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Militem Dominum · **12-30-2013, 10:53 PM**

Date: 15 March, 2045
Location: Tower 4, Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Current Mood: Borderline Accomplished

"Militem Dominum, in my office. Immediately." I'll admit, I didn't expect to hear the frustrated but still incredibly condescending and passive aggressive voice of my new superior as soon as the elevator doors opened, but that was exactly what happened. A smirk unconsciously sneaks across my face as I step off the lift. I tilt my head to side ever so slightly; what could it be that gives such urgency to this meeting?

After a few seconds of walking down the narrow hallway that the elevator opened up into, I find the door into the man's office, not bothering to stop and read the name on the glass window for the second time in a row. I'm going to need to know that at some point, but now isn't one of them. I push the door open and step in, riding the wave of curious apprehension that suddenly came over me. It's obviously important, I think while shaking my head to force out the doubts. He wouldn't call me here if it wasn't. I approach the same chair I sat in last time and take a seat, staring intently at the ghostly, overly confident man in the desk in front of me. He really didn't look like any supervisor I've ever encounter, then again he likes to joke about how Australians do things weird, so maybe that's another thing we supposedly fucked up.

"Ah, good to see you again," he says, tapping his fingers against the silver lining of the plastic desk, producing an annoyingly constant tinging. I grimace slightly, an action that causes him to chuckle before finally, thankfully, stopping. "Now, you left me with a question that I'm sure you really wanted answered."

I must've forgotten all about what I asked; because I was drawing a blank. I didn't ask him anything, did I? If I did, it obviously wasn't too important. He leans back in his chair and props his feet up on the desk.

"Do you remember what it was you asked so nonchalantly?"

Reluctantly, I shake my head no.

"I should've seen that coming: you Aussies are all idiots," he begins with a sigh. This asshole is really starting to get on my bad side, and if he doesn't fucking can it with the racist shit, he was definitely going to end up on my fucking shitlist. "Very well then, allow me to repeat it so we both know what's going on: 'Who the hell is Mani Devan?'"

Oh, shit. I did ask that, didn't I? I lean forward in my chair, ears perked up at the mere mention of the mystery man.

"Oh, now the wheels are slowly turning in that oversized head of yours, huh?" Regardless of whether or not he was going to give me information, I still want to punch this smug motherfucker in the mouth. In an attempt to play nice, I nod, flashing a big ass fake smile to boot.

"Now, I want you to tell me, how the fucking hell do you know that name?"

"Is my knowledge of that name something that troubles you?" I shoot back, the fake smile falling back into the genuine smirk that his genuine distress is giving me. His face begins to turn a shade of red, and he groans loudly before glancing down at the stack of papers strewn about the top of the desk. His index finger lands on a line of twelve point font on one of the sheets that I'm not sure whether or not he's looking at for reference or actually expecting me to be able to read. He clears his throat before presumably reading his response right off the paper.

"Mani Devan is a myth. Disregard any mention of him, no matter who says it. The rumor of this man, whoever he may be, has been passed around by Agents over the course of the last four months. We don't know at this time why, or who started it, but it's becoming a nuisance and a distraction. He is a myth. That is who Mani Devan is, Militem."

"Militem Dominum," I correct him, once again.

"Whatever."

"Back to the topic at hand, that's bullshit."

"What was that?"

"Oh, sorry. That's bullshit, sir."

"Ugh, what do you mean?"

"What I mean is, that's not how I heard about Mani Devan. That's just a cop-out that the higher ups are feeding us in an attempt to bury something. Something important. I know it. I knew I should've brought it, but I saw the name on the headlines in the Modern Montreal News Report-"

"There's the issue, they're loonies. All of them."

"But doesn't that directly contradicts what the higher ups are saying? Why would they care about urban legend invented by an asshole Agent? Wouldn't that give away the whole concept of the Agents, anyway?"

"They're loonies. They invent things everywhere they go. Don't listen to them and you'll be better off."

He's the fucking loony here. Oh well, I can't make him see what's going on and if he wants to hide behind this paper thin excuse, I guess I can't stop him. I sigh before asking the only question on my mind now:

"Am I free to go now? I have a mess to clean up, you know."

"Very well. Dismissed."

Good, I was almost at the point of being able to feel my brain rotting to mush, hearing his blind support of that paper thin excuse. I stand up and walk out of the room, muttering a long string of necessary yet ultimately unrelated profanities on the way out. Getting into the hallway, I can feel the air being pushed out of my lungs by the constrictingly tight passageways. Did they somehow shrink in the time it took for me to bicker with that still nameless motherfucker? The robe I'm dressed in tightens around my body as I make my way down the labyrinth, choking the life out of me further.

I push open the door to my office, luckily out of range of the claustrophobia inducing maze of jagged passageways. Taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, I scan the room for wherever the higher ups would put the supplies-

The armoire! That's it!

I rush over to the large piece of furniture, pulling the door open in a fit of frantic urgency to find just what I'm looking for. A briefcase, with two wrist watch/radio cross breeds laying atop it. Perfect. I take off the robe and grab the briefcase, laying the latter down on the table. I open it, not bothering to look into it, and put the robe into it before closing it and picking it up once again. Then, I slide the watches into my pocket and make my way out the door, towards the elevator once again.

Gerald better be waiting for me.

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