“Got it.” She replied, hanging up the phone. A report from one of her allies, letting her know that an employee of hers had requested a pickup. There wasn’t much she could do at the moment. They were sending a chopper to pick up whatever Amy had shot, and they knew enough to keep their mouth shut when dealing with the things that certain segments of the government and civilian popuce have to shoot on occasion.

  Unlike most of those occasions, however, this wasn’t Bigfoot or some monster that’d wandered its way in through the cracks in the world. While it’snot overly common for someone to pop one of those it’s still common enough for there to be procedures in pce. She wouldn’t go as far to call it a coverup; that word has such negative connotations. It’s just better not to make the general, increasingly urban popution worry about spooks in the woods.

  People in the past were better prepared for it with their stronger sense of faith, but the modern mind increasingly adheres to rationality; they just aren’t equipped to deal with situations where their rigid worldview falls apart. There’s already enough memes and online posts touching on the truth, no need to encourage a truth that’d upset the urban voting bases.

  But the difference between the “usual” thing that goes bump in the night is what sets this apart. This was a construct, not a cryptid or monster. Something created by someone through arcane means and actively used to attack a federal agent. That was the concern, and while the chopper currently en-route to a clearing in a central Marynd park was nominally on her side, them being made aware of trouble of this sort brewing was not ideal. Not this soon into the game.

  She has to give credit to Amy at least. Her report to them was minimal. Taking care of the thing wasn’t the issue, that she’d dispose of it was a given albeit a very difficult task.. Knowing how much time the Count has had to hone his craft it couldn’t have been a walk in the park, so to speak, but as her boss she had seen the expense reports and was sure she had enough firepower even without the sorceress there.

  Calling the clean-up crew right after and giving them the bare minimum of information was what deserves commendation. The Count might have agents who’d be able to pass him a transcript of the call, but even if it was a so-called “secure” line he might have ways to gather more intel. So the less said over the phone the better.

  But although Amy had been briefed on the basics, she hadn’t been outright told what to look out for. She was smart enough, and distrustful of authority enough, that she likely would make the right calls but is it possible to be sure? Smart and distrustful isn’t always enough to ensure an appropriate level of OPSEC, operational security. The “appropriate” levels she may have learned about in her previous job in the military were intended to protect against external enemies, but the Count has his fingers embedded deep into the inner workings of the government. One of those Domestic enemies mentioned in the enlistment oath she took.

  Really this was an oversight on her part. Not even an oversight, a complete flub, a gaff to put it in political punditry terms. She didn’t aspire towards any office herself but she had to keep abreast of politics since she certainly was a lesser known pyer in the field. Deep state politics is still politics so gaff was the right term. The question is simple. Amy knows the basics of the mission, but has she grasped the full implications of it yet?

  If she wasn’t capable of this then all the effort put into selecting her, hiring her, and training her would be useless. She’s being groomed for a role higher up on the food chain, but if she can’t be wary enough to avoid being eaten by those even bigger then it’d all be for nothing.

  “Cathy…” She sighed as a white Persian cat hopped out from under her desk and into her p. She stroked the luxuriant white fur, as she reached for the coffee on her desk like a thirsty man in a desert reaches for water. “I wish I wasn’t saried, with how much overtime I’ve been having to pull recently.”

  “You know that’s not how the payscale works.” The cat miraculously answered back. Or not so miraculously, all things considered. Talking cats normally aren’t seen outside of 90’s sitcoms, but after a certain point it’s something that might as well be taken in stride.

  “True, but could you imagine?” She continued petting the cat as she looked over the documents in front of her.

  “What’s bothering you?” The cat’s face didn’t change much but her concern was clear in her tone as she asked. “You only ever get like this when you’re really worried.”

  “I don’t want to stifle her growth, but this op is too big to fail. Interfering too much at this point runs the risk of creating bad habits, but if she makes too big of a mistake we could end up with her and the other two dead. I’m stuck trying to bance the future prospects of our department with a potential risk to the mission.”

  “Not to py Devil’s advocate, I hate the term with how often you surround yourself with the damn things, but isn’t the danger part of the job? Goodness knows how often you put yourself in harm's way.” The cat pointedly licked the back of her paw, focusing as if her cleanliness trumped any concerns held by the woman holding her.

  “Things were much simpler when we were the only field agents for the Archive. All the guards and archivists tend to be pretty hands-off when it comes to managing them.” She stared off into the distance, the corners of her eyes narrowing as if peering into the decades-old past.

  “From the management side of things, sure, but having to do every job ourselves… that was a chore.”

  “There was a lot less mission creep though. Everything was simple; find the document causing problems and bring it back here. Before the incident-”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Besides, this isn’t that bad. It finally got you to start pulling strings for more funding and personnel after all. The office staff may have a rexed life but there’s way too many rare document dealers making bad purchases, books and items with sordid pasts, and all that other nonsense. Even without mission creep we were swamped with retrieval jobs. Going up to random houses with sketchy cover stories? Bleh, I felt like a cut-trate Men in Bck.” The cat shuddered, shaking its head.

  “Please, it wasn’t that bad. For one thing we didn’t have to do the matching outfits thing that Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones had.” The boss, in an uncharacteristic moment of levity, let out a slight chuckle.

  “I was talking about the originals, like bad guys in the X-files show. That UFOlogist nonsense was all the craze back when we were recruited. Not that it’s exactly nonsense, but so much of our time was wasted on it.”

  “Only partially. They were more worried about stupid things like backmasking in music. Do you remember how much of a nightmare that clusterfuck was?” The boss looked to be in her early 30’s normally, but the years seemed to fall away as she reminisced over past memories.

  “That was the worst! All those local officials and papers worried about Satanists hiding behind every corner, and the few times they hit pay-dirt we were stuck stealing documents from evidence. Probably for the best for the prosecutors on those cases, with the amount of sketchy “suicides” that got hushed up. Sorry, get hushed up. Things were incredibly touch and go, and they kept getting more and more btant as time went on and the public got more conditioned to it.”

  “I know… to think a governor of such a backwater state would cause so many issues as well.”

  “If anything, I got off light when we fucked up that st mission. We’d already stepped on enough toes back in the 80’s, and the following decades were just an amazing streak of lucking out. So you really should stop bming yourself. I’m alive, which is more than many can say.”

  “Still. It was in part my failure that led to your current state. I didn’t think things had gotten that bad, and I still had some faith in the process. But his level of influence, and the meddling of others, it’s just way too ingrained in the damned bureaucracy. With this mission we should be getting rid of at least some of the rot. It won’t fix everything but it’s a start.”

  “I was worried you’d throw another pity party but you pulled through in the end. Chin up. And have you made a decision?” The cat looked at the boss with upturned eyes.

  “We can’t afford failure.” The boss spoke with finality. “It would be best to let Amy know to be cautious, even if it means showing more of our hand. We’ll have to tell her eventually, so we might as well show her more consideration rather than giving her the mushroom treatment, keeping her in the dark and feeding her shit. It’d be better to show her a bit more consideration.”

  “Good girl. I knew you’d reach the right decision. So how are you going to let her know? The chopper’s already in the air.” The cat jumped from her p on top of the stack of paperwork.

  “You know the answer to that. Amy’s wife would be put on edge by any of my ‘usual servants.’ She hates demons. And don’t forget you’re still on the payroll too.”

  “How scandalous, double-dipping from government funds like that. They call that embezzlement you know. Just to spend it on your cat.” Her tail flipped back and forth as she mockingly spoke.

  “Oh please, your work attendance is impeccable.” She scowled, but the crinkling at the corner of her eyes showed it was more affected than sincere.

  “Well, I’m off. Hopefully your newest employee doesn’t freak out over the talking cat.”

  “Good luck.”