinn was eerily pleased about the request as if eagerly anticipating it. They reached out their hands to meet, a consensus being made within that moment. "I look forward to the future successes your team shall be having. I'll see if I can get what you're asking for in a timely fashion. Lucky you, huh?... Oh, I'll be sure to set a schedule for your lessons and I'll tell your squad that you're mostly alright and free to visit occasionally." Wright was honestly astonished with how easy this was going; sure he was talking to a higher up but this was beyond lenient compared to his other job. He wondered if the isolation from their past lives lead to employees here developing a form of compassion due to longing for good human interaction, he stuck to that rather than considering the alternatives. The idea of being well-known was something that was terrifying with enough thought, especially to him, but helping people was still a good thing and something that many people wish for to some extent.

Wright and Quinn nodded to one another, one resolute to this profession in this Age of Mysticism and the other, eager to see how fate shall treat them. The two started where they needed to: the basics. The first of which being the dealings in phenomena that even the common man could see. The potential for superstition, from documented past and oral rumors to modern times, to cause entities and timed supernatural events to occur. The research on the limitations of these events, the isolation of them slowly withering way as more grow wary of them, buildings deemed haunted manifesting the spirits that wander in, into reality. The extraordinarily rare cases of women birthing beings not precisely human but, in most cases, not beings deemed to be completely inhuman. It was a treasure trove of information, hard to understand but able to evoke many things for Wright, he almost wished they weren't suppressed be the collective efforts of government and the very Foundation he now associated himself with. He barely even registered when exhaustion kicked in; he didn't even get his chance to see what would come of the comb he was permitted to inspect by Quinn.