"Cole… Cole? Cole, wake the fuck up!" Trinity snapped, shoving his shoulder hard enough to jolt the office chair.
Cole cracked one eye open and lifted the bill of his cap with a lazy flick of his index finger.
"Yes, Trinity?" he muttered, still half-asleep and leaning back like he lived in that chair.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" she demanded. Arms crossed. Dress shoe tapping out a pissed-off rhythm against the carpet.
She was angry.
Or maybe furious.
Cole honestly didn't care enough to tell the difference.
Working wasn't his thing.
Doing anything wasn't his thing.
He was fully aware he was a bum. Always had been. The only reason he bothered showing up was to pay for fast-food dinners, rent, and—above all—his expensive habit of drinking liquor that cost more than his dignity.
"Sorry. Just a little hungover," he said, holding up two fingers in front of her face to show exactly how little he cared.
"You're fucking lucky I haven't fired your lazy ass," she shot back.
Trinity was strict.
Annoyingly strict.
But for whatever reason, she kept him around. Maybe she pitied him. Maybe she liked having someone to yell at. Perhaps she was as bored as he was.
Cole dragged his palms down his face, stretching his elbows out in a dramatic groan.
"Fire me, pleaaase," he muffled through his hands.
Trinity scowled.
Cole smirked beneath his fingers.
He hated working more than anything in his life.
He'd rather lose his home than lose his alcohol, so he withstood it. "Working" was the only way he could keep the habit alive.
"Are you going to get back to work or—" Trinity started, launching into the same sentence he'd heard every day for four years. But before she could finish, Cole's phone buzzed.
A call.
"Sorry, I have to take this," he said, already standing up and walking away.
"Where the fuck are you going!?" she shouted after him, voice echoing down the aisle. He didn't answer. She threw her arms out dramatically and turned to harass some other poor bastard.
Cole pushed through the glass office doors and stepped outside into the sunlight. He stared at the caller ID for a moment, annoyed, then reluctantly hit accept and lifted the phone to his ear.
"Wassup, how's it—"
He didn't even finish the sentence.
"Larson! Shut the fuck up and listen." The voice on the other end wasn't just irritated — it was stressed, confused, almost scared. Cole stopped walking. "You have to come to the armory tomorrow. We've got some fucking stupid-ass activation. The entire state is mobilizing. And you better fucking be here!"
Cole blinked under the brim of his cap.
Mobilizing the entire state?
For what?
He didn't feel fear.
Or stress.
Or urgency.
Just an annoyance.
But he kept listening.
Because whatever this was…
It was the first crack in the world he knew.
After a short silence, the man on the other end finally spoke again.
"The entire command staff is stressed the fuck out…" He exhaled sharply. "Fucking— I don't know. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but something big is happening across the entire country. D.C. activated pretty much everyone. First Sergeant said FEMA and the CDC are setting up stations everywhere. But I don't know, man. Just… just make sure you're ready and here by zero-four."
Cole wanted to take it seriously.
He really did.
But… he just couldn't.
"Aye aye, sir!" he said, saluting absolutely no one in the empty office hallway like an idiot.
"I fucking hate you, Larson! And it's Sergeant to you!"
The call ended instantly.
Cole stared at the screen for a second, shrugged, and walked back into the office.
"Who the fuck was that?" Trinity barked the moment she saw him. "You just took five minutes of company time!"
He didn't even fully step inside. He cupped his hands around his mouth like a kid on a playground.
"I'm… leaving… Trinity… super classified military shit I gotta do!"
He didn't wait for her reply. He spun around, marched out with exaggerated steps, and headed straight for the exit.
"Hey! Make sure you get a note, fucker!" she shouted after him, voice echoing through the office.
He heard her muffled complaining even as the glass doors swung shut behind him.
He skipped toward his car, whistling like he'd just been freed from prison.
"Thank God I don't have to listen to that annoying bitch for a couple of days," he muttered under his breath as he slid into his faded '98 Civic. The car groaned like an old man when he turned the key. One crank… two… three… four—
And then it finally sputtered to life.
Cole usually listened to an audiobook on the thirty-minute drive home, but he'd finished one yesterday and was still weirdly depressed about the ending. So he unplugged his phone and started flipping through radio stations, each one filled with that thick static you'd hear on a 90s TV.
After a few minutes of pure snow, he landed on something faintly audible. He turned the knob until the fuzz cleared enough to make sense.
"This is Johnny at four-oh-six news. We have a fascinating— and may I say… uncomfortable— story for this hour. At three p.m. today—"
Cole glanced at his phone, resting in the cup holder.
4:01 p.m.
Not old news.
He kept listening.
"—We received reports of an ancient civilization discovered beneath the western side of Antarctica. According to early statements from researchers, the site is… alien-like in structure. They're calling it The Hollow Cities."
Cole raised a brow.
"Dating back at least two hundred thousand years," the reporter continued. "Older than Mesopotamia. Older than any myth of mankind. Possibly the first civilization."
Cole's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
"They've discovered anomalies. Physical anomalies. These anomalies, scientists claim, violate known laws of physics. That's all the information we have for now. World governments are reportedly getting involved. If we learn more, we'll update you. Now, onto the weather— rain, lots of it—"
Cole tuned out the rest and focused on the road, thoughts drifting.
Whatever the hell they dug up…
It was bad news.