Leo slumped onto the worn couch, hands resting on his head, his mind spinning with everything he’d just faced. Going back to the forest, despite the lurking fiends, started to seem like a better option than staying in the city as a wanted monster. The Cleaners were more prepared than he’d thought—tactically trained and coordinated. He’d only managed to survive because he knew the layout of the warehouse, and these were low-ranking Cleaners in the Malkuth squad. If they decided to send a stronger team, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

He shifted, glancing at his friends across the room. Richard and Kelly were side by side, and he noticed the subtle warmth between them—the way they leaned into each other a little too easily, and shared glances they thought he wouldn’t catch. Maybe something had grown there, he thought, a small pang of envy tugging at him.

Richard broke the silence, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “So… what now? Cleaners coming after you like that? Doesn’t sound like it’s gonna get better anytime soon.”

“I don’t know, man,” Leo muttered, frustration heavy in his voice. “Maybe I should have just run for the woods the minute I realized what I’d become. At least then I’d be out of their reach.”

Kelly’s gaze was steady, her voice gentle. “Would it really be safer, Leo? You’re still… you. And you’re not just some mindless fiend. You deserve better than just hiding.”

Leo sighed, and a thought resurfaced—a strange encounter at the SaveMart. He pulled the crumpled business card from his pocket, fingers running over the embossed letters. “There was this guy… Tyler. I met him at the SaveMart. He was—he felt like a fiend, but he looked human. He handed me this card and said… well, he wanted me to reconsider things.”

Kelly reached for the card, eyebrows raised as she studied it. “You’re telling me this guy was a fiend?”

“Yeah, disguised as a human, right there in the middle of a supermarket. He was scouting me, or whatever they call it. The whole thing was off.”

Richard leaned forward, skeptical. “And he just gave you his card? Like some guy recruiting for a job?”

“Yeah. I think they’ve got a website too. It’s on the card.” Leo said. Richard took the card and opened his laptop, typing in the web address.

The website that loaded was deceptively polished. Gram and Doe. The tagline read: “Providing a safer place for you.” The words struck Leo as darkly ironic, given what he knew. Below it was information about the organization, a nonprofit dedicated to helping the poor, homeless, and needy. Underneath that, the site showcased a carefully curated team photo, each person smiling warmly, and dressed in clean, professional attire. There was Tyler, well-groomed in a tie and shirt, and beside him, others with similarly polished appearances, led by a man named Diego Castillo-Cruz. His bio was filled with talk of a “passion for helping the underserved” and “creating community.” Bible verses were sprinkled liberally across the site, each one twisting the knife of discomfort a little deeper.

“They’re running a charity website,” Kelly said, skeptical, as she skimmed the page. “They look like a group of normal, decent people.”

Richard shook his head, disgust and unease clear on his face. “A bunch of fiends posing as humanitarians. And we’d have no clue if you hadn’t met Tyler. God, how many of these people are actually out there?”

An idea took root in Leo’s mind, his eyes narrowing as he thought it over. Maybe… maybe these people could help him. If fiends like Tyler had managed to carve out a space for themselves within the human world, perhaps they’d know ways to evade the Cleaners.

“What if I… reached out to them?” Leo asked slowly, his eyes on the business card. “Maybe they could offer me some kind of safe space. Anything that could buy me time and keep the Cleaners off my back.”

Kelly and Richard exchanged wary glances, uncertainty written on their faces.

As Leo lay on the couch, he tried to push the day’s events from his mind, but his thoughts kept lingering back to his interaction with Tyler. There was a web of fiends living among humans, hiding in plain sight—and Leo was only scratching the surface.

As he left Richard’s place, Leo’s mind was made up. He had to get in touch with this network of fiends and get some sort of help. Leo walked into a scummy alleyway, the rain pouring on his feet. He looked at the business card and dialed the number Tyler had given him, the musical ringtone disturbing the silence. However, the sound echoed, and he could tell that it wasn’t coming from his phone.

It was coming from behind him.

He turned, his breath catching, and found Tyler standing there once again, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“You called,” Tyler murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous edge.

Leo is initially startled but calms himself. “If you can promise me safety from the Cleaners, I’ll join your organization.”

Tyler’s lips curl into an almost apologetic smile. “I’m glad you’ve reconsidered.” He then extends his hand out to Leo. “Take my hand.”

Leo was confused but reached out. The instant they make contact, the world around him warps. Space twists and shifts and the soft pelting of rain melts away as the alleyway twists into a disorienting swirl of shapes and colors, leaving Leo feeling queasy. The environment finally solidifies into a richly furnished room inside a towering skyscraper. The space is both luxurious and subdued, bathed in warm, golden light with a large, polished cross mounted on the wall.

Leo shakes off the lingering dizziness, glancing around. Tyler leans back against a plush sofa, looking slightly winded.

“Nice place,” Leo mutters, though his gaze is wary.

“Welcome to headquarters,” Tyler says with a tired smirk. “Transportation takes a lot out of me, so I’ll be taking a nap. Make yourself at home; they’ll be here shortly.”

With that, Tyler sprawls out on the couch, closing his eyes. Not long after, four figures emerge from an adjoining hallway, moving with an eerie grace. Leo’s eyes narrow as he takes them in—these fiends look almost human, but something’s undeniably… wrong. Their movements are too fluid, their features subtly off. Somewhere between human and fiend, right at the edge of the uncanny valley.

One of the figures stepped forward, flashing a smile that was all teeth. “Welcome, Devourer… or should I say, Leo Winfield? I’m Diego.” He gestured to the others, who gave a brief nod. “These are my fellow executives. Consider us a little… family.”

He began the introductions with a hand on his chest. “Diego Castillo-Cruz, CEO of Gram and Doe.” His smile broadened, his intense gaze somehow both warm and unsettling. “You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.” He met Leo’s bewildered stare and added, “Galatians 5:13. My favorite verse.”

Next, Diego gestured to the man sprawled on the couch, already half-asleep. “You’ve already met Tyler, our recruiter,” he said with a smirk. “Handles new associates.”

Moving on, Diego pointed to a young woman in glasses, her dark, unkempt hair pulled into a loose bun. “Sadie, our tech specialist. She runs the website and gathers intel.” Sadie adjusted her glasses, offering Leo a quick nod.

Diego’s gaze then shifted to a hulking figure with an array of strange facial features, almost as if eyes and mouths had been randomly assembled. “Varghese is our security. Think of him as… insurance.” Varghese crossed his arms, his silent stare intimidating.

Finally, Diego gestured to a striking woman in a stylish blouse and skirt, exuding charm. “Priscilla, our Marketing Director. She’s the face of our organization.” Priscilla’s smile was as warm as it was calculating.

After the introductions, Diego let the silence linger a moment. “Of course, not everyone could be here today. They’re … busy,” he said with a slight smile.

Leo shifted uneasily. “Quite the team… but what exactly do you all do here?”

Diego chuckled. “Did Tyler not fill you in? What am I even paying him for?” He leaned forward, tone dropping to a mock conspiratorial whisper. “We’re simply a nonprofit organization, dedicated to the poor, the homeless, the disadvantaged. Our mission is one of compassion,” he said, then paused, an unreadable smile creeping onto his face. “Or that’s what I’d tell human investors. Gram and Doe is a front. Our actual goal? Creating a world where intelligent fiends like us can thrive.”

Leo swallowed, unsure whether to be intrigued or horrified. “I… want to join,” he said, pushing his concerns aside. “I need a safe place. And protection.”

Diego’s gaze turned piercing. “We can provide what you need, but it’s a two-way street.” He nodded at Priscilla, who handed Leo a leather-bound binder with the contract inside. She held his gaze a moment too long, her eyes flickering with an unsettling intensity.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Here’s how it works,” she began, her voice smooth. “Sign this, and you’re officially an associate. You’ll be required to perform certain duties—‘jobs’ we assign. In return, you’ll get paid in whatever form you choose—cash or … meat.” Her eyes glinted. “But miss too many jobs, and we’ll terminate your contract.” She tapped the word “termination,” bolded and ominous.

Diego leaned in. “In return, you’ll have access to a safe house—off the radar. And no fiends in our network will harm you. Think of it as a membership perk.”

Leo took a deep breath. He’d get protection and a place to stay, but at a cost: his freedom. Without allies, he didn’t stand a chance, and this was his one shot at some semblance of safety.

With a resigned nod, he signed his name.

Priscilla took the contract, and Diego extended his hand, his grip firm and unnaturally warm. “Welcome to the team,” he said with a grin.

“So, you mentioned a job?” Leo asked, not wanting to waste time.

“Given your background, we think you’re suited for infiltration,” Diego said, his smile turning sharp. “We need intelligence from a certain organization—a job your abilities make you ideal for.”

“My background?” Leo frowned. “You mean my invisibility?”

Diego’s grin widened. “That’s useful, but I meant your knack for blending in. Absorbing memories. We’ve done our research, Devourer.”

Leo’s pulse quickened. The name Diego kept calling him gave him a pang of nostalgia for some reason. “How do you know so much about me?”

“Because you've worked with us before. Well... not you, but the other personality before you."

Leo looked dumbfounded, yet curious. "What are you talking about?"

"You’re an anomaly among fiends. Previously, you were known as the Devourer, a rare kind of fiend who consumes not just flesh, but memories and abilities.” Diego’s gaze grew intense. “However, some of these memories were quite... potent. Potent enough to overpower the Devourer and take control of it, creating new personalities. You didn't expect you were the first, did you? There’ve been others, each with their own idiosyncrasies, but not all are as restrained as you.”

Leo’s stomach twisted. “Alright. Who am I spying on?”

Diego’s smile sharpened further. “The Cleaners.”

Leo’s gut clenched. “The Cleaners? You want me to go right back into the hornet’s nest?”

“You signed the contract,” Diego reminded him, unyielding.

Leo felt the weight of his decision. “And if I refuse?”

Diego’s eyes turned icy. “Normally, you’d get a warning, but this is your first task. Termination would be simpler.”

Leo tensed. “And if my contract is terminated?”

Diego’s voice dropped to a chill. “Your ‘freedom’ would be brief. We have associates skilled in tying up loose ends.”

Trapped, Leo forced a nod. “Fine.”

Diego’s expression softened to satisfaction. “Good. You’ll infiltrate the Cleaners, rise through the ranks, and report back. Simple enough.”

Priscilla handed Leo a set of keys. “Your new safehouse,” she said. “A quaint motel in Downtown L.A.”

Leo took them with a grimace. “Charming.”

Tyler, now leaning against the elevator door, offered Leo a lazy wave. “Need anything, give me a call. Try not to screw up; Diego’s watching.”

“Can’t you teleport me to the safe house?” Leo asked.

Tyler shrugged. “Nah. Don’t feel like it.”

With a resigned sigh, Leo stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. As the doors closed, he was left alone in the silence, the weight of his new reality bearing down on him. When the doors slid open, he stepped into the pristine lobby, every polished surface and serene decor a stark contrast to the twisted organization lurking within its walls.

As he steps out of the building, Leo pulls out his phone and dials Richard’s number. It rings a few times before going to voicemail, so he tries Kelly instead.

“Hey, Leo,” Kelly’s voice crackles over the line, warm but cautious. “You alright?”

Leo takes a deep breath, trying to keep his tone steady. “Yeah… sort of. I got myself wrapped up in something. It’s … complicated.”

Kelly’s pause is heavy. “What did you get yourself into this time?”

“Nothing I can just walk away from,” he says, glancing back at the imposing building behind him. “I managed to get a safe house, but there’s a catch—I’m now a double agent for the Cleaners. Honestly, I might’ve been better off taking my chances out in the forest.”

“Can’t you just quit?” Kelly’s voice is hopeful, but Leo can sense the worry underneath.

“If I could, I would. But these guys? They’d come after me if I tried.”

“Oh, Leo…” she murmurs, clearly troubled. “Well, at least you have a safe place to go, right? Where’s this safe house?”

Leo gives her the address of the modest motel in Downtown L.A., though he doubts she’d want to visit. “It’s just a little place. Not exactly the Ritz.”

“Maybe not,” Kelly says, a hint of a smile in her voice. “But if Richard and I are ever nearby, we could stop by.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” Leo hangs up and then catches a late bus toward his safe house.

By the time he arrives, it’s well past midnight, and the streets are nearly empty—exactly the kind of quiet that makes him feel on edge. He heads into the motel room, the faint hum of the city muffled by the thick walls. The room itself is surprisingly well-kept, and a faint, oddly sweet smell lingers in the air, stirring a strange hunger in him.

He checks the bathroom and stumbles upon the source of the smell: the rotting corpse of a woman propped against the tub. Leo stands frozen, a mix of disgust and morbid intrigue washing over him. In the end, his hunger wins out, and he decides to feed on it. Afterward, he carries the body to the dumpster under the cover of night, making sure no one’s around to see.

Feeling both sated and disturbed, he sinks onto the bed, resolving to deal with the Cleaners in the morning. But just as his eyes start to close, there’s a knock at the door.

Leo woke up groggy, the haze of sleep still heavy as he checked the time—3 am. His mind fumbled, wondering who could be knocking at this hour. Peering through the peephole, he spotted two figures outside, both dressed in dark coats. They didn’t look like the usual troublemakers, but something about them felt… off.

He cleared his throat, irritation lacing his voice. “What the hell do you guys want?”

One figure spoke up, flashing what looked like a badge. “We’re with LAPD. We’re here investigating a missing person report. A woman named Angela Giodella was last seen renting this room.”

Angela Giodella—the woman from the bathtub. Priscilla had really saddled him with one hell of a ‘safe’ house. “Never heard of her,” he replied curtly.

The second man stepped forward. “We’d like to take a look around. You mind stepping outside?”

Leo crossed his arms, suspicion rising. “Don’t I have rights or something? It’s three in the morning—just let me sleep.”

The first man lifted a paper, a smug look on his face. “We have a warrant.”

Panic shot through Leo’s veins. He considered his options—could he silence them? No, that’d just bring more trouble. Let them search? The place still had bloodstains; he’d look guilty as hell. Ignore them? Then they’ll break down the door. Run? It’d be a one-way ticket out of the safe house Priscilla had set him up with, but maybe it was worth it. With a resigned sigh, he settled on his choice.

He unlocked the door and opened it, but as soon as he did, the two men sprang into action. Instead of police firearms, they drew strange weapons, unlike anything Leo had seen before. The man with blonde hair wielded a bow crafted from what looked like flesh and bone, its surface covered in eyes that blinked eerily, an arrow ready to launch from the mouth at its center. The other held a weapon resembling a sword, layered and jagged like a spine sharpened into a blade.

It took Leo only a second to realize—these were no cops.

They were Cleaners.

The dark-haired man moved first, his sword arcing toward Leo’s gut with deadly precision, fast enough to catch him off guard. With a quick flick, the weapon activated, ejecting jagged bony blades from its sides, tearing through Leo’s flesh and muscle with a sickening grind. Just then, the blonde Cleaner released an arrow aimed straight at Leo’s head. Leo barely managed to catch it mid-air, snapping it in two.

Gritting his teeth, Leo reached for the sword, attempting to yank the dark-haired man closer to land a blow. But the jagged blades acted like a chainsaw, slicing through Leo’s fingers as the man jerked back. In an instant, the blonde archer loosed another round of arrows. Leo managed to deflect one with his hand, but his wounds were piling up faster than he could regenerate, and these men weren’t giving him a second to recover.

“Code Blue. Beth Gamal Res,” one of them called out, their voices cold and professional. Immediately, they split up, one moving left, the other right. Leo turned invisible and tried to slip away, but his wounds—his guts spilling out, his hands mangled—were slowing him down. It was hard just to stay upright.

Momentarily out of sight, the dark-haired man scanned the area, but the archer had a plan. He launched three arrows into the air in an arcing trajectory, and then they veered sharply, striking down toward Leo from behind. They tore into his back, forcing him out of invisibility. Leo staggered forward, desperately trying to regain his footing, but the swordsman was already on him, swinging from behind. The blade tore through his back, ripping upward with brutal efficiency, slicing him in half.

Leo collapsed, his body a wreck. With half his head split open, he fought to regenerate, but the poison in the arrows was numbing his nerves, paralyzing him, freezing his body in a horrible stillness. He lay helpless, barely able to process his surroundings.

The two Cleaners regrouped, taking in the scene with satisfaction.

“Is that it?” one of them sneered, prodding Leo with his foot. “They’re calling this guy Beta level? He went down like a chump.”

“Don’t get cocky,” the other replied, voice level. “This one took down an entire Malkuth squad solo. He’s dangerous.”

“The Malkuths?” the swordsman laughed. “They’re rookies. Now, Tiferet or Gevurah, those guys mean business. They’ve got weapons that look like they could blow a building in half!”

“Hey, he’s moving!” The blonde man readied another arrow, loosing it with practiced ease. It pierced Leo’s head cleanly, forcing him down again.

“Ouch. Right in the skull,” the swordsman snickered.

“Barely a scratch to these things. We’re just here to capture, remember? The Biomatter Division wants this one alive, though I have no clue why.”

“Isn’t this Binah’s territory?” the swordsman asked, sounding more annoyed than curious.

“Usually, yeah. But they’re testing some new procedures on live subjects this time. The lab geeks are probably getting themselves killed soon enough.”

Leo’s vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges as the numbing toxin spread through his body. His limbs grew heavier, the cold settling into his bones, and finally, his vision faded entirely as the Cleaners turned to secure him.