" Next Appointment for 1500; make your way to station 5 and await transport," a robot voice remarked over a large speaker with a shiny polished finish. Complemented by the smell of the squeaky clean floors and freshly painted walls.

  Its voice echoed into the silent room like a gust of wind in the plains of Trident. Many people were in the room, all neatly seated in perfect rows and columns, and their suits were identical black. The lights flickered, exposing the lack of primary colors.

  They all faced a desk with a loudspeaker as their only human contact. Their names were called individually as if they were winning the lottery without any rewards or excitement.

  This was management, the last place you wanted to be on a Saturday morning.

  But for Kael Veyron, it was precisely where he needed to be. He picked at the tail end of his blue suit as he twiddled his fingers. While repeatedly staring at the speaker and back at the door-shaped paper slip he held that read 87.

  His forehead dripped with sweat as he tried to lock eyes with anyone. " You deserve this; you need this," he chimed, licking his lips. He looks again at the speakers and then back at his paper slip.

  " Number 80," the robotic voice shrieked.

  Kael's heart skipped a beat as he exhaled, relaxing his shoulder. " Oh, thank the weavers," he yelped, holding his chest.

  "Aren't you a bit nervous?" he elbows the man to his side.

  However, Kael was met with a soft grunt as the man rolled his eyes. " Oh, come on. My heart is racing just being here. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Kael whispered, adjusting his glasses.

  " I don't care," he sneered, gripping the handle of his chair.

  Kael's eyes widened, causing him to jolt back.

  " Sassy much," he whispered, clearing his throat.

  " Number 83."

  Kael instantly looked at the speaker and then at his slip, holding his forehead.

  For the next couple of hours, Kael gripped his seat, bit his nails, and lightly tapped his feet until his number was called.

  Without wasting any time, he sprinted past all the stationary black suits and stood before a steel door that materialized before him. He stepped into the room and was slapped in the face with the smell of a freshly machined part.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  It was a dark room with no lights or windows and was smaller than the size of a closet. When he entered, the door immediately shut behind him, and there was no handle to come with it.

  " Huh," he howled, banging at the door. " Someone let me out; I don't understand," he charged at the door, slamming his shoulder into it, recoiling him back.

  His cry for help was interrupted by an automated voice.

  " You have arrived at your destination; thank you for taking the Transoceanic Transport. Enjoy"

  He rubbed his head, his hands shaking as he held on to his briefcase, his breath quick and shallow like a pump.

  The door slowly creaked open in front of him, letting light seep into the dark room.

  He walked towards the door and slightly pushed it, revealing an office with dirty glass windows.

  He walked through the door, his heart racing. The floor was smooth like butter, and the air felt like walking through a field of blossoms.

  A shelf with books hid in the corner of the room, and a desk and chair right in the center, with a man materializing in it, were the accessories. The room's accessories were sharp and geometric, with only two colors: black and white.

  " Holy weavers," he yelled, taking a step.

  " How is that possible," he pressed his lips, biting his gums.

  " Have a seat, Mr Kael," he pointed at the chair in front of him.

  Kael sat down, keeping his eyes locked on him. "Ahmmmm... How did you do that? Just appear in the room like this," he remarked, his voice shaky.

  " I am management," he said meekly. He opened a folder that materialized in front of him.

  " I mean, I know that," he quipped, tapping his finger on the chair.

  "That's why I am here to discuss getting on the Midnight case."

  " I am management, " he iterated. Kael smirked. " I have been waiting for you, Kael," he made eye contact with Kael for the first time, revealing his caramel-brown eyes.

  " I read your report on the midnight case, Mr Kael, and found some of your proposed tactics interesting."

  He slicked his hair back. " Yeah, I know I wrote it," he scoffed.

  " The Shadow Syndicate, the children of the weavers, would like to promote you to field officer and asset retrieval," management commented.

  Kael scrunched his forehead. " Huh... children of the weavers, promotion, asset retrieval, what are you talking about? I thought I was being fired by going behind my supervisor's back with this report," he said with a nervous laugh.

  " No, you are not," he lightly pushed on the table, rolling his chair backward.

  " Mr Kael, I have been on the midnight case for over 200 years since the age of the holy king, and we have still unsuccessfully enacted the will of the weavers."

  He walks to his window, brushing past his steel frame desk.

  " We need all the help we can get, so when I saw your proposed method, I knew it when I saw it."

  " Knew what," Kael spoke.

  " I knew how to finally bring order by ending the midnights and preventing a holy war that would kill billions."

  Kael's eyes widened, his pupils the size of circles.

  "A holy war, not what I signed up to do this Saturday morning."

  Management pointed at the folder. " Shall we begin?"