I turn toward the wall, my inability to tell where the door will appear causing me some amount of bizarre discomfort.

“...Do I have to open the door for them? Because I have absolutely no idea how to do that.” I ask Roosevelt, who floats beside me.

“Normally, the building would scan them and ring a sort of doorbell tone to let you know someone’s coming in. Currently, it seems the person outside is having issues with the authorization aspect.”

“Does that mean they aren’t supposed to be here?”

“No, they are definitely a Vanguard; I can sense their chthonic energy, though not much else. I’ll have to manually authorize... one moment.”

Roosevelt flashes a few colors as I feel him concentrating before the wall parts to make a doorway once again. Falling forward through the doorway at a considerable speed is a young woman with short black hair and a basket full of my belongings.

Not quite comprehending her plight, I do nothing as she collides with the ground, the sound of her teeth audibly clacking together from the fall making me wince.

“Are… are you good?” I ask, knowing full well she is very not good.

I slide my butt off of the bed and carefully walk up to her, making sure to avoid the glass from the picture frame that I didn’t even hear break over the shattering impact of her chompers meeting the ground.

“Uuuhhnngggg.” She groans, one arm lifting her torso off the ground, the other gently cradling her jaw. “Eihm eelie sourry abou yur picture.”

“I believe she’s apologizing for breaking your photo, Brooke.” Roosevelt supplies in my head, having dematerialized again.

“I got that much, buddy. Here, let me help you up—no, don’t talk anymore; you’re clearly in a lot of pain.” I tell her, noticing a bit of blood spilling out over her lips.

“I'll clean up the mess. There’s a bathroom over there,” I point to the one wall with an actual doorway, “where you can clean up a bit.” I smile at her as I say it, not wanting her to feel guilty when it was an accident.

She looks up at me, a bit of wetness rimming her dark brown eyes as she sniffles, nods, and shuffles to the sink. I do my best to compose myself as I pick up my toiletries and clothes from the floor. She doesn’t need me laughing at her on top of her current struggles.

Gingerly, so as not to spill more glass on the floor than necessary, I lift the picture frame I can only assume my family sent me. Inside rests the photo of our family's last trip to the aquarium from... two years ago, I think it was?

It could be less, the Vanguard tries hard to provide entertainment facilities since we live in a literal bubble, but you can only visit the same theme park so many times even if it changes often. I should go again.

Stacking my less dangerous goods on the metallic coffee table that rose from the floor and its matching set of chairs, I turn to my visitor.

“Chompers doing alright?” I ask her, and she blinks a few times before responding.

“Oh, my teeth—yeah, I’m good. I totally chipped one, but that's an easy enough fix.”

I must have had disbelief written on my forehead since she continued:

“You’re the new Vanguard, right? Sorry, that's a rude question, but I’m sure you’ll see how minor of an injury this actually is soon. Vanguard Asclepius could pat me on the shoulder casually and fix this sort of thing.”

I turn toward Roosevelt, having no idea who Asclepius is and preparing to ask.

“She’s referring to Miss Catherine. Vanguards tend to go by their titles when on duty.” He supplies before I can open my mouth.

“Oh, for real? I didn’t get that impression yesterday, but I guess someone would have had to patch me up.” I ponder.

The girl takes a step forward and offers her hand: “I’m Vanguard Shroud, but you can call me Naomi. Again, I’m so sorry. I wish our introduction didn’t involve me shattering a picture of your family.”

I take her hand and shake it; the slight dampness from how she quickly dried her hands making for an unpleasant texture. Old Ones, I’m becoming my mom, aren't I? Pushing that thought aside, I respond, praying I didn’t deer-in-the-headlights too long.:

“I’m Brooke; I haven’t been a Vanguard long enough to get a name, but it's nice to meet you! And seriously, don’t worry about it; it’s just the frame anyhow. Nothing happened to the picture.”

She still looks guilty, but there’s only so much I can do to assuage that.

“What happened with the door anyways? Roosevelt said that it wouldn’t authorize you or something.” I ask; the foot already in my mouth before I could stop it.

She goes a little red in the face, looking like she’d have preferred I gloss over that bit.

“My ah… My chthonic ability makes me harder to detect passively, and it doesn’t play nicely with a lot of this building's automated features. More specifically, if I don’t have the amulet Vanguard Asclepius gave me, the doors can’t see me.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

My grin this time manages to slip out, and even though her eyes beg me not to ask, I have to.

“And this amulet, where’s it at now?

She purses her lips and can’t meet my gaze.

“On my bedside table…” She mumbles. “It’s been so long since we had a new Vanguard that I got a little excited and forgot it.”

Oh, this is adorable. Teasing her is going to be such a highlight of my time here. She’s so honest and wears her feelings clear as day.

“I’m excited to meet you too, Naomi. I’ll be relying on you to help me get the hang of things here.” I say, but flick my eyes to the shattered glass on the floor for just a moment.

I can see the emotions warring on the younger girl's face, both her pride at being looked up to and her uncertainty about what my glance meant fighting fiercely. Eventually, I see it settle into a cautious confidence, and she stands a bit taller.

“I won’t let you down,” she says, bringing her fist to her chest in a salute.

I almost feel bad as I lean my butt against the table and calmly ask her:

“So how are you gonna get back into your room?”

Her posture deflates over the course of a few seconds as she realizes her blunder. I decide to save her the embarrassment of having to ask me to help her by offering first.

“Let me get changed real quick, and we can drop by your room together; I’m pretty sure Miss Catherine wants me to meet with her around this time anyways.”

“Thanks, Brooke. I’m really sorry about this.” Naomi says, but I wave her off and turn to my belongings.

“It’s no big deal; I’ll meet you outside when I’m done changing, yeah?” I assure her, turning my head around to see her nod.

I tell Roosevelt internally to open the door for her so she can leave without any more issues as I pick through my clothes for something to wear. Judging by the casual jeans and T that Naomi was wearing, I assume there's no real dress code and grab my favorite pair of jeans from the pile.

I distressed this pair myself with my mom a few months back, and I’m really pleased with how they turned out. There aren’t any full holes in them; the white thread covers most of the skin of my knees and shins. I slip them on with one of my longer crop tops, the one with long sleeves and a raccoon holding a banner saying “Live, Laugh, Eat Trash” on it.

I look in the mirror for the first time since waking up and am pleased to note that not only am I not a taloned monster, but I look simply superb. Something about either my Vanguard status or maybe the healing left my skin with this wondrous smoothness and healthy glow.

“I have learned of several new sides to my contractor today.” I hear from beside me, and though I don’t feel any real judgment through our link, there's something close to it when he looks at my shirt.

“Don’t knock the top, it's hilarious. And you saw her! She’s adorable! How could I not tease someone like that? I’m contractually obligated!” I chastise after washing the toothpaste out of my mouth.

He doesn’t respond, but I’m sure he agrees with me. Grabbing my opossum-themed clutch and phone, I give the room a once-over, making sure I didn’t leave anything important on the floating bed or various machinery.

A glance towards the glass pieces from the picture frame causes me to double-take, as I can visibly see them sinking into the floor and disappearing. Viscerally uncomfortable at the thought of a floor being able to casually absorb me, I mentally poke Roosevelt.

“I figured mentioning it would do you no favors after your recent experiences, though it is undoubtedly helpful for cleaning up corners and hostile invasions.” He pipes up like this horror is somehow now remedied.

I shudder and leave the room, vowing to never attempt to "invade" a Vanguard property. The wall closes shut seamlessly behind me, and Naiomi looks up from her phone.

“Thanks again, Brooke. It would have been really embarrassing to have to ask Vanguard Asclepius to open my door for me,” she says gratefully.

“Again, it's cool. I’ll need help finding her anyways; I have no idea where anything is in the building.” I respond and smirk as I see her back straighten a little at my need for help.

I’m sure Roosevelt could guide me around, but this way I get to socialize with another person, and it’s bound to be far more entertaining. I glance around at the curved, pristine halls; the walls on both sides are colored in a gorgeous white-to-teal-to-black gradient from top to bottom.

Pulses of dim light flow along it; its rhythm reminiscent of a heartbeat. Reaching out, my hand touches the soothing cold surface, and I’m forced to consider whether or not I’m walking inside of a creature.

“If you ever get lost, the pulses of light all lead back to the front of the building, where the elevators are. It’s saved me from being late more than a couple of times.”

“Are you late often?” I ask, entirely as a trap.

“I—uh, no? No. Not anymore, at least. If you ignore today,” she stammers.

I give her a knowing look, and she narrows her eyes at me, the gears within her head working to connect her suspicions.

“...Are you doing that on purpose?” She interrogates, still not confident I’m fucking with her.

“Doing what?” I ask, deadpan, before looking ahead. “Watch out, there’s a door.”

I don’t think she believes me for a second, but she turns anyways and just barely avoids walking into someone wearing a mask attached to a breathing apparatus. The mask looks like it's actively gripping his face, and as he reaches up to take it off, the little limbs let go, and I realize it is in fact grabbing him.

I stifle my second shudder of the day, not quite used to inanimate objects breaking the “in” part of their descriptor.

Lowering the mask from his face, his slightly greasy curls fall back over his cheeks, and he takes a deep breath through his nose before speaking:

“Vanguard Shroud. I was hoping to find you; the more refined model of your amulet is finished. This one has a few more capabilities and can be worn as an earpiece.”

His voice was deep and scratchy, like someone who had just gotten over a sickness but whose throat was still sore. From one of the various pockets of his long coat, I watch him pull out a metallic cube, which he tosses to Naomi.

“Drop off the amulet in the lab once you’re done with her. I’d ask for it now, but I see that it’s still in your room,” he adds, only glancing at me once when he says "her" before going back in the room.

As the door closes behind him, I look toward Naomi, who appears decidedly chastised.

“...That was Vanguard Chassis. He’s the one who operates the Vanguard buildings.”