An opaque partition separated the driver’s seat from the back, preventing Jack from seeing who was there. Even when the car had come to a stop, the side door had just opened on its own without any human intervention. Wordlessly, Jack sat in the back of the car, just as quiet as he’d been upon entering. The materials used for car must have been good, because even the sound of the rain was mostly muted within. The silence left enough space for screams to fill it.

Jack’s face tensed as he heard Fred Jones’ screams in his mind, the last frame of his face on the precipice of death begging for help Jack could not provide. He’d never watched someone die before. Not even the most gore-filled video game could invoke the sheer horrific disconnect of watching someone die in a gruesome manner. The sight, the sound, the smell; Jack took a shuddering breath and leaned forward onto his knees. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, but it was damn hard to stop.

He forced himself to think about other things. What kind of car was this? He’d never seen the model before, a black color’s cross of a limo, an old hearse, and a sedan. It had looked both bulky and sleek at the same time, which should have been near impossible. Jack also had never seen passenger doors open on their own, but then again, he didn’t exactly hang with a crowd who’d own the most fancy and expensive cars. His eyes flicked up to the partition, and at the shaded windows on either side of the vehicle. He could barely see anything through them, and likely was the same from the outside. Government vehicles were like that, weren’t they? Given the weird coincidences, he certainly wouldn’t be surprised if the mystery group was government.

If that was the case, then did they know about the missing people? Was the faceless man part of the group? Somehow, Jack highly doubted that. There was something distinctly off about the tall, faceless man. His proportions weren’t quite right, to say nothing of what he’d shown to be capable of doing. And what was that thing that had jumped Jack and killed Fred. It wasn’t a monster Jack recognized, not from movies or shows anyway. It didn’t look like it could erase people from memory, but were looks deceiving?

His thoughts were interrupted as Jack felt the car turn to the right, and suddenly tilt slightly downwards. It was too steep to be a hill, were they entering a parking garage? He didn’t recall seeing one the last time he’d been at the, what, the first home was it? That didn’t sound like a name, more like a description. The camouflaged building.

The car soon pulled in and stopped, and the passenger door closest to Jack opened on its own once again. Jack waited, but didn’t see signs of anyone else waiting for him outside, or if anyone else was exiting the car. Frowning, he stepped out of the vehicle, and found himself in an underground parking garage. Nearby to his left, an elevator was illuminated by a single lampshade light. It opened with a ding as Jack approached, and after entering close on its own. There weren’t any buttons to press inside, but Jack felt the elevator begin to rise without further prompting.

Despite the strange happenings, Jack felt too tired to deal with anymore fear that day. If anything, all the roundabout pushing was starting to get on his nerves. What good was all the illusion and mystery if people like Fred Jones still died alone in the dark? Jack clenched his fists before he forced himself to relax.

The elevator dinged once more, and Jack stepped out to find he was back in the lobby. Which of course, was quite strange since he was fairly certain he hadn’t seen an elevator the last time he’d been there. A quick turn of head showed the elevator vanishing behind a moving wall the hid it from view if one didn’t look for seems in the wall. Another oddity to get on Jack’s nerves.

Snorting, the young man looked around to find no one in the lobby besides himself and the two receptionists from before. They looked exactly the same as before, both dressed identically in that same yellow suit and red tie and busily working away at something Jack couldn’t see. With no one else in the lobby, Jack walked over and rang the bell once more.

“How may we help you?” the two receptionists asked in unison, both looking up at Jack.

‘That’s always going to be freaky.’ Jack couldn’t help but think. He repressed a shudder at the memory of what he’d seen of the two before, or at least did his best to. “Can either of you tell me why I’m here?” Jack asked aloud.

“Your parents engaged in coitus,” the man on the left said.

“You walked into the lobby,” the woman on the right said.

Jack’s forehead twitched. “Why was a car sent to pick me up and bring me here?”

The two stared at him. “Why would we know that?” they asked in unison.

“Right,” Jack muttered, pinching the top of his nose and sighing in frustration. “Okay, then do I have an appointment?”

The man on the left looked back down and resumed whatever he’d been doing. The woman on the right perked up and smiled. “May I have your name?”

Jack opened his mouth, then paused. ‘You never observe things well enough’, he heard Emily’s voice in his head. ‘You need to pay more attention to your surroundings.’

“You didn’t ask for my name last time,” Jack said slowly. “Only which city I was from. Do you need my name, or did you. . . mean something else?”

The smile on the woman seemed to grow wider. “Please take the right hall, first door on your right, and wait inside. Someone will be with you soon Mr. Smith.” Without another word, the woman returned to typing on the computer that Jack once again only seemed to notice now. He couldn’t help but look over at the man on the left, and saw the receptionist typing on a typewriter.

Brow furrowed, Jack walked back to the conference room from before and sat down in the same spot as he had last time. As before, the cushioning on the chair was oddly comfortable, however he quickly got up as his wet clothes seemed to rub him the wrong way after a moment. Noticing the wet spot he’d left behind, Jack got down on his knees and did his best to wipe away the water with the dry part of his sleeve.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“What are you doing?” the unexpected voice caused Jack to flip around and back up at the same time, resulting in him falling disgracefully onto his butt. In the doorway stood Mrs. Green, dressed as professionally as before with the same permanent frown on her face. She adjusted her glasses as she stared down at Jack. “Do I need to repeat the question Mr. Smith?”

“Oh, I, uh,” Jack stammered as he got to his feet. “I accidently got the seat wet, and was trying to clean it.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Green said, though her face revealed nothing. “Do you make it a habit of cleaning up messes?”

Jack shrugged. “If I make a mess, I clean it up. That’s proper manners, isn’t it?”

The woman nodded slowly. With practiced ease, she walked over and pulled a chair back, hopped up into it, and opened her briefcase, from which she produced a plastic blanket. “Cover the seat in this and sit,” she ordered.

The young man obeyed and sat down.

Mrs. Green tapped the table with her index finger as she looked Jack over. Jack wondered what he must look like: dirty and wet, likely still smelling of workout sweat mixed with fear sweat, possible piss though the wet pants made it impossible for him to figure that out, and dressed in old clothes just meant to facilitate returning from the gym.

“You’re an odd one Mr. Smith,” the short professionally dressed lady said after a few moments of silence. “There is nothing particularly noteworthy in you file about you.” She pulled out a small stack of paper and flipped through it. “No criminal charges on record, standard family life from we have, had to drop out of college due to a medical condition that finished recovering this year, resulting unfortunately in your scholarships being lost. You’ve worked to earn enough money to complete your degree, and live with your girlfriend recently turned fiancé.” She paused and looked up. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Jack huffed angrily.

Mrs. Green raised an eyebrow. “Am I upsetting you?”

“Miss, ma’am,” Jack corrected. “I’m having a really bad day, due to reasons I can’t explain to anyone else without sounding insane, and a stranger is flipping through my life story telling me how my life has gone so far. The implied privacy violations here are not helping my mood, to say the least.”

“Yet still so polite,” Mrs. Green’s frown seemed to twitch for just a moment.

“I can be rude if that’s what you prefer,” Jack said, a note of challenge in his voice.

“Your civility is appreciated,” Mrs. Green said before turning back down to her papers. Jack had the distinct feeling she wasn’t quite taking his implied threat seriously. “From all accounts, you’ve been living a normal, average life. You’ve certainly never been exposed to life-threatening danger before, or trained with the military, or taken any form of crisis-prevention training besides basic wilderness survival. And yet, over the past month you’ve shown an atypical willingness to put your life on the line for others.”

“So?” Jack asked.

“It’s an underappreciated trait you seem to possess,” Mrs. Green’s frown grew slightly, “and one you seem to be using far too often. Mr. Smith, to be blunt, so don’t seem suicidal, nor do your records reflect this either. However, you can’t seem to stop putting yourself in harm’s way. Why is that?”

Jack looked at her, and folded his arms.

Mrs. Smith stared right back at him, her eyes never leaving his.

The starring contest continued until Jack was forced to relent. “Because I was the only that could help,” he muttered, slouching slightly. “Because no one would have believed me, and I couldn’t just ignore the problem.”

“You feel like if you walked away, you’d feel guilty for not helping?” Mrs. Green asked.

“I guess that’s part of it,” Jack had to agree. “But, I also wanted to help. If there’s a problem I can help with, then I do it. That’s how I was raised.”

“I’m sure you parents did not push you to put your life on the line for the sake of others,” Mrs. Green pointed out. “That would have made them poor parents.”

“They were great parents!” Jack growled angrily. “Don’t say otherwise.”

“I misspoke,” Mrs. Green relented.

“Why does it matter anyway?” Jack asked, still angry. “Why does it matter why I do something to you?”

“It’s not the action I care about,” Mrs. Green said evenly, calmly. “It’s the intention. Intentions and reasons behind an action are just as, if not more, important than the action itself. Humans are social creatures, and a large reason for the success of civilization can be found in the human ability to empathize with others, human or not. Combined with the human ability to connection information, to understand consequence, that is what allowed humanity to overcome obstacles. Tonight, you tried to save someone, a complete stranger, without knowing or understanding his circumstances. You could have done so for money, or fame, or pride, or any other of a multitude of reasons. Instead, you helped, because you wanted to help. That says something about you.”

“That I’m someone you want in a bad situation?” Jack guessed. “Or that I’m easy to manipulate maybe?”

“Everyone can be manipulated,” Mrs. Green countered. “Evil and good are both terms used to describe a person’s type of motivation, but one is not harder to get moving over the other inherently. What’s harder is trying to manipulate someone who lacks empathy, logical action, or reality grounding. You are close to that line Mr. Smith, because for all your fear, your knowledge, and your instinct, you still tried to save a stranger from something you did not understand. It is people like you that interest myself, and my bosses.”

Jack raised an eyebrow in spite of himself. “You’re looking for fools?”

“One man’s fool, is another man’s wise man,” Mrs. Green said with serious intent. “You can train someone to face danger. You can train them to deaden their emotions, ignore discomfort and self-preservation instincts, and overcome inherited bias. You cannot, however, train someone’s innate desire to willing help others without the prospect of a reward. Training, by definition, requires either a carrot or a stick, and that inherently lessens the intentions behind the action. You are the kind of person we look for when hiring. I would like to offer you a job.”

Jack studied the woman in front of him. “Is this the kind of job I’d be putting myself in danger for?”

“Sometimes,” Mrs. Green nodded. “The job requires some amount of fieldwork, but most of it will come down to researching, investigation, and diplomacy. It is hard finding people like you Mr. Smith; we do not put employees into unnecessary risk if it can helped, and we will not ask more than what you are capable of.”

“How’s the pay?” Jack asked.

Mrs. Green’s mouth twitched slightly once more. “More than you previously made. Danger pay, bonuses, and overtime are more. You could easily afford a wedding ring in less than half a year.”

He didn’t bother asking how she knew he’d been thinking about that recently. “I assume there will be some training involved? Will I be an intern?”

“You will be hired as a full-time employee and given all standard permissions and equipment,” Mrs. Green answered. “You’ll be assigned to someone for a small period of time before you are left to your own devices. We value flexibility and independent thinking here.”

Jack sighed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. He needed a job; both to live and to have a life. Whatever mess he’d been dealing with, this place clearly had answered. Even if he declined, that wouldn’t stop the strange shit from popping up in his life and putting him, and others around him, in danger. There really wasn’t a choice here, and both he and the woman across from him knew it.

He lowered his head and met Mrs. Green’s gaze.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll take the job.”