Managerial research log.
Access level: Lobotomy Corporation CEO A.
[Access granted]
[Deactivating Fairy counter measures.]
[Deactivating Singularity J.]
[Deactivating mind kill agent CENSORED.]
Welcome, CEO A.
Day 14
Managerial notes, to do list:
-Take head count of employees✔
-Take count of remaining abnormalities✔
-Take count of available EGO✔
-Take count of stockpiled enkephalin✔
-Take stock of available supplies✔
-Check general facility systems✔
-Ensure proper working of TT2 protocol
-Ensure proper working of departmental systems
-Train team captains in the duties of the sephirah
-Ensure proper working of execution bullets
-Update facility software and protocols
-Ensure proper working of WARP systems
-Study ordeal phenomena
-List to be expanded as seen fit
Managerial notes, count report:
-37 agents, 194 clerks, 93 maintenance staff: sufficient manpower
-3 ALEPH, 13 WAW, 7 HE, 14 TETH, 6 ZAYIN abnormalities: currently sufficient
-0 ALEPH, 9 WAW, 13 HE, 42 TETH, 39 ZAYIN EGO available: insufficient
-43 boxes of enkephalin: critically low
-Office, ration supplies: sufficient
Managerial notes, current policies:
-Work with abnormalities limited to HE and lower, EGO and experienced agents too limited to risk working with WAW and ALEPH abnormalities
-All WAW EGO wielders put on standby to suppress ordeal phenomena, research into stopping incursions entirely ongoing
-Captain training limited to control department, time of manager insufficient to manage all captains at once
-Disciplinary captain is to train all employees in non EGO combat
-Facility expansion works underway, expecting arrival of new employees and abnormalities
-Energy rations implemented, enkephalin stores are too low to risk careless usage. May result in total facility shutdown
-TT2 protocol currently deactivated, to be activated after first supply shipment
-All maintenance staff focusing on reestablishing WARP systems, corporation supply shipment expected soon
Managerial notes, personal:
-I need more sugar in my tea
-I'm considering coffee
-I'm tired
-I miss the sephirah
-I miss Angela
Managerial report closed, thank you CEO A.Lobotomy Corporation Biopsy team agent report. LCB initiation checkup:
Agent number: 13
Name: Samsa
Assigned EGO: Mimicry
Physical performance: Excellent
Bio: A veteran of the smoke war who fought for Genetic Corporation, was picked up by Lobotomy Corporation two months after the end of the war. Biological prosthetics were removed as an employee benefit upon becoming an agent.
Agent number: 9
Name: Semyon
Assigned EGO: The Sword Sharpened with Tears
Physical performance: Good
Bio: Former member of Yurodiviye, related to semi-influential figure Sonya—a revolutionary leader rising in prominence within various backstreet districts. The Yurodiviye are to be ignored, as the movement is too small to interfere with LCB activities.
Agent number: 11
Name: Pistorius
Assigned EGO: Sound of a Star
Physical performance: Outstanding
Bio: Dubbed 'BongBong' by her coworkers, Pistorius is believed to originate from district 11's nest. Little information is available on the agent beyond a vague connection to the Sinclair family.
Agent number: 1
Name: Koo-Bon
Assigned EGO: Da Capo
Physical performance: Sufficient
Bio: Former citizen of S Corp, was considered to be a capable researcher and scientist. Was pushed out of his district due to rising living costs before becoming a Lobotomy Corporation Employee.
Agent number: 8
Name: Bildad
Assigned EGO: Crimson Scar
Physical performance: Good
Bio: Former sailor, serving on the Seven Association ship 'Pequod'. Exited from service citing the deteriorating chain of command on ship. Joined Lobotomy Corporation through a lottery.
Agent number: 7
Name: Lockwood
Assigned EGO: Cobalt Scar
Physical performance: Excellent
Bio: Former butler under the service of the Earnshaw Family. Was granted exemption from his generational contract after the Lobotomy Corporation–Earnshaw Family corporate contract was made. He was made an employee as a sign of good faith from the Earnshaw Family.
Agent number: 3
Name: Antonia
Assigned EGO: In the Name of Love and Hate
Physical performance: Excellent
Bio: Former member of the Fanghunt office, was formally fired due to her obsession with finding the mythical 'La Manchaland', the supposed retrieve of the Manchegan bloodline. Forced herself into Lobotomy Corporation employment when she snuck onto a new employee training program.
Agent number: 6
Name: Xiangliang
Assigned EGO: Heaven
Physical performance: Excellent
Bio: Originally a member of the Eastern Liu association, eventually came under the service of the Jia family as a heishou of the You branch. Was released from his contract following the incident at the old H-Corp.
Agent number: 4
Name: Kousuke
Assigned EGO: Smile
Physical performance: Outstanding
Bio: Former member of the Ring. Origin related to Yoshihide of the fingers. Suspect member of the pinky.
Agent number: 5
Name: Tomas
Assigned EGO: Gold Rush
Physical performance: Good
Bio: Former member of N-Corp, worked as a doctor at a nest hospital. Quit from his position and entered the employment of Lobotomy Corporation after the death of a patient he was particularly attached to.
Agent number: 12
Name: Edward(?)
Assigned EGO: Twilight
Physical performance: Outstanding
Bio: A backstreet(?) rat(?) who entered Lobotomy Corporation employment(?) through a lottery(?). Has no history of talent(?) or notable feats(?) in spite of his outstanding(?) performance as an agent.
Note: There are no public or private records on the individual Edward. He was designated as a backstreet rat because of his personal testimony. Observation is recommended but is not a high priority.
Agent number: 10
Name: Adam
Assigned EGO: Paradise Lost
Physical performance: Dependent
Bio: Irrelevant
This document officially recognizes all members of the LCB to be fit for employment and certifies them as official agents of Lobotomy Corporation with authority above site manager jurisdiction.
Signed, Lobotomy Corporation CEO A.If there was one word that could describe Roland's state of mind, it would be 'tense'.
There are, of course, many reasons as to why he would feel that way. Losing a limb and being tortured into corporate/syndicate service after being teleported to who-knows-where by the Purple Tear of all people isn't exactly 'normal', even by his standards.
But perhaps, he could've accepted all that. He had seen much, and maybe he'd be able to rank the incident as only his third or fourth craziest rodeo if he reasoned with himself for long enough.
No, the torture and servitude itself wasn't the problem. It was the one who had inflicted it onto him that was putting him on edge.
Those eyes. Its voice. They were too neutral, unfeeling. Not in the psychopathic or apathetic sense, but rather in how there is simply a 'blank' where a 'being' should exist.
It wasn't human. Not one bit.
"So…" He awkwardly trailed off. The pale being hadn't said a thing to him after the old man snapped the two of them away, instead simply handing him a pamphlet filled with vague terminology describing his new duties. He didn't really understand a thing, truth to be told.
"..." Silence continued to be his only answer.
He was trying very hard to get something, anything at all, out of the damned thing, though it remained stubborn in its unresponsiveness. He cleared his throat before continuing.
"I…simply have to 'receive' guests? Am I supposed to put on a dance show or do card tricks or something? Is that what the rich folk in the nests are into these days? I have to say, there are probably far better entertainers out there than me, I'm just a grade 9 after all. I heard Cinq association fixers are good at that kind of thing. There's a new line of work coming onto the scene, streaming or something. Been getting real popular with the youngsters these days—"
Roland was rambling, and his nonsensical words appeared to have the intended effect. The pale thing—Angela, as Abram had called her—closed its eyes for a moment before interrupting him.
"In this context, to 'receive' guests would be to eliminate those who have accepted an invitation."
Finally, a verbal answer. Roland almost sighed in relief, though he wisely stopped himself before he could. No need to risk a limb, not when there's no promise of progress.
"May I ask why?" He prodded.
"No." Was its straightforward reply.
"...May I ask why I may not ask why?" It was quite frankly a desperate attempt, but he held some hope it would lead to information.
"You will receive guests, and you will sort books. That is all you need to know."
With those words, Angela promptly turned around before leaving. Only then did he let out a sigh of exasperation. Things weren't going anywhere near as smoothly as he had first hoped.
Rhythmically, Roland read out the words written on the side of a hardcover book before categorising it alphabetically. Though perhaps, 'word' was giving it too much credit, as it was simply an assembly of random letters with no meaning.
"So, what are these books exactly?" He eventually asked, a good few hours after he had begun sorting.
"..." Angela didn't honor him with an answer. It simply picked up a book from the ground, and slid into a shelf with barely a glance. It was certainly quick, having sorted almost six times as many books as he had.
He sighed, now without any restraint. As he had long realised, it mostly ignored his existence unless communication became truly necessary.
"They're experiences."
Roland almost reached for a sword that didn't exist when he suddenly heard a voice behind him.
He ended up letting out a high pitched 'yelp' instead.
"Any and every possible order of letters and words are kept here in this library. It's up to the director and the librarians to organize and locate what is valuable."
Roland quickly recomposed himself with a small cough, tugging at his tie in an attempt to diffuse tension. "A-And what does that have to do with 'receiving' guests?"
The old man pulled out a piece of paper from within his pocket, a pristine little thing that looked much like a fancy letter some nest dwellers liked to use.
"Their experiences will lead us to books that hold useful information—you'll see soon enough. Angela, prepare to introduce our guests."
Before he could even process the man's words, Angela disappeared with a small bow and a snap. Abram turned towards him with a small smirk that immediately put him on edge.
"Don't worry, you need not care much for the specifics. Just receive our esteemed guests, and you'll find what you're looking for."
Roland's eyes widened—
SNAP
And he found himself on a bridge built of books.
Pete didn't know what he expected when he put his name onto a suspicious piece of paper promising him riches, though a fancy looking hall filled with fancy looking furniture with a fancy looking…thing standing by wasn't it.
It reminded him of his birthplace, before he was thrown out onto the backstreets for being an orphan. Not in the sense that they were similar, but rather just a general feeling of cleanliness that wasn't really a thing in the backstreets.
A clear, even, voice rang out from the one standing in the hallway.
"Greetings, dear guests. I am Angela, the librarian of my role's namesake."
He glanced towards Lenny and Mang-chi. Judging from their fearful expressions, they clearly weren't willing to take the first step.
Pete gulped, pushed down his fears, and spoke up.
"The invitation said you have valuables here!" He demanded. The thing nodded.
"Indeed. You may earn books here through victory in combat. If you wish, simply walk to the end of this hallway."
Every instinct within him told him to run, but the noose had long tightened around his neck. They didn't have a choice, not one bit.
"Beggars can't be choosers." Pete whispered, and marched onward. The steady footsteps of his two companions gave him some sense of safety, as fragile as it was. He'd have to make do.
"May you find your book in this place." Were the last words he heard before he was enveloped by light, and a moment later he found himself on a bridge formed of paper.
Giant towers of ink and paper rose high in the distance, making for an imposing sight that had him taking a step back. However, the sight of their supposed opponent gave him some confidence.
Only one, just some guy in a generic black suit with ' Rookiefixer 101' practically written across his forehead. Admittedly much better than a rat, but there was a reason he had two others with him.
"We aint scared of you wimp!" Was his battlecry as he immediately charged.
With a desperate ferocity that could only belong to a man on his deathbed Pete lashed out with his rusted knife. He could feel confidence bloom in his heart as his foe barely stopped the attack, gritting his teeth in exertion as he raised his sword to block. Mang-chi didn't waste a moment, attempting to get a dirty blow onto the fixer's head with his hammer.
The man tumbled to the side to dodge the blow, and was beset upon by Lenny who had snuck behind him.
They may have been rats, but they had survived many years in backstreets. They knew how to fight, as pathetic as their methods may be compared to others.
Again and again the trio attacked, a smirk coming onto Pete's face as the man continued to just barely dodge and block.
Soon enough he would slip, and they'd get out with their lives and enough cash to pay off the stray dogs.
Soon enough…
Soon enough…
But that 'soon' never came.
The fixer continued to dodge. Just barely, just barely.
Yet he kept dodging.
And eventually, when with the flick of a sword Mang-chi's throat was sliced open, Pete felt doubt settle into his gut.
And when Lenny fell to the ground with a stab wound in her stomach, he felt fear take hold of his heart.
And when cold steel pierced his chest, he only wished life wasn't so unfair.
I wasn't always a rat, y'know. I was born in a nest, believe it or not.
I'm a son of two feathers. Both lower class of course, but they were still feathers—far better than anyone in the backstreets. I don't remember much about that time, only that I wasn't hungry and that my parents weren't around much, always off to work they were.
As you might expect from my current state, it didn't last all that long. I was only four years old when one day my parents just didn't come back from work. It was just a day at first, then a week, then two weeks.
A month down the line tax collectors came to the sight of a starving child locked in an otherwise empty apartment, and immediately assumed me to be an outsider. Not one hour later I found myself in a place I've never been to before, dark alleys and streets that smelled of smoke and piss.
I don't really remember what happened for decades after that. It's all just one big blur of blood, tears, and hunger. I learned a thing or two. The nests, the backstreets, the people who live there.
Everyone in the backstreets were struggling one way or another. Whether it be to get into a nest or to simply survive the night. And I joined in on the struggle, thirty fucking years of struggle, in the vain hope that I'll one day go back to where I was born, where I wouldn't go hungry again.
Well. It didn't turn out well.
I'm not much of a thinker, but there's one thing I noticed about myself:
There's nothing special about me. Not one thing.
Not even my suffering.
I suppose it doesn't matter where you're born if you're not fit to survive.
Roland let out a shudder as he stared at the book in his hand, images of someone else's life flashing across his vision.
'The Book of Pete.'