There was no time for introspection as white-hot anger pierced through my soul.

The chair screeched behind me as I stood, fists balled. “You can’t,” I growled.

Partridge raised his hands. “Calm down, Eric.” He gestured for me to sit.

And, I did calm. I did sit. Not because the idea was no longer infuriating and incomprehensible, but because he had said it calmly, without swearing. He understood my outburst, probably even planned for it - for me to do worse than raise my voice. I would allow them an explanation before I burned the building to dust. Apparently, I had that power now.

Rodney was wide-eyed and even further panicked, now looking between me and them. Unsure of what was being asked of him or what the ramifications would be. Wight was impassive but had narrowed his eyes slightly, his feathered arms coming to be crossed.

I seethed and boiled.

“Not a combat patron, just so we are clear.” Partridge was still calm, his voice measured but stern.

In truth, I didn’t know there were any other kinds. My skepticism remained, but the raging inferno threatening to erupt cooled slightly. There was no way I would allow Rodney to follow my path. It was bad enough that he had to see what I got up to.

The Director moved some folders around. “Also to note, we are not forcing this on you. It is a condition of any further Promotion - but we are not going to tie you down and bind you to something that you aren’t agreeable to.” She shot a wry grin towards Wight. “They can be a handful, but we will send you the necessary details later.”

There would be a later. Nice to know that was my first thought - we wouldn’t be sent home with our remains in a bucket.

“As for you two jerk-offs, we are allowing your Level Six Promotion. Frankly, we would have liked to break your balls over the Pig King thing for longer, but if you just cracked an Arcranium, then we’re obviously not utilizing you fully.” Partridge stopped and took a deep breath, glancing over to the Director, who returned a brief nod.

“Likewise, your next Level will be fast-tracked. We have a few Quests to make sure you’re not bullshitting us - but if you can handle them, then we’ll go from there.”

I nodded. Wondered what I could get from Wight now. Wondered when I could blaze Hell’s fury through the Org. Wondered if pancakes for dinner were odd.

[What about the Gunther and the Watcher?]

Partridge narrowed his eyes as he looked at my patron. Even though our meetings had become a little more cordial as of late, there was no love there for Wight. Contempt was easy to read across him, and I surmised that may just be because he hated demons. Despite how close the demon and I were, he was still a demon at the end of the day. At least partly one. There was something going on that made little sense.

“If we find that he has gone rogue…” the Director began, tapping her fingernails on the desk. “We will punish him appropriately.”

Partridge picked up the rest of the notice. “If he tries anything on you again, you have our blessing to kill him outright.”

I was slightly shocked at this frank admission. Both Rodney and Wight seemed to be a little taken aback. It stood to reason I would be able to defend myself - that was what we had done at the temple, and the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet between Gunther’s eyes was his distance and unknown position. That they seemed to be taking my side was…

Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly my side. I had started to glean the manner in which the Organization worked. Did they care if either of us died? To a degree, no. They cared that the stronger one survived. They didn’t want weak Hunters - even if our numbers had begun to thin. It seemed short-sighted, and I’d need thicker glasses to see the detailed picture.

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[But will you release his patron to him?]

Partridge again furrowed his brow and looked tired of talking to the odd bird demon. “For now, yes. We need boots on the ground - and he has been a dependable Hunter until now. Unless there is any reason you feel he might want to kill you?” He opened up his palms as if expecting me to lay a log of truth upon them.

I shook my head and worked my jaw.

The Director continued to glare at me. “You are dismissed, Mr Blackburn.”

Rodney shuffled up to his feet and gave a bow to them, too rigid with panic to vocalize anything. He scooted towards the door with a brief glance towards me, and with a little awkward fiddling with the door, he was gone.

“Something on your mind, Eric? You can talk to us.” The calm voice of Partridge scratched at my soul. But not in a nice way, like reaching that spot on your back - more of an awkward way that made me want to gag.

I hung my head and shook it. He was fishing, and I didn’t care for the bait. I was thankful I didn’t have corruption swimming around me, and they should be, too. They probably liked not having Hell Cannon shaped holes in them.

There were a few things they probably wanted to know - like had I killed Pearl. Assuming the Watcher didn’t blab about anything he saw, they probably wouldn’t have an idea - but at least they knew I was still alive and functional. I doubted they had a clue about Rat God or my new abilities.

The silence stretched out as they didn’t seem content with no answer. With a sigh, I relented. “Things have just been odd lately; a lot of things are out of my control.”

“Do you need rest?” A surprising question from the Director.

I shook my head. “No. I am fine. You expect me to be more than a brawler; I just seem to always want to... kill.”

In addition to my rather morose expression, I had hoped that would paint the picture that I had done the deed. The murder one.

The Director sighed, and when I looked up at them, I was surprised to see a smile across her face. “There is an advantage in being able to defend yourself against difficult odds. For all the rough wilderness the Lowers are, there is still violence in the Mids. But you need balance.”

My right eye twitched at the word, but they didn’t seem to notice.

Partridge had also calmed. “The outskirts of the Mids are much like the Lowers, only twice as fucked. You’ll cut your teeth on the garbage there until we can trust you not to get yourself murdered.”

I nodded. Killing demons sounded fun. As much as I wanted to ascend from my role of mass murderer, there was something about the drabness of talking and making deals and schemes with demons that just didn’t sit right. Maybe I had the wrong end of the stick - I honestly didn’t know much about the Mids other than the brief parts Pearl had told me about.

“Send me the next Quest soon, though, yeah?” I fidgeted in my chair to seem like a good boy who just wanted to do his duty.

“Sure, Eric. Later today, we’ll get it over to the Blank.” Partridge grinned, but there wasn’t much humor in the look. I wondered how much I could trust him still.

The Director steepled her fingers and glared at me with those amber eyes. “Anything else you would like to discuss, Mr Redd? Before we send you away.”

Away sounded nice. They were prodding to see if any fish lay at the bottom of the stream still. Did they know anything? If they did, then they’d want to see if I were being honest with them. I had the feeling I was being manipulated, that they were just massaging at my mind, expecting something shiny to displace.

“No, Director.” I politely nodded.

Partridge clucked his tongue. “Keep your nose clean, Eric. If you’re going to dick around, make sure it’s not something more than you could handle. We aren’t going to hold your hand - just don’t get an ego.”

Moi? An ego? I wasn’t too sure at first if he was referring to my relations with Pearl - or presumably the next demon they imagined I would fall for, then murder. More likely, they meant with taking on personal missions to disrupt weird temples and the like.

“Also,” he wagged a finger at me, “if your little demon gang causes us problems, you’ll be responsible for killing them off.”

I nodded. That was fair - they were demons, after all, and not that powerful. Just because they bore my name and did deeds at my command, it didn’t mean I was a god to them and had developed a little soft spot for their continued existence. Not yet, anyway. Eric the Befriender was fast becoming a socialite in the Lowers - but my dining table was only so large.

“Off with you then, Mr Redd. We expect confirmation later from yourselves in regards to your Promotion, Quest, and Mr Blackburn’s decision on our offer.”

My right eye twitched again, but I stood and bowed. “Director. Sir.” I turned on my heels and made a march straight towards the door, which couldn't have felt further away if it had tried. Wight hobbled after me, confused by the social graces expected. I half expected them to stop me, bring up one of my supposedly closely kept secrets, or labor me with another trouble - but I escaped unaccosted.

I clicked the door shut behind us and slumped against it as Wight walked ahead and exhaled my full lungs of air. Rodney was standing in the hallway, looking like he had turned halfway into a sweat golem.

“Home?” I said, my voice coming out as a whisper.

“Please.”