I shake the hand of a man in his late thirties, dressed in business-casual clothes that barely mask the solid build underneath.
"Welcome. To Sundown Guild. Thanks for calling. You're Max, right?"
His voice is slow and halting as if every sentence costs him energy to push out. It's not just his pace—it's the strange, clipped pauses like he's second-guessing the words as they leave his mouth. Sometimes, he makes a small grunt or breathy sound mid-thought, like a question he forgot to finish asking.
The contrast between him and González, the government recruiter, is… jarring.
González talked so fast that it felt like I was trying to decode a podcast at 2x speed. He probably had to consciously slow himself down just to avoid overwhelming people. This guy, though? Darren? It's like he has to convince each word to come out one at a time.
Not that it's a bad thing. I mean, communication is flowing. It's just—
"Ahh, yeah. Thanks for getting back to me yesterday. I'm interested in becoming a Diver, and I saw a lot of folks recommending Sundown Guild. You said your name was Darren on the call, right?"
"Yes. I'm Darren. I recruit for Sundown."
...And yeah, that's the part that throws me.
Look, I get it. A speech impediment doesn't mean you're not competent. But if recruiting is the job—if you're the first impression for the whole guild—wouldn't it make more sense to have someone who's, I dunno, easier to talk to?
I must just be the asshole for thinking that.
«Still, this is a guild, so maybe it doesn't matter much.»
Unlike what most people think when they hear someone say, guilds are not some flashy anime team or adventuring party that someone joins to fight off monsters. They're closer to weird, small-time tech startups than anything most of the time.
However, instead of trying to make bank off some new product, these startups have Diver licenses and kill quotas. From my research yesterday, guilds are basically the only viable route besides signing your soul away from the government when it comes to becoming a Diver. Guilds do many of the same things as the government regarding Divers.
Guilds handle Fate Bath contracts, Diver recruitment, and everything in between. The only significant difference is that they bought the right to conquer a Fate Bath from the government.
Apparently, that works because the government finds a portal, then quickly scans it, and sends it to some Fate Bath marketplace in the region, allowing guilds like this to buy rights. If none of the guilds buy it, the government takes care of it. At least, that's the gist of it.
The critical thing, though, is that people say that guilds have contracts similar to the government DEP waiver. In my case, I require this to realistically go about becoming a Diver.
What does joining a guild do this way compared to joining the government then? Well, surprisingly, a lot.
Divers in guilds generally get far less government oversight, such as weekly psych evaluations and some supervision breathing down your neck. Guilds are also trying to make their Divers into regional celebrities or like to advertise themselves as such. And, of course, the most important one is that Divers usually make much more money from guilds than the government.
I thought to try and see if I liked joining a guild and compare their offers before deciding what I wanted to do. So, I called yesterday and got in contact with one of the regional guilds closest to me, which, in this case, was called Sundown Guild.
I look around the building shortly and then look back at him; he doesn't speak and waits for me to initiate conversation again.
"I called you guys yesterday to see if I can get any benefits from maybe joining you guys as a new hire, as I need some help paying the fees for getting past the Diver Entry Program, and I saw you guys could possibly have a solution to my problem?"
Slowly and methodically, Darren nodded a bit before opening his mouth. Responding with a slow yet direct speech.
"Yes. We do recruit people who are going through— the Diver Entry Program. We can speak more about that after I— show you around the building."
"Yeah, great, show me around. I got it all day. Thank you for having me."
Something about this guy—his build, his slow and measured tone—gives off a somber, almost threatening vibe. It's not like he's trying to intimidate me, but more like if I said the wrong thing, he'd silently decide to throw me through a wall. And for some reason, I feel he very well could throw me with minimal effort.
So, I keep it polite and go with the flow.
From the outside, the place looked like a two-story brick box that had seen better days. A little weathered. Maybe a bit neglected.
But inside? Cozy. Cleaner than expected. Warm light. Earth-tone walls. A couch that didn't look like it came from a thrift store. A few framed photos of Divers posing in front of swirling portals, smiling like they'd just hit the lottery.
Darren nodded again, pivoted 90 degrees, and extended his arm like he was issuing me in.
"Let me show you around then."
I stepped forward, and he naturally fell in beside me, guiding me past the front desk and the L-shaped couch in the small waiting area.
We moved deeper into the first floor—less "corporate headquarters," more "startup crash pad." Exposed metal beams ran across the ceiling. Torn and taped-up posters clung to the walls. A whiteboard listed shift rotations, payout estimates, and someone's grocery list.
The air smelled like old leather, burnt popcorn, and that unmistakable spritz of Lysol trying to cover something worse.
No one else seemed to be on this floor. It felt more like a chill-out zone than a workplace. A few tables scattered around, some beanbag-like chairs, and a kitchen in the back-left corner—complete with an oven, microwave, fridge, and even an air fryer. The coffee machine, by the looks of it, was a battlefield veteran. The refrigerator was plastered with meme stickers and passive-aggressive Post-it notes warning people not to steal lunches.
Some private offices were off to the side—probably meeting rooms or personal workspaces—but most looked empty. One, though, was decked out with a pool table, old arcade cabinets, and a giant TV mounted on the wall.
Up ahead on the right were a set of wooden stairs leading to the second floor. From the sounds—voices, movement—it was clear that's where the real work happened.
After walking the floor for a minute, I realized this wasn't at all what I expected. I came in thinking I'd be stepping into a professional office. Instead, it looked like an after-school hangout spot for grown-ups with kill licenses.
"It's, uh… cozy down here," I said, glancing at Darren. "I'm guessing most of the work happens upstairs?"
He nodded slowly.
"Yes. Downstairs is rarely used for operations. But—" he looked at me, his voice even flatter than before, "if you get in, you can use it however you like."
He looked back around for a moment. "Well, Max-" He looked back at me and pointed at the stairs. "There is nothing more to show down here. My office is upstairs- I can assist you more upstairs with your-" He paused and made that grunting noise again. "Inquiries."
"Cool man, lead the way."
As if forgetting I am technically applying for a real job, I took a more casual way of speech due to the atmosphere around me. Having only realized after I said it, I mentally kicked myself back in check, as I may make references based on the workplace. However, I still don't know how the actual employees are and how professional they want their new hires.
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So, Darren and I headed up the stairs, and once again, I was surprised at the look of the second floor, as the lax nature of the first floor seemed to bleed to the second floor.
Much of the building's actual floor plan looked similar, as did the pillars and the office space; however, the appliances were slightly different.
In the open space area, there were two distinct spaces. One was a row of computers facing each other, with 12 desktop computers total. The other seemed to be a more used meeting place, with a table and chairs in a horseshoe and a large whiteboard filled with vast amounts of clutter, both words and doodles alike.
Unlike the first floor, the individual office spaces all seemed to have nameplates attached with a job position below the name. The only office space with no designated name was meant as an in-office gym, where I could see two people working out.
However, although I finally saw people at the building besides Darren, it felt empty, as I expected more people because it was the middle of a work week.
"How many people work here in total, if I may ask?" I asked while looking at the two people in the gym.
Following my gaze, Darren responded, "14 people work here." Knowing what I was going to ask, he commented, "It is lunch hour. They are getting us food."
«Oh shit, it's lunch right now?»
"Sorry that you're working with me during your lunch hour, I could have come in later."
He looked back towards me, still with that stone face, and responded to my apologies.
"No. It's better this way. They would've scared you away."
Before I could determine whether that was a joke or a genuine warning, he pointed toward one of the side offices.
"This is my office. Follow me. I can help you."
I hesitated, slightly thrown off by the comment. Should I feel reassured? Or maybe they were concerned that my potential future coworkers were apparently terrifying?
«Well, it's a small workspace. They probably just have that overly familiar, tight-knit vibe where everyone's always joking around. This was probably just one of those misplaced jokes. Probably—»
I scanned the area one more time, then followed him into his office.
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For the next fifteen minutes, Darren explained what joining Sundown would mean for me—and what they'd expect in return if I became one of their Divers. The whole conversation moved slowly, not because of the topic but because of how he spoke: deliberate, almost painfully slow.
Not that I was complaining. Honestly, I kind of preferred it. It gave me time to think through everything and connect the dots.
Some of it, though, was vague. Not in a sketchy way, but more in a 'you're not cleared for this info yet' kind of way. Darren said most of what I needed to know would become clear after I finished the Pre-Bath classes. Until then, I'd have to settle for the outline.
Still, I got the gist.
Sundown would provide similar benefits to the government's DEP waiver—covering the entry fee until I completed my first Fate Bath, transportation to and from Diver-related activities, and extra classes. On top of that, they'd offer supplemental in-house training unique to their guild. Plus, a ten-thousand-dollar signing bonus goes straight to my account.
Sounded pretty good.
But there were some catches.
Unlike the government's two-year contract, Sundown's was four years. It also had a required NDA, citing "internal guild secrets." And then there was the contract itself.
Darren slid it across the desk for me to read, and while I wasn't a lawyer, a few lines stood out.
I'd be considered an "at-will" employee but couldn't leave at will. If I tried to bail before the four years were up—without their approval—I'd owe them 150% of what they spent on my training, gear, and transportation.
I raised my brow at that and was just about to ask for clarification when—
BANG.
The office door flung open, and a screech that could only be described as a walrus attempting karaoke echoed through the room.
"Daaaarrraaannn! Ittt's tttiiiiime to EATTT!"
Stunned, I spun in my seat and stared at the woman who had just stormed in. She stood dramatically in the doorway, wearing an oversized red t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, a matching red snapback, and skinny jeans with more holes than fabric. One arm was raised toward the ceiling like she was delivering the final line of a stage musical, her eyes closed in theatrical bliss.
Then she opened her eyes. Saw me.
Her whole body froze.
She blinked. Looked at Darren. Looked back at me. The silence thickened.
Then she smiled wide as if trying to cut the tension with enthusiasm alone.
"Ohhh! A newbie! What's your name?"
Before I could respond, she stepped closer and shoved out a hand.
"My name's Claire! I'm the guild's PR lead!"
She locked eyes with me, her grin unwavering, her handshake hanging in the air just a bit too close for comfort. I felt like I was in the background, surrounded by sunshine and rainbows, and my eyes were filled with glitter. My nose was assaulted by perfume, which was stronger than if I walked into a perfume store, filling the room.
«This... this is what he meant by scaring me off, isn't it?»
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