My two weeks notice turned into almost a month of waiting for all the paperwork to get done. It seemed like the wheels of bureaucracy plodded along, even in the land of make-believe. Yet, I found it somehow comforting that you couldn’t use magic to vanish red tape out of the universe. Lt. Smith changed my transfer request into a retirement package. Next, I extended my leave so that I didn't have to face any unwanted questions. My supervisors cheerfully approved my request. They weren’t any more eager to discuss the situation than I was.

I went back to the office for a single day to sign forms and return equipment, including my ride and agency firearm. Turning in my credentials was a surreal experience. I had been in law enforcement most of my adult life. If what Agent Rutherford told me was to be believed, it was quite literally part of my identity. I was back to being John Q. Public. It was only temporary, I assured myself. It was a cold comfort.

Waiting for a rideshare to take me back home from the District Office left me feeling anxious and depressed. John offered to take me home and had been blowing up my phone non-stop since he found out about my “retirement.” I finally texted him that I wasn't ready to talk about it and that I would be in touch. He then started calling only twice a day.

Agent Ruthersford placed some files for me in a secure government dropbox online that I could only access via a three-factor authentication that included a video call with a black screen and computer modulated voice. The black screen monitored me the entire time I had the files open. If I even got up to use the restroom, my access was terminated, and I had to start the lengthy process over. The contents of the dropbox mainly consisted of standard operating procedures, large sections of which were redacted. There was no mention of magic, monsters or anything supernatural. I learned about the day-to-day of a generic government entity. It didn't cover their mission statement, but at least I knew where the bathrooms were and how to request time off.

In the section about codes, which I was to study closely, I found the only hints that there was anything strange. A code "666" was a "disturbance with possible links to the underworld." There was a classification scale regarding the power and abilities of things called "non-traditional Animalia or phenomenon." A "1A1" was of little concern. A "9N7" would require a special squad with "relic class" equipment to handle. I didn't know what any of this "meant," but it all sounded cool as hell. I wondered if they would let me spin a "relic class" firearm on my finger. I doubted it.

I spend the rest of my free time cleaning and working out. You never quite realize what kind of funk you have let yourself fall into until you try to pull yourself out. I wasn't quite wall-to-wall pizza boxes. But, there were some pizza boxes. I never really dealt with living as a bachelor after the fire if I were honest with myself. My life had been on auto-pilot, waiting for something to happen. I never looked further ahead than the next meal or bedtime. I was barely making it one day at a time, and suddenly, three years had passed.

I threw myself into it with gusto now. I started with top to bottom clean of the house and my car. I stocked the fridge and pantry with healthy food and got rid of all the junk. I had never really stopped working out. Since my college football days, I had been a gym rat, and the physical escape had been a big part of my coping mechanism. But I had been going through the motions in the gym as much as everywhere else. I put together an aggressive new program and got started on it two days after meeting with Agent Ruthersford at the Smoky Oak.

The day finally came. I put on my best suit, collected a portfolio of the requested personal documents, and drove to the address that Agent Ruthersford had provided. Being a good detective, I had scoped it out beforehand. From the outside, it appeared to be a nondescript, gray building with tight security. There weren't any markings at all on the building or signage that displayed anything beyond the address.

I was stopped at the civilian gate as directed. Beyond the gate was an intimidating checkpoint that I wouldn't have been able to drive a tractor-trailer through. A man in a crisp khaki uniform checked my name and ID against a tablet he was carrying. He made a call on his complicated-looking cell phone while another uniformed man wanded over my car with something that looked suspiciously like the Ecto-meter from Ghostbusters. I passed whatever checks they had in place because the ponderous gate finally began to inch open.

The security guard directed me to an underground parking lot that was itself gated. I was to park in spot F-3 and proceed to the elevator to the northwest and wait there until someone came down to collect me. Neither guard smiled or made eye contact as I slowly drove through the checkpoint. There was no car ahead of me and no car behind me. I parked where instructed and walked to the elevator. I was starting to think I had made an mistake when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open like triple filtered vodka.

Standing there with a gleaming white smile was Agent Benjamin Theodore Ruthersford III. "Mr. Renshaw! It’s a pleasure to see you again. So, you didn't have any problems getting through security?"

"No, sir. Quite a tight ship you guys are running. The goons at the gate hardly cracked a smile."

"They take their jobs very seriously, I'm afraid. The security threats that the agency faces, while infrequent, can be rather...intense. And please, call me Teddy. We are to be partners after all." He stepped back on the elevator to give me room to enter.

"Partners?" I exclaimed.

"Certainly." He pressed a button without markings. "You didn't think that you would be working alone?"

I thought about it. The manual mentioned two-person investigative units. "I guess I hadn't considered it, honestly. I certainly didn't think I’d be working with you. Aren't you like a recruiter or something?"

He smiled. "No Cash, I am a Special Agent. Same as you will be in about," he checked his watch, "three or four hours from now." The elevator dinged. "It’s customary here for Agents to select their own partners. We are seldom assigned. If there is no one internally suitable, we are encouraged to recruit from the outside. Ah, here we are.”

The doors slid open, and we stepped out into a reception area. Some signage indicated that we were in the “Personnel Section.” A handsome brown-haired man sat behind a desk. When he saw us step off the elevator, he picked up a phone and mumbled something. “Good morning Agent Ruthersford. This must be your new partner.” The man stood up and offered his hand to me. “I’m Thomas, an administrative assistant here in the Personnel Section.”

I shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cash Renshaw.”

A door opened to the right, and a short redhaired woman came skittering out. She saw us and came to an abrupt stop. She was wearing a sharp grey suit with a pencil skirt that didn’t quite fit her right and heels that seemed a bit too tall. She wore her hair up, but her unruly, wavy locks were already threatening the confines of her carefully applied pins and clips. She carried several folders packed to the gills. “Good Morning,” she squeaked before clearing her throat. “Good Morning Agent Ruthersford.” She looked at me. “You must be Agent Renshaw. Nice to meet you.” The redhead smiled winningly.

Agent Ruthersford gave me a gentle pat on the back. “Tina here will get you through all the essential paperwork. After that, we will meet the chief for your swearing-in, get you kitted out, and then go have lunch. We need to discuss our first case.”

“Just like that?” I stared.

“Just like that.” He smiled and turned back to the elevator door, which was still open. He entered and faced us. “Take good care of Cash.”

“Of course, Agent Rutherford. Of course, I will.” Tina spoke to the closing doors. She looked at me and smiled again. “This way, please.” She turned on one heel and started back toward the door she had come through.

I looked at Thomas bewildered. He gave me a tight grin and motioned with his eyes at Tina’s retreating form. The phone at his desk rang, and he sat back down. I hurried after my guide.

As I caught up with Tina, she asked over her shoulder, “So, are you a paranormal?”

“Uh,” I stammered intelligently.

She turned. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I just blurted that out.” Her face changed to the color of her hair. “You don’t have to answer that. Forget I asked.”

“No. I mean, it’s OK. I don’t mind. I guess I am. It’s weird because I just found out.”

“What do you mean you just found out?” Tina’s tone changed from embarrassed to interested.

“I mean. Well, I mean, I thought I was a normal guy until someone threw a fireball at me, and I managed to not turn to a crisp. I didn’t even know that magic was a thing.”

Tina stopped short. I almost bumped into her. “You’re immune? What are you exactly?” She peered at me appraisingly.

“Uh, an Archetype?”

“Ohhhh.” she purred. “Very rare. Let me guess. Are you a Handsome Stranger?”

“What? No!” I did a double-take. “No, I’m a Lawman.”

“Like a gunslinger?” She started walking again.

“I’m not sure, really. I don’t understand the whole thing. I am a fairly decent shot, but I think there’s more to it than that.”

She paused at the closed door to a conference room. “Well, it’s freaking awesome. I can see why Agent Ruthersford was so excited. Immune and an Archetype. You’ll make a great Agent.” She opened the door into a modern-looking conference room and flipped on the lights. “Please, have a seat.”

The petite redhead leaned over from behind and placed the folders in front of me. Her breasts pressed into my upper back. She was on the shorter side, so I wasn’t sure if it was an accident or not. She didn’t seem to mind. “This is all the standard employment stuff. 401K, direct deposit, health insurance. All that stuff.” She lay a handful of pens next to the folders. “Read what you want and fill out all the areas I have highlighted. I am gonna run and take care of a few other things. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” I answered, opening the first folder. The first form was my Job History. Fuck. The next was a list of all the places I had lived. Double fuck. Were they serious with this shit? Teddy tracked me down in an alley with a magic dimensional gate. I am pretty sure they knew where I lived.

“OK,” she gave me a very appealing smile and placed her hand on my shoulder. “You get cranking on those, and I’ll be back in a while with some coffee and snacks. I can answer any questions you have then. She left the conference room, closing the door quietly behind her.

I looked around. It seemed like an ordinary conference room. The table was a dark Formica and had six comfortable chairs situated around it in the usual positions. There was a complicated-looking phone and an utterly standard-looking computer on the table. I noticed a few suspicious domes on the ceiling that probably housed cameras or some other sort of detection device. The only additional detail that stood out was a few strange-looking runes engraved into the tabletop. I ran my finger over them and was surprised to discover that they were warm to the touch.

I would probably turn into a toad now. Or maybe my finger would turn black and fall off. That would make it hard to write. So before anything untoward could happen to my writing digits, I uncapped a pen and got to work.