A towering building with dark, grey and white toned glass facades, built in modern cubism fashion, stands dreary in the fall rain, oak trees burning colours reflected in its front. In large deco-font letters it says above the entrance: VoidMyth Inc. The building seems oddly out of place, for there is no buzzling metropolis surrounding it, nor any busy industry. Rather, rolling hills covered in fields stretch out from it as far as the horizon, making the sleek building stand out in the enormous expanse of faded gold and green. The only flora to be found in its vicinity is grass, wheat, barley and curiously, three large, ancient oak trees, placed askew near the entrance. Simply put- it is built in the middle of nowhere. For what reason one could ponder long - Perhaps for privacy's sake, perhaps to project an air of elusiveness or perhaps, even, just to be eccentric. The questions are many for the common folk who, while driving in this region of France, spot this monolithic structure in the distance, and questions would be all they'd be left with, were they to delve into its obscure halls. Inside this labyrinthian complex, in a corner office with view of the droll landscape, sits a large man on a worn chair with wispy blond hair and darting eyes. Several monitors ordain this room, and there's a persistent low hum from computer processors that bring a dreary quality to it. Through the monotony that is this office, a distressed mumble from the man in the dilapidated chair breaks through. "Why me, why, oh why, me? C'mon Duncan, get a fire going under that fat ass of yours. Who the hell is Ezekiel Gloaman anyway? Why does he gotta stir shit up, and stress everyone out." He relentlessly taps away at his keyboard, muttering and cursing. A keen beeping sounds off from his pager placed on his desk amongst ash and candy wrappers. "Hm? Meeting moved to 15:30?" He looks at his digital watch "15:15?! Cocks!" He begins typing and clicking as if his life depended on it- files, pictures and statistics almost in a blur on his screen. "Fuck you Ezekiel Gloaman! Fuck yooouuu!" Duncan quiet-yells, obviously not used to this pace of working. There's a knock on his office door, a young red-haired woman enters. "Jerking hard, or hardly jerking?" She says cheerfully. "Kinda..kinda really bad timing there, Sophia. Gotta dust up whatever files we got on an agent that, for some reason, they need down in Whisper HQ '' Duncan says, stressed and distracted. Sophia leans against the doorframe with a playful expression. "Uhh, is a Whisper agent getting lynched? Does it have anything to do with that explosion in Switzerland?" She says, quizzitive. "Too many questions Soph, all I know is I need to get this honky ass down to Whisper Command in 10 minutes with these files or that is it for it!" Duncan is sweating profusely, both from his hasty work and the many rumors in the Bureaucratic Sector surrounding the basement level of the building where the Whisper agents congregate. Sophia looks at her mug of tea and taps it with her many-ringed fingers “Yeah, I’ve heard some creepy shit about what goes on downstairs, but I’m sure you’ll be fine- I mean, we all work for the same company, right?” She chuckles nervously. Duncan’s typing reaches an almost abusive noise "Okay, this will have to do for now. Done!" He smashes the enter key and shuffles up from his poor chair, pad in hand he rushes out of the door, squeezing Sophia up against the doorframe. "Oof! Alright, see you by the coffee machine, make sure to tell me what you've been allowed to disclose!" She yells as Duncan lumbers down the corridor and disappears into the maze of the Bureaucratic Sector. Passing through long boring hallways and past an impossible amount of doors, in what seems like an age, Duncan at last finds himself in front of two large dark-metal doors with gold doorknobs and an ornate gold eye above. "Ok, Whisper Command-Sector, here we are, time to shine." He pep talks while panting and pouring sweat. "What was protocol here again?" Uncertain, he looks briefly at his hand, then raises it with the intent to knock on the door, before he is able to, however, the doors glide open silently on their hinges.

Before him expands a great hall of black and gold, both brightly lit, and yet with a pervasive gloom present. Spiralling obsidian stairs rise up to meet the ceiling, and alley-like corridors with an impossible darkness stands mawing and bidding. He is awestruck, having expected a conference room or something of the kind, this gloom-gilded hall surpasses any notion he has ever had of what Whisper Headquarters looked like. Yet here in front of him lies the center for the Agency of Insistence, with their golden eyes and reality bending powers. All these thoughts cascaded through his mind, and in all of its grand chaos his tiny self mumbled meekly: Why do they need me?

"Duncan P. Visser?" A calm voice speaks to his right. "Um, whu-? Oh yes, reporting!" He snaps out of his glory-gasm and focuses on the source of the voice. A weedy man greets him, his hair sleek and oily, his eyes gilded. "Welcome to the Heartthrum Halls, Whisper agents Sophnos and Neehex are expecting you." He gestures down one of the corridors. "Fourth door on your left, please refrain from exploring." He says firmly yet politely. "Do hurry" Smiling, the sleek-haired man assumes a rigid pose by the door, standing vigil once again.

"You got it, boss. No sight-seeing for me" Duncan wondered why it all had to be so ostentatious and esoteric, that an organization should have some transparency, but perhaps it was not for those of the Bureaucratic Sector to ponder. Everything is on a need-to-know basis, and his position in the Voidmyth Organization only entails the most basic of information, yet he couldn’t help feeling that this was well above his pay grade.

With a brisk pace he heads down the specified corridor, warm light from illuminated floors bidding his shadow to dance on the high ceiling. A slight hum permeated the air, as if constant energy zipped through the stillness of the Halls, like a hushed whisper promising that beyond its calm exterior, a hidden world was raving about. It brought dread to Duncan, who despite himself could not keep from looking all around and soaking in the overwhelming atmosphere.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Nearing the specified door, he hears low mumbling beyond it and eager to complete his assigned task, Duncan reaches for the handle, though not before a keen voice breaks through the otherwise incoherent chatter “His motive remains unclear, as does his character. Most of us know Gloam by his deeds in the Agency, but little is known of his personal life, which begs the question as to why-” Swinging open the door, Duncan stumbles over the raised threshold as he enters, falling face-first onto the mahogany floor. A wet thud resonates slightly in the modest sized room and Agent Sophnos and Neehex’ focus shifts from the large screen on the wall to the incident in the doorway, their quiet debate silenced by the sheer absurdity of it. “Are you alright, Mr. Visser? I’m sure Vesta mentioned to watch your step.” Agent Neehex says, not overly concerned. Barely able to piece thoughts together through the pain in his nose, Duncan mutters “Ouh yeah. Tss’all good”. Neehex strides over to the large man on the floor and effortlessly lifts him up by the arm, patting him on the shoulder after doing so. “Despite your little mishap you are right on time. Grand.'' She says through a bright smile and produces an embroidered handkerchief for the bleeding Duncan, he notices through tearful eyes that her chin is badly scarred. “So, Mr. Visser, introductions. I am Whisper Agent Neehex and this is my right hand man, Whisper agent Sophnos. We are Lead-Pursuers on this, shall we say, ‘occurrence’ in Lucerne, along with a Whisper Cell in the field.” She runs a finger along the edge of her bowl-cut hair, drifting into thought. She stands with a faraway look in her eyes for a strange moment then jerks back to the present. “We’ve been tasked with the apprehension of the rogue-agent Gloam, whoms heinous actions against Voidmyth and the Agency of Insistence has labeled him as such.” Agent Sophnos clears his throat “Shall we?” His thick beard almost muffeling his words and he gestures toward a long table in the middle of the brightly lit room. “Yes, let us.” Agent Neehex proclaims in a chipper tone and places herself next to the large monitor. “Now Duncan, you must be wondering why we would need the assistance of the Bureaucratic Sector. Simply put- We don’t want any blind spots. Agent Gloam has proven a dangerous adversary, and as you can see-” She points with her middle finger at the large screen. “Many of our files on him have been redacted.” There on the bright box in black and white the service record, as it were, of Ezekiel was laid bare. Name: Ezekiel Gloaman. Agent Monicer: Gloam Aliases: Zeke, Izzy, Iz. Gender: Male. Age 41. Nationality: Scotland. Born: 3/1/1980. Whisper Agent Instatement: 16/10/03, though after this, black bars dominate the document. Sophnos clears his throat and in a monotonous voice states “Anything relevant or prudent to our pursuit and to his capabilities are either deleted or omitted; his Seethe Reservoir capacity, date of his Ridding, Manipulation specialities. Heck, we only know from initial reports that he somehow is able to exhume his Seethe supply and is yet still able to perform Hollowmass Manipulation. Which is beyond absurd.” Sounding distant and as if not talking to anyone in particular he is quickly cut off “That’s enough jibber-jabber out of you, Soph!” Neehex stares Sophnos down and nods towards the flabbergasted Duncan.

Duncan, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose, looks on even more confused than he was before “But...The files HR, I, have, aren’t they the redacted ones?” He says with his head tilted back. Agent Neehex side-eyes him “Why don’t we compare them and see?” With a bidding finger she gestures for Duncan to upload his files to the smart-monitor. One handed, and barely able, Duncan finally manages to produce the HR’s files on Ezekiel and cast them to the big screen. No black bars litter this file, and laid bare before them is what appears to be an ordinary man's career and occupations. The two agents study it with curious focus, trying to discern something not obvious to Duncan. Duncan, about to make a statement concerning the dossier is cut off “You see, Mr. Visser.” Agent Neehex interrupts the unspoken thought “The beauroratic Sector are in possession of half-truths and misdirections, you are the face to the public, and anything you have on Whisper agents is nothing but fabrication, to a certain point. However, as for it not to be an outright lie, some aspects of the background information HR has on us is indeed true. That is why you are here, that is why we needed these files.” She throws him a sly glance. “Please believe me that it’s all quite holistic, though I understand your confusion. Voidmyth has that effect on people. Hell, I bet even the Shroud Council gets all turned around sometimes.`` She leans against the table and looks Duncan up and down, noticing his visible confusion. “They’re the top dogs, if you will. The three big cheeses who pull the strings of the organisation. Ooh, scary!” Neehex sticks her tongue out and winks.

Agent Sophnos saunters towards the exit “I’m going for coffee, it’s going to be a long night. Also, Whisper Agent Fairweather’s main report is inbound, Neehex, so we got that to look forward to.” He grimly trails off as the door closes behind him. Neehex sprouts an awkward smile “Coffee's for Agents only, I’m afraid. But I have something else you can have.” She opens a drawer in the table and produces a document and a pen. “You get this flashy Non Disclosure Agreement. Wee!” She exclaims, though her tone betrays the knowing awfulness of keeping secrets. “Now we know, in truth, that a piece of paper isn't really going to do much to keep you from tattling, but as a bureaucrat I’m sure you understand that it is the weight behind the paper that counts. And the weight behind this paper” Neehex taps the document ”-is the titanic force that is the Whisper Agency.” Her tone turns cold for a moment, then resumes its usual warmth. “Go get that nose looked at, my good man.” Duncan, wishing that he never took this job, signs the document and sluggishly turns towards the door, eager for the journey back to his warm, safe and thankfully boring office. The lasting impression of the Heartthrum Halls would stay with Duncan for quite a while, and as Vesta bids him farewell, and he begins his treck back to his office, he walks purposeless, torn between notions of the ordinary and the fantastic, the persistent thought of how people like this could be and what they stand for, lurking in the recesses of his mind. “Well.” He barely whispers to himself. “I hope they catch him.”