The whole group was in a daze. It was only natural; we had been awake all night fighting for their lives. It would be fair to call it a high-stress situation, and that contributed to the beleaguered manner in which we moved. We were crashing after running for so long on adrenaline.

But that was only part of the reason. At the core of it all, we were just shocked that there was such an abrupt end to their fight. No final battle, just a call over the radio for an airstrike. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but it was shocking to have braced themselves for that final rush of demons just for them to be blown away.

So we were tired and crashing from our adrenaline high. So we immediately hit the rack after our ordeal, right? Wrong. We were packing up camp, and as quickly as we could. It only made sense; as much as we were technically in the right, it’d be a major hassle trying to explain what happened to the local PD.

It’s much better if we just leave, and let the weird noises and stuff be chalked up to thunder or some weird UFO event. I’m not sure if that’s the most professional approach, but I suppose I’m not the most professional person. Besides, everyone else was doing and I’m sure they have more actual training than me.

We were all mostly too tired to speak, so it was a surprise when someone hesitantly began talking.

“You know...that was weird, really weird. And I’m still not sure what to think of most of you being federal agents...but we worked surprisingly well together.” Dave said.

“I guess we did.” Gabe answered.

“I don’t normally talk to people much, but it kind of felt we worked pretty well as a team.” Admitted John.

“I could see us working together again. Who knows? All in all, we’re pretty well-balanced.”

“Actually, I had an idea...”

Three months later.

“Watch out for that trap!” I shouted.

“Don’t worry, I should be able to avoid it.” Dave spoke with confidence. “Tricks, traps and music are my specialties.”

“Who’d have thought there’d be a dungeon here though?” Doc wondered. “Be careful, I don’t want to have to fix anyone this early on.”

“I just hope there aren’t any demons.” Gabe said, off near the front of the group. “I fucking hate those things.”

“If any sneak up on you, I’ve got your back. I do have better eyesight than you.” Jeff was sure to needle Gabe.

“Damn elves.” Gabe muttered.

Then, as we bantered back and forth…

“Roll for initiative.” John said. You could hear the grinning in his voice over the voice chat.

“Dammit, my initiative sucks.”

“This whole thing is going to suck, why did we have John as GM? He’s brutal.”

“Amy, couldn’t you have asked your wife to do it?”

“She said she wanted to work on homework, and we’ve been swamped with work the past couple months as well.”

“Doing what?”

“I can’t say...”

Back in the present.

It was a familiar room, one Amy would be sure to recognize: the conference room at her work. Two people were in there, her boss, and a girl she’d never met before. Both sat across from each other, and both were staring at each other. One confused, and one predatory. A file lay in front of the exhausted, mousy-looking girl, beside a steaming cup of coffee. It was around nine in the morning, but the girl looked like she hadn’t slept a wink.

“You’ve been up to a lot lately.” Amy’s boss finally spoke. “But tonight really takes the cake.”

The girl stayed silent.

“As you can see, you’ve been under our surveillance for a while. Normally, people who dabble in magic don’t ever manage to actually do anything, and the ones who do often don’t manage to make it work. But what you did tonight caused a whole mess of trouble for myself, my colleagues, and the taxpayers. You realized you committed a serious crime right?” Amy’s boss spoke in a lecturing tone.

Again, the girl was silent.

“Sandra Anne Dee. Twenty One years old, currently attending school...pre-med, was it? I know you got a full ride, which is impressive with the school you got into. You became infatuated with your history tutor, and snapped when she disappeared, turning to magic to try and find her. This led to you committing several laws that are technically felonies, and tearing a bit of a whole in the fabric of reality, which I imagine wasn’t fun for my field agent who was in the line of fire for that.” She let out a small chuckle, one that sounded almost like a cackle.

“Who are you?” The girl, Sandra, finally spoke.

“Not your enemy, if that’s what you think. Now, if DHS had been the ones to shove you in a van, you’d be in a lot more trouble. It’s not something that’s publicized, but did you know they have agents who specialize in capturing people like you? They aren’t the best at catching people, but you were so open with your latest...ritual, that we probably skipped out of that ruins just as they arrived. So if anything, you should be thanking me. I’m practically your savior. They aren’t on the level of Mathew Hopkins, but they tend to be assholes.”

“So why did you save me?” Sandra asked.

“The danger of what you did aside, you clearly have talent. And the how of it all is downright impressive. I imagine a part of it was mostly due to your obsession, your psych profile indicated that you were unhealthily attached to that girl, but it still takes a lot of skill for someone to go from completely uninitiated in this side of things to performing feats that defy our world's understanding of reality. Letting talent rot away in a supermax prison would be a horrible waste. Who hasn’t made a few mistakes in their time?”

“So…you want to hire me as a magician?” Sandra was suspicious.

“Technically no, I’m hiring you as a part-time historian. It was the only position I have open. Looking at your history grades it's ironic, but in a way hiring you for what’s essentially a history of magic job is kind of fitting given your ancestry, Miss Sandra Dee. Oh… wait, Why did your parents name you that?” The pitying look she gave Sandra just made it worse.

“What even is this place?” She finally asked the key question.

“It’s the Secret Archives, of the National Archives. Kinda like that Warehouse 13 show, but less wacky antics and more boring manuscripts in dead languages.”

“So...you’re offering me a job? After what I allegedly did, and you’re offering me a job?” She seemed confused.

The lady sipped her coffee before speaking; she’d been doing most of the talking after all.

“I’m not exactly offering you a job. You’re going to take this job. Don’t worry, it’s only a part-time position. It shouldn’t get in the way of your studies.”

“And if I don’t want this job?” She asked.

“Then you can kiss that scholarship you have good bye. Along with your current life, and your freedom. I do have enough sway to get you a pardon, but only if there’s something in it for me. I suppose I technically can’t make you work, but it would behoove you to take me up on my offer.” The tone changed. Her previously friendly demeanor turned ice cold, and her glare made it clear that there was only one choice for Sandra. “It’s not all bad. Sure we have a lot of older people working here, but you should fit in with our other part-timers.”

It was clear to Sandra that she had no other choice. She could either take the job this sketchy-looking woman was forcing on her, or she could, apparently, go to prison for the crime of trying to meet with the woman she had loved. The choice should have been clear, but there was a reluctance deep down. She never liked being forced into anything. She was tired, had been through a lot over the night, and wasn’t in the mood to be bullied by anyone.

She stood up angrily, wanting to give this woman a piece of her mind. How dare she lecture her and treat her life like a game. She started to, but there was a pressure. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t shout, she couldn’t do anything but sit back down, all while the woman looked on, a slight smile to her face.

“Thank you Viné.” The woman spoke to the empty air behind Sandra. “So,” she continued, addressing Sandra. “The contract is at the top of the file. Don’t worry, the benefits package alone makes it worth it. You only have to come in to work a couple days a week too, I know it’s a long commute. I’d recommend transferring to a local university, but you worked so hard to get into an Ivy League and it’d be a shame if you gave that up just for work.”

Sandra grudgingly moved to sign the contract. The strange pressure she had felt before didn’t return as her pen scratched across the paper, signing herself away to government employment.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Working here shouldn’t be too bad, I think you might even get along with your new coworkers. They should be showing up here this afternoon, they must be absolutely thrilled about you arranging for them to see another world. Oh, they’ll also be in charge of training you too.”

“I didn't get any sleep last night.” Sandra protested.

“Neither have they, it’s a match made in heaven. We have plenty of coffee and little time to rest, there’s already work to be done.” The woman laughed coldly. “I’m sure Amy will be thrilled about this next job.”

“Who?”

“Your new supervisor. Have fun, she’ll probably get here in about an hour.”