The Bureau of Narrative Enforcement arrived at dawn, their vehicles materializing out of the morning mist like props being wheeled onto a stage. Elias watched from his bedroom window as three black SUVs pulled up to the Quinn house, their occupants moving with the practiced efficiency of people who had seen too much strangeness to be surprised by anything.
[EXTERNAL CONFLICT: INITIATED. EXPECTATION LEVEL: RISING. CURRENT RATING: 89/100. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT FACES INSTITUTIONAL ANTAGONIST.]
"They're here," he said to Nathaniel, who was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, still weak from the surgery.
"Who's here?"
"The people who clean up messes like me."
Elias had been expecting this—the surge of supernatural activity in the neighborhood couldn't have gone unnoticed. Mirrors shattering in unison, reality bending around his emotional state, the gradual transformation of his family home into something that resembled a theater more than a residence. The Bureau existed specifically to contain such phenomena.
[CURRENT RATING: 92/100. TACTICAL AWARENESS: DEMONSTRATED. AUDIENCE ENGAGEMENT: SUSTAINED.]
The lead agent was a woman in her forties with prematurely gray hair and eyes that had seen too much. She approached the front door with the cautious respect of someone who knew that supernatural entities were best handled with diplomacy when possible.
"Mrs. Quinn?" she said when Marianne answered the door. "I'm Agent Grace Harlan with the Bureau of Narrative Enforcement. We've detected some unusual activity in this area. May we come in?"
Marianne stared at her with hollow eyes. "Activity?"
"Mirror resonance cascades. Reality fluctuations. The kind of disturbances that usually indicate the presence of an unregistered Performer."
[BUREAUCRATIC EXPOSITION: EFFECTIVE. CURRENT RATING: 94/100. WORLDBUILDING: ENHANCED.]
From his window, Elias watched his mother's face cycle through confusion, hope, and terror. He could see her weighing her options—reveal the truth about her resurrected son, or protect the family secret that had already destroyed them all.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said finally. "We're just a normal family. We're just—"
"Ma'am," Agent Harlan interrupted gently, "there's no such thing as normal anymore. Not since the Mirror World opened. We're not here to arrest anyone—we're here to help."
Elias made his decision. He couldn't let his mother face this alone, couldn't let the Bureau's investigation destroy what little stability remained in their household. If they were going to discover the truth, better that it come from him.
[CURRENT RATING: 96/100. HEROIC INTERVENTION: IMMINENT. EXPECTATION LEVEL: PEAK.]
He descended the stairs slowly, timing his appearance for maximum dramatic effect. When he entered the living room, the three agents turned toward him with expressions of professional assessment.
"I'm the one you're looking for," he said simply.
Agent Harlan studied him with the intensity of a scientist examining a new species. "And you are?"
"Elias Quinn. Resident Performer, recently awakened." He spread his arms wide, the gesture somehow transforming the mundane living room into a stage. "I assume you have questions."
[CURRENT RATING: 98/100. DRAMATIC REVELATION: ACHIEVED. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT DEMONSTRATES MASTERFUL STAGE PRESENCE.]
"A few," Agent Harlan admitted. "Starting with how long you've been active."
"Three days," Elias replied. "Since my resurrection."
The agents exchanged glances. Resurrection was rare, usually the result of extreme trauma or unfinished business. But the casual way Elias mentioned it suggested something more complex.
"Resurrection from what?" asked the youngest agent, a man with sharp eyes and nervous energy.
"Death," Elias said simply. "The ordinary kind. Heart failure, followed by organ harvesting, followed by burial. Then I came back."
[CURRENT RATING: 99/100. SHOCKING REVELATION: DELIVERED. AUDIENCE ENGAGEMENT: MAXIMUM.]
"That's not how resurrection works," Agent Harlan said carefully. "Performers don't just come back from natural death. There has to be a catalyst—trauma, injustice, unfinished business."
"Oh, there was injustice," Elias replied, his voice carrying a theatrical weight that made the room feel smaller. "I was murdered by my own family. Killed for spare parts to save my dying brother. That seems like sufficient catalyst, don't you think?"
The silence that followed was profound. Even the agents, who had seen every variety of supernatural trauma, seemed taken aback by the casual way he delivered such devastating information.
"Your family murdered you?" Agent Harlan asked.
"With the best of intentions," Elias said, glancing at his mother, who had gone pale. "Love makes monsters of us all."
[CURRENT RATING: 100/100. EXPECTATION LEVEL: MAXIMUM. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT ACHIEVES PERFECT NARRATIVE TENSION.]
"And now you're back," the third agent said. "What do you want?"
"What does any performer want?" Elias replied. "To be seen. To be understood. To give a performance worth remembering."
Agent Harlan nodded slowly. "We're going to need to take a statement. And you'll need to register with the Bureau—all active Performers are required to maintain documentation."
"Of course," Elias said smoothly. "I'm happy to cooperate with the proper authorities."
But as he spoke, he was already calculating. The Bureau's arrival changed everything. They would investigate, document, catalog his abilities. They would try to understand what he was, how he functioned, what threat he might pose.
They would try to control him.
[TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: COMPLETE. CURRENT RATING: 100/100. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT DEMONSTRATES STRATEGIC THINKING.]
"However," Elias continued, "I should mention that I'm still learning to control my abilities. The Mirror World tends to respond to my emotional state, and interviews can be... stressful."
As if summoned by his words, the mirrors in the room began to sing—a low, harmonic vibration that made the agents reach for their weapons.
"I'm sure we can work something out," Agent Harlan said quickly. "Perhaps a more informal arrangement. Regular check-ins, voluntary cooperation."
"I think that would be best," Elias agreed, and the mirrors fell silent.
[DIPLOMATIC VICTORY: ACHIEVED. EXPECTATION LEVEL: SUSTAINED. CURRENT RATING: 100/100. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT SUCCESSFULLY AVOIDS IMMEDIATE CONTAINMENT.]
After the agents left, Elias stood in the living room with his family, feeling the weight of the Audience's attention like a physical presence. He had passed the first test, established himself as a cooperative but powerful entity. The Bureau would watch him, but they wouldn't move against him.
Not yet.
"What happens now?" Nathaniel asked.
"Now," Elias said, "I learn to play by their rules. Until I'm strong enough to make my own."
[CURRENT RATING: 100/100. FUTURE CONFLICT: FORESHADOWED. AUDIENCE ENGAGEMENT: MAXIMUM.]
Outside, the world continued its slow transformation into something that resembled a stage more than reality. And somewhere in the distance, invisible eyes watched and waited for the next act to begin.