The theatre at John Amos High School appeared unremarkable at first glance, much like any other, with the faint scent of cardboard and glue evoking Brian’s memories of his own school years. The drama stage was adorned with psychedelic colors, ticking clocks, and a tea set, though these props went unused due to an incident that unfolded at the play’s outset. Megan Dyer, the teenage actress portraying the lead character in Alice in Wonderland, leapt into a rabbit hole prop right on cue. As the lights faded to black and a new set was rolled out—featuring a clever array of wheeled panels designed to make the room appear to shrink or grow—she missed her next cue. As a teacher went to check on her to see if she had hurt herself jumping into the rabbit hole, they instead found a portal to another world.

  Brian began by checking the attendee list for Ridley Lancaster and Louis Patel, also known as Funk Master. Both attended the school but were absent from the play. The only other anomaly noted was an unusual number of lost wallets, though Brian’s focus was not on petty theft. He now worked in special affairs in the newly formed supernatural division. When questioned by the FBI about his delay in disclosing these abilities, Brian had explained that doing so earlier would likely have led to suspension and a psychiatric evaluation. The authorities had simply nodded in agreement.

  He had been recruited from the IRS two weeks ago and was already stretched far too thin: city defense, recruitment, coordinating legal matters with the demi-human groups, and now an investigator for missing kids.

  “Hey, Brian! I think I see something!” shouted Brian’s assistant.

  Judah, an enthusiastic young fed, sat in the roped-off area near the rabbit hole prop. Brian approached as Judah peered into the faux hollowed-out trunk, a brown-painted papier-maché construction. It glowed from a light emitting from inside.

  “Judah, you might want to step back—it’s not safe,” Brian cautioned.

  “I don’t think any—AHHH!” Judah’s words were cut off as a black, chitinous arm reached out from the stump, seizing him. He stumbled backward, pulling a spider the size of a large dog with him.

  Brian threw his dagger into the side of the spider, instantly teleporting beside the creature, appearing with his hand on the dagger. He pulled it out and stabbed it twice more, then dragged a screaming Judah to safety while keeping his eyes on the spider. It stumbled about in pain from the attack.

  Brian moved Judah behind a rolling wall and used his skill to hide from the spider that was thrashing around. With a precise attack from its blind spot, Brian threw his dagger into the side of its head. The spider collapsed and twitched as it died.

  “Wow, WOW! That was insane! Intense!” Judah rambled, shaken by the encounter.

  “We might want to build a cage around that thing,” Brian said, pointing at the tree stump.

  After taking a few deep breaths, Judah calmed down, pulled out a notepad, and began scribbling.

  Judah, unlike Brian, possessed no supernatural abilities. He was assigned to the case due to his role in special investigations and his hobby of running a YouTube channel about fantasy tabletop RPGs. The recent incidents aligned too closely with the themes of such games, making Judah an asset—or so the higher-ups claimed. When Brian had questioned how Judah would defend himself in a confrontation, they pointed to his black belt in karate. Brian had a harder time believing in Judah’s fighting prowess than in portals to other dimensions opening up in a paper prop.

  “It all makes a bizarre kind of sense,” Judah continued thoughtfully. “The abilities you’ve described form an almost obvious pattern. The kid who won the Nerf archery contest and became an archer? The devout woman with a broom—likely a Paladin. The kid with the saxophone helping people by singing? Clearly a Bard. You never explained how you became a thief, but with your IRS background, it’s not hard to guess…”

  Brian shot him a scowl, but Judah—unfazed—pressed on.

  “This fits the trend. In the play, this rabbit hole goes to Wonderland, right? A place where common sense is turned upside down. I have an idea of what type of place this portal leads to.”

  “And that is?” Brian asked, growing impatient.

  “I’m guessing something equivalent to the land of faerie,” Judah replied, nodding confidently.

  “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Brian commented.

  As they drove, Judah tried to impress upon Brian just how dangerous fairies could be. He unknowingly sabotaged his own arguments by making reference to several games he had played. As he nattered on Brian made a turn down a road that would take them the outskirts of town.

  "Hey, this isn't the way to the office." Judah remarked.

  "I'm just running an quick errand." he said as he drove over a hill.

  He ended up at woods near where they had recently fought a giant moth. Getting out of the car he grabbed a bag and began hiking into the woods. Judah followed silently until Brian stopped, pulling out a set of binoculars.

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  "You can out here to do some bird watching?" Judah asked.

  "No... just trying to make a new friend."

  Sighting a nest a black head poked up to look at him. He waved at the bird before getting a handful of peanuts and a shiny quarter. He found a clear flat area and laid them down in a pile.

  "Ok, let's go." Brian said flatly.

  "I'm confused."

  "So am I, but after watching our footage I think that bird might have saved us the other night. I'm hoping to keep up a good working relationship."

  -Ridley the Mortal-

  Ridley sat on the bleachers after she turned on a new movie for the orcs, The Gladiator. She had really had to go to bat for this one as Alexander and Susan had both expressed their concern over the orcs building a fighting ring and killing each other. She had concocted some BS about how the concept of violence was already ingrained, but morals against corruption were not. This movie would introduce that.

  Mid-debate she realized she would need to pivot and said this type of movie could lead to more cultural interest in the future as it was set at the height of ancient Rome and they could slowly pivot to movies that had less violence but were still action-oriented.

  Ridley was once again pleased with her investment in intelligence. Other developments in her life felt mixed. She had moved back in with her mom, and she was now able to contribute financially. Her mother had buckled down and was putting real effort in at her work after the crisis between them had been resolved. She was a minor celebrity at school as all manner of whispers of ability users were pointed her direction. She decided not to answer the unasked question for now, because of one major issue she currently faced. Much of her super strength was gone.

  She could still beat up an orc, sure. When they sparred, the orcs assumed she was going easy on them. She really had to put in the effort to make sure the win was one-sided. The unfortunate reality was that there was no way she could match the levels she had during “The Battle of Congo”—a name she had adopted in her head. It wasn’t catching on.

  Subconsciously she traced the outline of her awaken rune on her forearm, the three spirals making a fun pattern to follow. Her concern, naturally, was that she didn’t want to be possessed by an ancient ancestor ghost again. When she had taken off the hairpin Alexander had placed on her head during the orc invasion, she had heard one word from Victrius and shoved it back on. She had been screaming, “TRAITOR! The blood of the innocents stains your head!”

  The book that she had purchased at the comic book store was now blank, and Ridley wondered if all of her progress would be stunted. One of the reasons she didn’t put up too much of a stink when Brian sidelined her was that she sold her single use of Vegvísir per day to Brian’s new organization for a decent sum. The other reason she didn’t complain was that she was actually scared to fight a monster.

  For that one month she had thought herself invincible, but that stint in the hospital and hearing about her initial wounds—likely combined with suppressing Victrius—had snapped her mortality back awake. She had never fought without the rage that had overtaken her. Not even since she broke Jared’s arm.

  The orcs roared with laughter as Maximus threw a spear into the chest of a chariot rider, pulling Ridley from her musings. She felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it from her pocket, turned it over, and was pleased to see a text from Sam.

  Sam: Hey Ridley, still up for the Ghibli movie marathon on Thursday? Ridley: Of course! Let me double-check that my time off got approved. Sam: Great! Should I pick you up at 5:30? Ridley: That would be nice. I’ll get back to you in an hour. Sam: ::thumbs up::

  Ridley headed to Alexander’s dreary cubicle for the third time that day. She believed, though he’d never admit it, that Alexander needed her frequent visits to brighten his mood. Without her, he’d sink too deeply into his serious, solitary routine. She had to admit to also feeling better after sufficiently annoying him. She found him chatting with Bru-haha, who looked comical trying to fit his massive frame into the cramped cubicle.

  “The problem is both size and durability. Our nails are too long and sharp,” Bru-haha said, raising his hand to show Alexander.

  “I see. Well, I will submit the official request documents, though I doubt corporate will budge on this,” Alexander replied.

  “Very good. I hope the budget is appropriately supplemented by corporate,” Bru-haha said, turning to Ridley. “Ah, Ridley! We were just discussing the potential for ordering special gloves for the clan. We debated including language like ‘racially biased gloves,’ to prod the higher-ups into action. I admit to enjoying the approach as it feels like giving an enemy an armbar during negotiations…”

  Ridley smiled, liking to see the manic grin on Bru-haha. His intelligence was going to take some getting used to, but hopefully his dark humor would be preserved.

  She glanced at Alexander. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to check if my time off was approved.”

  Adjusting his glasses, Alexander pulled up a window on his computer. “Provided you submitted the requested forty-eight hours in advance, I see no reason it wouldn’t be.” He typed Ridley’s name into the program, and her weekly schedule appeared. “You’re all clear.”

  Bru-haha leaned toward Ridley, his menacing expression softening into what she recognized as his improving smile that marked he wanted something.

  “Do you have special plans?” he asked, his hair noticeably combed and he smelling like he had taken a proper bath since the morning.

  “Yes, I do! The movie theater is hosting a special showing of the Studio Ghibli films—some of my favorites!” Ridley replied.

  “Interesting,” Bru-haha said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Would I be intruding if I tagged along? I feel the need to expand my knowledge in this area if I’m to manage the rotating movie schedule here.”

  “You passed your test?” she asked.

  “Easily. Brian cleared me after lunch,” Bru said, striking a sentai warrior pose she had taught him.

  “I’m sure my friend would love meeting you. Do you have a phone yet?” Ridley asked.

  “I do. Alexander secured a work phone for me,” Bru-haha answered.

  “Perfect. Alex, do you want to come too?” Ridley offered.

  “No, thank you, Ridley. I have paperwork to catch up on, but I appreciate the invitation.”

  “All work and no play…” Ridley began.

  “Makes a corporate office system work as designed,” Alexander finished.

  Ridley looked at Bru-haha and sighed. “I worry he’s truly hopeless. He needs to get out of the office more and flirt with that neighbor girl more. He won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t take some time to relax.”

  “I agree,” Bru-haha said, pausing briefly. “Ridley, I was wondering, what do you call the service of trimming and cleaning nails? I saw it in a movie once and wondered if it was a routine service.” He held up the back of his hands toward her, showing his gnarly, sharp, pointed nails.

  Ridley paused, considering his question. “Are you asking about a manicure?” she ventured.

  “A manicure…” he nodded, looking at his nails contemplatively.