Basilio's boss, whose work dealt with the worst of the worst, put some effort into the waiting room. Basilio was almost convinced that he was a regular receptionist. The desk, made of polished wood, provided ample space, with a nice work-issued computer. Behind his seat, along the back wall, was the drink station which kept the place smelling like either coffee or tea. The room itself had a high ceiling, and cushioned seats throughout, the recent paint job on the walls—simple and modern—made the place look bigger than it was. Basilio also kept the vases clean with fresh flowers. Hell, he was proud of his upkeep of the waiting room. If anything, it helped deter any sudden bouts of anger that could get him killed.

Before Basilio, the Boss briefly mentioned the turnover rate was a little worse than he liked, complaining more from the clean up that was required afterwards. The job was simple: keeping track of who is coming in and out, replying to some emails and phone calls, and general secretarial things at the desk, and the pay was high, so finding a new secretary wasn’t the hardest thing in the world. But Boss valued secrecy and tended to be picky in the selection process.

Basilio knew what he was getting into—his desperation had no other escape. From the first interview, he made it clear he didn’t care what was going on behind the scenes. If given the job, he’d do it while keeping his head down. It also helped that his ability consisted of calming people around him.

In this world of heroes and villains duking it out in the streets, people born with, or developing, abilities wasn’t uncommon. But they ranged and most were useless or too specific to matter much.

But Basilio found his use. Before meeting the Boss, Basilio released his ability to passify clients, often with scars and narrow gazes, bodies tense for the next sudden fight. By the time they entered the double doors into the office, their shoulders were relaxed, and Boss had an easier time dealing with them. And with six years of experience in that waiting room, Basilio didn’t let his ability do all the work. He kept his appearance nice, with clean, crisp shirts and black pants, black hair a little too long, but tied neatly with ribbon. Glasses were always smudge-free, and had curated a kind smile he practiced in front of mirrors to perfect. Mannerisms were important too, so when someone entered, he checked them in promptly and quickly offered drinks while they waited—drinks that he too mastered. All to make the best impression in hopes that it’d help him stay alive.

His ability was the cherry on the cake. The people that came in, villains in the media who robbed, destroyed, created chaos, killed, antagonized the city and its heroes of justice, relaxed in Basilio's presence. Like FrostGlass, a man who, with his ice ability, froze people and shattered them, sipped warm tea at his seat and prattled on about his cat. “Oh, cats are wonderful companions,” Basilio agreed with a smile, inviting FrostGlass to keep talking.

“They certainly are,” FrostGlass said, his metal gear clinking as he crossed his legs. “My Penelope always naps on my desk while I build my weapons. She keeps me from overworking too, meowing at five exactly for dinner each night.”

That was another thing Basilio noted: villains enjoyed talking. Or rather, sharing, like Death Gun, who lost his voice after a knife to the throat. He spent his waiting time chatting about the types of tea Basilio had available by typing on his phone. How his dear aunt, who raised him during his teenage years, grew her own flowers, plucked leaves and dug up roots, for teas. Until she was taken from him by a gang who put a bullet in her head and his thigh.

But it wasn’t like Basilio humanized them, or saw the better of them. No, because the moment they walked out the door and he was alone, Basilio dropped his pleasant persona, and forgot all about them. This was a job, simple as that. Their sad histories, the trauma that led them to the path of “evil” didn’t phase him. Not theirs or anyone else’s. Basilio only cared about his own wellbeing and this job provided him with income. That’s all it was supposed to be.

But after six long years, Basilio thought about leaving. He was nearing his late thirties, was getting exhausted by the lack of purpose in his life. The only reason he started working was to earn enough money to pay for his sister’s medicine, but she died just months after becoming Boss’ secretary. Of course, the debt was still there and would remain for the next twenty years. However, there was also a bit of accumulated spending money Basilio could use to take a trip and do something different.

He was considering bringing the matter up with Boss when he came in to the waiting room for work. He changed the water for the flowers, imagining a resort at a beach and fancy seafood, when the front door suddenly burst open. Basilio flinched, catching the glass vase before it shattered on the floor. Operating hours hadn’t started yet, they wouldn’t for another thirty minutes. Why was the guard letting people in to the building? Unless the guards were dead…

Basilio set the vase down on his desk and turned to the visitors at full attention. It was a group of five, but with a clear leader at the front. The broad man, with sharp and beautiful features, strode in a clean cut suite and short hair pulled back. A handsome man, Basilio had to admit, with a well-toned body, probably in his early to mid twenties. Each step forward showed off the power and command the man held, eyes gazing around but his head always raised. The others behind him, in large clothing and shifty eyes, were no doubt underlings.

Basilio was going to have to be careful with this one. He’s never seen this man before, didn’t remember an appointment this early with a new client. This man, making it this far, showed that he had power. Right away, Basilio kept his hands in front of him and put on his work smile. He activated his ability and worked on spreading the soothing air. “Good evening, sir. Have you come for your appointment?”

The man stopped a few paces from Basilio and stared down at him. “I don’t have one.”

Great, Basilio thought to himself, it’s one of the entitled ones. Still, Basilio maintained his good mood and gave him a definite nod. “If I can have your name or affiliation, I will inform the central office of your arrival.”

“Vector.”

The man said nothing else and Basilio swallowed. Just great, having to deal with this so early in his shift. Basilio bowed and went around to his desk. “I will inform him.” The man looked like he was going to say something but Basilio beat him to it, standing up again after a quick email. “While you wait would you like a drink? Coffee, tea—I have green tea, earl, rose milk. What are your preferences so that I can make it for you, sir?”

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For a second, the man looked like he was going to protest, but then said, “Coffee. Black.”

It looked like Basilio's ability was working now. “Wonderful!” Then Basilio looked to the others who were following their boss to the seats nearby. “And for you.”

The other four paused, not expecting to be addressed. They looked between themselves, then one of them stepped forward. “Green tea.” The rest did the same and Basilio noted down their orders and went to work right away. It was a good thing the water was heated already, and after a few minutes, Basilio brought over a tray with all of the drinks, handing each cup to the right person. When the leader of the group took his cup, Basilio smiled at him. “My Boss will be seeing you shortly, as soon as he settles into his office.”

The man grunted in response, but said nothing else.

Basilio returned to his desk, a triumphant look on his face. Sure, he didn’t really care about the clients very much, but he still had pride for his work. He managed to quell their irritation, and it seemed like Boss had some idea they would be coming in. It would’ve been nice to get some notice.

Basilio was going through his morning routine on his computer, checking schedules and such, when one of the underlings called out, “Great tea!”

Stopping his work, Basilio looked around his monitor. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad it’s to your liking.”

“Sure is.”

Basilio joined him in chuckling lightly, and decided to test the waters by turning to the boss. “How is your coffee, sir?”

The man was caught mid sip. He peered up at Basilio, swallowed, then answered. “Not bad.”

Good, good, Basilio thought. The man was relaxing in his seat now, foot tapping. Satisfied with that, Basilio resumed his work.

It was just another minute later when he heard the rushing footsteps. Before he could look up, the cup of coffee was smashed onto the desk, drops of the dark drink spilling over. Basilio jumped at the sudden sound, turned his head up to find the man’s angry, brown eyes. “What did you put in this?”

“W-What?” Basilio shrunk back, instinctively trying to get as much distance between them. But there wasn’t much he could do with the man leaning over, a snarl on his face.

“The drink,” the man repeated. “What did you put in it?”

Basilio's heart was beating in his chest, trying to comprehend what just happened and trying to give him whatever answer he was looking for. “Only coffee, like you asked. They’re freshly ground beans, sir.”

“And the drug? Something in here to make me relax? Make me unguarded?”

Oh, so that’s what it was. The man noticed the change in his own demeanor and assumed it was something in the drink, like a trick to put him at a disadvantage. Basilio did his best to move slowly, hands up in complete surrender. “It’s not the coffee, sir. It’s me.” That only made the man’s snarl grow, his knuckles white as he pushed against the table top, and Basilio quickly explained. “It’s my ability. I create a soothing air, to help our clients relaxed. That’s all. But I will stop it now and leave the room immediately if that would appease you, sir.”

The silence hung over them, and for a second Basilio thought that his day was finally here. This was where he was going to die. But then the man pulled back, an eyebrow raised. “Your ability?”

Basilio nodded. “Yes. I use it while I work here. It’s not a secret, and most clients seem to enjoy it.”

“Like a scent?”

“In a way…” The initial anger was gone now, but the man’s curiosity made Basilio bewildered. He lowered his hands and straightened in his seat. “I release...something, in the air around me. It doesn’t have a strong scent, so hardly anyone even notices it.”

“Interesting.” The man crossed his arms and looked Basilio over. Nothing malicious in his gaze, but Basilio would rather be ignored again until it was time for Boss to call them in. The man continued with his questions instead. “Do you use it during your entire shift?”

“Usually.”

“Without getting tired?”

“My ability can remain active without me being overly conscious of it all the time. Not while I’m sleeping, however.”

“How useful.”

“Just for this job,” Basilio answered with a nervous chuckle. He already stopped his ability and tried organically to bring a good mood. But the man didn’t smile. Instead, he picked up his cup and drank it with no intention of going back to his seat.

Before he could say anything else, Boss threw open the doors, a large grin on his stocky face. “Vector! What a pleasure to see you hear,” Boss bellowed. “Come in, come in. Thanks for waiting while I prepared.” He held the door opened for them.

The man eyed Basilio once more before he left with Boss, taking his underlings with him.

Once Basilio was left in silence, he fell into his chair and released a deep breath. The adrenaline was still pumping, he could hear it in his ears. It had been a while since the last outburst that Basilio forgot that it was a part of his job. All kinds of people came in here for business, and Basilio had become good at appeasing the majority of them.

He allowed himself a moment to collect himself before standing up and smoothing out his clothing. He had to get back to work. He went and collected all the cups, cleared up the mess on the desk, and resumed his secretarial job.

Other clients came in for their appointments and Basilio resettled back into his pace, preparing more drinks and until another employee came to pick them up. He did have to reschedule one person who was supposed to meet with the Boss, but Basilio managed to assuage him by talking shit about the one to took their place. With his ability back on, it wasn’t too much trouble.

About a couple hours, Basilio almost forgot about the man from earlier until Boss returned to the waiting room with the whole group Boss talking to the leader loudly. “...and after you receive the notice, everything will be ready for pick up.”

Basilio was at attention instantly, ready to type in any reminders he would have to send out. The group gravitated towards his desk, where they paused. Boss clapped his hands, obviously pleased by their meeting. “Thank you for coming to us. You can load up at the back of the building. The team’s ready.”

“Thank you,” the man said. Then he glanced at Basilio and his lips twitched into a smirk. “I’ll be in contact with you soon.”

Basilio shivered though he wasn’t sure why. This wasn’t the last time he would see that man, that Basilio was certain of. Once the man and his entourage cleared out of the room Basilio turned to Boss. “Who was that?”

“An immensely valuable client.” The Boss gave him a once over and grunted. “You were the best employee I’ve had sit in that chair. I never told you but I’ve gotten many contracts thanks to you.”

“But not enough to get a raise,” Basilio said carefully. Of course Basilio already knew about the impact he had on guests, but for Boss to admit it like a good bye made his hands fidget.

Without losing a beat the Boss answered, “A raise means you pay off your debt sooner; why would I help my star employee get out of here so quickly?”

Basilio shrugged. Not that he cared how quickly he paid it off. After all, there was nothing life had to offer, not anymore at least. At least with the debt and having to pay it off provide some consistency in his schedule. Without work he was aimless. “Fine by me,” was all he said.