"Is he your Partner, Grace? The one who took my room?" The tall man's deep tone matched his deadpan stare as he inquired.
"Michael, this is Matteo. He used to occupy your room," Grace replied, her voice steady.
"They moved me to the 11th Floor, room 11-02-03B. It's yours now. Get your stuff out of MY room, now. I'll be cordial and take care of notifying Housing," Matteo's tone brooked no argument as he loomed over Michael.
"I don't know what high school you skipped, but this is not it, Matteo," Grace retorted sharply.
"Nor do I need the cute cheerleader to protect me," Michael snapped, grabbing Grace's shoulder.
The interaction drew the attention of the few early breakfast diners in the room. However, none seemed invested enough to intervene or prevent the situation from escalating.
"The room is mine," Michael stated plainly, his voice firm.
He wasn't particularly angry; the influence of the Demonic Contract or String didn't seem to weigh heavily on him. Instead, he was afraid of backing off, knowing he couldn't afford to do so if he wanted to live up to David's conditions. He also sensed Matteo's Magick, the taller man intentionally projecting it to pressure him. It stirred String in his chest, both the level of Magick and the animosity, but in excitement, which further boosted his confidence to stand up for himself. Additionally, he estimated Matteo had fewer Magick Ions than him.
Matteo pressed his lips at Michael's defiance, seemingly unused to it. The staring contact was abruptly cut by a delivery robot that rolled with Michael and Grace's orders on its three-layered trays.
"Are you going to watch us eat?" Grace asked Matteo, her tone tinged with defiance.
"Don't be cheeky with me, girl," Matteo replied sharply. "You got into HQ first, but I've been an Agent longer than you. I know what it means for the new guy to get my room. Department Manager Tamara wants to kill two birds with one stone... I can play along, just remember who to blame when your Partner is bedridden!"
Turning around, Matteo left the dining room, his departure marking a tense atmosphere behind him.
"He may look like a walking cliché, Michael, but I assure you he's not," Grace murmured in a low voice as Matteo exited. "He's right that you received his room as one of the tests Department Manager Tamara has for you."
"I figured as much the first time you warned me," Michael replied, his tone calm despite the underlying tension.
Michael's breakfast was light, having snacked on the plane ride to HQ. It consisted of scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, and four slices of toast with four spreads on the side. For drinks, he and Grace shared a pitcher of orange juice.
"I'm okay with it. In fact, I hope she'll put even more pressure on me, however she can," Michael remarked. It wasn't that he believed pressure or struggle equaled results, but in the stories he'd read, as long as the main character didn't succumb, they emerged stronger.
'Maybe it's a ridiculous way to go about becoming stronger. I'll stick to it until I know better. At any rate, Department Manager Tamara should know better, so I'll also count on her.'
Savoring the first bite of omelet, Michael selected a slice of toast and spread hazelnut on it. "What I don't understand is what Matteo meant by 'kill two birds with one stone'. How and for what is he being tested?"
"If he didn't interrupt us, I would've gotten to it," Grace replied, spearing a strip of bacon and a spoonful of scrambled egg with fried onion. "Floors 51 to 100…" She washed down the bite with a sip of orange juice. "The 100th is the lowest floor of HQ. That's where the training program officially starts. It's also where the Bureau locks up criminals of Magickal-related crimes."
"Seriously?" Michael raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I know how it sounds. I'm not making it up, either. It's… a different place down there. Floors 51 to 100 are more like a labyrinth, like a small world… I have no idea how the Bureau built it. My guess is with technology outside our Material Dimension."
"Don't tell me… Matteo is a former criminal turned Agent?" Michael interjected, his tone tinged with intrigue.
"His file is sealed, at least to my level of clearance. I've only heard that he's good with his hands and most likely focuses on his Mentality. But given that he has yet to undergo the First Metamorphosis, this could be a facade to throw off others," Grace explained, her tone tinged with speculation.
'This explains the bunker for a daycare…' Michael thought to himself, connecting the dots.
"Remember when I told you it's fine to talk about 'DC' with certain people in HQ, but it can become an issue with Branch personnel?" Grace continued.
"Yes," Michael replied, already sensing where she was headed. He allowed her to lead the conversation.
"Criminals who were deemed to have the potential to be assets to the Bureau have a chance to exchange their imprisonment for service time. The Bureau binds them to a certain agreement, and if they pass the training program, they are treated as regular Agents and sent to the Branches."
"What about those who fail the training program?"
"Unless the training program doesn't kill them and they simply fail to complete its requirements, the Bureau deals with them without discussing it with low-clearance people like us, so I can't answer that," Grace explained matter-of-factly.
"What's Matteo doing at HQ-" Michael's question was cut short as his phone vibrated, indicating a new message.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Grace leaned over to read it as though she had been anticipating the interruption. "What? I'm your Partner," she remarked with a hint of curiosity.
Michael shook his head at her behavior and opened the Contacts application on his phone, ready to address the incoming message.
\\\
Contacts
* HQ Announcement: New Message 1: »
Agent Michael Mir (MM2Y0GP-DCA1-HQRM), you have been challenged for a Discourse. Your opponent, Matteo Salivan (MS-31TPG-40-KS7-HQRM), will be waiting for you at Arena at 09:00, 06.09.2023.
* Subject of Discourse: Residence displacement.
* Conclusion: Winner may pick between residence 11-02-03B and residence 15-14-27A.
«
///
"A discourse? Is there even a point with my, you know..." Michael trailed off, hesitant to mention specifics. "And where is the Arena?"
"A fight. It won't be a battle to the death, and if you're willing to partake in it, I don't think it will go against the rules," Grace explained calmly. "As for the Arena, it's on the 33rd Floor, Training Ground. Remember the day we met and I was all sweaty? That's where I came from. Not the Arena, but another facility at the Training Ground, as I left my last quarrel in the training program."
Michael tightened his grip around the fork and knife in his hands, feeling a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. Was it the adrenaline or String stirring within him? 'The advantage in Magick Ions won't necessarily cover the gap in experience. Even then, I mustn't back down! I'll do everything I can with my power, without String's help. Should I…'
"What is it?" Grace asked.
"Nothing," Michael replied quickly, his mind racing. 'I can't ask her to teach how to properly fight with Magick. There's not enough time, and if I do manage to learn it fast, like in Berwick, it will raise suspicions about things I might later decide to keep for myself.'
"Anxious?" Grace attempted to read his expression.
"A little," he admitted, masking the turmoil beneath the surface.
"You wanted to learn about Magick Ions. In the training program, the Bureau's method of improving your awareness and establishing your Pool of Magick Ions is to have them beat into you. Nothing like pain to familiarize yourself with a new sensation," Grace explained.
"I thought you weren't allowed to talk about the training program?" Michael raised an eyebrow.
"What I'm saying is, although you're beyond that stage, a good beating would be an eye-opener for a beginner like you. And who knows, depending on how you'll fare, our next mission could be mid Rank 0," Grace suggested, hinting at the potential outcomes.
The prospects of earning his first Merit Points encouraged Michael, injecting a newfound determination into his demeanor.
"Do you still want to talk about Metamorphosis, or should we save it for later?" Grace inquired, picking at her food.
"Later," Michael replied, hastening his eating pace. "I want to sort out a few things before the fight."
"Then I won't disturb you," Grace responded, focusing on her plate. "By the way, did you call me cute?" she teased, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"Did you tell me how many Magick Ions you have?" Michael deflected, changing the subject.
The rest of the meal passed in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
...
The 33rd Floor, Training Ground.
As Michael followed Grace out of the elevator, clad in his MMB's workout clothes, he was met by a vast gymnasium equipped with a multitude of fitness gear and equipment. Some of the apparatuses were unfamiliar to him, and he couldn't fathom how to operate them. There were rings for sparring, private rooms for experimentation, and at the very center, the round Arena stood imposingly.
It was five minutes to nine, and the Training Ground buzzed with activity, bustling with over a hundred people. The youngest appeared to be eighteen years old, while the oldest looked to be in his sixties. Michael quickly gathered that some Agents had their families moved to HQ, hence the existence of the bunker daycare. Grace didn't elaborate much on the subject, merely stating that their circumstances were not normal and "they're not for you to be concerned about, just as much as you're not a concern to them".
"Is this the Arena?" Michael correctly identified the oversized ring. "What's the control console for?"
"Yes, and the control console is used to set a timer, adjust the environment, determine whether it's private or public, and set the level of survival difficulty. It's the same for all rings and some of the equipment," Grace gestured toward the console.
An elevator opened behind them, and two men emerged: Matteo in his workout attire and another Agent dressed in a suit.
"Agent Mir?" The man adjusted his glasses, revealing a bald, slightly chubby figure with a gruesome scar encircling his neck, a stark contrast to the rest of his paper-pusher appearance. Michael nodded in acknowledgment.
"Very good. I'm Agent Dori Barnevich from the Housing Department. I'm here to facilitate the results of yours and Agent Salivan's Discourse. Are you ready?" Agent Barnevich probed, his tone businesslike.
"I am," Michael confirmed with determination.
"Please follow me," Agent Barnevich instructed, leading the way to the control console of the Arena to adjust its settings.
"Don't they get a say?" Grace interjected, her concern evident.
"I'm setting the Arena to basic difficulty. No special environment, just expanding it a little. That's to avoid playing favorites, Agent," Dori clarified, his tone firm but fair.
Grace nodded, pulling back, satisfied yet not displaying it openly. An environment with the least obstacles was the best she could hope for her inexperienced Partner.
"It's ready. You may enter the Arena," Agent Barnevich declared, signaling the readiness of the stage.
"Give him hell, Michael!" Grace cheered, her encouragement ringing out as the activation of the Arena gradually captured the attention of those nearby.
Matteo entered the Arena first. The moment he crossed the ropes, his figure was swallowed by a red cloud. A second later, a projection materialized above the Arena, marking the commencement of the challenge.
"Questions for after the fight," Grace urged Michael, her voice focused.
Michael steeled himself. 'I have to prove to the Bureau, Department Manager Tamara, Director Strange, and Grace that I'm not all talk!' With resolve, he entered the Arena, to be enveloped by a swirling blue cloud.
Emerging from the blue haze, Michael found himself inside the Arena, the Training Ground stretching out before him. However, the stage was wider, with a radius of roughly a hundred meters. Beyond the Arena, the gymnasium lay empty, the silence palpable.
"Done looking foolishly?" Matteo's voice broke the stillness, cutting through the tension.
"Just find it weird, but I'm getting used to the occurrence with each passing day," Michael replied, his gaze shifting to where Matteo stood, eighty meters away.
"One last chance, boy. Surrender and spare yourself the pain. I don't believe you're stupid. You know that this is a set up for both of us. Prove to those testing you that you can discern between what is wise and what is wrong," Matteo challenged, his tone carrying a hint of warning.
"That's the problem," Michael responded, spreading his arms in a gesture of resignation. "Frankly, since the room was yours first, if this wasn't a test, I'd have given it back without a fuss. But because it is a test, because it's going to be painful, what seems like a wise choice in my eyes is wrong in yours."
As Grace had taught him, Michael ensured his Physique and Psyche were in sync. A sense of empowerment and a new kind of balance filled him, giving rise to a rush that stimulated String within him.
'No. This is my fight, so don't do anything!' For the first time, his manner of speaking toward String didn't attempt to sound friendly. 'I don't have experience fighting from before other than with my siblings. I've been beaten up more in my life than I've won, but this moment is mine!'
With determination, Michael kicked the Arena's stage and charged at Matteo. This choice wasn't just about attacking first; it also laid the groundwork for the perceived trend of his Magick Ions division and future development.
Let the world think he was the brute type who fought with his Physique. When his enemies least expected it, he would unleash his superior Psyche. And if that still wasn't enough, he would finish them all with Symbiosis (ON).