The Jaeger Company's HQ smelled of stale coffee and pent-up sweat. A scent that Vice-Captain Mara O'Connell knew intimately, being the one who usually toiled away in that odor.
"Where. Is he."
Her question made the agent on duty flinch. The poor guy, a burly type named Briggs, pointed a trembling finger toward the ceiling.
"The roof, Vice-Captain. He... he said he was going to 'supervise atmospheric parameters.'"
Mara closed her eyes. She mentally counted to ten. She made it to three.
"Supervise. Atmospheric. Parameters."
"Yes, ma'am."
"During the strategic briefing. The one called by the Division Commander. The one where our absence probably gets us sanctioned."
Briggs swallowed hard. "He said the breeze was 'carrying vital information.'"
A twitch started pulsing under Mara's left eye. She turned on her heel. She crossed the open office, ignoring the looks that were both sympathetic and amused from the other hunters. Everyone here adored Captain Elias Mercer. Everyone except the person supposed to work by his side.
The elevator was out of order.
'Of course.'
She climbed the eight floors by the stairs.
She'd arrived a week ago. A promotion, they'd said. Vice-Captain of the legendary Jaeger Company. What they'd omitted to mention was that the Captain's legend mostly revolved around his ability to avoid any form of work.
She pushed open the heavy roof access door.
And found him.
Lounging on a faded beach chair, a battered straw hat over his face, hands crossed on his stomach. He wore the standard Hunter uniform—black jacket with reinforced shoulders, tactical pants—but the buttons were done up wrong, and his boots, set beside him, revealed socks patterned with little ducks.
Mara froze, breathless at the audacity of the scene.
A light breeze scattered the papers around him—reports, requisition forms, all unsigned.
"Captain Mercer," she said, her voice as cold as steel.
A soft snore answered her.
She approached, her shadow stretching over him. "CAPTAIN."
He jolted, the hat slipping from his face to reveal young features—too young for a Company Captain—messy black hair, and gray-blue eyes that blinked against the sun.
"Mmh? Oh, Vice-Captain O'Connell. You missed a superb cloud sunset. Cumulus formations, heading west. Sign of stable pressure." He yawned, stretching like a cat. "What's new on the front?"
Mara felt a vein throbbing at her temple. "The strategic briefing started forty-five minutes ago. We were summoned."
Elias blinked. "The thing at Headquarters? With the PowerPoint slides and Commander Hargrave droning on for three hours about budget ratios?"
"The crucial meeting for resource allocation and patrol planning for the quarter, yes."
"Ah." He got up nonchalantly, picking up his boots. "I figured the cost-benefit ratio of my presence was negative. Maximum productive time loss, minimal tactical gain." He slipped on one boot, scanning for the second. "Hargrave's just going to give more budget to his favorite Company anyway. We can guess the key points later. Briggs has a cousin in division accounting. Leaks, those are the real tactical intel."
Mara stared at him, mouth agape. "You... you skipped a staff meeting because you thought it would be *boring*?"
"'Thought' is a strong word. I had 'empirical certainty' based on twelve previous meetings." He found his second boot under a stack of 'Post-Mission Risk Assessment' forms. "Plus, I did something useful. I slept."
"Slept."
"Sleep is crucial for combat reflexes. Improves cognitive processing by 34%, according to a study."
"You're referencing a study on 'exam-stressed students,' Captain! Not on hunters tasked with protecting a sector of two million inhabitants from dimensional rifts!"
He finally looked at her. A slow smile stretched his lips. He had a disarming smile, too charming to be honest. "You read the study. I'm impressed. Already done your homework on me, Vice-Captain?"
Mara froze. She *had* read the study, among hundreds of others, the night before starting her post. She clenched her fists. "My duty is to ensure this company runs smoothly. Which apparently involves tracking down its captain like a stray pet."
"Found, not tracked." He tied his laces with exasperating slowness. "And 'smooth running' is subjective. Look around." He gestured broadly at the roof, and by implicit extension, the HQ below. "Morale at 100%, mission success rate at 100%, lowest casualty rate of any company. We're running fine."
"We're running fine *despite* you."
"Or thanks to my laid-back management philosophy. Who knows? The mystery is exciting." He stood up, adjusting his jacket poorly. He was taller than she'd noticed. "Well, since you're here and looking all determined, shall we go? The briefing must be almost over."
Mara was about to explode. She felt a speech about discipline, responsibility, and respect for the chain of command burning on her tongue. But before she could unleash it, her dorsal communicator vibrated.
At the same time, Elias's, hooked carelessly to his belt, started beeping with a shrill tone.
All trace of laziness vanished from Elias's face. His eyes hardened, his body tensed almost imperceptibly. He pulled out the communicator in a fluid motion.
"Talk, Briggs."
The agent's voice burst out, tense. [Captain, Vice-Captain. Detection of an anomalous signature. Sector 7-Golf, abandoned industrial district. System classifies it as a nascent Rift, Class B. Estimated emergence point in ten minutes.]
"Has the Regulation Authority been notified?" Mara asked. "They'll want to evacuate a perimeter."
[Yes, ma'am, but channels are jammed. There's a weather alert downtown, everyone's on the lines.]
Elias had already grabbed his straw hat and tossed it over the roof's edge. "Briggs, soft alert. Alpha Team with us, rapid response protocol. No mass evacuation trigger yet, it'll cause panic in end-of-day traffic. We contain, clean up, and tidy before the neighborhood notices."
"Captain, protocol for Class B and above requires immediate civilian notification—" Mara began.
"Protocol was written by desk jockeys, not field people." He headed for the door, but his gaze met hers. "In this sector, an alert will flush everyone out of their squats. They'll pour into the streets, right under the potential flight path of Nemeses if the rift spits. You prefer following protocol and having civilians smack in the combat zone, or breaking it and leaving them under cover?"
"You're taking on huge responsibility."
"That's why they pay me the big Captain salary." He opened the door. "Well, they should. Coming, Vice-Captain? Time to see if this company really 'runs.'"
He vanished into the stairwell.
Mara stood for a second, breathless. Then she ran after him. "My name is O'Connell! And you didn't even check Alpha Team's composition!"
His voice echoed back in the stairwell. "It's Briggs, Saito, and the new guy, the nervous one."
'How the hell does he know that? He just sleeps all day!'
She hurtled down the steps, catching up to him on the fourth floor where he was casually queuing in front of the now-working elevator.
"The elevator's working?"
"Only in emergencies. The techs are slackers, they only fix it when it's really needed." He pressed the button. The doors opened immediately.
They descended in silence. Mara studied his profile. He stared straight ahead, hands in pockets, looking almost bored. But she noticed how his fingers drummed a complex sequence on his thigh.
The doors opened onto the garage. Alpha Team—exactly as he'd described—was already there, by a dull-colored all-terrain utility vehicle. Briggs. Saito, slim and focused. And the "nervous one," a young hunter named Finn, fiddling with his pulse pistol.
"Captain! Vehicle loaded, route optimized to avoid traffic, estimated time: seven minutes," Briggs announced.
Elias nodded, circled the vehicle, and opened the front passenger door. "You drive, O'Connell."
Mara stopped short. "Me?"
"You need to know the terrain. This is your baptism by fire with us. Behind the wheel, you absorb the map, the exits, the high points." He slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. "And I can finish my nap."
He reclined the seat and closed his eyes.
Mara, under the team's half-amused, half-admiring gaze, climbed into the driver's seat, jaws clenched. She started up, shooting the vehicle out of the garage into the hazy afternoon.
As she slalomed through traffic, Elias, eyes still closed, murmured:
"Take a left at the next. Road's cut off due to construction. Workers reported a 'weird vibration' this morning. Could be related."
She glanced at him, then the road ahead. She turned left.
'How...?'
The communicator crackled again.
[Jaeger Company, update. Signature strengthening. Likely reclassification to Rift Class B+. Emergence point advanced to... Now. Good luck.]
Beside her, Elias finally opened his eyes. He didn't look sleepy at all anymore.
"Change of plans, kids. The rift's open." He looked at Mara, and that smile returned, but without any warmth this time. "Welcome to Jaeger, Vice-Captain. Let's hope your exceptional talent is as good as your file claims."
The vehicle burst into the abandoned factory courtyard, and Mara saw reality tearing open twenty meters ahead.
A pulsing purple scar in the air, wide as a garage door. And from that tear, three misshapen figures, covered in scales and armed with claws that shredded metal like paper, had just spotted them.
Elias let out a weary sigh.
"Let's wrap this up quick, guys. I've got a magazine waiting."